by Rebecca York
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, thinking that he never would have imagined this scene in a million years. “I guess you’re not welcoming me with open arms.”
When she answered with a small nod, he added, “For your information, I didn’t do it.”
“Didn’t do what?” she answered carefully.
“Murder that maintenance man.”
He watched her features tighten. “If you didn’t do it, how do you know about it?”
“I heard it on the radio on the way over here.”
Her barely perceptible nod made his insides twist.
“I left the guy locked in a closet. The news report says they found his body in a shed on the grounds.” When she didn’t speak, he went on. “He was in the hall, mopping the floor when I broke out of my room. I tied him up and gagged him and left him where he’d be found. I didn’t carry him outside to the shed. After five days in bed on heavy sedation, I didn’t have the strength to carry anyone. And I didn’t kill him. Somebody else did that.”
The long speech left him feeling like a kid trying to explain how come his softball was sitting on the living-room floor, though he wasn’t the one who had broken the window. Too bad this was a lot more serious than some broken glass.
When she said nothing, he kept talking, because that was his only option. “It’s a setup. They framed me.”
Her throat worked. “Who? Why?”
He made a frustrated gesture. “To cover something up? To get the cops to shoot first and ask questions later?”
It was obvious she didn’t know whether to believe him.
“Cover up what?” she whispered.
He held out his hands, palm up. “I think it goes back to the explosion in Lab 7. It’s supposed to be an accident. Maybe it was really sabotage. I’m not sure, but I need to find out.”
The stark lines of her face softened. Just a little. He felt as if he was making progress. If he could hold her in his arms, connect with her physically and help her remember what they meant to each other, he thought he could get her on his side.
With the luxury of time, he might have won her over. Before either of them got a chance to speak again, a loud knock sounded on the front door.
Her gaze shot to the front of the house, then back to him.
“Ask who it is,” he ordered.
She took a step toward the front hall. “Who is it?” she called out in a quavery voice.
“Police.”
“Perfect,” he muttered. Watching her fixed gaze and her rigid shoulders, he thought she was calculating her chances of making a run for it.
“You’d better get out of here,” she said, her voice high and thin.
“It’s not that easy. They’ll have the front and back doors covered. Tell them you need a minute.”
She heaved in a breath and let it out in a rush. “Just a minute,” she called out.
With time running out, Gage made a life-and-death decision. “You’re coming with me.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “No.”
“I can’t let them capture me. I need you to get me out of the house.”
“If you’re innocent…”
“Screw innocent,” he spat out. “I told you, somebody framed me.”
When he pulled out the gun he’d jammed into the waistband of his slacks, she gasped. “Gage?”
“I’m sorry. You can get me out of here. They won’t shoot at you,” he said, praying that it was true. “If there are two of them, they’ve probably got both doors blocked by now. I parked over at the Winslows’. Pick up my duffel bag and hold it in your arms.”
When she just stood there, he barked, “Hurry up.”
The fear on her face made him physically sick, but he couldn’t see any alternative. She didn’t have enough information to trust him. And he couldn’t allow himself to be caught—not when he knew somebody had pinned a murder charge on him. He had no choice, he told himself.
He thrust the duffel toward her, and she wrapped it in her arms. Taking her elbow, he pointed her toward the front door. “Don’t try anything tricky, or you’re likely to get us both killed,” he said as he ushered her down the hall.
When they reached the door, he paused. The porch lamp was on. Through the side light, he could see a tall man dressed in a suit standing on the other side of the door. But the light in the front hall was turned off, so he knew the guy couldn’t see inside.
“This is Gage Darnell. I’ve taken Lily Darnell hostage. I’m leaving by the front door. I have a gun at her back. If you make any wrong moves, she’s likely to get hurt. Throw your weapons down and back off.”
“Darnell, we just want to talk to you.”
“Don’t give me that crap. You think I murdered someone. And it’s not going to do me any good to tell you I didn’t do it. So throw down your weapons.”
“You’re only making things worse, Darnell.”
Gage wasn’t going to argue about that. Not when the guy might be signaling his partner to call for backup. “Drop your weapon and back off before Lily gets hurt.”
For a long moment, Gage was afraid the detective was going to do something stupid. But he finally complied.
When the gun was on the porch floor, Gage opened the front door, and kicked the weapon into a flower bed, keeping his eyes on the detective. The man was tall, dark-haired and about his own age. Under better circumstances, they would have been on the same side.
They eyed each other.
“Raise your hands in the air and back up,” he ordered. The man glanced at Lily, then did as Gage asked.
He kept his voice calm and low, even while his heart was pounding inside his chest. “Down the stairs and into the yard. Call out to your partner and tell him not to shoot. Neither one of us wants to see my wife stuck in the middle of a firefight.”
The man glared at him, then shouted, “Richard, come around front and don’t shoot. Darnell is taking his wife out at gunpoint.”
Knowing the situation was still far too dangerous, Gage watched the other detective step around the side of the house. He was holding a handgun. “Get rid of your weapon. Then raise your hands. Come into the light where I can see you,” Gage ordered, moving forward so that Lily had to walk down the front steps. He could feel her trembling, and he prayed she could get through this without doing something they’d both regret.
When they were all standing in the yard, he said. “I know everyone claims innocence, but in this case it’s true. Somebody framed me. That guy was alive when I left him in a utility closet. On the third floor. The left side of the building as you face the back. We never got near any toolshed.”
“So you say.”
“How was he killed?”
The detective looked like he was considering his options. Finally he said, “Blunt instrument to the back of the head.”
“I didn’t have any weapons with me. I left him tied up down the hall from the room where they had me in restraints. See what you find up there. And look for a couple of bullets embedded in one of the trees out back. Somebody shot at me when I crossed the lawn.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t judge me until you collect some evidence.”
“We’ve got the evidence of kidnapping right now,” the blond one said. “Unless you turn your hostage loose.”
“Not until I’m out of here.”
Neither cop’s expression changed. Gage knew that pulling this stunt was stacking the case against himself, but he simply couldn’t take a chance on letting them take him in.
He saw their unmarked car in the driveway in back of Lily’s. Stopping beside it, he leaned against the fender, keeping his gaze on the enemy but sending his mind into the engine’s inner workings. Lucky he had some mechanic’s skills. Without letting go of Lily, he used his new talent to fuse some wires in the electrical system so there was no chance of the car starting.
“Stay where you are,” he warned. “If you follow me into the woods, she’s going to get hu
rt.”
“You’re not acting like an innocent guy,” the dark-haired detective observed.
“Unfortunately, that’s true,” he agreed, “But that’s the way it goes. If you know what’s good for Lily, give us five minutes head start.”
He backed away, still holding his wife, facing the cops.
When they reached the trees that separated his house from the ruined property next door, she finally spoke.
“Please, let me go.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
As soon as the cops were out of sight, he tucked the gun back into his waistband, then took the duffel bag from her. Grabbing her left arm, he dragged her along as he hustled her toward the stolen car.
She stumbled over some debris strewn on the ground, and he held her up, steering her around the open foundation to the car that he was glad he’d positioned for a fast getaway.
He tossed the duffel bag into the back before helping her into the driver’s seat.
Pulling the gun out again, he ran around to the other side and climbed in, seeing that she was fumbling for the key, probably hoping she could get away. But the key wasn’t there.
When he used his mind to start the engine, she gave a little cry.
“Drive,” he said, pointing the gun at her.
“How did you do that?”
“My electronics equipment,” he said, because he didn’t think she was going to believe the real explanation. “Drive us out of here,” he added.
“Where?”
“When you get to the street, turn right.” He’d been thinking about where he could go, and he’d remembered a place where he might be safe for a while.
AS SOON AS Darnell disappeared, Rand McClellan scrambled for the flower bed and retrieved his gun. His partner did the same.
Armed again, they dashed into the woods, thinking they were heading for the house next door.
Rand sped up, pounding through the woods. In the darkness, he made out an open area, and he thought it might provide a shortcut.
“This way.”
They both dashed toward the wide gap in the trees. Suddenly, the ground fell away. Rand gasped as his next step landed on empty air. He was tumbling into space when Richard grabbed the back of his coat and pulled him to safety.
They both fell backward onto a pile of dirt, panting.
“What the hell was that?” Richard said as he stood up and brushed off his suit pants.
Rand stood and took a cautious step forward. “It looks like somebody knocked down the house and left the basement,” he observed dryly. “Lucky I didn’t land on the cement floor.”
The conversation came to a halt when they heard a car start. “The bastard’s getting away.”
By mutual agreement, they turned and dashed back the way they’d come, avoiding the hole. As they reached their vehicle, Rand jumped into the driver’s seat. Richard took his place on the passenger side.
But when Rand cranked the ignition, nothing happened. He tried again. Nada. Not even a screeching sound.
“Now what?”
Rand popped the hood and got out. Richard reached for the flashlight in the glove compartment and joined him at the front of the car, where Richard played the light over the engine.
They’d worked together long enough to develop a rhythm. Neither one of them was out to make a point. They were both willing to lean on their own strengths and let their partner fill in the missing pieces.
Since Rand knew almost nothing about cars, he looked expectantly at his partner. “Find anything?”
Richard stared into the bowels of the engine, pointing with the flashlight beam. “See there? Some of the electrical wires are fused.”
“How?”
“Hell if I know. The car was fine when we drove in here.”
Rand cleared his throat. “You saw Darnell stop beside the front end. Do you think he put a voodoo hex on it?”
“I don’t believe in voodoo hexes,” Richard snapped.
“Unfortunately, neither do I. Maybe it overheated. Or maybe he had some kind of special electronics equipment. I heard that was his thing.”
Richard nodded. “But the main point is, we’ve lost Darnell, and we’re going to have to hitch a ride.” He pulled out his cell phone and called in to headquarters.
Then they took the flashlight back to the property next door on the off chance that Darnell had left his wife in the woods before he split. When they called her name, however, nobody answered. Now that they had a light, they could see the gaping hole in the ground.
Rand whistled. “I could have broken my neck falling in there. Thanks for the quick save, partner.”
Richard made a grunting sound. He’d never been the type to take praise easily.
They walked around the crater to the driveway, which was still more or less intact.
“Mrs. Darnell?” Rand called.
Still no answer.
“I guess he took her for insurance,” Richard said.
“Do you think he’s going to hurt her?”
“Don’t know, but she looked scared. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes. On the run with an escaped mental patient.”
“We don’t even know what car he’s driving.”
“Yeah. But where can he go?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“TURN RIGHT AGAIN,” Gage ordered.
Lily slid him a sidewise glance. His face was set in a grim line. He looked tense and frustrated. Had he really gone off the deep end? Would he hurt her?
She knew Gage could be impulsive. Some might call him a hothead. But never in a million years did she think he’d be accused of murder then kidnap her in order to get away.
She might have been able to stop him. Like, what if she’d dropped to the porch floor when he’d hustled her out of the house? She didn’t think he would have shot her. But she couldn’t even be sure of that.
She turned her head toward him, staring at the rigid line of his jaw. “Let me go,” she said in a low voice.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I want to convince you that I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’ve already missed your chance.”
“Turn left at the next light,” he said in a gritty voice.
She slowed at the intersection and turned. “Give me a clue where we’re going.”
The Wilson estate, he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud, in case she managed to get away before they reached their destination. He simply couldn’t take a chance on that.
“Harford County.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Scaring you. Dragging you along with me.”
“All I have to do is pull over to the curb and get out. Then you can be on your way.” She flicked a look at him. “Please, Gage?”
Chapter Five
Gage’s answer came from his gut. “No!”
He heard Lily swallow in the darkness. Logic told him that he should let her go. That was the honorable thing to do.
He was dragging her into a heap of danger where she didn’t belong. But now that she was with him, he couldn’t sever the connection.
He wanted to say, “I need you so much. Stick with me. I’ll prove to you that I didn’t kill anyone. And I’ll show you I’m ready to stop messing up our marriage.”
Yeah, sure. He’d just taken a giant leap forward in messmaking.
She had to be thinking he’d screwed up royally. He’d proved it by taking her hostage. Plus, he’d been AWOL so much for the past few months, they’d already been as good as separated. And no reason to trust him, either. Still, he clung to the hope that if he kept her close, maybe he had a chance to change the equation.
He knew he couldn’t articulate any of that convoluted thinking, so he said, “I woke up in the hospital. They were holding me against my will. Lord knows what they’ll do to me now.”
“If someone is acting irrationally the
y can’t let him run loose,” she said in a flat voice that made his blood run cold.
“I’m not irrational!”
“But you killed someone to get out of there?” she inquired, as though they were talking about his finding a dead mouse in a trap under the sink.
“No!” He struggled to see this situation from her point of view—and struggled to keep the hysteria from his voice. Pretending he was perfectly calm, he asked, “How did you hear about…the murder?”
“Dr. Morton called.”
“Nice of him. Did you get him to talk to you before I broke out?”
“No.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a clue to his level of cooperation, don’t you think?”
She answered with a barely perceptible nod.
Pressing his small advantage, he asked, “What else did the good doctor say?”
“Not much. I know you were exposed to a dangerous chemical at Cranesbrook.” She sighed. Probably she’d decided she had nothing to lose by talking to him. “I went down there, but nobody would give me any information. Then Amelia St. James called and threatened to fire me if I didn’t come back to work.”
He made an angry sound. “She’s a real gem.”
“Tell me about the maintenance man,” she whispered.
“After I got out of my room we ran into each other in the hall. He was going to pull the fire alarm, so I punched him on the chin, tied him up and left him in a supply closet. When I closed the door, he was very much alive and glaring at me.”
“You should turn yourself in and explain that you didn’t kill him before you get into worse trouble.”
He barked out a laugh. “Like hell. Somebody framed me, and I’ll bet Dr. Morton is in on it.”
“He said you’d be paranoid.”
“Perfect!” He caught himself again and struggled to sound as though he wasn’t losing his marbles. “You’d be paranoid, too, if you woke up strapped into a bed and nobody would tell you what was going on.”
She winced. He hoped it was a good sign.
“If you were strapped to a bed, how did you escape?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, thinking that it wasn’t exactly a lie. “Maybe somebody forgot to tighten the restraints. Anyhow, I wiggled out of them.”
