Wife Most Wanted

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  “Or it could take days, even weeks, to get a ruling on the motion.” Dana hung up the sweater, then crossed the room to sit opposite Kurt at the table. “Right?”

  “I suppose, but Kate is a highly respected judge in these parts. I truly believe her request for expediency on the ruling will carry some weight.”

  “Well, time will tell,” Dana said, shrugging. “You will keep me fully informed?”

  “Of course, but…” Kurt stopped speaking and shook his head. “I thought you’d holler the roof down.”

  “None of this is your fault, Kurt,” Dana said, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “I know all about the shenanigans that lawyers can pull, due to the fact that I’m an attorney myself.”

  “I’m relieved that you’re taking this so calmly, I really am.” Kurt paused. “What’s wrong? Do you have a headache?”

  “Yes, I woke up with it this morning, and it just won’t go away. My stomach is a bit upset, too. I think I might be catching the flu.”

  “Maybe you just need something to eat,” Kurt said, frowning. “Why don’t we go to the Hip Hop and have some dinner?”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything. I feel sort of achy, and very tired. The best thing for me is a nice warm bath and a solid night’s sleep. I’ll be as good as new in the morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” she said, managing to produce a smile. “I can usually shake off the flu very quickly, if I get plenty of rest at the onset. It’s just a bug, Kurt. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  Kurt got to his feet. “I hate to leave you alone if you’re not up to par.”

  “It’s better if you do. You don’t want to come down with the flu. I’m glad Kimberly still has the kittens. I won’t have to get up in the night to feed them.”

  Kurt smiled. “She’s fallen in love with the terrific trio. I don’t believe we’re going to be getting them back.” His smile faded. “Look, why don’t you come home with me? That way, I’d be right there if you needed anything.”

  “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m going to be dead to the world as soon as I’ve had my bath.”

  “Well…”

  Dana stood and smiled up at Kurt.

  “I appreciate your willingness to play Florence Nightingale,” she said, “but I’ll be dandy right here, snoozing away.”

  “All right, but call me if you need something, or if you decide you’d better see a doctor, or…”

  “Yes, Mr. Fussbudget, I will,” Dana said, laughing. “Now go, before I spread my germs.”

  Kurt drew one thumb over Dana’s lips, and she shivered at the simple, yet sensuous, foray.

  “I’m going to miss having you next to me in bed tonight,” Kurt said, looking directly into Dana’s eyes. “I’ve gotten used to your being there, and it’s nice, very nice. I suppose you’re going to say I shouldn’t kiss you because you’re contagious.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re a mean lady.” Kurt kissed her gently on the forehead. “Good night, Dana. Sleep well, and remember to call me if you need anything. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Dana nodded, then watched Kurt leave the room. As the door clicked closed quietly behind him, she jerked as though it had been a loud noise.

  “Goodbye, Kurt,” she whispered, willing herself not to cry. “I’m sorry, but this is the last straw. I can’t stay here any longer.”

  Feeling as though her heart were breaking, Dana pulled her suitcase from the closet and began to pack.

  She’d get ready to go, then wait the hour or so until it was dark, she thought. Then she’d drive away from Whitehorn, Montana, disappear into the night.

  She’d never see Kurt Noble again.

  The ache of unshed tears closed Dana’s throat as she drew a steadying breath.

  I will not cry, she vowed silently. All the pent-up tears waiting to flow that she’d refused to allow to spill forth from the beginning of this nightmare were threatening to consume her.

  No. She had to maintain control. She mustn’t cry, not yet. To weep would be her undoing, was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not yet.

  But, oh, God, she thought, stopping to stare at the doorway that Kurt had gone through, she hadn’t even had the chance to kiss Kurt Noble goodbye.

  Kurt entered his house, wandered into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and looked at the offerings available for his dinner. He slammed the door closed again, then strode to his bedroom, where he changed into jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt.

  Back in the living room, he slouched in one of the comfortable new chairs and stared into space.

  Winona Cobbs, he thought, had told him to listen to the whispers from his heart to discover whether he was in love with Dana. Fine. He was all tuned in to receive any whispers his heart might transmit.

  But right now?

  The message he was receiving was from his gut, from instincts born of years of being a cop.

  His brain was hammering at him, replaying the scene in Dana’s motel room over and over. What had happened when he told her the trial had been postponed—her “Oh, well, what the hell?”—reaction wasn’t ringing true.

  And then Dana had announced suddenly that she thought she was coming down with the flu? She didn’t want to eat dinner, or spend the night at his house? She just wanted to be left alone to sleep?

  Dana wanted to be left alone.

  Dana wanted to be left alone to…

  Kurt lunged to his feet. “Leave town. Damn it to hell, Dana is going to skip.”

  Dana peered through the narrow opening in the faded drapes on the window of the motel room. Darkness had fallen, and millions of twinkling stars glowed in the black-velvet sky.

  Lights shone in the motel office at the street end of the row of rooms, and a car was parked nearby. One other car was in front of the third room.

  She shifted her perusal to the woods that butted against her room. The tall trees looked suddenly ominous, like towering sentinels on guard duty. A crisp breeze was blowing, causing the tops of the trees to weave and dip in the humanlike, eerie rhythm of a ritualistic dance.

  Dana dropped the edge of the curtain and pressed both hands flat on her churning stomach.

  There was nothing frightening out there, she told herself. Her imagination was playing nasty tricks on her because she was about to sneak out of Whitehorn like a thief in the night. All she had to do was walk through the doorway, put her suitcase in the car and drive away.

  Taking a steadying breath, Dana walked to the bed to retrieve her purse and suitcase. Her hand stilled in midair as she reached for the strap of her purse, her gaze falling on the spread-covered pillows.

  Vivid memories of the lovemaking shared with Kurt in that bed assaulted her, causing her cheeks to flush with warmth and her heart to quicken.

  Oh, Kurt, she thought. She would miss him so much, so very much. The future seemed to be stretching before her like a bleak, empty highway that she was destined to travel alone.

  Kurt would be so angry, so hurt, when he discovered that she was gone. He’d feel betrayed by her, no doubt viewing her as a lying, scheming woman who had toyed with his emotions, his caring, played games, then tossed him away like an object that no longer interested her, or served any purpose.

  Dana pressed her fingertips to her lips, struggling yet again to keep threatening tears at bay. She leaned forward and smoothed the spread over the pillow where Kurt had laid his head, where Kurt had slept so peacefully after they journeyed to the place of the glorious wildflowers…together.

  Oh, Dana, quit torturing yourself, she thought. Just go. Get in your car, leave Whitehorn and don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back.

  She snatched up her purse from the bed, slipped the strap over her shoulder, then grasped the handle of the suitcase.

  At the door, she hesitated, remembering how threatening everything beyond that room had appeared when she peeked through the drapes. Squaring her shoulders and lift
ing her chin, she opened the door and stepped outside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

  She glanced around quickly, suffused with fear, then hurried to the car. After unlocking the passenger side door, she placed her suitcase on the front seat, eased the door shut, then started toward the front of the car.

  “Going somewhere?” a deep voice asked.

  Kurt! Dana’s mind screamed.

  She stopped dead in her tracks and spun around in the direction of his voice. She gasped as Kurt moved out of the trees to stand in the glow of the yellow lightbulb mounted on the wall by her room.

  “Kurt,” Dana said, her voice trembling as badly as her knees.

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s me,” he said, a rough, angry edge to his voice. “Detective Noble at your service, ma’am. And I repeat…are you going somewhere?” He started toward her, his furious gaze locked on her face, her eyes.

  “I… What I mean is…” Dana took a step backward as Kurt closed the distance between them. She thudded against the car, halting her retreat, and wrapped her hands protectively around her elbows. “I was just…”

  “Leaving Whitehorn?”

  Kurt stopped directly in front of her.

  His eyes, Dana thought frantically. Kurt’s eyes were like cold chips of blue ice, and his pulse was beating wildly in his temple. He looked big, powerful and menacing, his fury a nearly palpable entity that she could touch as it crackled through the air.

  A shiver coursed through Dana.

  “You were spying on me,” she said, striving for a bravado that remained beyond her reach. “How dare you treat me like a—”

  “Liar?” Kurt said, interrupting her. “A phony? You sure did find a miraculous cure for your bout of the flu.”

  “I…”

  “Give it a rest, Dana. You were cutting out, weren’t you? Leaving Whitehorn. You don’t give a rip about Clem, or testifying at the trial of the scum who shot that decent old man. Even more, you don’t give a damn about me, us, what we have—no, correct that, what I thought we had together. None of it meant anything to you. You’re a real piece of work, Dana Bailey, you really are.”

  “Kurt, please, listen to me. I know you’re angry and hurt, but you just don’t understand. I can’t stay here any longer. Too much time had passed as it was, then the trial was delayed, and… I have to go. I have to find Natalie before…” Dana shook her head.

  “Before what?” Kurt snapped. “Are you ready to tell me the whole story? Do you trust me enough yet?”

  “Trust? You’re talking about trust?” Dana said, nearly shrieking. “You, who was hiding in the trees, watching me, waiting to see if I’d stay put in my room like a good little girl? Where, pray tell, was your trust in me tonight, Kurt Noble?”

  “Where was my trust? Listening to the voice of my instincts as a cop. It sure as hell wasn’t hearing any of Winona’s famous whisperings from the heart.”

  “What?”

  “Forget it,” Kurt said, slicing one hand through the air. “Bottom line, Dana. Do you intend to tell me what is going on, or not?”

  Dana shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

  “You won’t. By the way, you might be interested to know that Winona sensed danger surrounding you and Natalie. It could be directed at one of you, or both of you. She couldn’t be certain, because you have the same face. I’m a cop, remember? Part of my job is to protect people, protect you.”

  “No, I don’t want you involved in this.”

  Kurt muttered an earthy expletive, then stared up at the sky for a long moment in an attempt to gain control of his raging emotions. He let out a pent-up breath, then looked at Dana again.

  “You just don’t get it, do you?” he said quietly, his voice edged with weariness. “I am involved, Dana, because you’re a very important part of my life. You can’t pick and choose what you’ll share with me, call all the shots as to how our relationship is set up. It just doesn’t work that way.”

  “Relationship?” Dana said, blinking away sudden and unwelcome tears. “That word indicates something long-term, something that encompasses a future together. We don’t have that, Kurt. We never did. We’ve known from the very beginning that I would be leaving Whitehorn.”

  “Things change. People change. When you met me, I was planning on returning to Seattle. Now I’ve made the decision to stay on here, settle in, think about what I want to have in my future.”

  “And you’re free to do that,” Dana said, flinging out her arms. “I’m not, don’t you see? I’m caught up in the nightmare that Natalie created, and I don’t have the luxury of planning anything beyond getting that horrible mess set to rights.”

  “Ah, yes, the nightmare, the mess, the whatever-it-is that your naughty twin sister stirred up,” Kurt said, his voice ringing with sarcasm. “The situation you refuse to share with me, allow me to become involved in.”

  “Kurt…”

  “Forget it. We’re just retracking old ground, running in circles.” He paused and frowned. “So what do I do with you now? The minute I turn my back, you’re going to be long gone.”

  “No, I won’t,” Dana said, sighing. “I’ll stay and testify at the trial.”

  “Yeah, right. Have you got a bridge you’d like to sell me, too?”

  “I promise, Kurt,” she said, splaying one hand on her heart. “I’m giving you my word of honor. Don’t you trust me at all?”

  “About as much as you trust me. That’s not saying a whole hell of a lot, is it? Give me the keys to your car.”

  “No. You’re treating me like a prisoner again.”

  “You leave me no choice. I’m going to stay as close to you as I possibly can. When I just can’t be with you, your not having a car should slow you down enough until I’m back on duty, sticking to you like glue.”

  “I just promised you that I wouldn’t leave Whitehorn until I’ve testified at the trial,” Dana said, her voice rising.

  “Mmm,” Kurt said, extending one hand palm up. “The keys.”

  Dana smacked the keys into Kurt’s hand, then spun around and retrieved her suitcase from the car. She slammed the car door, deciding the action was a nice touch in letting Kurt know how angry she was. She marched to the door of the room and turned the knob.

  “Drat,” she said, her back to Kurt. “I left my key inside, and the door locked automatically.”

  “What a shame. Sort of blew your temper-tantrum exit, didn’t it? You were going to flounce inside, then slam the door in my face.”

  She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. “I do not flounce, Detective Noble. That indicates a dramatic and phony performance, the likes of which I do not indulge in. I’m very angry with you for not trusting my word, my promise.”

  “I’m not too crazy about you at the moment, either, lady. I’ll go up to the office and get another key. I assume you’ll be here when I get back?”

  “You’re stubborn and despicable.”

  “And you, Dana Bailey,” Kurt said over his shoulder, as he started toward the motel office, “are exhausting.”

  The next morning, Kurt entered his office and sank into the chair behind his desk. He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair and made a steeple of his hands, tapping his fingers against his lips. A deep frown knit his brows as he stared at the telephone.

  He was dead tired again, he thought. He’d stretched out fully clothed next to Dana on the bed in her motel room the previous night, and gotten only snatches of sleep.

  The angry tension between them had seemed to hang in the air with an oppressive weight. No words had been spoken during the long, dark hours until dawn.

  Stating brusquely that he’d be back later, he’d left Dana in the room, then driven home to shower, change clothes, eat breakfast and feed the damnable cats.

  Now here he was, and it was decision time, he thought. He could choose to continue to wait, hoping that Dana would come to trust him enough to tell him exactly what Natalie had done.

  Or he could in
vestigate on his own, declare by his actions that he’d lost faith in Dana’s caring for him, in her honesty, in the very essence of what they had together.

  “Hell,” he said, dragging both hands down his face.

  Trust, Kurt thought. It was a small, five-letter word. It was an issue that was powerful enough to tear him and Dana apart.

  He didn’t care if she was hung up on a technicality as to whether or not they had a relationship. They did have one, damn it.

  So, okay, the future was clouded by whatever trouble Dana was in, as well as a long list of unanswered questions regarding exactly what they might have together.

  But in the now, in the moment at hand, they were lovers, were equal partners in a relationship. A relationship in which mutual trust was very, very shaky.

  Danger, Kurt thought suddenly. Winona had sensed danger hovering over the Dana with two faces. With everything else that was piled on his beleaguered brain, he’d temporarily forgotten about the danger.

  “That cooks it,” he said aloud.

  Kurt reached for the receiver to the telephone.

  In the early afternoon, Dana trudged along the side of the road, a plastic bag filled with library books clutched to her chest with both arms.

  This, she thought, had not been a great idea. Walking a couple of miles into town to exchange her novels and burn off some stress with the exercise seemed like a fine plan, until her arms began to ache from the weight of the books.

  “Drat,” she said aloud.

  She’d been a picture-perfect prisoner, she mused on. She’d gotten a piece of tape from the manager on duty in the motel office and left a note on her door addressed to Kurt, telling him exactly where she was going and approximately what time she expected to return.

  Kurt was so furious at her for attempting to leave town in the dead of night. She’d panicked, the delay of the start of the trial causing her to react without thinking things through.

  Yes, she needed to leave Whitehorn as quickly as possible to help in the search for Natalie. Pete Parker’s trip to Detroit had been a dead end. Natalie had been leaving a false trail. She’d reserved a room at a hotel with Dana’s credit card, but Pete had spoken with the maid, who said the bed hadn’t been slept in, or the towels used.