One Hot Forty-Five

by B. J Daniels

  She nodded and waited until he closed the door behind him. Steam rose from the shower, and she felt her brain starting to work again. She looked from the clothing he’d brought her to the bathroom window.

  Even though her mind wasn’t working to capacity, she knew that she couldn’t make a run for it. Not in this storm. Not without proper warm clothing. Even if she knew the country well enough to find her way in the blizzard, she doubted she would survive.

  But none of those reasons were why she couldn’t make a run for her life. She had to convince Lantry. That’s why she’d come here. Without his help…

  She choked back a sob, feeling defeated and afraid as she slipped out of the scrubs. The heat from the shower had steamed up the bathroom, making it warm and close as she stepped in under the spray.

  The water made her hands and feet ache, but she didn’t care. Tears coursing down her cheeks, she turned her face up to the spray. The heat felt so good, she wished she could stay under the soothing water and never come out.

  She knew she would have to tell Lantry the truth. She no longer had any other option. And what if she couldn’t convince him?

  She stood under the water a little longer, then shut it off and reached for a towel. By now Lantry would have called his brother. Time was running out—and not just for her.

  LANTRY WAITED UNTIL HE HEARD the shower running before he checked the cell phone he’d taken from the Santa costume. Just as he’d feared. No service this far south of Whitehorse. This whole part of Montana had only pockets of cell-phone service around the towns.

  He found a landline in the kitchen, but the moment he picked it up and heard the buzzing, he knew the storm had taken out the line. Happened all the time out here. He was surprised the electricity was still on.

  No way to call for help. Not that help could probably get to them until the plows ran. He checked the time, shocked at how many hours had gone by. It was afternoon already, the light beginning to fade.

  When he turned on the radio, all he could get was the static-filled local station. A Christmas carol ended, and the announcer broke in to say that all roads out of Whitehorse were closed due to the storm. Everyone was advised to stay inside. Only emergency travel was advised in Whitehorse because of poor visibility and dangerous road conditions.

  “In other news, residents are to be on the lookout for three state mental-hospital inmates who have escaped and are believed to be in the area. At least one of the inmates, Violet Evans, is considered dangerous. Anyone who should see the escapees is advised to call the sheriff’s department at once. Do not try to apprehend any of three.”

  Another Christmas carol came on. The announcer apparently didn’t have the updated news about Dede and the hostage situation.

  The wind howled at the windows, sending a shower of snow off the eaves, reminding him how far they were from Whitehorse. This country was so isolated, its own form of wilderness. They’d been lucky that a ranch house had been only a couple of miles back up the road. If they’d gone off a little farther to the south…

  He shoved that thought away and stepped to the fireplace to build a fire from the stack of wood piled next to it. The house had felt warm at first, but now there was a chill in the room. He wondered if it was from the temperature dropping further—or from his own chilling thoughts.

  Had either phone been working, he would have turned Dede in. He told himself it wasn’t a question of whether he believed her or not. He was an officer of the court. She was wanted by the authorities. Of course, he would turn her over to them.

  So why was he wasting time even thinking about it?

  On the radio, there was another bulletin about the roads and the escapees. “The police believe they will try to seek shelter. Residents are advised to keep their houses and cars locked and stay inside.”

  The dry wood in the stone fireplace began to crackle, flames leaping warmly. He started at a sound and turned to find Dede standing behind him.

  She looked so small, so vulnerable, so scared. But amazingly, she also looked softer, sweeter, if that were possible, her cheeks glowing from the hot shower.

  From the look on her face, she’d heard the announcement.

  “The phone’s out, there’s no cell coverage out this way and all the roads out of Whitehorse are closed,” he said, wondering why he was so quick to reassure her of her safety—at least for the moment.

  Her relief was palpable.

  “The clothes fit all right?”

  She nodded, and he tried not to notice the way the jeans hugged her bottom or the rust-colored sweater accentuated her curves as she stepped to the fire.

  “The people who live here must have gone away for the holidays,” Lantry said to her back. “I noticed when we came in that they left hay and plenty of water for the horses.”

  Her stomach growled loudly.

  He couldn’t help but grin. “Hungry?”

  Her stomach growled again in answer. “Is there food?”

  “This is rural Montana. There is always food. Why don’t you check the kitchen while I see about bringing in more wood.”

  She nodded with a self-conscious smile. “I am a little hungry.”

  He watched her head for the kitchen, shuffling in the too-large slippers he’d found for her.

  He listened to her opening and closing cabinets as he pulled on his coat. As he slogged out to the woodpile through the drifts, the wind whipped snow around him. He bent his head to it, grabbed up an armload of wood and headed back toward the house.

  As he caught a glimpse of Dede through the kitchen window, it hit him. They were stranded—at least until a snowplow could get down this road. Primary roads would get plowed first, and with all the roads out of Whitehorse closed, it could be days before this road was open.

  He was trapped here with a woman who both scared and fascinated him. A woman he couldn’t trust—and yet wanted to. He was in dangerous territory, he thought, glancing again toward the kitchen window and Dede.

  Chapter Four

  Dede heard the front door bang open, felt the cold draft of air rush in as Lantry stomped his snow boots, slammed the door and dropped the armload of wood next to the fire.

  She glanced toward the living room and saw him warming his hands in front of the fireplace. He looked so pensive. So deep in thought. She didn’t kid herself that had the phones been working, he would have sold her down the river in a heartbeat.

  She couldn’t trust this man. No matter how considerate he’d been to her.

  “Did you find something for us to eat?” Lantry called without looking in her direction.

  The cupboards were filled with canned goods, and the freezer was full of beef. “Yes,” she called back. She had taken two T-bone steaks from the freezer and put them in the microwave to defrost and was now considering which of many home-canned vegetables to prepare with the steaks when she heard him come into the kitchen.

  She could feel him studying her as she heard him pull out a chair and sit down at the big oak table.

  “I thought we’d have steak and baked potatoes. I found some butter and sour cream in the fridge. But I can’t decide between canned green beans and canned corn,” she said, turning to look at him.

  His smile softened the hard lines of his face. He really was an amazingly attractive man. “How about both? I’m starved.” He stretched out his long legs.

  “Me, too,” she said as her stomach growled again. She glanced at the clock, and realized why she was so hungry. She hadn’t had anything to eat since supper the day before at the hospital—almost twenty-four hours ago.

  She took the steaks from the microwave and popped in two large potatoes to cook. The cast-iron skillet she’d put on the stove with butter melting in it was hot enough that she dropped in the steaks.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a woman who cooked,” Lantry said behind her.

  She bristled at the remark. “That’s because you don’t know anything about me,” she said without turning arou
nd. “You made a lot of erroneous assumptions about me based on what your client told you, and since you weren’t interested in the truth—”

  His laugh made her break off in midsentence.

  She turned to find him grinning at her.

  “You’re right,” he said and held up his hands in surrender.

  “What does that mean?” she asked suspiciously as the steaks sizzled in the skillet.

  “You’re right, and since we have nothing but time, after dinner I want you to tell me everything about you and what’s really going on.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him, studying him. “And you’ll listen with an open mind?”

  He pushed himself to his feet. “You have my word,” he said as he moved to the cupboards. He opened one, then another, before he found the dishes. He began to set the table. In the other room, the radio played “Deck the Halls.”

  They ate at the table to the glow of the fire in the next room. Music played softly on the radio. The house felt warmer. Or maybe it was just sitting across from this man, Dede thought as she devoured the food.

  “I can’t remember anything tasting this good,” she said as she finished.

  “I know what you mean. I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Good job on the steaks.”

  “You make me nervous when you’re nice to me,” she said, studying him. She’d expected him to laugh. Or at least grin. But he did neither.

  He looked at her with compassion. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I never wanted to be unkind to you.”

  The food had helped fight off some of her exhaustion, but she knew it wouldn’t last. She had to convince him to help her before the snowplows opened the road.

  AFTER THEY’D CLEANED UP THE kitchen, Lantry threw more logs on the fire and they sat down at separate ends of the couch in front of the blaze. He felt full and strangely content—all things considered. Dede seemed lost in her own thoughts.

  He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Now more than ever, he felt he owed her that. He’d helped Frank push her to this breaking point. And while all of that was true, he knew the main reason he wanted to hear her out was because he was beginning to like her.

  The woman had a strength that amazed him. She’d been through so much, and yet there was still a whole lot of fight in her. He thought about her trudging through the snowdrifts in that damned Santa suit and smiled to himself. He’d seen the exhaustion on her face. The cold had weakened even him.

  She’d been facing ultimate defeat, but she’d kept going, knowing that if the phone had worked once they reached the ranch house, he’d have turned her in.

  He felt guilty about that now. He’d been ready to throw her to the wolves without even hearing her out. Of course, she had taken him from the jail at gunpoint, he reminded himself as the fire crackled softly.

  Dede sat for a moment, staring into the fire, before she said, “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  Lantry looked over, saw Dede’s face and felt sick. Hadn’t he had a feeling that Dede wasn’t telling him everything?

  “I told you that Frank called me at the hospital in Texas. He told me things had gotten out of his control and that my life was in danger. He told me to do whatever I had to, but to get out of there and run.”

  “Why didn’t you take his advice?”

  “Because I knew my husband.” She looked at him with those big blue innocent eyes, and he felt the pull of this woman, stronger than the fiercest tides. “I knew his secret. I overhead him on the phone one night before the divorce. I hadn’t meant to be eavesdropping.” She hesitated. “I feel disloyal telling this even now.”

  Dede took a breath and let it out slowly. “I heard Frank say he wanted out. Whoever was on the other end of the line was arguing with him. Frank said, ‘There has to be a price for my freedom, dammit.’ Then he fell silent. I could see his shadow on the wall. He had his head in his hand. After he hung up, I heard him crying.” Her voice broke, and she got up to stand with her back to him in front of the fire.

  “After that, Frank was a different man—cold, hateful. I tried to talk to him…” Her voice trailed off, and for a while, there was only the crackle of the fire and her fragile dark silhouette against the flames.

  “You said you knew Frank’s secret. Is that why these men are after you?” Lantry asked, rising to put more wood on the fire.

  “Frank had something they wanted.” She raised her gaze to his, the two of them standing inches apart as the fire roared softly in the chilly room.

  “What would make you think that?” he asked, feeling a little lightheaded. It was hard not to be completely entranced by that angelic face and those eyes of hers. This close, he could smell the fresh scent of the soap on her skin, in her hair.

  “Look what they did to the house. You didn’t really think I would destroy a seven-thousand-dollar couch like that, did you?”

  He recalled the photographs Frank had shown him. Photographs of the house torn apart as if by a madman. Or a furious, crazed wife. He’d been shocked by the destruction. So had the doctor who’d signed Dede’s commitment papers at Frank’s urging.

  “Insane or simply angry, who has the energy to ransack every room of a twelve-thousand-square-foot house?” she asked.

  “Frank must have known who destroyed your house,” Lantry said. “Why would he lie and say you did?”

  “I told you. Frank loved me. He thought I would be safe locked up where no one would believe anything I said. He was trying to protect me.”

  Lantry would have argued that, but one look in the depths of those blue eyes of hers and he couldn’t bring himself to raise a word of protest. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  “Pretend what?”

  “That he didn’t break your heart.”

  DEDE WAITED FOR THAT AWFUL ache to form in her chest. To her surprise, she felt only a slight flutter, nothing more. She should have been relieved that it didn’t hurt as much as it had, but instead she was filled with an odd sense of regret.

  Frank was gone. Not just from her life, but from her heart. That made her sad. She’d planned to spend the rest of her life with him. Maybe Lantry was right about love and marriage. Maybe nothing lasted, not love, not even the pain of a broken heart.

  “Dede, I can see how hard even talking about this is for you,” Lantry said quietly. “I’m sorry. I hate the part I played in what’s happened to you.”

  She stared at Lantry, unable to hide her surprise. He continued to keep her off balance.

  She’d despised Lantry Corbett from the moment Frank had hired him and she’d heard how ruthless he was.

  She’d heard he was an amazing lawyer but a man without a conscience, a poor excuse for a human being. She’d told herself there had to be more to Lantry Corbett than what she’d heard about him.

  But on meeting him, she’d been devastated to discover that apparently what she’d heard about him was true. He seemed cold, calculating and with no regard for truth or justice.

  So how did she explain what appeared to be this change in him? Or had there been this man inside the divorce lawyer all along? More to the point, could she trust him?

  “I suspect you like letting people believe you’re a heartless bastard,” she said, not unkindly.

  He smiled at that. “I suppose I do. But I don’t like myself as I see me reflected in your eyes.”

  She wished he wasn’t so devastatingly handsome, especially on those rare occasions when his smile reached his eyes.

  “It is hard for me to talk about this, but you have to know everything,” she said. “I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t just eavesdrop on Frank. After the change in him, I listened in on his phone calls, I checked his pockets, went through his wallet, hired a private detective. That’s when I found out his secret.”

  VIOLET FELT SOMETIMES AS IF her skin were too tight. As if her own body had turned against her like everyone else had. As if she were killing herself slowly.

  “Crazy thought,�
� she warned herself silently.

  “Not so crazy,” her dead grandmother said from the backseat as they waited for the wedding shower to let out. “I told your mother again and again that there was something wrong with you. Did she listen? Of course not. No one ever listens to me. Just like you. You don’t listen to me, do you, Violet? If you’d have listened to me, all this would be over. But no, you just had to do things your way.”

  Violet covered her ears, but she could still hear her grandmother’s voice. “Shut up! SHUT UP!”

  Roberta’s curly head popped up from the passenger seat, where she’d been sleeping as the blizzard raged around the stolen SUV. She blinked, looking around in confusion. “What’s going on?” she demanded hoarsely.

  Violet took her hands from her ears and glanced in the rearview mirror to where her grandmother had been sitting only moments before. “Nothing.”

  “Then who the hell were you yelling at?” Roberta wanted to know.

  “No one. It was just—”

  “Not your grandmother again,” Roberta said, glancing around the interior of the stolen SUV. “You should have driven a stake through her heart when she died. Otherwise they come back, you know.”

  Violet knew only too well. Her grandmother had been coming back for some time now. In fact, it was her grandmother who’d kept Violet from getting out of the mental hospital. She’d been so close to being released. She’d convinced the doctor that she was well, that she could make it on the outside—until her grandmother started nagging at her, just as she had in life.

  “Go back to sleep,” she told Roberta. Not that it was necessary. The woman had already curled up and was snoring softly.

  Violet wished she could sleep like that. The SUV rocked in the wind, and snow swirled around it. Violet had started the engine and turned the heater on high as she waited for her mother’s wedding shower to end. It should be soon, given the storm.

  She’d always hated winter and used to dream of moving to somewhere warm. Maybe that’s what she’d do once she was free of the past. Before she went, she should go up to the cemetery in Old Town Whitehorse where her grandmother was buried and dig up the old biddy and put a stake through her heart.