The Runaway Pastor's Wife

by Diane Moody

  “So where could he have gone, Daddy?” Jessie tucked a curl behind her ear. “How could he know where Mommy might be?”

  “I have no idea,” David answered, mussing his daughter’s hair. “Not a clue. But I promise you this. I’m going to find out.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Eagle’s Nest

  Annie tucked Michael’s blankets around him after dressing his wounds again. “Your coloring is better. That’s a good sign. Here, take these.” She handed him the medication with a glass of water. Her patient obliged, swallowing the pills.

  “I’m starving. Do you mind fixing me something to eat?”

  She rolled her eyes at him and limped back to the kitchen.

  “How about a hot plate of cheese enchiladas, a couple tacos, and maybe some queso dip and chips? Can you rustle that up for me?”

  “Dream on. I’m afraid you’re hallucinating.”

  He watched her make two sandwiches and placed them on separate plates with a handful of chips.

  “Can you heat up some tea while you’re at it? I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Neither can I. It feels like thirty below in here.” She balanced the tray of food vicariously, hobbling on one crutch to carry it over to the coffee table. Setting it down within his reach, she headed back to the kitchen to fill the kettle with water. “This is getting really old.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It’s really not so bad if you think of it.” Michael chomped on the thick ham and Muenster sandwich as he studied the fire.

  “I’m thinking of it and I’m thinking it’s pretty bad.” She put the kettle over the fire then sat back down.

  “Then you’re looking at it all wrong. The way I’m seeing it—it’s like being marooned on a desert island, only colder.”

  Annie sighed then took a bite of her sandwich.

  “Well, aside from the chill, it’s really not so bad. Think about it. No one else can travel in this weather, which means no one can get up here, which means for now we’re safe. That may not mean much to you, but you can’t imagine how good it feels to me.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad you’re happy. If you’re happy, then I’m happy. Just think how amused they’ll be when they find the frozen smiles on our frozen faces on our frozen bodies.”

  “Whiner.”

  “I’m not whining.”

  “Cry baby.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Make me.”

  “Shut up, Michael.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, I’ll shut up on one condition.”

  “What?”

  “The fire needs stoking.”

  He heard her slam the bedroom door just as he realized she hadn’t served him his tea.

  “Annie?”

  Silence.

  He shook his head, amused and irritated at the same time. She wouldn’t be in there long. The fire was out here.

  But he wasn’t amused for long. The constant, nagging sparks of fear gnawed at him. With every passing moment, Elliot and his legions were bound to be closing in on him. Despite the comforts of Christine’s cabin and the strange companionship and assistance Annie provided, he still felt like a sitting duck. He resented the physical weakness that trapped him here on this sofa. He needed to do something.

  His cell phone caught his eye. Earlier, he had asked Annie to get it out of his car, though he wasn’t sure if he would use it or not. He just needed it near. Now with her out of the room, he felt an urgency to talk to Grady again. He pressed the on button, coughing to cover the sound of the beep. The instrument came to life, the panel glowing a florescent blue. He pulled the covers over his head to muffle the sound of his dialing.

  “Hello?”

  “Grady! It’s Michael.”

  “Michael! Thank God! I thought you were dead by now.”

  “No such luck. I’m better—much better than the last time we talked, that’s for sure. I’ve had some medical attention, I’m in a secure location—”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to tell you.”

  “Michael, you promised me. The last time you called you promised to come clean and tell me where you are.”

  “I know, I know. I just don’t want—hey, wait a minute. Maybe I can tell you without telling you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning . . . what if I told you I was at Tumbleweed’s hideaway and left it at that?”

  A pause on the other end of the line. “You mean—”

  “Don’t say it! Don’t say a word, okay? I still don’t trust these cell phones. It’s too easy for someone to intercept the lines. Are we on the same page here?”

  Grady laughed. “We’re good, Michael.”

  “Good. That’s a big relief. So if anything should happen to me, you’ll know exactly where to find me. And you still have the information I gave you about the—”

  “Got it. Not to worry.”

  “There’s one other thing I need to tell you. At the moment, I’m a bit under the weather, if you follow me—”

  “I hear you.”

  “But once this all clears up—”

  “I understand—”

  “I’m going straight to the authorities myself. I just need to decide how to do that. Who I can trust.”

  “Michael, it will make it a lot easier if you’d just let me go to the authorities now. Give them the location for the packet. Tell them to come rescue you. It makes sense!”

  “No way.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Dean!”

  “No! I’ve already endangered you by these phone calls. I don’t want to involve you any more than I already have. I’ll be careful who I contact. I’ll cover my tracks. I’m only telling you now so that someone somewhere knows where I am and where there’s information that pieces together the puzzle behind this nightmare.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to handle it for you?’

  “I value your friendship too much to do that to you.”

  No response.

  “Grady, you still there?”

  “I’m here. Look, you take care of yourself, okay? And call me back in the morning. Keep in touch. And for the love of Pete, try not to get yourself killed, okay?”

  “I will, Grady. I will.”

  Weber Creek, Colorado

  “Well, what do you think, Doc?” Bob Williamson asked his friend, leaning across the counter. “You think our guest up there can cope with this kind of storm?”

  Doc Wilkins had trudged across the street through the piling snow to Williamson’s Store. He was restless. Increasingly concerned about the troubles up at that cabin, his thoughts had little to do with the storm. He had a bad feeling about all of it. A feeling he couldn’t shake. Someone had tried to kill Michael Dean. He could think of little else.

  “Well?” Bob asked again, sliding Doc’s coffee mug gently across the counter.

  Doc wasn’t used to keeping secrets, especially from his two best friends. But this time he had no choice. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be all right.” He wrapped his hands around the warm mug. “She seems to be pretty resourceful. And that ankle should be improving right along. I expect she’ll do what has to be done.”

  “Well, at least she can still use the phone,” Bob added, following Doc to the fireplace.

  “Who can still use the phone? Last I checked the phones were down,” Mary Jean hollered as she made her way out of the storeroom. “Oh hi, George. Didn’t hear you come in. Didn’t you know the phones were down?”

  “No, MJ. But I was afraid of that.” Doc eased into one of the rocking chairs. “That changes everything.”

  Mary Jean sat down on the hearth, pulling her sweater tighter around her. “What do you mean by that? Are you talking about Annie?”

  Doc nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the blaze.

  “But I thought you just said she could take care of herself,” Bob countered.

  “Well, of course she can take car
e of herself, Bob,” Mary Jean argued. “But being cut off from the entire human race in this kind of a storm? And her, not being used to this kind of weather? Land sakes, I’ve been in these mountains all my life and I still say there’s nothing lonelier than having the phones go down on you. Poor thing, she’s probably scared to death up there. Surely there’s something we can do?” She looked back and forth between the men.

  Doc Wilkins stared at the steam coming from his coffee mug. You’re so right, Mary Jean, he thought. I’m quite certain Annie is scared to death by now, but her fears have little to do with the blizzard outside her window

  Eagle’s Nest

  “Hey!” He hated this. He was totally incapable of doing anything for himself. He despised the helplessness.

  “Annie?”

  The glow of the candle preceded her as she shuffled around the corner. “Michael, what is it? What’s wrong?” She stood over him, alarm etched on her face. “Are you in pain?”

  He huffed. “No, I’m not in pain. Nothing’s wrong. Except that I need to, uh . . . I mean how I am supposed to—I need to go to the bathroom, okay?!”

  “Oh!” A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “I wondered when that would hit you. You’ve been holding your liquids a long time. Course, you always did have a huge bladder. You could drink like a fish all night and never once have to go. I could never figure out how you did that.”

  “Strong will.”

  “Oh sure. But now you’re embarrassed about this, are you? Big guy like you? Humiliated because you need a little help to go potty?”

  “Can we cut the jokes here? I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need help.” He threw back the quilts.

  “I don’t know, Michael. I rather like having you helpless. Who’s the crybaby now, huh? Besides, it keeps you humble,” she continued, helping him to his feet. “Also keeps you completely at my mercy. Now there’s a switch,” she added dryly.

  “Actually, come to think of it, you’re right.” The effort of walking strained his voice.

  “Right about what?”

  “About my being embarrassed. Why should I be embarrassed? After all, it’s not like we didn’t live together all those years or anything,” he toyed, giving her the slightest hug his bad arm could muster.

  Annie jerked to face him, their noses mere inches apart. Her eyes narrowed.

  “What? What did I say?”

  Just as quickly, she looked away. “That’s all history and hardly relevant at this point in time.”

  They continued their slow journey to the bathroom. Michael enjoyed the ability to make her squirm. “History, maybe, but all history is relevant if you ask me.”

  “I didn’t ask you.”

  “Fine. But the fact remains that you and I were once—”

  “I know what we were, okay? Can we just skip this stroll down memory lane?” They reached the bathroom. “Why don’t you just . . . just do what you need to do and let’s get on with it.”

  Once he was situated, Annie pulled the door and gave him privacy. He could still see her through the crack in the door. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the door frame.

  “Fact is, those were some of the happiest years of my life.”

  “Enough, Michael. I don’t want to hear any more. I’m a married woman, thank you very much. I have three kids, and besides that, I’m a pastor’s wife.”

  “A pastor’s wife?” He laughed, rolling out several lengths of toilet paper. “Well now, that’s quite a switch, isn’t it? Actually, I think I’d heard about that somewhere along the line, but I didn’t really believe it. Annie Franklin? A preacher’s wife? My Annie? The girl who partied with me, danced with me—who lived with me?” He watched her shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  “I’m not ‘your Annie’ anymore, in case you’ve forgotten. That was a long time ago. I’m a different person now, though I’d hardly expect you to have a clue what it means to change your life for the better. If you’ll recall, you were the one who walked out on me all those years ago. Without so much as a word of explanation, you just left.” Her voice cracked.

  Michael tried to think of something to say. For once in his life, he was speechless.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! Why are we even talking about this,” she mumbled, limping out of sight, though he could still hear her. “God, why him? Why now? Wasn’t it all screwed up enough?”

  He listened to her quiet pleas, certain she had no idea he could hear. He silently cursed himself for upsetting her.

  “Uh, Annie?”

  Silence.

  “I could use a little help in here.”

  She groaned in protest. He could hear her unsteady clomping against the hard wood floor. He could also hear the words she muttered under her breath. “Nurse Nancy to the skeleton in my closet. Like I needed this?”

  Houston, Texas

  “Those imbeciles! It’s been three days!”

  Elliot slammed down his phone and dropped back into his chair. His heart pounded in his chest, the anger rising to a boil.

  He knew what they’d done. Gus and Marcus had lost Michael’s trail. And rather than admit their failure, they’d pulled the batteries out of their cell phone. I was a fool to trust them to do something this important. What was I thinking!

  He stood up and walked over to the bank of windows. Thirty stories below, pedestrians went about their business, rushing along the city sidewalks like ants on a mission. Elliot pressed his thumb against the glass as if he could squish them. All of them. People were such a nuisance.

  Especially Gus and Marcus.

  Especially Michael.

  Wherever you are, Michael, I’ll find you. And I’ll squash you like the worthless ant you are. I’ll squash you with my own bare hands.

  CHAPTER 26

  Near Little Rock, Arkansas

  Max yanked the polka tape out of PJ’s eight-track stereo and tossed it on the floor. “How do people stand that stuff? And they give us grief over rock & roll. Go figure.”

  The trip had been without incident so far, which Max attributed to his continuous prayers. The first three hundred miles had been exciting. He was on a rescue mission! He imagined the relief at home when they heard he had not only found his mom, but was on his way home with her. They would quickly forgive his impulsive decision to take off without permission. Their gratitude would far outweigh any anxiety they’d experienced.

  Sure it would.

  But as the miles stretched on, he had grown steadily more irritated at himself for making such a hasty departure. I should have left a note. Maybe I should have spoken with Dad. At least a phone call—anything to keep from adding another burden on them right now. Way to go, Max. They’re probably losing their minds with worry about now.

  His thoughts spiraling downward, Max pulled over at a convenience store on the outskirts of Little Rock, Arkansas. He would have no peace until he placed the call. He was exhausted anyway, and knew he needed some serious sleep.

  But first things first. He’d checked in with Megan a couple of times already, but he needed to hear her voice before placing his other call. He dialed the familiar number. The sound of her voice pumped him up again. He told her about his decision to call home. After a brief discussion, she agreed it was the right thing to do.

  “So how’s PJ doing? He’s not dressing up like 007 to serve donuts, is he?”

  “He’s such a riot, Max. But you know what? I think this whole escapade has made him feel really important somehow. Like he’s a significant part of something very important. I’m not sure how long he’ll be able to keep the secret, but so far he’s been great. I think you should probably call him. Maybe after you get some rest. It would mean a lot to him.”

  “I’ll do that. Well, I guess I better go. I miss you, Megan,” he said softly. “I can’t believe how good it is to hear your voice.”

  “I love you, Max McGregor.”

  “I love you, Megan Tanner.”

  “Keep in touch,
okay?”

  “I will. Talk to you later.”

  Max hung up the pay phone. He suddenly realized how hungry he was and decided to get some dinner before placing his next call.

  He was stalling and he knew it.

  Max took a deep breath. Oh God, please let him understand.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad, it’s me, Max.”

  “Max! Where are you? We’ve been worried to death!”

  “I know, Dad. And I’m really sorry. I never should have left the way I did.” The words tumbled over themselves. “I just . . . all I could think about was finding Mom and bringing her home. I thought maybe then you’d . . . maybe it would make you . . .”

  “Make me what?” his father pressed.

  Max struggled for the right words. “Dad, I feel like all I ever do is disappoint you. I’m always causing you grief, one way or another. And just about the time I think I’m finally making some progress, like staying out of your hair or not losing my temper, then I go and blow it big time.”

  “Max, you don’t have to prove yourself to me!”

  “But—”

  “Look, son, I’m the one who needs to be making the apology here, so just hold on for a minute. The other morning when I—”

  “Dad, you don’t—”

  “Yes, I do. I was way out of line. That headline sent me over the edge, but that’s no excuse for taking it out on you. I’m asking you to forgive me, buddy.”

  Max absently fingered the lint in his pocket. “I do. Forget about it. But it goes both ways. I lost my temper, like I always seem to do. So I blew it too. And I’m sorry. Forgive me too?”