The Jeep sat idling long enough for Rebecca to climb inside.
Barefoot, he raced down the stairs, dug in his pocket past Rebecca’s keys as he hurried to his truck. Inside, behind the steering wheel, he jammed the key into the ignition and turned.
Nothing.
He cranked the key again, twisted it against the cylinder. His hand twitched with reined-in frustration, barely stopping his sheer force from breaking the key as he watched the Jeep disappear around the corner.
He slammed a fist against the wheel. Come on!
The engine said nothing. What the hell was wrong with his truck? He released his death grip on the key, reached under the dash to pop the hood.
This couldn’t be happening. Outside again, he hefted the hood. His arms locked more solid than a prop rod as tension raced. Son of a bitch! She’d taken his distributor and nipped the engine harness at the other end of the connector. His hand went through his hair, wanting to grasp something, someone, with it. That woman! No. Those women! His arms fell to his sides. The hood clanked shut.
Fists clenched, his eyes fell on Rebecca’s car. He stared hard at the hatchback, dug her keys out of his pocket. Dropping into the driver’s seat, he turned the key. Nothing.
His jaw clenched, teeth ground.
He pushed back out of Rebecca’s car and slammed the door. Why, Amanda? Why? I’m the only one who knows it all. I know Germ is as responsible as you! I’m the only one who can help!
Body pressurized with stress, he climbed the stairs and stepped back into the apartment. He shook his head as he simmered. Muscles firmed in an attempt to contain the fury. He found socks and rammed his feet into them.
Even in the city, even if he could get to one, he doubted the existence of an all-night part store that would have both the distributor and the very specific part of its connector from the main engine harness. Then if they did, he’d need to splice the wires together without his soldering device . . . in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t be a clean connection for his engine’s ignition system.
He had a phone, but what good was it without their numbers?
Amanda couldn’t do this, not without him. Only he knew—Rebecca. He’d told her enough. Rebecca. His mind lingered on her name. He couldn’t explain it. They’d stranded him for hours!
He tossed his head back. There had to be something. What about a rental car? There must be all-night rentals near the airport. You mean the airport up in Timbuktu, even farther north than downtown? This was useless. Once again he’d shown his capacity for screwing things up.
He’d pushed Amanda. Had he done the same to Rebecca? He hadn’t seen any regret in her eyes. How’d it result in this? Women left him staggering.
Click, click. Click, click.
Sitting there, the sound walked through his mind. It was hollow and cold. He closed his eyes and breathed. Was this how Amanda had felt? She’d told him. She heard the focused, final clicks of high heels. Amanda seized their sound. The repetition played a broken record of abandonment.
No, that’s not what he’d heard when Rebecca walked out. He heard her voice. It’d softened toward him. She’d met his eyes. Rebecca spoke to him. Her silver gaze found his.
Ryan’s father couldn’t have cared less when he’d walked. He had nothing to say to his son. He didn’t leave under the cover of night. By uncluttered daylight, he knew what he left. He looked it. He looked Ryan directly in the eye before he closed the door without a word. His dress shoes were as quiet and heartless.
Ryan smirked. His father hadn’t worn high heels when he’d rejected Ryan’s mother. Investments. His world had revolved around them. It’d be best for everyone if he took his expanding operation to the city. His father had said he knew his obligations as he lifted a hand in Ryan’s general direction. He’d send them all the money they could ever need. His fool-proof plan had not worked out so well when the city had killed him.
His mother had gone from devoted housewife to waitress. It wasn’t enough. Ryan had turned from games and friends to part-time jobs. Someone had to take care of his mom.
When Jim Hudson had hired him, taught him automotive repair, he’d given Ryan a career. Jim became the sole male role model in Ryan’s life. Next to the mother he took care of, Ryan’s family became Jim and Amanda. And now, he had made a major, messy teardown of that family. He would see it rebuilt, however he had to do it.
Call him. Call Jim.
And tell him what exactly? ‘I ignored your advice, Jim, and I betrayed your trust with Amanda. She’s now on her way to Bayfield to re-live horrible memories.’
He shook his head. There had to be another way.
What time did stores open on Saturday? He checked the tire clock and sighed. Several more hours. He dropped back on the couch and closed his eyes. When his head touched the back of the sofa, her gray eyes were there. His brow crinkled at the memory of the last expression in them. He exhaled, thinking of her scent, how she felt in his arms.
Something pounded on the door. He sat up and squinted at the clock. Six a.m.
Four long strides brought him to the peephole. His eyes widened. At first, with previous thoughts on Jim, he assumed it was him on the other side of the door. Then Ryan noted the silver hair and a straighter jaw line. Plus, Ryan couldn’t think of a time when Jim might’ve owned a pair of dress slacks, especially beige ones, or a polo shirt. Ryan opened the door, facing Jay Hudson for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Rebecca was his niece as well.
The gentleman frowned. He demanded, “Where have they gone?” His emerald eyes narrowed. “You told her, didn’t you? It’d been better off if you’d just listened to Jim all those years ago.”
“It wouldn’t have done any good.” The way Ryan had gone about approaching Amanda with his discovery may have been all wrong, but he finally realized how deep this ran. Amanda had never forgotten. She allowed guilt and responsibility to eat at her insides all this time without those who loved and cared for her having a clue.
The man’s eyes turned to slits. “What’s happened?”
Ryan peered past Jay to an idling Land Rover. Stepping out of the apartment, he closed the door behind him and strode past Jay, started down the stairs. “C’mon. I’ll tell you on the way.”
“On the way where?” Jay followed him down.
“To Bayfield.”
Jay stopped at the base of the stairs. “What?”
“Look,” Ryan grabbed his pack out of the downed truck’s cab and turned to face the man. “You came here to keep her safe, out of trouble, right? The trouble is in Bayfield and she’s driving right into it. We have to go now.”
Jay, with a scowl on his face, circled around to the driver’s door. “I hope, for my brother’s sake, she’s not doing anything stupid.”
Chapter 13
Rebecca wanted to explain to Ryan, but she didn’t know where to start. Instead, she certainly knew how to give herself plenty of time to think. Amanda did the driving. She steered them along highway two-eighty-five through the Rocky Mountains. The sun had yet to breach the horizon.
They’d made it out of the city then gassed up at an isolated station where they’d changed clothes. Although Rebecca had stuffed most of the dryer’s contents into her school bag as she’d pretended to talk to a fellow student on the phone, Amanda had kept a spare set of clothes in her locker at work and was already freshly dressed when she’d picked up Rebecca. Of course, Amanda’s definition of freshly dressed was jeans with holes in the knees and a promotional shirt from the tool guy.
Rebecca had pulled off her gray sweats and slipped into a pair of black slacks as well as leather-strap sandals. She’d resort to high heels as little as possible but they really had taken the pressure off her cut. After buttoning up a beige blouse made of cool, breathable fabric, some combination of rayon
and polyester, she’d re-joined Amanda in the front seat. When Amanda had regained the road, Rebecca proceeded with her pretend conversation she’d like to have with Ryan but doubted she’d ever voice the words aloud.
How could you do this? She imagined his rich, woody voice, and, because it was fantasy, he laid beside her, his warm breath fanning her face.
Funny you should ask.
First, like I told you, I took a shower. I wanted time to think and couldn’t attain lucidity in your arms. Thoughts of you being here because of Amanda swirled in my head. You’re here for her as a big brother or whatever. I don’t know where I fit in, especially after what happened between us. I was safest playing the helpful cousin.
With the ventilation fan going, I called Amanda. We agreed to tell our dads we were sitting out of the barbecue because of stomach flu. I knew what Amanda wanted. I needed time to think. We both had to leave Denver.
When I returned to your arms, it was Amanda who’d called. She was downstairs waiting for me. See? That was how I could do this.
A heavy sigh could stir the wavy lengths of her hair. A warm hand might envelope her bare shoulder. She closed her eyes.
I’m still not clear on the why, he’d whisper near her lips.
Neither am I. She felt breathless under his closeness even if he was hours away from her.
Fort Collins, where Rebecca had grown up, was small potatoes to the metropolitan of Denver. As the Jeep curved around naked rock walls, Rebecca inhaled deeply. She’d escaped the city during the crunch time of finals and allowed the closeted feeling to ease. Headlights shone on the wire netting the city had set in place, stabbed into position against the granite with iron rods. They held back shattering rocks like loose hair in a kitchen. They couldn’t hold back the non-physical of thoughts or emotions.
Mountainous corridors flowed past as Amanda kept them on a narrow step carved into the wall. Evergreens covered mountain slopes like black hairbrush bristles. Rebecca wanted the sunlight. She needed the mountain range better illuminated, its vast peaks defined. Too close. The night held too much intimacy.
If they’d left at a different time, they would’ve made the special ascent where at the crest she’d feel like they’d reached the doorway into the mountains. At that threshold, Denver became a speck in the mind, skyscrapers were minions to nature.
The sun wouldn’t make it in time to give Rebecca the view she needed, the one she remembered on previous drives to Bayfield. But she longed for the possibility of distraction.
Her mind demanded explanation about why. Why let Amanda speed her out of Denver?
Ryan, she fired at her demanding, unceasing thoughts. Her body had rebelled against leaving his arms. And that was why she’d had to! Her emotions had to be subdued. She’d never had trouble keeping them in line before, placed firmly after the higher priority of work-slash-school. There was no room for emotions in work. But she was chasing facts entangled with family duties.
Facts and work used to be a steady foundation, one her parents had erected within her when she’d come home from junior high in tears. Uncomfortable from her first raw break-up experience, they’d told her feelings had no place at work. Focus on your school assignments, and feelings would fall to the background.
Now, her school-focused foundation, which had stood for nearly a decade, was under stress. She was caught up in the middle of helping her family hunt down facts while seeking some way to restrain her flash-flooding emotions. Rebecca needed truth as much as Amanda.
She’d given Amanda enough information to start the trip. As long as Rebecca held onto the pictures and threat letters, safe in her pack, she might be able to hold on to Amanda. It should last long enough for her to validate what Ryan had told her.
Ryan deserved the benefit of the doubt. He couldn’t have planted those photos, could he? And she couldn’t let emotions sway a biased response, had to keep her distance from him until all this was over, when he’d go back to Bayfield. She mentally trumped the regret and directed her focus back to the driver.
Okay Amanda, time for answers.
“So out with it.” Rebecca banished the mountain-drive silence. “Is what Ryan said true?”
Amanda’s eyes darted toward Rebecca. They moved back to the windshield and searched out the highway. “Right. How about being more specific?”
“Well, not counting the two cars you manhandled tonight, including mine, five years ago you sabotaged a car. You never forgot. And you believe you killed a girl. Danielle?”
Amanda blinked at the name. “You got anything else?”
“So, it’s all true?”
“C’mon Rebbie, why else would we be driving to Bayfield in the middle of the night?”
Rebecca breathed in the dusty air of the Jeep. The air outside must be fresh. She exhaled. “I just had to hear it from you.”
“Right. And you did. Was it worth it?”
Hardly. “I’m not done yet.” She bent forward and dug inside her backpack. She pulled out her book light, flicked it on. Shielding its beam from reflecting off the windshield and into Amanda’s eyes, she flipped through the photographs of wreckage then read aloud the first threat card she found. “. . . what you read, you best heed. Turn yourself in, or it’s the end.”
Amanda twisted her hands on the steering wheel. She ground the shifter into a lower gear and nailed the gas for the steep slope ahead.
The Jeep climbed. They passed through the mountain threshold and stars lit up half the world. In the lower half stood stoic rock giants, a thin line of taillights and headlights passing through, ignored by Nature’s monoliths. Rebecca dropped her eyes to the papers on her lap. How many of those iota-sized cars were having this conversation?
She sighed. “Amanda, this is no game anymore. How can I help—and I am sticking around—if I’m totally blind?”
Silence.
“It’s just me.”
Amanda’s shoulders slumped. She sighed and opened her mouth.
“No lies,” said Rebecca.
“How can I lie with those in front of you!” She flipped on the heater vents. “I’m still not sure what you’re accusing me of.”
“Accusing? I’m here to help you figure out who else would want to blame you.” Rebecca dropped a hand against the door window. The cold filtered into her touch, and she knew the mountains and their thin air were really out there.
“How about everyone where I work? I guess I gave the wrong vibes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s with those high heels?” Amanda nodded toward the floorboard where Rebecca had tucked them.
“You’re getting off the subject.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “I mean how could you possibly see it my way? Rebbie, what use are they?” Amanda continued over Rebecca’s open mouth. “Like a skirt, where’s the pockets? Oh, I know. A purse! You don’t need open hands for chattering like birds. Total peacocks! They spend so much time on their phones they don’t even notice a clunk coming from their car. Just a body full of hot air, covered in pretty feathers, and ready to fly at a moment’s notice . . .
“Could heels or a skirt pry the latch off a trunk lid? Real clothes saved my skin! High heels don’t comfort a daughter. They don’t love a husband. They pretend they know the pain you’re going through. Pity was so useful. No, all they do is let you know when a woman is leaving.”
Ryan had heard when Rebecca walked out of the apartment. Had he thought like Amanda, after being around her for all those years? “This person is trying to frame you.” She refused to be deflected, remained in pursuit of how someone was doing this to Amanda, ordering her to confess.
“Yeah, and according to you and Ryan, he doesn’t have a foot to stand on, because supposedly there’s some big revelation that I somehow missed for th
e last five years. I mean, the man stuffs me in a trunk and asks me if I regret it.”
“It was him?” She had all but forgotten the attack on Amanda, her abduction. She’d never even considered it in the same context. But as she drew mental connections, things began to make sense.
“Ooh, college here catches on, eventually.”
Rebecca exhaled harshly. “Amanda, knock that off.” She held a photo up and shook it. Looking down at the notes, she added, “Do you realize how serious this is?” Of course Amanda knew; she knew better than any of them. The attack hadn’t been random. Its existence brought things closer than detached letters and pictures.
Silence reigned while Rebecca studied the documents. She wondered why Amanda had never reached out, asked for help with the whole world crushing down on her. Based on Amanda’s words when she confronted Ryan with the pictures and letters, Rebecca understood. Her cousin hadn’t felt like she could trust her closest childhood confidant.
It couldn’t be Ryan, Rebecca immediately decided, even though she had even less idea than Amanda of who else could have done these things.
Ryan had hoped Amanda would be open with him right from the start. How it hurt to have someone you care about shut you out, after everything. That was the expression she had seen on Ryan’s face when Amanda had told him she’d never forgotten—he’d felt pain.
Amanda glanced her way. “It’s nothing, you know.”
“What?” Rebecca stared at a photo of the wrecked Toyota. Ryan had said Danielle crashed in a Clip. The Toyota must’ve been the crash he mentioned happening at Amanda’s work.
“What he’s trying to pin on me. Nobody was hurt. That’s nothing compared to someone dying by your hand.” She wasn’t talking to Rebecca anymore. She stared out over the highway as she spoke more so to herself. “Maybe I should turn myself in like that guy wants, but I won’t do that to Dad. I’m trying to . . . fix things. If only she hadn’t died. If only Mom hadn’t left.”
A Running Heart Page 13
