Hostage Heart

Home > Other > Hostage Heart > Page 22
Hostage Heart Page 22

by Renee Roszel


  “Oh?” It was all she could think of to say.

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, here it is, dear. It seems that General Standish—I believe you met him in Washington? He sends his regards.”

  He was waiting.

  “General Standish? Yes. What about him, Dad?”

  She realized she was sitting up now.

  “Well, the general arrived this morning. Now, well”—he exhaled heavily—“well, they took him home. . . Rolf, that is. He’s on his way to the United States right now. It appears he is in for some extensive debriefing before he can work on the Tokamak fusion reactor with us.”

  It had dropped, the other shoe, and her world as well. The room blurred before her, and she felt dampness along her cheek.

  “Drew, baby?”

  She nodded, lips trembling. “Yes, Daddy.” Her voice cracked. “I—I heard you. He’s. . .gone.”

  “Yes.” His voice brightened slightly. “But he wanted me to tell you he was sorry about it.”

  She licked at a salty tear. “Sorry?”

  She could only trust herself to whisper.

  “He said. . .let’s see. He said something like, ‘Tell Drew I’m sorry I couldn’t kiss her goodbye.’”

  Silence.

  She took a deep steadying breath. “That was all?”

  “All? Why, uh, yes—he did say something about missing breakfast.” Coughing nervously, he went on, “Rolf really didn’t have much time.”

  “Of course. I see.”

  Her father was reassuring, “Don’t worry, dear. General Standish did say Rolf would be kept incommunicado for a while. But he’ll be all right.”

  She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from making noises that sounded like crying. She knew what Rolf had meant by his message. “Goodbye” was just that—He hadn’t said, “Tell Drew I love her.” No. He’d said goodbye. . .and sorry he missed breakfast! That was still all last night had meant to him: a little something sweet!

  She wanted to cut this short.

  “Dad?” She concentrated on composing her voice. “I’d better get off the line and finish packing.”

  Covering the receiver with her hand, she gulped back a sob.

  “Fine. I’ll send a car around in about an hour, honey. Okay?”

  She nodded unsteadily. “Okay.”

  The phone clicked in her ear. But she didn’t place her receiver on its cradle. She just sat, clutching it, white-knuckled, letting the sobs come.

  Slumping forward, she wiped at her face with a shaky hand.

  “Good-bye.” It was a choked moan. “And I thought. . .”

  She looked at the gray receiver being murdered by her strangle-grip and dropped it back where it belonged.

  Pack. I must pack. She knew that she had to move, get busy, try as best she could to push thoughts of Rolf out of her mind, and get on with her life.

  Closing her eyes, more tears escaped, and she bit her lip hard. It would not be easy. Exhaling a ragged breath, she pushed herself up from the bed and absently pulled a robe over her nakedness. She felt numb, empty.

  He was gone, and as far as he was concerned, it was over. . . .The bargain was done, finished, in one secondhand “good-bye.”

  Nearly an hour later, she had showered and dressed in a tailored bright pink linen blazer and skirt, paired with a mini-print blouse. As she closed the last bag, the doorbell rang. Her car had arrived.

  The husky German taxi-driver made quick work of removing the bags, while Drew penned a note of thanks to the people whose house she and Rolf had shared.

  Beside it, she left a pair of silver candlesticks she had purchased in a gift shop downtown. . .a gift to people she had never met, for the use of a house she would never forget. . . no matter how hard she tried.

  Sighing, she pivoted away from the table and, without a second glance, walked quickly out the door.

  DREW folded the letter from Reverend Peabody after rereading it for the third time.

  He was always so cheerful in his letters, full of childlike enthusiasm, so proud of his part in the secret marriage that helped a valuable scientist defect to the United States—to be with the woman he loved.

  He’d sent several clippings concerning the conference that had been in his hometown paper. One of them included a picture of herself and Rolf.

  She remembered when Suzy Slade had taken that shot outside the wood-carving shop.

  Rolf’s smile had been trained on her, his arm around her waist. She, too, had been smiling as she looked adoringly up into his face.

  “For heaven’s sake,” she gasped. “If I didn’t know, better, I’d believe those two people really were in love!”

  Stuffing the letter and clippings into a cubbyhole of the antique roll-top desk, she closed the lid. Sitting back, she thought sadly that she really had been in love. It was Rolf who should be nominated for an Academy Award for his acting!

  Sighing, she rested her hands on the curved desk top to push herself up.

  She wasn’t bitter, just. . .empty. The day’s work was done, it was loneliness, memories, that brought her down.

  Since Rolf’s sudden departure in Oberammergau nearly two weeks ago, she had tried to bury herself in work, smothering her thoughts of him with day-to-day it business concerns.

  But the nights—two weeks of nights—they had become hard to endure.

  She moved listlessly to the stone mantel where a wood carving dominated its center.

  She had bought the funny little carving she had seen with Rolf for her father and had given it to him on their return. But this one, she had bought for herself.

  It was of a stalwart, young German man, dressed in rustic country clothes. With a booted foot resting on a stump, he leaned casually on the handle of an ax.

  Gently, she grazed the wood along the prominently carved cheekbone with a finger.

  “Rolf. . .” she whispered.

  The moment she had seen the carving, the stern face and intent searching eyes, she had been struck by the likeness it held for Rolf, and she had to have it.

  She dropped her hand to her side, speaking to him. . . to herself. . .to no one. “I’m filing the papers tomorrow. So it will soon be over. You will be completely free.”

  She turned away. Putting off filing the divorce papers had done no good, would do no good. She knew she must have it done before he returned. After all, what excuse did she have to remain Mrs. Rolf Erhardt now? He was in the United States, safe.

  She nodded. It must be done. And it must be done tomorrow.

  Without much real interest in the time, she looked at the wall clock over the desk. It was hand-made from a slice of pine trunk, the numerals represented in only four places by square-head nails. Nearly ten o’clock.

  Lately, ten o’clock had become early evening for Drew. She was rarely able to sleep before one or two in the morning.

  Crossing the white-and-green wool area rug, she pushed open the patio doors, allowing the white sheers to billow into the room on a pleasant mid-May evening breeze.

  Stepping out onto the uneven stone patio that overlooked a wooded valley, she was reminded, again, of the East German cottage where she and Rolf had been married.

  A new puff of breeze swirled the handkerchief hem of the jade silk gown about her legs. Shivering, suddenly cold, she couldn’t tell if the reaction was from the quickly cooling evening, or the emotionally stirring memory. Rubbing bare arms, she looked down at the flimsy gown, a recent wedding gift from several young secretaries at the office. “For when he gets back,” the card had read. She hadn’t wanted to accept it on false pretenses. But how could she tell five giggly girls the sobering truth?

  Another gust of cool air swept the gown out, billowing it bell-like, about her. She shivered again, shaking her head with a humorless laugh. “Looks like you lose on all counts, little gown.” She touched the softness of the fabric, pressing the air out of it. “You can’t keep a girl warm, and you won’t be tempting any male eyes either.�
��

  Turning to go inside, she was stopped in her tracks by a voice from out of the darkness.

  “Not so, not so, little lady. I’m pretty tempted just now—especially with that light behind you there. Nice, very nice.”

  She froze. “No.” It couldn’t be! Whirling back around, she watched, horrified as Jim walked into the shaft of light reaching out from the den.

  “Oh, yes, lover. What’d you think—I’d just fade into the sunset? Those soldier boys gave me a rough few days, but I finally convinced ‘em I was just a little too zealous a reporter, they let me go.” He put out a hand to grasp at hers.

  Reacting quickly in her distaste at the idea of his touch, she pulled away, and hurried inside, trying to close the doors on him.

  She was unsuccessful. He managed to push through before she could get them latched.

  “Oh, no, Drew. You’re not locking me out this time!”

  She stumbled backward, away from him, but was shortly halted by a pink velvet wing chair. “W-what are you doing here?”

  His lips thinned across his teeth in a pseudo-smile. “Fast-talked the boss into letting me do a follow-up on ol’ Rolfie-boy.” He tugged at his tie, loosening it as he swept his eyes over her. “Boy, you’re some great-looker in that green job—and all that wild red hair.” The tie was pulled off and thrown to the floor.

  She flattened herself against the chair as he took a threatening step.

  “Jim—”

  “Hell, I don’t give a damn about that so-called genius. But since he’ll be away for awhile convincing the Feds of his loyalty, I figured now’d be a good time for us to take care of our unfinished business.”

  Her mouth sagged open as he began to unbutton his shirt.

  “Oh, God! No!” It was a tremulous gasp.

  She managed to get her shaky legs to move her far enough to circle the chair, putting distance between them.

  Jim’s shirt was half-opened as he reached the chair back she had just left. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on it, a confident smile splitting his face.

  Drew noticed for the first time that his eyes were shining a little too brightly. That familiar glint sent a shudder of renewed fear through her as she realized he had been drinking.

  “You know what, Drew? I’ve got this whole thing figured out now—took me awhile but I got it wrapped up.” He winked and tapped his index finger against the side of his nose, missing his temple. “Jus’ took a li’l time, a li’l distance—and some real fine rye.”

  Her legs were shaking so badly now that she could barely stand. She swallowed spasmodically. So at last he knew! Her heart sank like a stone.

  He made an impolite sound. “The guy’s a three-dollar bill, isn’t he? That’s what the whole deal was about.” Drew was terribly confused now. Puzzlement pulled her brows down. “I—I‘m not following—”

  “Hell, Drew.” He interrupted, waving a hand broadly. “The whole damn time I thought you were using him to hide from me. That’s a laugh now. when you think about it.” He clasped his hands over the chair back, baring his teeth. “When all the time he was using you to protect his own pathetic secret—acting married, even for two weeks, nobody’d ever guess. Why I bet”—he laughed loudly, shaking his head—“I bet the Reds unloaded him on us just to gel rid of him!”

  Drew’s head was pounding and she pressed shaking palms to her temples.

  “Jim, if you think Rolf was—” She shook her head, feeling stunned. “That’s the most ri—”

  He cut across her words. “I should have known it for sure when he kept putting off that gorgeous Markus dame.”

  Her breath caught. “What? But you said—”

  He quickly circled the chair, taking advantage of her surprise.

  “I said she was hanging all over him.” He pulled a hand from her temple as he went on. “That Ilka Markus made herself as hard to lose as trying to throw a cat off a cliff.” He scratched his chin, a smirk curling his lips. “But the Doctor didn’t want any part of her action.” He shook his head, clucking his tongue. “What a freak.”

  He went back to unbuttoning his shirt, this time one-handed. “And soft-hearted li’l Drew was gonna help him keep his bad old secret.”

  He jeered. “You two sure must have been some pair—the ice queen and the closet queen!”

  His eyes bored into hers. “I should have had it figured out. . . seeing the lights in both of your bedrooms. . . I should have had it figured.”

  Drew pulled at his painful hold on her wrist, blurting angrily, “Jim, I’ve never heard such—such a ridiculously-twisted—” She groaned, unable to go on with the senseless argument. “Oh, why can’t you leave me alone!”

  She stopped, drawing a deep breath in an effort to control the tremor of hysteria in her voice.

  When she spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “How could I have ever, ever seen anything attractive about you? You couldn’t be half the man Rolf Erhardt is if you had a thousand years to practice.”

  He eyed her skeptically. “You saying he’s not—?” He paused, screwing up his face in a frown.

  She stared at him wordlessly for a long moment before a bitter smile lifted her lips. “Far from it.”

  The frown tightened in rage, and so did the grip on her arm, making Drew wince at the pain in her swelling hand.

  “And I suppose now you’re gonna tell me you love the bastard.”

  There was a sudden shallowness to her breathing, and a tight ache began in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with her fear of Jim.

  Lowering her eyes she fought back tears.

  He jerked her arm so savagely that she thought he would pull it from its socket.

  Her head snapped jarringly back up to meet his searing eyes.

  “Tell me! Damn it! Do you love that bastard?”

  Her breathing was ragged and uneven, and she held out a placating hand, pleading, “Jim—”

  He grasped her shoulders with the force of wolf’s jaws. “Spit it out! You do love him, don’t you!”

  The truth was torn from her heart with a mournful sob. Shaking her head, she cried hopelessly, “Yes! Yes, I love him. . . God help me. I love Rolf Erhardt!”

  She grasped his arms, dropping her head forward. Her strength nearly gone, she curled her fingers around his tense arms to keep from dropping to her knees as the sobs racked her body.

  His voice was part snarl, part laugh. “You little fool! You let him use you to get his freedom, and then you let him sweet-talk you into the sack!”

  He took her chin between punishing fingers, pulling her face back up to his. She was almost thankful that she could not see him clearly through the shimmer of her tears.

  “He got it all, you stupid fool. And just what have you got?” He jerked her chin, making her cry out. “Come on now! What have you got—besides me?”

  Shaking with reaction, fear and pain, she couldn’t speak. Striking out in pure, blind emotion, she slapped his face.

  “Why you cold-blooded harpy!” An explosion near her ear sent her sprawling to the floor.

  Lifting her head, she watched horrified as he shook the fist that had just laid her out, ranting on, “He may have had a sample, but I’m taking what’s mine!”

  She put up a weak, defensive hand as he squatted over her, his hands moving to loosen his belt.

  Suddenly, he rose into the air, still in a squat, feet and all, and slammed into the entry wall, nearly four feet away from Drew’s head. Looking up, her eyes focused on a miracle. Standing above her, like a sun-bronzed, Bavarian mountain was Rolf. She breathed his name.

  Raking long fingers through his hair, his face and body taut with emotion, he asked gently, “Are you all right, mein Kindchen?”

  Still in awe, hardly believing he was really there, she could only nod.

  “Good.” His lips lifted in what appeared to be a relieved smile. “Call the police, love.” Stepping by her, he reached the still stunned Jim and jerked him up to lean limply a
gainst the entry wall.

  Drew’s mouth dropped open in surprise at Rolf’s request. “What? But—Rolf,” she stammered, sitting up, feeling pain in her jaw as she tried to form her words, “is—is that really necessary?”

  “Very necessary, Drew. Call them, now.” His tensed body shook in the effort to control his anger as his eyes drilled into Jim’s—dulled and glazed by the surprise attack.

  “Jim!” Rolf’s tone grew as cold and flat as a dagger. “You are through harassing my wife. I am pressing charges against you for attempted rape. Do you understand me?”

  Jim’s face had gone bloodred with Rolf’s tight grip on the shirt at his neck. He could not talk, but his mouth worked spasmodically. Finally, his eyes bulging fearfully, he jerked his head in a nod to let Rolf know that he understood.

  “Fine.” A smile that would have made the devil cringe bared his teeth. “What do you say we wait for the police outside.”

  Mistakenly believing that he had been asked a question, Jim, dreading the message in Rolf’s smile, shook his head pleadingly before being propelled bodily out of the open front door. A painful yelp could be heard as he tumbled down the front steps before Rolf followed him out.

  AFTER Drew called the police, she sat, stunned, alone, on the couch for what seemed like a very long time, her mind hard-pressed to accept what had just happened. She heard sirens, voices, and then silence. It was the silence that made her look up. Rolf was standing in the doorway, watching her. Her eyes touching his brought him to action. Two swift strides had him kneeling by her side. His dark features mirrored his concern.

  “I am sorry to have left you. But I wanted to get him out of here.” He went on, his eyes never leaving hers, “Will you be up to going to the police station tomorrow? They’ll have to ask you some questions.”

  Terribly demoralized by what had happened, she was unable to trust her voice. Moving her shoulders in a small shrug, she avoided his searching eyes.

  “It won’t be too bad, Drew. Believe me, it’s for the best.” Cool fingers tested her cheek gingerly. “We’d better get some ice on that.”

  In seconds he had gone to the kitchen, located ice and a small towel, and was back, sitting beside her.

 

‹ Prev