by Karin Story
"I'm okay. Tom doesn't know anything about this?"
"No. But law enforcement across the country does. Tom's—Trent's fingerprints were found on both the dead security guard and on Elise Montgomery."
"That's impossible. He's been with me!"
"I know. But the forensics experts have found his prints. In the eyes of the justice system, that's enough circumstantial evidence to arrest him."
Maris clenched the phone tighter.
"Listen to me, Maris. Tom or Trent or whoever he is, is in a lot of trouble. I'm going to keep looking for information. Call me at my home number when you get a chance and I'll try to dig up something else for you." Again, Sarah hung up before Maris could even thank her.
The receiver clanked back onto the phone. Maris managed to throw the door open and launch herself out of the Range Rover before the first wave of dry heaves hit. She gasped and sputtered, but as she already knew, there was nothing to come up. Her eyes burned, but strangely enough there were no tears. The time for crying was over.
Stomach muscles aching in protest, she finally managed to get a handle on the painful clenching, and it subsided. She crept back into the car. No one else was around to see her lovely display.
Forcing herself into purely clinical, survival mode, she sped down the road several miles until she came to a respectable-looking convenience store. She wasn't going to do anyone any good if she didn't take care of herself.
Ten minutes later she was back in the Range Rover with a plastic bag full of crackers, peanuts, trail mix, and apple juice. A six pack of Diet Coke nestled in the passenger seat. She forced herself to eat an entire package of peanut butter crackers and drink half the jug of apple juice before she opened her first can of caffeine.
Then and only then did she allow herself to think.
An ache of sorrow so fierce nausea threatened again, spread through her. Why had Tom left last night? Snuck off like a crimin—
She winced at the thought and shook her head.
But what if he was a criminal? All this time she'd allowed herself to believe in him. But had her trust been justified? Had her instincts been working? Or was it just because she'd been so damned in lust with him from practically the moment she met him that she'd just heard what she wanted to hear? Seen only what she'd wanted to see?
Hot humiliation burned on her face. Jerry had said on the phone that he knew she'd sleep with Tom. Jesus, was she so pathetic, even he had seen it coming before she did?
She squashed an empty Diet Coke can in her fist and tossed it onto the floor.
She'd wanted her little adventure. Well, she was getting it all right. Grandma Sophie was no doubt rolling over in her proverbial grave right about now.
So, deal with it, Rhodes. You screwed him, he left, and now you've got to get yourself out of this mess.
She blinked and tried to stay focused on the highway in front of her. But it took every ounce of her meager energy supply to do it.
Okay, Tom was searching for the truth, and from Sarah's information, she had to guess he was going to Denver. That's where she'd go in his position. Straight to the DEA field office.
What he didn't know was that Elise was dead. Strangled by his hands. Which of course was impossible, but someone wanted it to look that way.
Crud, what if Elise really had been his wife?
All the jealous, dark thoughts she'd had against the woman came back to haunt her. What if Elise Montgomery hadn't been a fake? But why would someone kill her? Never mind, that was a dumb question. They'd probably killed her because she was To—Trent's wife. What better way to get to him than kill his wife and frame him for doing it?
Sarah was right. This was bad. Tom didn't know any of this. He had no idea that the police were now after him for two murders instead of one. And the bad guys didn't seem to be far behind.
Unless, of course, the police were tangled up with the bad guys. Tom had thought the fake security guard was a federal agent.
Damn. Stay calm.
What could she do? She could march herself straight to the police and tell them he couldn't possibly have been in New York and Connecticut killing two people when he was with her at May's on Friday night, and with her here in Colorado last night. Even though it was a risk to herself, if it saved Tom, it ultimately might save her as well.
Yeah, but if she went to the police and told them Tom was here, that knowledge would soon be everywhere and the bad guys would know exactly where to find him.
Why do you want to protect him? the little voice in her head said. He didn't care about you when he left you up in that cabin.
She wiped her palms, one after the other, on her jeans. God, what was she supposed to do?
Calm down. Don't panic. Think this through.
Maris gripped the steering wheel tighter and said a silent prayer. Okay, going to the authorities was out because right now she didn't know who she could trust. The powers-that-be thought she was an accomplice, so she had to protect herself. Still…she needed information. So did Tom. Which left only one option, as far as she could tell. She had to get to the DEA field office in Denver. Then, she'd figure out what to do next. One thing was certain—she'd have to play it totally cool, blend in, and stay unnoticed.
She found herself peering at every car that came near her, looking for the telltale signs of a police car. Perspiration dripped between her breasts.
Breathe, Rhodes. Breathe. You can do this.
All right, the first thing she needed to do was make alternate arrangements for transportation. Although she didn't want to think that someone could have tracked them to May's, it was always possible. And they might talk to Genny. Yeah, she definitely had to ditch Genny's Range Rover.
She watched closely for the next forest road to appear. When it did, she slowed and timed it so there were no cars near enough in either direction to see her turn onto it.
She knew this area fairly well. Most of the major forest access roads were kept plowed so rangers could use them. But every major forest road had minor ones branching off it. And those smaller lanes tended to be used for summer travel only. It was still snowing heavily, so once she got onto one of them, it wouldn't be long before her tire tracks would be covered.
Shifting the Range Rover into four-wheel drive, she picked a branching road at random. It wound along for a half-mile or so, then she chose an open spot and took off through the trees, no longer on any road at all. When she'd traveled a sufficient distance, she found a dense stand of evergreen she could just squeeze the vehicle into, and parked.
The car was tight, but she managed to wiggle out of her jeans and pull on a pair of Spandex tights, then slide her jeans back on top of them. She added a pair of wool socks over her cotton ones, and shoved her feet back into her hiking boots. Her Gore-Tex jacket would be warm enough since she was layered underneath it.
The last thing she did was rummage through the contents of her backpack, taking out anything she wouldn't need, and tossing it into the passenger seat. Calculator, lipstick, a paperback of the Aeneid written in Latin, ebook reader, spiral notebook—
When she pulled out the notebook, a couple of small, yellow Post-it notes fell onto her lap. She stared at them as a well of conflicting emotion churned in her stomach. They were some of the notes Tom had made at May's. He'd thought they might prove useful on the road. The date she'd found him in her yard was across the top of one, along with the phone number and website address for the Missing Person's Bureau. The other had the phone number for the news desk at the New York Times. His bold, neat handwriting nearly leapt off the page, reminding her of how strong and confident his hands were, even his injured one. How they'd caressed every inch of her body…
God, how had all this mess happened?
No, no, no. Not now, Rhodes.
She returned the papers to her backpack, and shoved her heart safely back into shut-down mode.
Stay with the business at hand.
After taking a deep breath to refocus,
she reached under the driver's seat and pulled out a soft leather case. Unzipped, it revealed a 9mm Smith & Wesson handgun. She popped out the magazine to make sure it was fully loaded, then pushed it back into the gun. Deftly, she pressed ammo into the second clip until it was full, then slid the gun and the extra clip into her pack.
She always kept it hidden under the seat in her Jeep. When she'd been loading the Range Rover before they left May's, she'd slipped it under this seat. She wasn't sure exactly why she hadn't told Tom about it. Maybe because he already had a gun; the one he'd taken from the fake guard at the morgue.
Or maybe, the nasty little voice in her mind said, you didn't want to tell him about it because you thought you might have to use it against him.
Stop! Even as pissed at him as she was, she wouldn't believe for a second that she'd ever have to use her gun against Tom.
She tossed an extra pair of socks and T-shirt on top of the gun. The trail mix and crackers bounced on top of the shirt. The first-aid kit and flashlight from the Range Rover's glove compartment followed.
Running a final checklist through her head, she couldn't think of anything else she had with her that could be useful. But that was okay. She'd survived with less before.
She emerged from the vehicle and jerked her hood up over her head. Mounting her pack firmly on her back, she hiked through the snow, retracing her route back to the highway.
Chapter 15
* * *
"Thanks for the ride," Maris told the older couple as she opened the rear door of the silver Lincoln Town Car.
"Chrissy, honey, are you sure you're going to be okay if we leave you here? It's almost dark," the woman asked Maris, as she waved her elegant, diamond-clad hand in a gesture of anxiety.
"Oh, sure. My dad's picking me up right over there at that grocery store," Maris lied, pointing across the street to a well-lit supermarket. "He always meets me there."
"All right, honey. Well, you have a nice visit with your folks this week."
"Thanks, I will, and like I said, thanks again for the ride."
The gray-headed man behind the wheel gave her a flirtatious grin. "It was our pleasure. Nice to have a youngster around again. Even if it was for such a short while."
Maris forced a smile on her face. When were these people going to leave? "I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in Colorado. And have a safe trip back to Texas." Before they could say anything else to her, she shut the car door and waved.
The couple waved back, smiles on their faces, as they continued to their destination for the night—Denver's famous Brown Palace Hotel. There, they would tuck themselves into their expensive bed thinking they'd done their good deed for the day by giving Chrissy Spengler a ride home to visit her family here in Englewood.
When the car turned at the next corner, Maris's shoulders slumped in relief. She supposed it could have been worse. She could have been picked up by some sleazeball. Instead she'd had the privilege of riding with the Honorable Lawrence T. Sanderville, retired, and his lovely bride of forty-four years, Roberta.
She'd told them she was Chrissy so that should they ever care to check into it, they would discover there was indeed a Chrissy Spengler. Of course, the Spenglers really lived in Boulder, but such was life. Chrissy, Jerry's baby sister, lived for skiing, and worked ski patrol in Winter Park every year. It had been almost too easy to tell the lie that she was Chrissy and was going to spend a week with her folks before the ski season began.
Sure beat telling them she was a fugitive from the law who was wanted for murder.
God!
Shouldering her pack, she strode across the parking lot to the grocery store. At least it wasn't snowing here in Denver, but the bitter wind whipped against her, stinging her cheeks and stealing her breath.
There were several pay phones just inside the entrance of the store. She chose the nearest one and dialed Sarah's number.
The line on the other end rang and rang, but no one picked it up.
She pressed the receiver down and waited as her returned change fell out into the compartment at the bottom of the phone. Scooping it up, she redeposited it and dialed again. Maybe she'd punched in the wrong numbers.
Still no answer. She let it ring until the call was disconnected on its own.
Where was Sarah? She'd told her to call.
Taking a deep breath, she hung up the phone and stared at the bright yellow cinder block wall next to her. What now? She didn't think she should go to the DEA office until morning. While there were probably people working there at night, it was crucial she blend in. So that meant waiting until normal business hours. She'd be there bright and early in the morning.
A wave of loneliness hit her. Tom, she silently cried, where are you?
No! She would not allow herself to miss him.
Resolutely, she turned toward the interior of the store.
She made a quick trip to the deli section and picked up a pre-made turkey sandwich on rye. Then grabbed a six-pack of bottled water and a two liter bottle of Diet Coke on her way to the checkout. At the cash register, she was nearly plowed over by a group of kids dressed in costumes.
With a start, she realized orange and black streamers hung off each of the registers. Jack-o-lanterns leered at her from the tops of shelves. She pulled up her coat sleeve and looked at the date portion of her watch. It was Halloween night, and she hadn't even realized it.
After paying for her items, she tucked them into her pack and started her trek to the nearest motel. The icy wind howled, and she lowered her head against the gale as she walked.
The hotel room wasn't fancy, but it would do. Sixty-five dollars of her money supply was gone, but at least she had a bed to sleep in and a hot shower waiting for her. She turned the deadbolt and without further ado, dropped her pack and coat onto the gaudy gold and brown bedspread, and threw herself down, as well.
She was dead tired. It had been a good hard hike out of the woods today, and she'd walked nearly another two miles along the highway before the Sandervilles had stopped to pick her up. Since she was in good physical condition, she really didn't think it was the hike that was dragging her down.
Her problems were of an emotional nature.
She'd run the gamut in the past twenty-four hours—fury, love, passion, hurt, fear, sorrow, worry—and it was taking its toll on her. Her mind whirled with thoughts and plans, but in spite of that, her eyelids drooped.
With a grunt, she pushed herself up off the bed. A hot shower and some food would help. Then she could sleep.
Forty-five minutes later she perched on the bed, finishing the last of the sandwich, which had been surprisingly better than she'd thought it would be. With one swallow, she finished off the soda and dropped the clear plastic bottle onto the floor. An old rerun of I Love Lucy blared on the TV, but she stared at it blankly. She'd thought watching something mindless and amusing would keep her mind off the growing ache in her heart. But it wasn't working.
This was the first night in almost a week that she'd spent without Tom. God knew where he was. He could be as close as the room next door, or hundreds of miles away by now. Just because it had seemed obvious to her to find information about Trent Montgomery in Denver, didn't necessarily mean Tom's mind worked the same way. Frankly, she didn't have a clue how his mind worked.
What if he really was Trent Montgomery, DEA deserter and confidante of Mexican drug lords? She closed her eyes and dragged in a deep breath.
He was so damned confusing. How could he have made love to her last night so passionately the first time, so tenderly the second time, then gotten up later and walked out of her life? Worse still…he'd planned to leave all along. So why had he made love to her at all? She could only think of one reason. He'd done it to appease her, to get her to relax and trust him. Damn, she'd fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the books like some kind of naïve school girl.
She slid down farther on the bed and buried her head in the not-quite-plump-enough pillow.
Then she groaned. Oh, good God. Stupid, stupid, stupid. No, what he'd promised her at Sarah's was that he wouldn't leave her there. "I won't leave here without you," had been his exact words. And he'd kept that promise.
But now he'd deserted her and left her to fend for herself in a world where his problems had become hers. Did he really think leaving her was going to help anything? The arrogant ass. Whether he liked it or not, she had to find him. The police were going to be looking for her and so were the bad guys. But no matter what, she couldn't help herself until she and Tom both knew the truth of his past.
He had to realize that.
Her body curled into a ball in self defense against the intense rage that suddenly swept through her. She shoved her face as deeply into the pillow as she could to muffle her scream.
If he were here, he would probably say he'd left because he didn't want her to get hurt. Why was it that men were so damned manipulative?
She had a quick vision of Grandma Sophie's lined face peering at her through narrowed eyes. Maybe Grandma Sophie had been on to something. No passion, no fabulous sex, no love was worth this.
Was it?
A small, desperate pulse of hope thumped in her heart, but she squashed it.
She'd been used for the last time.
She'd find Tom in order to save her own hide. But never again would she let him, or any man, creep into her heart, gain her trust, then slap her in the face with it. She could not and would not live through another night and day like she'd had these past twenty-four hours.
With a snort of disgust, she clicked off the TV, turned off the light next to the bed, and closed her eyes, daring the golden-eyed, blond-headed demon to enter her dreams.
Her heart, however, cried out in anguish.
* * *
Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…twenty. Dead silence.
Someone was certainly trying hard to get through on the telephone. Twenty rings. And that was the second try.
