by C. J. Snyder
By rights she should be too tired to stand. Jack had ensured she wasn’t—or at least that her mind wasn’t ready for bed. He wanted information. How much did he already know? She needed to visit a library soon—get caught up on the news. She’d missed last weekend due to the long shifts. Her name search would be missing one this week. didn’t know what he was up to.
She knew where Jack Myles was. She just
*** Jack’s cell phone summoned him at six-thirty. Groggy, his first instinct was to shut it off. When he cracked his eyes open and saw daylight, he adjusted his seat to upright. Time to go. He reached for his keys and picked up the phone as he started the car. The phone stopped ringing before he could answer it. He touched a remote and shut off the alarm he’d set the night before at Maggie’s cabin. Before she woke up, he’d be back. Pulling into the street, he quickly drove the ten miles to Glenwood, his thoughts on a shower and a hot cup of coffee. Maggie hadn’t tried to leave the night before. He’d bet she wouldn’t be up before ten.
He’d finished both his shower and his coffee before he remembered the phone call. He dialed into his voice mail. “Hey, Jack, it’s Frank. Just wanted to give you a heads up. I’ve got a present for you—and it’ll hit the national news at ten our time. I think the show goes out semi-live—it’s Nancy Frederick’s show, ‘What’s Up?’ Ever heard of it?” Frank sounded like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Anyway—wherever you are—whatever you’re doing on that vacation of yours—don’t miss the show this morning. I know you’ll be back in town soon—I just thought I’d kick-start the darn case, you know? Let me know what you think. And you’re welcome.”
Jack frowned and reached for the remote. He knew Nancy Frederick. She delighted in the kind of fluff news half the nation lived for. He replayed Frank’s message while he searched for the correct channel. be on in about ten minutes here. had brought.
If the show broadcast live out of Connecticut at ten, it would He poured another cup of coffee from the carafe room service
He didn’t like the feeling in his gut. He didn’t think the feeling had anything to do with the lousy hotel coffee, either. Thirty minutes later, Jack shut off the television with a muttered curse. He grabbed up the phone and tried Shipwrecks again. Of course there wasn’t an answer—Derek and Maggie had both worked until after two. No doubt she was still sound asleep in her bed, without any idea her life was about to turn inside out. He hung up and dialed Connecticut.
“Jack.” Frank could barely contain his excitement. “Did you see it?”
“What the hell are you trying to do, Frank? Get her killed?” Jack grabbed up the phone’s base and began to pace with it.
“I thought it might flush her out—“ Sounding flustered and confused now, Frank stumbled over the words. “I know where she is.”
“You do? When did you find her? Are you bringing her in?”
Jack ignored his questions. “Did you find Kevin?”
Frank was suddenly quiet and serious. “Yesterday he was in Chicago. He’s not now. Her sister’s friend—“ Jack shut his eyes. “Emily?”
“That’s the one. She’s in the hospital.”
“What about Paul?”
“There hasn’t been any sign of him.”
Jack swore softly. “Find Kevin, Frank. And find Paul. But find Kevin today.” Thoroughly miserable now, Frank gulped loudly. “I’ll get right on it.”
“I’ll check in with you when I can. You’ve screwed this one up royally.”
Jack grabbed up his few personal items, stuffed them into his suitcase, flipped his hotel key onto the round table in the corner and headed back to his car. Maggie was about to disappear a day sooner than she’d planned.
*** Maggie didn’t fall asleep until five o’clock in the morning. Even exhausted, her sleep was troubled, her dreams filled with Jack—an angry Jack. She wanted to trust him—wanted to explain, but she couldn’t. Not without endangering Melissa.
“You’re out of time, Maggie.” He lifted a little bell and rang it.
The sequence replayed half-a-dozen times.
“You’re out of time.”
And the bell.
Over and over, telling her she was out of time, ringing the little bell.
Maggie woke up with a frightened cry. Heard the doorbell. Half-asleep, confused—Jack’s bell and the doorbell sounded the same—she stared for long seconds. After the doorbell sounded four more times, she swung her legs out of bed.
Her sleepy gaze tumbled to the alarm clock. Eight-thirty. Who was at her door at eight-thirty on Sunday morning? No one she knew. They were pounding now—ringing and pounding. She stumbled into the living room.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Megan. Open the damn door.”
Derek. Derek? He shouldn’t be any more awake than she was. Unless— Her fingers flew over the locks. “Melissa. . .” she breathed when she finally faced him. “Not Melissa. You got a TV?”
She shook her head. “Derek—what are you— “
”Get dressed.” When she simply stood, staring at him, he caught her arm and swung her toward her bedroom. “Get dressed. And hurry.” When she didn’t move fast enough, he pushed her. All the way into the bedroom. “Just throw on some jeans. The shirt’s fine. You’ve got to hurry, Megan.”
Because he was her boss, because she was used to taking orders from him, she did what he said. She pulled on her jeans, slid into sandals and wobbled back into the living room. “What is your problem?” He merely took her arm and hustled her outside. On her narrow little front porch, she stopped. “What?”
“Not myproblem, Megan. There’s something you need to see.” For the first time, she noticed the recording in his hand. “If you don’t have a TV, we’ll go to the bar.” “I need my keys.” She retrieved them from her bedroom. He was already in his car. “You drove?”
It was only three blocks to the bar. Derek lived right behind it. He shook his head at her confusion. “Yeah, I drove.”
“You’re not going to tell me what it is?” “I don’t know what it is.” He rounded the corner without stopping. Luckily there wasn’t any traffic. He tossed her a glance before he stepped on the gas. “Megan Chase may not know what it is either.” His car slid into the parking lot next to hers. He shut off the engine and stared at her. “But Maggie Chambers does.”
Chapter 6
Derek waited for a reaction. He didn’t wait long.
The color drained from her face in just the amount of time it took her fingers to curl around the door handle. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She raced to the door of the bar, pulled on the handle, found the door locked and leaned her forehead against the heavy wood. Her shoulders slumped.
Megan’s shoulders never slumped. Derek muttered a curse and yanked the keys from the ignition. So much for her denying it. Inside, he turned on the lights, locked the door behind them and loaded the recording. Megan sank onto a bar stool, her gaze glued to the still-dark television. Derek turned on the television, hit play, then quickly pushed stop. He went behind the bar, poured coffee, dumped in sugar and pushed it across the bar toward her. Her hands wrapped around the mug almost automatically but she didn’t pick up the coffee. He waited until she looked at him.
“There’s a show I tape—every morning. It’s kind of newsy—kind of entertainment—that sort of thing. This morning I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to clean and I turned it on. Maybe it’s not you, Megan. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with you.”
Maggie tried to smile and nodded at him. Not if Derek knew the name Maggie Chambers. “Drink your coffee first.”
She took a swallow, just to pacify him, and put the cup back on the bar. “I’m ready, Derek.”
“Drink your coffee. You’re not even awake yet.”
“Play it.” She didn’t need coffee. Having Maggie Chambers shoved under her nose was all the awakening she could stand.
Maggie watched the television and tried to convince herself she’d misunderstood Derek.
“Good morning. I’m Nancy Frederick. What’s Up for Tuesday, May twenty-second? We’re live from New York City. This morning we’re going to find out what’s up with a mystery involving the relatively new phenomenon of national classified ads. Specifically, we’ll find out what’s up with the Maggie Ads. Many of our viewers have noticed the ads. They’ve run for the past two years. The story behind the ads is far more sinister than the ads suggest. This morning on What’s Up, we’ll delve into the riddle and solve it for you with the help of the man who’s placed those ads for two years. Stay tuned—we’ll be right back.”
He wouldn’t. . . Maggie’s heart hammered. He obviously had. She didn’t even have time to watch the rest. Derek was across the bar, hands clasped, leaning on his forearms. She reached blindly for his hand.
“I’ve got to go home—get some things.” He nodded solemnly. “When was it on?” “About forty-five minutes ago. I came for you as soon as I saw.”
“Did he—my picture?” Derek nodded. Maggie’s heart stopped before racing on. She rubbed her wet palms on her knees. Where could she go? The show was national—worse than a wanted poster at the Post Office. If this Frederick woman even had Derek hooked. . .
“I’ll drive you. Do you want to see the rest?”
“I—there isn’t time.” She slid off the bar stool, swaying slightly on knees that didn’t want to hold her. Derek followed her to the door. Behind the bar, the telephone rang. Maggie froze at the sound. Derek placed his hands on her shoulders and propelled her forward through the doorway.
Back at home, she shoved Melissa’s bed aside, grabbed the box with her money, the envelope with the newspaper clippings and the leather pouch. Then she hesitated. Melissa’s life, she reminded herself. Decision made, she pulled a single sheet of paper from the pouch, sealed it in a snap-tight plastic freezer bag and replaced it under the bed. She tamped the board back into place and then carefully settled the bed back over the hiding place.
Maggie stuffed clothes into her backpack, threw her toothbrush on top and was back in Derek’s car within ten minutes. At Shipwrecks, he handed her his keys. “Go inside. Give me your keys and I’ll move your car around back.” Her hands shook as she opened the car door. When he reentered the bar, she was back on the same bar stool, staring at the dark television.
“What did he say?”
Derek swallowed hard at the haunted look in her eyes. Megan never got shook like this. But this wasn’t Megan. Megan didn’t exist. “He wasn’t your cop.”
That shot her eyes to meet his. “Not Jack?”
He shook his head. “They blurred his face, but it wasn’t him. I think you should watch it—so you’ll know—“
”What everyone else knows,” she finished for him in a soft whisper. “I—I need to go.” Derek covered her hand with his. “I know. And I’ve got an idea. But I really think you should see it. I won’t answer the phone, I’ll lock the door here and I’ll take my car home.” She needed a plan—something—if only for this one day. Until she had that, leaving was foolish. Derek wouldn’t turn her in—for whatever reason—and until she could think through what to do next, Shipwrecks, early on this Tuesday morning, was the safest place she could be. She nodded to Derek.
He started the recording again and she barely heard when he left to move his car. Derek was right. Not Jack. Short and blond. He sounded gleeful as he read off her vital statistics. The television showed a close-up of her old driver’s license photo. He mentioned the bank robbery briefly then spent two minutes detailing the night Maggie had robbed him and his partner at gunpoint.
This was bad. Real bad. Her hands clenched into fists on the bar.
The classified ads flashed, superimposed over the policeman’s blurred features, alternating with Nancy Frederick’s perfect smile.
Maggie. . .I won’t forget you.; Maggie. . .I will find you.; Maggie. . .I know your eyes.; Maggie. . .I know your long hair.; Maggie. . .I know your scent. “We’ve found her trail in Ohio, Mississippi and New Mexico.” Short and blond sounded as arrogant as his partner. Maggie remembered how his hands shook that night and sniffed derisively. Newspaper clippings continued to flash.
Maggie. . .I know you.; Maggie. . .We aren’t finished.; Maggie. . .I’ll see you again.; Maggie. . .You know there is unfinished business between us.; Maggie. . .Did you enjoy it as much as I did?
“But always after she’d moved on.” Nancy Frederick was really good at pointing out the obvious. Maggie. . .Getting tired?; Maggie. . .You will give up.; Maggie. . .You can’t run forever.; Maggie. . .Found you in Elyria.; Maggie. . .Found you in Tupelo.; Maggie. . .Found you in Santa Fe.
Short and blond’s sheepish smile was evident in his voice. “Unfortunately, yes.” Maggie. . .Know what I have planned for you?; Maggie. . .Every step you take.; Maggie. . .Look over your shoulder.; Maggie. . .Counting the days now.; Maggie. . .Feel me getting closer?; Maggie. . .Time’s almost up, baby.
“Can we assume then, Detective, that you have this dangerous woman in custody now? Since the last ad—which I believe is on your screen now, viewer—says, and I quote, ‘Maggie. . .Gotcha.’?”
“I expect word momentarily, ma’am. We believe we’ll have her in custody this week. We’re hoping your viewers will give us a hand.”
“There’s an enigmatic, almost sensual quality to the ads, Detective. Care to comment on that?” “Certainly, Ms. Frederick. Our profiler has carefully studied Ms. Chambers. The wording of the advertisements has been deliberately orchestrated to get to her—rile her up—upset her enough that she’ll make a mistake. Of course, until we find her, we have no way of knowing if it’s working. All we know for certain is that the advertisements haven’t brought her in—yet.”
Derek paused the tape. “That’s about it. You can finish it in a minute, if you want but that’s the gist of it. Ever met that guy?” Maggie kept her eyes focused on her fisted hands. “Once.”
“Does he work with your Jack?”
“He’s not ‘my’ Jack. And yeah, I guess he does. They were together—that night. . .” “Strange partners.” Derek shrugged. “I’ve got a cabin, Meg—Maggie.”
She smiled at his uncertain use of her name. “Megan’s fine, Derek.” She sighed. “Or Maggie. What were you saying?” “I’ve got a cabin. You can’t find it without a map. It’s a couple of hours north of here. You’ll have to hike the last few miles or so. The shack’s nothing special, but you’ll be safe there, until things cool off.”
The cabin sounded perfect. But she didn’t understand. “Why are you doing this, Derek?” He met her eyes calmly. “Because whatever it was, you didn’t do it.” Heat heralded the color flooding back into her cheeks. Derek continued smoothly. “Or if you did, you didn’t want to.” He surprised her by smiling suddenly. Derek’s smiles—unless Melissa was around—were as rare as perfect diamonds. “And I’m going to marry your sister, eventually. Which will make you my sister. I take care of family.”
Maggie nodded solemnly. The words didn’t surprise her as much as the smile. “Melissa couldn’t do better, Derek.” Nothing more than fact. “Will my car make it to this cabin of yours?”
“Most of the way,” he told her honestly. “A real off-road truck could probably make the front door. Other than that, it’s pretty much just a hike in. I ride a horse sometimes—but we don’t have a horse. You’ll have to hike—unless— “
”Unless what?”
“Can you ride a bike?”
“A motorcycle? I did once. But I can hike, Derek.”
“Not with what you’ve got.”
“It’s only a backpack—you saw— “
”You’ll need supplies, too.” She stared at him blankly. “Food?”
Food. She rubbed her forehead, willing her brain to work. Derek refilled her coffee cup. She ignored how the liquid scalded her mouth, drank it all and held out her cup for more. She couldn’t afford a mistake. Melissa’s life depended on the actions she’d make today.
Melissa. Derek read her mind—kn
ew the exact second the caffeine started to work. He was way ahead of her. “At least they didn’t bring her up. I figured she’s involved in this somehow, too. You know I’ll keep her safe, Megan. No matter what.”
She did know. She was beginning to think the day she’d first walked into Shipwrecks was one of the best of her life. Derek continued. “We’ll leave your car inside my garage. If they find it, I’ll just say you asked if you could leave it with me indefinitely. You aren’t going to tell Melissa you’re going, are you?”
Maggie nearly smiled. Derek might be in love with her sister, but he wasn’t blind to her faults, either. “No. What will you tell her?” “I’ll play her the tape.” He waited for Maggie’s quick nod of permission. Melissa would hear about the show. There wasn’t any way around that now. “I’ll say that you’re gone. I’ll tell her you said you’ll be in touch when you can, and that she’s to stay here.”
“With you.”
“With me.” He smiled again. “She can have your job.”
Maggie nearly shuddered. Melissa’s legs would be good for business, but good enough to compensate for the drink orders she’d screw up? Derek seemed to think so. “Make out a grocery list. Two bags are all you can take, so plan carefully. I’ll look over the list when you’re done. I’m going out back to make sure the bike’s ready to go.” He smiled at the worry in her eyes. “We’re outta here in fifteen, okay?”
“We?”
“I’m going to drive you up—as far as we can get in my pickup anyway.” She felt a sudden sting of tears at the compassion in his voice. He scowled at her.
“Don’t do that, Megan. I’m not doing anything you wouldn’t do for me.” He picked up a pencil and a pad of paper and pushed them across the bar toward her. “Two sacks,” he reminded.
They were out the door twelve minutes later. Her car was safely stowed inside Derek’s tiny garage.
afternoon.
A note on the front door announced that Shipwrecks would be opening late in the
