Beholden (22 page)

She frowned at his face, grim from the telling. “The bullet had been meant for Jill, not you or Bob.”

“But Bob took it when I should have been there protecting Jill. She’d been
my
assignment, my responsibility. If it hadn’t been for Bob arriving at just that moment, I would have taken the bullet that
hit him.”

Terry shook her head. “That’s crazy, Luke. It was circumstances, that’s all. And obviously, Bob’s wound wasn’t fatal.”

“No, but it could have been.”

She wasn’t going to debate that with him. “What happened to Jill?”

Luke drained his tepid coffee. “She was taken back and eventually testified. And we picked up the gunman as well, so the case
was wrapped. But it’s always left a bad taste in my mouth. I should have watched her more closely. I shouldn’t have had to
call for backup. And I never have since then.”

“I guess sometimes we have to learn our lessons the hard way.” Terry got to her feet, shivering in the cooling air. “It’s
getting late and getting cold. Let’s go back.” She gathered the rest of their things into the picnic basket.

Luke rose and folded the blanket. “You see how much trouble Jill Hastings caused by leaving the program too early?”

Holding the basket in front of her with both hands, she angled her head and met his eyes. “I wonder if you’re upset because
she left the program or because you lost someone you cared about?” She held his gaze, trying to ascertain what was going on
behind those pewter gray eyes. “Or are you too stubborn to admit you loved her?”

“What makes you think I did? You weren’t there.”

“No, but your reaction even years later reveals a great deal. And because I know that the worst part of loving is the void
it leaves when it’s over.”

He raised a questioning brow. “Then you’ve been in love?”

“I haven’t exactly lived my life in a vacuum. And yes, he hurt me, too. But I got over it.”

His interest was immediate. “Who was he? Did you care a great deal for him?” The thought of her deeply involved with someone
bothered him more than it should have.

Terry drew in a breath, not really wanting to go into all that. “He was a lawyer. The
Gazette
was doing a feature on him and I went along because the editor wanted several sketches instead of pictures. Up-and-coming
mover-and-shaker and all that. Did I care a lot? I must have. A month later, I moved in with him.”

Luke was annoyed at the disappointment he felt. “But he’s not in the picture anymore?” He saw her shake her head as she shifted
the picnic basket to her other hand. “What happened?”

“We had a quarrel. I left.” She glanced up at the darkening sky. “We’d better go.” She turned, starting back.

He didn’t want to react, but he couldn’t help it. “You left him after a quarrel, just like that? You walked out after a minor
little disagreement?”

She heard the change in his voice and knew exactly what he was thinking. Slowly, she swung back to him. “It wasn’t a quarrel
over whose turn it was to take out the garbage or who left the top off the toothpaste. You’re certainly quick to judge without
knowing the facts, aren’t you?” She could see his mind working behind that hard, immovable face. He was lumping her with his
mother, his grandmother, and this Jill person—all women who walked away from him. How could he think like that?

“All right,” Luke said in what he thought was a very reasonable tone. “What
are
the facts?”

She cocked her head at him. “It’s none of your business, you know.”

“I know that. But I just told you about Jill and… ” He stopped, knowing he had no right to press her, wondering why he wanted
to.

He was like a dog with a bone. She could refuse, just turn away. But maybe he needed to know that men weren’t always in the
right and that there are some damn good reasons why women leave. “We quarreled because he wanted me to quit the paper, to
stay home. He said he was making
enough money for both of us and I didn’t need to work. But I
enjoy
working and I was just getting somewhere. I refused.” She waited, watching him.

He was trying to understand. He really was. “So the first time you didn’t get your way, you walked out.”

“Damn it, no! It wasn’t like that. You’re so blinded, so sure you’re right. You don’t know shit.” Furious, she whirled around
and started to march off.

Luke sucked in a gulp of mountain air. “Why are you so angry? You did leave, didn’t you?”

She halted, waiting until she could catch her breath before swinging back to glare at him. “Yes, I left. But not until he
hit me. Twice, across the face, both sides. Hard. Happy, now?” She turned, wondering how in hell she’d allowed herself to
be drawn into such a reaction.

He was at her side in seconds, turning her around, calling himself six kinds of a fool. “I’m sorry. Jesus, Terry, I’m sorry.
Sorry that bastard hit you, sorry I jumped to conclusions. It’s just that I…”

“It’s just that you think all women are the same, all walk away when the mood strikes, for whatever frivolous reason.” She
felt drained, weary. “When are you going to stop judging every woman by the few who’ve hurt you?”

He dared touch her face, his palm cupping her cheek. “I was wrong. You were right to leave him. You should have had someone
beat the hell out of him.”

Now, years later, she could almost smile. “That’s just about what happened. I asked my brother, Sean, to get my things. Chuck
came home while Sean was packing my bag. Sean told me later that he beat him up pretty good.”

“I don’t know how you managed to get past that and still… still trust men.”

“I don’t trust very many of them. It takes me awhile. But I can’t judge all men by that one jerk.” She hoped her words were
sinking in. “As they say, sometimes you eat the bear
and sometimes the bear eats you. That’s life.” She turned and started back down the mountain.

The hike back was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they rounded the final curve and the cabin
came into sight that Luke’s internal antenna picked up the scent of danger. He stopped, moving Terry behind him with one arm
as his gaze swept the property perimeters.

“What is it?” she asked, her heart beginning to pound.

A small wisp of smoke was still curling out of the chimney from the fire they’d built earlier. A light they’d left on in the
front window was still burning. Dusk had deepened the shadows and a chill wind rustled the surrounding tree leaves and bushes.
The van was still parked in the drive exactly as he’d left it, the fence gate closed.

“Something’s not right,” he whispered, reaching for the Luger he’d brought along as double insurance. Removing the safety,
he started down. “Stay close behind me.”

She did, unable to see around his wide shoulders but glad to have him as her shield.
Please, not again
, she prayed.

They were some ten yards from the fence line when Luke spotted what had set his senses on alert. His eyes scanning in all
directions, he inched closer. He stopped near the gate and stared down at the deathly still Doberman, blood oozing from a
wound in his head.

“Oh, God!” Terry gasped, peering around him. “Someone’s shot Prince.”

Gun drawn, Luke quickly unlocked and examined the van. It was clean. He helped a trembling Terry inside and handed her his
.38. “I’m going into the house. If you need to use this, do it.” He studied her face. She looked stunned, but he could see
that she understood. “Lock the door after me.” He stepped out.

Moving cautiously, he went to the front door and listened. Not a sound. He entered, shoving back the door, assuming a shooting
stance. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. One by one, he searched the rooms, the closets, everywhere. Nothing disturbed.
Hands on his hips, he looked around. The whole thing was very odd.

Perhaps Prince had been killed by someone other than the men after Terry. They hadn’t heard shots, but then they’d been some
distance away. Still, the sound of gunfire usually carried a long way. Professionals used silencers. Hunters wouldn’t. Could
have been a stray bullet from a man hunting quail or wild pheasant. But he couldn’t take the chance.

It took him minutes to gather up their things and carry them to the van. Because of the frequency of relocating, they’d learned
to travel light. Still, it was dusk by the time he had the van loaded and ready to roll. Terry was belted in the
passenger seat, though her nerves were in evidence and she still held the .38.

As Luke pulled past the first bluff, he glanced up the hillside where the only other house they’d seen for miles around was
situated. In a shaft of light from the open garage door, he noticed the same man in overalls that he’d seen before standing
watching them, the long barrel of his gun resting over his forearm, his expression unreadable at this distance. Prince had
done quite a bit of barking, especially nights when wild rabbits and squirrels could be heard scurrying just outside the fence
line. Could that cantankerous neighbor have waited until he and Terry had left the house, crept down the hill, and shot the
dog because the barking had gotten on his nerves?

They’d probably never know, Luke decided as he shifted into gear and started down the road.

Once they reached the highway, he swung north, wondering where on earth he should go. Maybe the best thing to do at this late
hour would be to drive to some small town, find a hotel and check in, then call Jones. It might take some time to find another
safe house. It wasn’t as though there were dozens in California, and they’d already been to three.

Luke scanned the cars in the light traffic and saw nothing suspicious. Noticing that Terry still held the .38 in a death grip,
he ran the possibility of the neighbor shooting Prince by her to ease her mind.

She didn’t buy it. “Why would he do such a thing? He’d never even come to the door and asked us to keep our dog quiet.”

“He didn’t look like the polite type.” To his trained eye, any search of the inside of the cabin would have been detected.
Besides, if the Russo thugs had found them, they wouldn’t have silenced the dog, then taken off. They’d have stayed around,
knowing that the occupants wouldn’t be far from the place without the van. Shooting them on that remote mountainside when
they returned wouldn’t have presented a problem
to trained killers. With silencers, no one in that isolated neighborhood would have been the wiser for days, perhaps weeks.
Not until Jones would have called to check on them.

With each passing mile, Luke became more convinced that he’d reacted to an old man’s mean justice rather than any real threat.
No matter. They were probably better off out of that garish cabin. It was time for a change. The problem was he knew of nothing
available without calling in and having Bob set something up. When they were settled somewhere, he’d make another effort to
convince Terry that they’d not been in any real danger.

His mind racing, Luke drove carefully. Maybe he should consider driving to a slightly larger city, where there’d be more people.
The old adage about getting lost in a crowd still worked. Up ahead was the turnoff from Highway 1 to 101 that wound inland
heading north. Numerous cities could be reached from that route. He’d choose one that seemed particularly crowded.

On the road to San Jose, he slowed the van. The little town of Beachside was hosting some sort of a winter festival, with
banners flying and billboards urging residents and visitors to attend opening ceremonies on the upcoming weekend. There would
be marching bands, amusement rides, booths offering crafts for sale, and a huge potluck supper.

Exactly the type of local diversion he’d been seeking, Luke thought as he spotted the Seafarer Inn up ahead. Now if only they
had a vacant room with twin beds. He was greatly relieved to get rid of that damn satin couch and more than ready to stretch
out on a real bed.

“I think we’ll check in here, then call Bob and update him,” he explained to Terry as he pulled the van into the inn’s parking
lot. She’d turned her thoughts inward on the drive and hadn’t spoken a word. But he saw her turn toward him now, looking confused.

“Here?” She saw the crowds of people milling around on the streets, window-shopping, licking ice-cream cones,
jostling one another. It was cool, but clear and pleasant, a nice evening for strolling. Yet every face looked suspicious
to her, every person posing a threat. “I thought we were going someplace away from people, where they couldn’t find us so
easily.”

“There’s safety in numbers.” He took the gun from her and put it in his waistband. “Come with me to the front desk.” He hopped
down and went around to open her door.

Adjusting her wig, Terry stepped down, wondering how many more places they’d have to stay in before she could go home.

“I’ve got a gut feeling the dog was killed by someone other than Russo’s boys,” Luke said into the phone. Seated in a captain’s
chair at a small desk in the nautically decorated room they’d been given, he glanced over at Terry already curled up on the
twin bed against the far wall. For her benefit as much as to inform Bob Jones, he went into great detail about searching the
house they’d vacated and finding it undisturbed and of the odd neighbor up the hill with a gun.