Rachel Lee (18 page)

"I thought you were a pretty good guy," Joni said. "And you sure took good care of Karen."

Did her voice waver a little on that? He wasn't sure, and, at that moment, he didn't want to know. He had some things roiling around inside him, especially after she said that she thought he took good care of Karen. "I don't know about that. Taking her out behind her dad's back could be regarded as reckless. And sneaky. I'm none too proud of that. Or of the fact that if I hadn't done it, she'd probably still be alive." Or of the fact that he'd been getting ready to break things off with her. Christ, he wished he didn't have to remember that along with everything else.

"I know."

He wished she had disagreed with him, even though it wouldn't have convinced him otherwise. He knew his responsibility in this mess; but it would have been nice if someone, anyone, had disagreed with him.

"I mean," she said a little while later, "I know you feel responsible.

But you didn't make that guy get drunk. And Karen being out with you Hardy, if it was her time, it was her time. She could have been in the car with Witt."

He glanced toward her. "You really believe that?"

Her eyes met his briefly. "I'm trying to," she finally said.

Trying to. Yeah. Maybe he needed to get his butt into therapy. Soon.

Figure out just exactly what he was responsible for and how to deal with it. Because he sure as hell wasn't dealing with it real well.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I really don't think it's your fault that Karen died. I really don't. It's just that ... well..." She trailed off, then muttered a sharp word under her breath. "Forget it. I guess we're all guilty. You for seeing her over Witt's protests, me for being jealous of her, Witt for being overprotective, because if he hadn't been, you'd have been able to see Karen at her house, and you wouldn't have had to be in the car that night at all. Did Witt ever think of that? Did he?"

"Joni..."

She waved a hand, silencing him. "If anyone's responsible for anything, maybe it's Witt. He drove her to date you secretly. And ever since, he's been blaming you for something you couldn't prevent-and blaming me for being alive!"

Her last words came out as a near shout, filling the car, then leaving in their wake a silence so profound that Hardy could hear his own heartbeat in his ears. Blaming her for being alive? Had Witt been doing that?

Christ! If he could have gotten to Witt Matlock in that moment, he probably would have come close to killing him. How could that son of a bitch have spent the last twelve years making Joni feel that way? How could he have been so cruel?

"Joni..."

"It doesn't matter. But I just figured out something."

"What?" "Another reason why my mother told me Witt is my dad. All these years, I've been feeling that he wished I'd died instead. I guess she sensed that. Maybe she even guessed it was true."

"So what difference does telling you make?"

"So I'd know that if I'd died, Witt would have lost a daughter anyway."

"Jesus." He breathed the word and had to prevent himself from closing his eyes against the strength of the pain he was suddenly feeling for Joni. He didn't dare give in to it, though. The snow was getting worse, and getting deep on the road.

He spoke. "When we get to Wetrock, I'm going to pull in someplace for a meal. Then we can decide if we want to try to get home tonight."

"I need to. I have to work tomorrow."

"It'll probably clear up. But I'll tell you something, Joni. I'm not killing another one of Witt's daughters by doing something stupid."

The words appeared to hit her forcefully. From the corner of his eye he saw her stiffen a bit, then, after a bit, relax again. "Fair enough," she said finally. "Fair enough. But keep in mind, I'm not really his daughter. He disowned me."

Like that was going to make any big difference to him. She was still Witt's daughter. And all he wanted to do was get her safely home so he didn't have to go through any part of that nightmare ever again.

He concentrated on his driving after that, letting the miles pass in silence. Only the tall reflectors along the shoulder were telling him where the road was now. His hope that they would escape the storm by heading south had apparently been misguided. It seemed to be getting worse.

"I should have checked the weather report," he muttered as snow suddenly whirled before him, completely blinding him for a moment.

"I told you we were having a blizzard."

"You did. But I wasn't expecting one this big."

"It's hitting three states."

"Great. No end in sight."

"Not unless you want to drive to southern New Mexico."

He realized she wasn't criticizing him. In fact, it almost sounded as if she was teasing him. Hardly daring to believe it, he glanced at her and saw that she was smiling. A faint smile, but a real one nonetheless.

"And all I wanted," he remarked, "was a cup of coffee and maybe some lunch away from all the prying eyes, flapping ears and wagging tongues in Whisper Creek."

A brief laugh escaped her. "It feels more like the Donner expedition."

He dared another glance her way. "What made you feel better?"

"Realizing what's been wrong all these years. Realizing Witt resented me, even though he didn't say so. It wasn't me, Hardy. It was Witt."

What a hell of a condemnation.

"Man, that guy's got his head screwed on all wrong." It was all he could say, because he couldn't imagine resenting someone because they hadn't died in a car wreck. Christ almighty!

They reached Wetrock at last, and he pulled in to the first passable restaurant they could find. The parking lot was nearly empty, because sensible people-unlike him--had listened to the weather forecast.

There was a waitress, though, and a lot of empty tables, so they could have privacy while they watched the snow blow outside.

The waitress came immediately with cups and a pot of coffee. "You folks are lucky," she said. "We're only open because we're family owned and operated. Everybody else is closing."

Hardy looked at her with a sinking sensation in the Vt of his stomach.

"It's that bad?" Very little stopped traffic in these mountains for long. People were used to this kind of weather.

"Gonna be," she said as she filled their cups. "Take your time ordering. No rush. And if you need it, there's a motel a little ways up that still has some vacancies."

"Maybe I should call and reserve a couple of rooms," Hardy said, looking uneasily at Joni. She shrugged, then nodded.

"I'll call 'em," the waitress said. "Fred'll do it for me. Two rooms?"

"Please."

"I'll let you know what he says." She handed them some plastic menus, then disappeared into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Joni," Hardy said.

"Don't be. I watched the weather, but I had no idea it was going to be this bad. I figured it'd be the usual."

Which was nice of her to say. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got caught in Deer Lodge, Montana? Well, actually, I got caught in Missoula, too."

She shook her head. "What happened?"

"I was coming back from a trip to Boise. Late May. Anyway, it started to snow heavily as I was coming down out of the mountains, so I decided to spend the night in Missoula. By morning it looked pretty good, so I set out again. Big mistake. By the time I got to Deer Lodge, I figured I was lucky to still be alive, so I pulled in to this little motel. Talk about rustic." He smiled reminiscently. "Got so bad I had to share the room with two truckers who couldn't get any farther.

We wound up cooking one hell of a dinner together with stuff we got from the grocery across the way."

"Sounds like it turned out to be fun."

"It did, actually. I heard some pretty tall stories, especially after those guys started drinking the beer."

She smiled at that, making him feel a bit better.

They ordered, burgers and fries, since nothing else on the menu looked very tempting. The waitress was bored and spent more time chatting with them than Hardy would have liked, since it effectively prevented him from conversing privately with Joni. Although they would have plenty of time later, he reminded himself. They were going to be staying at the motel down the road. The waitress, who finally got around to telling them her name was Sally, had managed to get them two rooms.

Half an hour later they headed down an empty road to the motel. The cars parked in lots and along the street were drifting over with snow.

"I feel like such a jerk," Hardy said.

"You're not. If I'd known it was going to be like this, I'd have said so. It'll let up soon."

Maybe, maybe not. He wasn't betting on anything until he had a chance to watch the weather report.

The motel turned out to be nice enough, though. Not exactly a Holiday Inn or a Courtyard by Marriott, but clean enough and new enough that he didn't feel like the walls would be sticky. Their rooms adjoined, with a door between them, which was either good or bad, depending on how you looked at it. Good because neither of them would have to go out in this weather just to pass a few words, bad because Well, it was a temptation. He might as well do himself the courtesy of admitting it. Joni Matlock tempted him. Something about her drew him the way a flower drew a bee. He could almost imagine himself buzzing around her, dipping in for quick, sweet tastes.

But that could never be, so he wasn't doing himself any favors by thinking about it. He would just have to watch it and remember that he was supposed to be wearing the white hat this time. No more corrupting Witt's daughters.

Hell, that set him back on his heels. Still. Even after three days to think about it. Witt's daughter. What the hell was he doing hanging out with another of Witt's daughters?

Joni disappeared into her room, so he disappeared into his and figured it had better stay that way. Except he thought of something.

He knocked on the adjoining door. After a minute she unlocked her side and opened it.

"I need to go out and see if I can get us some food for tonight and tomorrow morning," he told her. "There was a Safeway around the corner, I think. I'll be back in a bit."

She nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

The door closed again, the lock turned.

Good, he told himself. But the truth was, he really didn't feel it was good at all.

He took the car. The supermarket was a block and a half away, and he gave thanks for four-wheel drive by the time he got there. The snow was getting very deep, and if the plows were working, they sure weren't bothering with the side streets.

The store was still open, though there was almost no one inside except a bored cashier and an unhappy looking manager. Hardy grabbed a cart and started along the aisles, grabbing canned foods that could be eaten without cooking, a selection that he hoped was broad enough for Joni to find something she liked. Peanut butter, jelly, a loaf of bread, paper plates, napkins, plastic utensils, a can opener, some chips and pretzels.

He paused, looking down at his stock, and realized he'd bought a lot more than two people would need for one night. But he wanted variety.

He didn't want them to be stuck with peanut butter or cold baked beans.

Whatever they didn't eat, he could take home.

Milk and soda, which he could keep cold in a little snow in the ice bucket, or in the sink. Well, heck, why not get one of those small foam ice chests to keep it in? If he did that, he could get cold cuts,

too. He realized he was distracting himself, trying not to think about Joni, about Witt, about the mess everything seemed to be turning into all over again. About how he was hiding out with Witt's daughter, which felt like a reprise of twelve years ago. Damn, he wished Joni hadn't told him that.

Rounding a corner, he came upon some T-shirts. Touristy stuff, ballyhooing Colorado, the Rockies and skiing. Still, neither of them had a change of clothes, so he grabbed a couple of the biggest ones he could find. Socks, too, he realized. They would both be glad of some fresh socks. Hell, he'd be glad of some fresh Jockey shorts, but there weren't any here.

He was stalling again. Forcing himself to face that fact, he headed for the checkout. Then he remembered reading material. Heading back, he picked up a couple of magazines, a thriller and a romance novel. It was appalling to realize that he had no idea if Joni liked to read, or, if so, what she enjoyed.

It seemed crazy to buy a bag of ice in the middle of a snowstorm, but he needed it for the cooler. Ten minutes later he was parked in front of his room again.

He was surprised, when he entered with the plastic bags hooked over his fingers, to find the adjoining door open and Joni standing there.

"I was beginning to worry," she said.

He held up the bags. "I went overboard."

"You planning to feed an army?" She looked wary.

"Nope. Just wanted to give us some choices."

Next he brought in the ice chest and stuffed it with soda cans and milk. "No hot drinks, I'm afraid." "I already took care of that. I called the office and Fred offered us a hot plate and drip coffeemaker he keeps around."

"Hell. I didn't buy any coffee or tea."

She leaned back into the room, grabbed something from the dresser, and held up a box and a can, going, "Ta-da!"

He laughed. "Fred?"

"Yup. He's a real sweetie. Apparently we rate because we're friends of Sally's."

"I need to meet more waitresses."

"It might smooth the road a bit."

He finished unpacking the groceries, setting things on the top of the dresser against the wall.

"A T-shirt," he said, holding up the two he'd bought. "I figured they could double as nightwear. Take your pick."

"How thoughtful!"

She wanted the teal one, and he was happy to settle for the navy blue one. She seemed equally pleased by the thick, warm socks he offered her. "Sorry, no undies."

"I can just wash mine in the sink and hang them over the heater to dry."