My God, what had she gotten herself into? Originally, the plan to claim him as her husband had seemed clever and uncomplicated. It had worked well at the hospital. But she hadn't anticipated his slipping into the marital mode and expecting her to respond accordingly. Although she should have. He was a heterosexual male, and she was telling him that she was his wife. Based on the circumstances she had devised, he was actually behaving more normally than she.
To her further consternation, she admitted to herself that assuming the role of his wife wouldn't be altogether repugnant.
His face and body had seen wear and tear, but she doubted he could walk into a room without creating a stir among the women present. He had an aloofness that somehow acted as a magnet. His personality was austere. He never wasted words.
As evidenced this afternoon with the three teenagers, he possessed incredible, and justifiable, self-confidence. He wouldn't go looking for trouble, but if it found him, he could handle it.
The cleft in his chin was definitely sexy. Any woman would be attracted to him.
Before announcing that he was her husband, she had failed to consider that they might actually find each other attractive.
Consequently, her strategy had backfired. She had trapped herself in an explosive situation as dangerous as a mine field.
One false step and she was doomed.
She was tempted to get Kevin and make a dash for the car before the situation became worse, before she found herself wanting not to leave.
But her body demanded rest. She couldn't muster the energy to leave the bed. Besides, where else could she go that was this safe?
It was a long time before she fell asleep, lying there beside him, still tasting his kiss, and fearing that he would awaken tomorrow morning with his memory restored in which case all her worry would be for naught.
Chapter 8
The chopper landing created quite a stir in Stephensville That it aroused even more curiosity that exciting had happened in the small Georgia community since a gangster of marginal renown had taken refuge in his girlfriend's whorehouse ore the outskirts of town and engaged In a fiery and fatal shootout With G-men. Only the Old timers remembered it.
Special Agent Jim Pepperdyne paid no heed to the bystanders as he alighted from the helicopter, which had set down on the campus of the middle school. Leading a team of subordinate agents who had to jog to keep up with him, he traversed the playground marched down the sidewalks crossed the street, and entered the hospital where the individuals he sought had last been seen The staff, previously at length by other agents who had been put on notice that the head honcho was on his way.
They were assembled in' the waiting room when Pepperdyne strode in.
After hours of grueling interrogation, his advance team had uncovered nothing of Significance. They hadn't ferreted out a single clue as to what had happened to the woman and her child. Their disappearance had been so absolute. It seemed the earth had swallowed them. "ole Jim Pepperdyne didn't believe in the g-man. He didn't believe in aliens who beamed up hostages and took them for rides in their spaceships. What he did believe in was the evil ingeniousness of Man. Over the years of his career he had seen it evidenced time and again.
The middle-aged man who bore down on the hospital staff was not physically imposing. He was going soft around the middle, and his hair was thinning at a pace that annoyed him.
Even so, he had an authoritative air thee caused everyone who crossed his path to have second The medical personnel were on the receiving end of a nearly contemptuous once-over. PepperdYne affected this intimidation tactic, although his anger and concern were sincere. He would remain angry and concerned un til he learned the whereabouts of the three who had eluded him and every other law enforcement agency in several states.
They had been missing for thirty-six fran tic hours for Pepperdyne before a dispatcher in a sheriff's office in this out-of-the way town linked the persons mentioned in the APB with an auto accident that recently occurred in ells county, Georgia, but it immediately became the geographical center of his world. He dispatched an advance team of agents, who phoned in later to say that the descriptions of the missing persons matched those of three accident victims.
More agents had been dispatched to question everyone with whom the three had come in contact. the interrogations had turned up zilch.
The wrecked car had been recovered thirty miles downstream from the point of the accident. The fatality had been positively identified. Pepperdyne was awaiting the coroner's official ruling on cause of death.
Now Pepperdyne faced the silent group, feet slightly spread the point of telling him any tidbit of information but not so intrigued that they would realize the story of national scope that any news producer would give his left nut for. So far, he had managed to keep this disappearance act under wraps. The more time he could buy before it became public knowledge, the better.
"How did they get out of town?" he asked h large.
He was almost certain that they were no longer in Stephensville.
Having seen it from the air, Pepperdyne doubted that Mrs. Burnwood clever and resourceful as she was could hide an amnesiac and an infant for any length of time There weren't that many hiding places. Furthermore his agents had been circulating photos of them.
No one had seen hide nor hair.
"Any suggestions on how they left here? Did anyone see Mrs. Burnwood driving a car?"
"I lent her mine," one of the nurses volunteered "But only for a few hours. She went to Wal-Mart and bought clothes for her and the baby."
"Did you check the mileage afterward?"
"The mileage?" she repeated, as though it were a concept foreign to her.
Another dead end. The police record head already been checked for stolen vehicles. None had been reported in Stephensville for two years. There was only One that sold used cars. Although several were none had been sold in six months.
""There's no bus service out of here N, air service. No boats and no passenger trains. How the hell did they get out of town?" Pepperdyne's raised voice rattled the window panes but it didn't shake loose an answer or even a suggestion.
With a sigh of defeat, he said, ' Thanks for your time, people."
As they neared the waiting helicopter, one of his men asked, "Sir, how did they get out of here?"
Pepperdyne ducked beneath the Whirling blades and angrily shouted, "We've eliminated all other possibilities so I guess they sprouted goddamn wings and flew out!"
Together with Judge Fargo, whose viewpoints unfortunately mirrored Gorn's, the prosecutor was a formidable foe. Not wanting to sound like a whiner with a persecution complex, Kendall also kept that opinion to herself.
"In summary," she said, "it's been Monday all day." Folding her hands together and placing them on the edge of her desk, she gave her husband her undivided attention. "What can I do for you, Mr. Handsome Newspaper Publisher?"
"For starters, you can give me a kiss."
"I think I can handle that."
Leaning toward each other across her desk, they kissed.
When they pulled apart, she smacked her lips. "Thanks, I needed that."
"It's the season," Matt repeated. "Everybody gets hyped up over football."
"Was it this big a deal when you were playing?"
"Are you serious? Where Dad is concerned, football runs a close second to hunting. He coached me on throwing passes right along with how to handle a deer rifle."
Gibb had regaled Kendall with stories of Matt's accomplishments on the gridiron. When he spoke of them, his eyes shone like those of a new convert at a tent revival. Kendall doubted that Gibb would have been so zealous if Matt had chosen to play flute in the high school marching band.
Her father-in-law scorned everything that wasn't macho.
Participation in anything artistic was reserved strictly for "the ladies," and "queers," which included any man who liked classical music, ballet, or the theater. Some of his homophobic comments were so ludicrous that Kendall wanted to burst into laughter. Or shudder.
Sometimes his ultraconservative opinions made her want to scream in frustration. Her grandmother had reared her with the belief that other people and their eccentricities should be tolerated and respected. The differences between people could even be interesting and stimulating.
Elvie Hancock's liberal leanings hadn't always been popular in Sheridan, Tennessee. Nevertheless, she had stuck by them and instilled them in her granddaughter. Kendall supposed that was one reason she had chosen to become a public defender, champion of the underdogs. That, along with the injustices she had seen take place in the hallowed corridors of Bristol and Mathers.
"Who was on the phone?" Matt asked now. "Or can't you talk about it?"
"Off the record?"
"Absolutely."
"A boy was caught shoplifting this afternoon. Get this. His last name is Crook."
"The youngest one? Billy Joe?"
"You know him?" she asked, surprised.
"I know the family. The twins, Henry and Luther, are a year older than I. There's a passer of brothers and sisters in between them and Billy Joe. Their old man ran the junk yard on the edge of town. Where that big heap of rusted metal is?"
She nodded, knowing the eyesore to which he referred. "You said 'ran,' past tense."
"He died a couple of years ago. Mrs. Crook is having a tough time trying to hold the business together."
"Why is that?"
"Old man Crook sometimes didn't wait on salvaged cars to update his inventory. Customers often bought back from him what had recently been stolen off their cars. The consensus was that the old man was operating the business like fencin, sending the boys out to steal for him."
"Is Mrs. Crook trying to run a legitimate business?"
"Maybe, but I doubt it. It's probably a lack of cleverness, not moral conviction, that keeps her from prospering."
"Hmm. So, what you're implying is that Billy Joe comes from a long line of Crooks?"
"Ah, you're a comedienne."
"Not really. Thank you for the Crook family background, but that's probably as far as we can carry this conversation without breaching ethics."
"I understand."
He never pressed her for more information than she was willing to divulge in keeping with lawyer/client privilege.
Since he published the local newspaper and wrote a biweekly editorial column, she had to be extremely careful not to discuss cases with him. Not because she didn't trust his integrity, but in order to protect her own.
"What brings you by?" she asked.
"To tell you that I won't be home for dinner tonight.
"Oh, Mutt!"
He held up his hands to stave off her protests. "I'm sorry.
I can't get out of it."
"This is the second time in four days. What is it this time?"
"Leonard Wiley asked Dad and me to go coon hunting tonight. He's got a new dog he's very proud of and wants to show him off. Dad accepted on my behalf.
"Tell him you can't go tonight, that we already had plans."
"We didn't."
"Tell him you promised me that we'd stay home and neck in front of the TV."
"I didn't promise."
"He won't know that!"
"But I will."
"Oh, for pity's sake!" she cried. "Haven't you ever told a fib?"
"Not to my father. '
"Then tell him the truth. Tell him I've got PMS, that I'm being a real bitch about your nights away from the house, and that I'm threatening you with castration if you leave me alone tonight." She came out of her chair wielding a letter opener.
Laughing, he deflected the playful jab she made in the direction of his crotch. "I knew you would be disappointed."
"I'm not disappointed. I'm pissed."
His Fertile vanished. "Is that kind of language necessary?"
The reproof only made her madder. "No, it's not necessary, Matt. But saying it made me feel a hell of a lot better. My husband of three months prefers spending an evening with coon dogs instead of me. I
think that entitles me to a vulgarity."
She turned her back to him and moved to the bookcase, which held her law books and tomes on South Carolina and federal law. The picture frame that Roscoe had given them for a wedding gift was on one of the shelves. She'd put a wedding snapshot in the frame and kept in it her office where the janitor couldn't help but see it every time he came in to clean.
The first time he'd seen his gift prominently displayed, his narrow chest had swelled with pride. His grin had been worth the chastening she had received from Gibb and Matt for going against their wishes and sending him a wedding invitation.
"I fail to see what's so important about a new hunting dog."
"It's not important to me," Matt said patiently. "But it's a big deal to Leonard. I can't hurt his feelings."
She turned to face him. "But you can hurt mine."
"I don't mean to."
"Well, that's what you're doing."
"What I'm doing," he said tightly, "is trying to please everyone. And, frankly, it's getting tiresome."
Apparently this topic had been eating at him. She had inadvertently opened it up for discussion, and now he had plenty to say.
"I don't know which is worse, Kendall. The wounded look I get from you when I don't do as you wish, or the ribbing I take from my friends when I do."
The words stung. "Since getting married has put a damper on your friendships, maybe you should have thought twice about getting married."
