Twilight (29 page)

Her mind suddenly calmed. It was as though she separated from the frightened shell that had surrounded her. She saw it now, the dangerous depth of her stupidity. It wasn’t Brian she had to fear, it was what he had bought into—a world so dark and sinister she hadn’t recognized it. Her act of retaliation was now a deadly mistake, one she could pay for with her life. Both she and Brian could pay. But not the children.

She glanced again at the cabinet. She couldn’t reach the gun. She would have to use her wits alone. She must be convincing. If she could buy even the smallest window of time … “I don’t have it here. I’ll have to get it.”

Brian’s eyes closed, and she heard his breath escape. He, at least, believed her.

She turned to Dieter. “Give me some time.” If he said no, she would lunge for the gun.

Dieter’s expression was hard to read. He fingered the chain at his throat and glanced at his dark shadow. Laurie looked from the man to the cabinet. The Latino’s eyes nar rowed. He tur ned, looked upward. Laurie’s throat tightened. He reached up, opened the cabinet, and took out Daddy’s gun. Laurie’s breaths came in heaves.

Dieter took the gun from his companion. His gaze shifted to her. “Did you think this could stop us?”

How had they known? Did she give herself away? She was no good at this! She looked at Brian. He should know that. She hadn’t been able to play his games—wife swapping, thrill seeking. She thought of Cal.
“You, the great actress?”
She drew on that, pulled herself up. “What do you expect? I had something to protect.” She meant the children, but let them think it was their cocaine.

The gun was loaded. Dieter could use it on her right now. But that wouldn’t get him his drugs. “Have it here tomorrow night.” Dieter turned with a jerk of his head.

The Latino followed. Laurie looked at Brian. For a moment she thought he might speak. There was in his face something of apology, something of regret. Then he, too, went out.

The kitchen wore the bleak look of an empty stage. Laurie looked around, her breath shallow. For the first time in her life, she considered a selfless act. For her children, she could die.

The phone jarred Cal out of the first decent sleep he’d had in too long. Annie’s head came up from his chest in startled concern as Cal scrambled for the receiver.

“You awake?” Danson’s voice was not one he’d care to wake up to every morning.

He looked at the clock. 4:45. “Awake?”

“I need you to meet me on Route D.”

Cal raised to one elbow. “Last I looked, I didn’t work for you.”

“Drag your tail out of bed and get down here. I’ve found your black Firebird.”

Cal listened to the dial tone a moment before hanging up. Found the Firebird? Brian Prelane’s Firebird? He pressed his palm to his eyes. Was it any wonder he’d slept like a baby after Suanne’s pork chops and an evening of real companionship? He didn’t want to pick up his life where he’d left it. But what choice did he have with Danson waiting?

Annie’s nails clicked on the wood floor as she jumped down from the bed, her eyebrows arched up in worry. He opened the door, hoping her pattering down the stairs wouldn’t disturb Mildred. He never let her out this early, but Danson had made it necessary. After minimal preparation, he headed out into the darkness, coffee in hand.

Annie tried to join him in the jeep, but he ordered her to stay and she curled up at the base of the stairs. Cal’s head cleared as he drove. What did Danson mean he’d found the Firebird? Had he stopped Brian for some infringement? Would he question him about Flip Casey? Cal shook his head. Then why order him to meet on the highway?

Cal knew as soon as he spotted the scene. The ambulance was there, lights flashing, Danson’s cruiser and another behind it. An accident, but this time it looked like the Firebird got the worst of it.

Cal stepped from the jeep and walked to the roadside where the Firebird had lodged in the ditch. Lit by spotlights, the scene looked stark and eerie. The windshield was shattered and blood-smeared. The driver had been extr icated and lay on the frozen g round, shrouded.

What on earth? Cal glanced at Danson. The steely gaze met his. With a swift dip, Cal reached for the blanket and pulled it back. He wished he hadn’t. This was no blunt trauma death. The features were erased by the damage of an exiting bullet fired at close range. The black hair was crusted with blood. He dropped the blanket back.

“You know him?” Danson had come alongside.

Did Danson think he could I.D. that mess? But he had a guess, didn’t he? His thoughts slammed into the front of his brain, just as his head had slammed into the jeep’s frame when this same Firebird ran him off the road. “No.” Cal’s throat felt like detox.

“Car’s rented to Brian Prelane. Name mean anything to you?”

Cal sucked the air. Was it Laurie’s husband lying there? It didn’t make sense. Then he saw again the gun in Laurie’s pocket.

“You still own that rifle?”

Cal jerked his head. “I haven’t used it in months.” Not since … since shooting out the tire of Danson’s cruiser on an angry, drunken binge.

“I’d like to see it for myself.”

“Why?” And then it hit him. “You don’t think …” He looked back at the telltale hole in the Firebird’s window. “Oh, come on, Danson.”

Danson took his Matt Dillon stance.

Cal’s mouth went dry. “So come inspect it. See for yourself.” It wasn’t his rifle that had shot Brian Prelane. Was it Laurie’s gun?

Danson’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me? What do you know about this?” He waved his arm over the corpse.

“If you suspect me, why don’t you take me in right now? Book me, Dano.” What was he doing? Why was he protecting her? Again the thoughts slammed forward. Had Laurie killed her husband? He’d smelled her fear.

Danson came up chest to chest. “You have a smart mouth, Morrison. And you better believe I’ll lock your tail up if I find one thing to indicate I should.”

Cal kept silent. It would take all of an hour’s work for Danson to learn more than enough to do just that. Cal had already admitted being run down by the car. Add to that his history, past and present, with the man’s wife …

He ought to come clean, tell Danson what he knew. But something, maybe Laurie’s fear or the pain he’d glimpsed in her eyes, held him mute. If Brian Prelane had battered Laurie, if she’d been driven to it … Cal felt a protective rage. He had to get to her, had to learn the truth before telling Danson anything.

Cal shoved his hands into his pockets. “You know where to find me.” He turned away and reached the jeep without Danson stopping him. As he climbed in and started the engine he saw the sergeant’s unwavering gaze.

The first order of business was to switch cars with Ray. If Danson suspected a connection, he would have him watched, in which case his jeep was well enough known to mark him around town. Ray’s Chevy bomb would be a far cry from that.

He pulled the jeep into the gravel circle under the eaves and climbed out. Before he could head for the garage, Cissy opened the house door. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back.”

He stopped. “What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Mildred pushed past to the porch. “I told you there was trouble. But did you listen?”

Cal bristled. “I’m listening now.” He needed answers, not scolding.

She held out an envelope.

He mounted the steps and took it.
Cal
. In Laurie’s handwriting. He tore it open.
Please believe I wouldn’t ask this if there were any other way. I don’t know where else to turn. The children shouldn’t pay for my
mistakes. Please, please keep them safe. Take them somewhere they won’t be found
.

Cal swallowed his fear and confusion. Looking up at Mildred, he searched for something, some clue to— And then Maddie slipped between the two sisters, pressing herself into Cissy’s legs.

Cissy stroked the child’s hair. “Laurie brought them not more than half an hour ago. You weren’t home.”

Laurie brought them? After shooting Brian off the road? Cold rose up inside. He didn’t want to think … this was no time for conjecture. He stared a moment, then handed Mildred the note, turned, and called over his shoulder, “Keep them here. And don’t open the door to anyone.”

He ran for the jeep, all thoughts of Ray’s Chevy washed away in the panic that now filled him. The sight of Brian’s ruined face stayed in his mind. Someone, some thing had done that to him. Had Laurie killed Brian and run? Or was she herself the prey? He gunned the gas pedal and spun from the yard.

Laurie looked again into the rearview mirror. There was only the beginning of morning light to show her the car following. The best she could hope was to put enough miles behind her to give Cal time to escape with the children. She closed her eyes against the pain. Putting a hand to her mouth, she breathed in and out hard, fighting the overwhelming rush of terror.

She had to believe that he would keep them safe. He may despise her, but he would protect Luke and Maddie. Who better? Hadn’t she seen it the day he lunged for Maddie beside the fire? It was pure instinct in him. He’d keep them safe from harm. And that’s what mattered. Not Brian. Not her. Only Luke and Maddie.

Before she reached the edge of town, the Mustang with rental plates was behind her. She wasn’t sure how she knew it was them. It wasn’t the Firebird Cal had questioned her about. Maybe Brian was in that car somewhere up ahead, waiting to cut her off. She had hoped to get farther. Maybe she could still talk her way out. Buy time. Time for Cal and her babies to escape.

After Brian and his partners had left last night, she had waited in the dark, almost paralyzed, fearing the moment she stepped outside. But at last she’d had to risk it. And she’d slipped out, slipped out with her children in the small hours and made it to Cal’s. Her courage had almost failed when he didn’t answer his door. But then Mildred was there, taking charge, assuring her. Maybe it was better not to face him. The note saved her from that.

She had told Mildred only that it was an emergency. The note had explained nothing. But Cal would take them away, take them somewhere safe. It didn’t matter where. She might never see them again, but they’d be safe. A stabbing pain, so real it stopped her breath, shot through her. What choice did she have?

If only Brian had … But then, she couldn’t blame him. Even now she recalled his fear. He hadn’t known, hadn’t understood. In a way he was just a child himself, always looking for one more thrill, one more way to prove himself.

The Mustang drew up close behind her. She saw two men inside. Was it Alex Dieter at the wheel, or the Latino with no expression? Neither looked like Brian in the dim light. Where was he? She searched the road ahead, expecting him to dart out and run her off as he’d done to Cal.
Oh, God, what do I do?

God? It was the first time she’d called on Him in too long. Once, for a while, she’d tried. She had even believed, given her life in the simple prayer Grams had led her through. But she’d turned her back when Grams died. Had God forgotten her then, too?

Cal pulled the jeep to a screeching halt and ran for the door of Laurie’s house. He didn’t have to break the lock. It was done for him, the wood of the old door splintered away from the new lock. He pushed open the door and went inside. Daylight streamed over the upturned sleeper couch, slashed and ripped apart.