White Lies (25 page)

           
 
Instead of climbing over into the driver's
seat, Jay opened the door and got out to walk around. She paused in front of
the Jeep, her slim body starkly outlined by the glare of the headlights.
"It was the only way I could think of to protect you,' she said, then got
into the Jeep and put it in gear.

           
 
Lucas watched the taillights as she pulled out
of the gas station and onto the highway. He felt stunned. Protect him? He was
so used to being out in the cold, on his own by choice, that the idea of anyone
protecting him was alien. What had she thought she could do?

           
 
She could keep the charade intact. She had
been right; Frank would have quickly and quietly hustled her away if she'd told
him there had been a mistake, that he, Lucas, wasn't her ex-husband. She didn't
have his skill with weapons or in fighting, but that hadn't stopped her from
literally setting herself up as his bodyguard. The charade had depended on her,
so she had kept quiet, and shielded him with her presence.

           
 
Because she loved him. He swore aloud, his
breath crystallizing in the frigid night air. His damned training had tripped
him up, making him look for betrayal where there hadn't been any, making him
question her motives and automatically assuming the worst. He had only to look
to himself to understand why she hadn't said anything. Hadn't he kept quiet
these past two days because he'd been afraid of losing her if she knew the
truth? He loved her too much to accept even the possibility of losing her,
until Piggot had forced his hand.

           
 
Swearing again, he folded his length into the
county car and began the process of hot-wiring the starter.

           
 
* * *

           
 
Dawn threw rosy fingers of light across the
snow, a sight Lucas has seen many times since coming to the mountains, but the
scene wasn't peaceful this particular morning. The meadow was crowded with men
and vehicles, the pristine snow trampled and criss-crossed by both feet and
tires. Here and there the white was marred by reddish-brown stains. A
helicopter sat off to the left, its blades slowly twirling in the breeze.

           
 
Ten guns snapped toward him as he stepped out
from the trees, then were lifted as the men holding them recognized him. He
walked steadily toward them, his own pistol held in his blood-stained hand down
at his side. The stench of cordite burned his nostrils in the cold air, and a
gray haze lay over the meadow, resisting the efforts of the breeze to disperse
it.

           
 
There was a tall, black-haired man standing
next to the helicopter, surveying the scene with grim, narrowed eyes. Lucas
walked straight to him. "You took a chance, setting us up in your own
cabin," he snapped.

           
 
Kell Sabin looked around the meadow. "It
was a calculated risk. I had to do it to find the mole. Once the location of
the cabin was leaked, I knew who it was, because access to that information is
very controlled." He shrugged. "I can find another vacation
spot."

           
 
"The mole blew my cover?"

           
 
"Yeah. Until then, I had no idea he was
there." Sabin's voice was icy, his eyes like cold black fire.

           
 
"So why the masquerade? Why drag Jay into
it?"

           
 
"To keep Piggot from finding out you were
alive. Your cover was blown. He knew about your family, and he's been willing
in the past to use someone's family to get to them. I was trying to buy time,
to keep everyone safe until Piggot surfaced and we could get to him."

           
 
Sabin looked up at the trees behind the cabin.
"I assume he won't be bothering us again."

           
 
"Or anyone else."

           
 
"That was your last job. You're out of
it."

           
 
"Damn straight," Lucas agreed.
"I've got better things to do, like get married and start a family."

           
 
Suddenly Sabin grinned, and the coldness left
his eyes. Few people saw Sabin like that, only the ones who could call
themselves his friends. "The bigger they are," he jibed, and left the
rest of the old saw unsaid. "Have you told her yet?"

           
 
"She already knew. She figured it out
while I was still in the hospital." Sabin frowned. "What? She didn't
say anything. How did she know?"

           
 
"My eyes. They're a different shade of
brown than Crossfield's."

           
 
"Hell. A little thing like that. And she
still went along with it?"

           
 
"I think she figured out that the whole
thing was to protect me."

           
 
"Women," Sabin said softly, thinking
of his own wife, who had fought like a tigress to save his life when he'd been
a stranger to her. It didn't surprise him that Jay Granger had put herself on
the line to protect Lucas.

           
 
Lucas rubbed his jaw. "She doesn't even
mind this ugly mug."

           
 
"The surgeons did what they could. Your
face was smashed." Then Sabin grinned again. "You were too pretty
anyway."

           
 
The two men stood and watched the mopping up
process, their faces becoming grim again at the loss of life. Three men were
dead, counting Piggot, and four more were in custody. "I'll notify your
family that you're alive," Sabin finally said. "I'm sorry they had to
go through this, but with Piggot on the loose, it was safer for you, and all of
them, as well, if the charade was played out. It's over now. Collect Jay from
wherever you've stashed her, and we'll get the two of you out of here."

           
 
Lucas looked at him, and slowly the blood
drained out of his face. "She hasn't called Frank?" he asked
hoarsely.

           
 
Sabin went still. "No. Where is
she?"

           
 
"She was supposed to drive to the next
town, check into a motel and call Frank. Damn it to hell!" Lucas turned
and ran for the shed, with Sabin right beside him. Suddenly he felt cold all
over. There was a possibility Piggot could have gotten to Jay before coming
here, as well as the slightly less terrifying possibility that she could have
had an accident. God in heaven, where was she?

           
 
After leaving Lucas, Jay simply drove,
automatically following the highway signs picked out by the headlight beams,
and eventually wound up on U.S. 24, the highway that they had taken to Colorado
Springs. She turned in the opposite direction. She didn't pay any attention to
the tune; she just kept driving. U.S. 24

           
 
took her through Leadville, and finally she
connected with I-70. She took a right, toward Denver.

           
 
The sun came up, shining right into her eyes.
She was nearly out of gas. She got off at the next exit and had the tank
filled.

           
 
It would be over by now.

           
 
Exhaustion pulled at her, but she couldn't
stop. If she ever stopped, she would have to think, and right now she couldn't
bear it. She checked her money. She didn't have much—a little over sixty
dollars—but she had her credit cards. That would get her back to New York, to
the only home she had left, the only refuge.

           
 
I-70 went straight to Stapleton International
Airport in Denver. Jay parked the Jeep and entered the terminal, carefully
noting where she had parked so she could tell Frank where to retrieve his
vehicle. She bought her ticket first, and was lucky enough to get on a flight
leaving within the hour. Then she found a pay phone and called Frank.

           
 
He answered in the middle of the first ring.
"Frank, it's Jay." She identified herself in a numb monotone.
"Is it over?"

           
 
"Where the hell are you?" he
screamed.

           
 
"Denver."

           
 
"Denver! What are you doing there? You
were supposed to call me hours ago! Luke is tearing the damned place up, and we
have every cop in Colorado prowling the highways looking for you."

           
 
Her heart lightened, the terrible dread
lifting from it. "He's all right? He isn't hurt?"

           
 
"He's fine. He took a little nick on the
arm, but nothing a Band-Aid won't cover. Look, exactly where are you? I'll have
you picked up—"

           
 
"Is it over?" she asked insistently.
"Is it really over?"

           
 
"Piggot? Yeah, it's over. Luke got him.
Tell me where you are and—"

           
 
"I'm glad." Her legs wouldn't
support her much longer; she sagged against the wall. "Take... take care
of him."

           
 
"My God, don't hang up!" Frank
yelled, the words shrieking in her ear.

           
 
"Where are you?"

           
 
"Don't worry," she managed to say.
"I can get home by myself." Totally forgetting the Jeep, she hung up
the phone, then went into the ladies' rest room and splashed cold water on her
face. As she pulled a brush through her hair she noticed the pallor of her
cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. "You guys sure know how to
show a lady a good time," she murmured to her reflection, drawing several
startled glances her way.

           
 
Yogi Berra had said, "It ain't over till
it's over," but this was very definitely over. Jay couldn't sleep on the
flight, despite the utter exhaustion weighing down her body. Nor could she eat,
though her stomach was empty. She managed to drink a cola, but nothing more.
After the solitude of the meadow, New York's J.F.K. airport was bedlam. She
wanted to shrink against a wall and scream at all the scurrying people to go
away. Instead she got on a bus, and an hour and a half later she let herself
into her apartment.

           
 
She hadn't seen it in months; it was no longer
home. It had been well taken care of in her absence, as Frank had promised, but
it was as empty as she was. She didn't even have any clothes with her. She
laughed hollowly; clothes were the least of her worries. Frank would make
certain they were shipped to her. But there were sheets to go on the bed, and
towels for the bathroom. She took a warm shower, then even summoned the
strength to make up the bed. The afternoon sun was going down as she stretched
out naked between the clean sheets. Automatically she turned, searching for
Lucas's warmth, but he wasn't there. It was over, and he didn't want her. Acid
tears stung her eyes as her heavy eyelids closed, and then she slept.

           
 
"Janet Jean. Janet Jean, wake up,"

           
 
The intruding voice pulled her toward
consciousness. She didn't want to wake up. So long as she slept, she didn't
have to face life without Lucas. But it sounded like his voice, and she
frowned.

           
 
"Janet Jean. Jay. Wake up, baby." A
hard, warm hand shook her bare shoulder.

           
 
Slowly she opened her eyes. It was Lucas,
sitting on the edge of her bed, scowling at her. Those yellow eyes looked
almost murderous, though his tone had been as gentle as his ruined voice would
allow. He looked like hell; he badly needed a shave, his hair was uncombed, and
a bloodstained bandage was wrapped around his left forearm. But at least he had
on a shirt now, and his clothes were clean.

           
 
"I know I locked the door." Sleep
still muddled her mind, but she knew she'd locked the door. In New York, one
wasn't careless about locking the door. He shrugged. "Big deal. Come on,
sweetheart, go to the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face so you
can focus your eyes. I'll make coffee."

           
 
What was he doing here? She couldn't think of
any reason, and though part of her rejoiced at seeing him, no matter why,
another part of her cringed at having to say goodbye to him again. She might
not be able to stand it this time. At least before, she had been numb.