Catch a Shadow Page 18

  “I don’t know,” he said frankly. “At this moment, anything seems possible.”

  “I’ll help.”

  He was reminded again that he wasn’t alone, that whether or not he liked it, she intended to be a partner and not a damsel in distress.

  He nodded and felt her sense of surprise rather than saw it.

  “Good,” she said, as she sat back.

  He didn’t want to go back to the silence. 2He liked the sound of her voice. He liked the companionship.

  “Where did you come by the name of Kirke?” he asked. He’d never heard the name before, but somehow the uniqueness of it fit her.

  “Ah, something you couldn’t find on the Internet,” she said. “I’m amazed.”

  He shrugged.

  She was silent a moment, then said, “My grandfather’s last name. He didn’t have sons. My mother thought he would like it. At least enough to get some money out of him.”

  “Did he?”

  “He never said.”

  “And your parents?”

  “Never knew my father. He split when I was born. My mother died of a drug overdose.” She said it without rancor. More matter of fact, and he hurt for her.

  “Then who raised you?”

  “My grandfather. He was rather stern, but he knew his duty. I was mostly farmed out to boarding schools.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “He died just before I finished college. He paid my college tuition and left me enough to buy the duplex. I’ve always been grateful for that.”

  He heard the affection in her voice. And, for the first time, a hint of loneliness. Small tidbits about her that didn’t really didn’t tell him why she was sticking out her neck such a long way for him.

  He noticed a sign for a restaurant and left the interstate. “Choices,” he said. “A hamburger chain or a truck stop.”

  “Truck stop,” she said immediately. “I love them, and they might have some makeup.”

  “A truck stop?”

  “There’s lots of women truck drivers these days,” she said.

  “Truck stop it is.” He concurred. He’d always found the truck stop food far superior to chains, but the ambiance usually sucked. He drove into the huge parking lot, passing at least twenty long-haul trucks and several passenger cars.

  As soon as they stopped, she got out and stretched. She was still clad in shorts and T-shirt, and he admired her athletic legs and curves.

  The restaurant was one of those rambling structures with showers in the back for truckers. Even at ten p.m., the restaurant was more than half-filled.

  She slid into a booth, and he sat across from her. A waitress appeared with two menus she handed to them. Her eyes rested on Kirke’s face, and he saw cold hostility as she turned toward him. “Coffee?” she asked.

  Both of them nodded, and the waitress hurried back to the counter.

  Kirke scanned the menu. “Can you order the hot roast beef sandwich for me? I’m going into the restroom.”

  Before he could stop Kirke, she was out of her seat, and the waitress was back with two cups. She set them down, blocking his exit from the booth. Then her hand brushed the coffee cup and it turned over, the hot liquid running over the table and down his jeans.

  “Oh I’m so sorry,” she said. She grabbed some napkins and tried to wipe up the coffee dripping off the table onto his lap, apologizing profusely all the jeans.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, standing. He didn’t want to leave Kirke alone. Not even for a minute. But then a second waitress joined the first in sopping up coffee from his pants. Together they blocked the way out, unless he wanted to leap over the table.

  “You aren’t burned, are you?” said the first waitress.

  The coffee was hot but not steaming. “No.”

  “Your meal will be free, of course,” the second one said. “And we’ll pay the cleaning bill.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said, trying to see the hall Kirke had walked down.

  Then someone who said he was a manager joined the crowd. More apologies.

  “Look,” Jake finally said. “I don’t care about the cleaning bill. I’m not going to sue, but I do want to get to the restrooms.”

  He finally managed to push through the growing crowd and headed in the direction Kirke had taken.

  “Where’s the restrooms?” he asked someone.

  “Down the hall and to the left,” said the manager.

  Jake ran down the hall and saw a sign saying Office. He retreated and went to the right.

  Two doors across from each other. One said Guys, the other Dolls.

  He knocked at the latter door.

  No one answered.

  He opened the door.

  It was small. And empty.

  CHAPTER 20

  Kirke stepped into the small, old, but scrupulously clean facilities.

  She glanced at her face. Didn’t look any better than it had this morning. No wonder she was getting some strange looks from people in the restaurant.

  She rinsed the sleep from her eyes. She felt refreshed after her nap and, she hated to admit even to herself, looked forward to more time with Jake.

  She’d never been with a dangerous man before. And he was that. Everything about him shouted danger and beware, and not only because of the present threat.

  From the fitness of his body—how many push-ups did he do daily in prison?—to the dark, impenetrable eyes to the quiet efficiency with which he seemed to handle everything, he radiated warrior. She was far more fascinated with him than she wanted to be. And she was trusting him far more than she probably should.

  A persistent knock came at the door. She frowned, but it continued. She started to open it to give someone a piece of her mind.

  The waitress peered inside. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay, hon,” she said.

  Kirke nodded.

  The woman’s eyes went to the bruises on her face. “You in any trouble, I gotta bunch of truckers who will help.”

  Kirke winced at the thought of being considered a battered woman. “Thanks, but I’m okay. A purse snatcher did this two days ago. The guy I’m with … he’s one of the good ones.”

  The woman didn’t look convinced. “He doesn’t look the type, but you never can tell … My friend …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Thanks for caring,” Kirke said and meant it. Too many people didn’t bother to help when they saw something off-kilter.

  “Okay, you need anything, hon, just let me know.”

  Kirke closed the door again and decided to take another look at her face. Terrible. They should have sunglasses at a truck stop. And a cap. She would look while waiting for her meal. Which reminded her how hungry she was.

  Another knock.

  Good Samaritan or not, this was getting ridiculous.

  She opened the door again. A big burly guy was waiting across the hall for the men’s room. Before she could react, he pushed her back into the restroom and shoved a cloth to her face.

  She instantly knew what it was and tried not to breathe in the fumes. She was dragged several steps while she desperately held her breath. The door opened, and she slumped against his body as if unconscious.

  He loosened his hold, released the cloth, and started to pick her up. She swung around and kneed him in the groin. He grunted and released her right arm but kept an iron grip on the other. She screamed as loud as she could.

  “Bitch,” he yelled, and threw her against the side of the wall. She was barely aware through a growing mental fog that she was now somehow outside the building. The chloroform was working.

  She heard a car engine, the crunch of tires spitting up gravel.

  “No!” she screamed as loud as she could before a hand clamped on her mouth again.

  She bit down hard. The man roared with rage, and she heard a shout. Jake’s voice. She was tossed like a sack of potatoes and landed in strong arms.

  There was a slam of a car door, then the rev
ving up of a car speeding off.

  “Kirke?” His voice. Jake’s voice.

  She tried to focus.

  He leaned over her. His face looked blurry, but his words came through clear enough.

  “Gone? Is he gone?” She suddenly felt sick. The chloroform. She turned and threw up as he held her.

  She was mortified. But grateful, too. She was alive!

  “God, I’m sorry. I was coming after you, and a waitress spilled coffee and … I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. Then I heard you.” His voice was raw. There was an emotion in it that she hadn’t heard before.

  “Someone knocked at the restroom … held a cloth to my mouth. Chloroform … I tried not to breathe it in …”

  He continued to hold her, even cradling her as she became aware of the many eyes on them. Her scream had apparently emptied the restaurant, and everyone who had been inside was now watching avidly.

  He looked up. “Her ex-boyfriend,” he explained. “Almost killed her a few days ago. I was helping her get away. I don’t know how he found us.”

  “Had to be two or more of them,” said one whip-thin trucker dressed in jeans and a New York Mets ball cap. “There was a driver.”

  “Must have been his brother,” Kirke said. “Just got out of prison.”

  “Wish I got my hands on them,” the trucker said. Others nodded.

  “He must have had some kind of tracking device in my car,” Jake said.

  The waitress who’d knocked at the door of the restroom kneeled beside Kirke. She was ashen. “You shoulda told me someone was after you. We thought it was the guy you were with …”

  Kirke was having a hard time keeping up with her lies, especially in her muddled state. To her surprise, they just came bursting from her mouth. She’d never had to balance them before, not before Jake. “I … was ashamed,” she said. And she was. Lying was becoming all too easy.

  “I’ll call the sheriff,” the waitress said.

  That, Kirke knew, was the last thing they needed. She shook her head. “I just want to get back to my family. They’ll see that I’m safe.” She didn’t have to fake the tears that formed in her eyes. She couldn’t forget her terror as she was being dragged away.

  A trucker nodded. Then another. They obviously didn’t want to hang around to give statements. She knew truckers were on tight schedules.

  “Anyone going to Richmond?” Jake looked at the assembled truckers. “I can’t risk taking the car. I can’t put Jenny into more danger.”

  Her earlier wounds were evident. She saw belief on faces and regretted the subterfuge. Her hand dug into Jake’s. It was big and strong, and his fingers tightened around hers. “Gutsy girl,” he said in a voice so soft she doubted anyone else heard it.

  “I’m going there, and I own my own rig,” said the guy in the baseball cap. “No rules to say I can’t take passengers.”

  “I’m going that way, too,” said the one who’d threatened violence to the attacker seconds earlier. “I’ll follow part of the way. Make sure no one’s trailing you.”

  “I still think we should call the sheriff,” the waitress persisted, but a man next to her shook his head, and she went silent. The owner? Whoever he was, he didn’t want any trouble.

  “What about your car?” the waitress asked.

  “I’ll move it to the back and have someone pick it up, or pick it up myself later. If that’s okay.”

  The manager nodded. It was obvious to Kirke he wanted no trouble. Or police on the premises. It occurred to her that some of the women who’d gathered behind the men weren’t motorists but working girls who offered services out of nearby trailers.

  The manager nodded. “You want me to keep the keys?”

  Jake nodded. “I’ll park it, then give them to you.”

  “How do I know whoever comes is legit?”

  Jake glanced down at her and said softly so no one else could hear, “He, or she, will say Merlin sent him.”

  The man’s eyebrows raised, then he shrugged.

  “Ready to go?” the trucker who volunteered the ride interrupted. “I’m on a schedule.”

  Jake nodded. “I’ll move the car and get our belongings.”

  She tried to stand, but her legs were unsteady, and she sat back down on the ground. She was still woozy, and her head hurt. She wasn’t going to say that, though. She wanted to leave this place.

  “You didn’t have time to eat,” the waitress said. “I’ll throw some sandwiches together.”

  Another waitress crowded near her, guilt evident in her face as she looked at Jake. “I’m so sorry about the coffee. We thought it would give her a chance to get away if …”

  The manager joined them. “Damn if I’ll let them convince me to sabotage a customer again,” he said. “You see, Lily was abused and stalked by her boyfriend for years. He nearly killed her.”

  Jake gave him a crooked smile. “That’s quite a defense team you have. I don’t envy anyone who wants to rob the place.” Then the smile was gone. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to know there’s people who care enough to risk themselves.”

  The first waitress looked relieved. “I’ll get those sandwiches.” She hurried off.

  The drivers stayed with her while Jake went to move the car. One of the women who’d gathered on the edge went inside and came out with a wet paper towel and offered it.

  “Thank you,” Kirke said and rubbed her face with the cold towel. To her surprise, she felt better.

  She saw Jake step out of the car he’d driven around the corner of the building and parked among the sixteen-wheelers. He had his duffel and her suitcase in his hands. The truck driver who’d offered to take them broke away and led Jake to a huge eighteen-wheeler. After stowing the baggage, they both came back toward her.

  Without so much as a question, Jake lifted her as easily as if she were a pillow rather than a 128-pound female and carried her to the cab, setting her inside. Then he got in next to her.

  The waitress appeared with a huge sack bulging with sandwiches and a small foam ice chest. “Sodas,” she said. Jake took a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, but the woman refused it.

  Then the driver took off, and she took comfort in the steel underneath and around her.

  “Name’s Cook,” the driver said. “Tim Cook. Have a load of new furniture heading from north Georgia to Richmond. What are you folks gonna do when we get there?”

  “Rent another car, one they don’t know about.”

  “Be careful. Lots of these new cars with agencies have a GPS that can be tracked in case a car is stolen or isn’t returned.”

  “Thanks,” Jake said. “I’m Ed Metcalf, and this is Jenny. I’m a friend of her family, and she called me after her ex did this. She’s finally leaving the bastard. Didn’t think he would go so far as to follow us.”

  “What do’ya do?” Cook asked.

  “Just got out of the military after twenty years. Looking around now to find something.”

  “You in Iraq?”

  “Afghanistan.”

  “I served at Fort Campbell in Kentucky before this war. Never did get overseas. I admire you guys. Bet that coward back there never served a day.” He paused. “You might think about taking up trucking. If you can buy your own cab, you have lots of freedom. I bought mine when the interest rates were low. Be paying on it forever, but it’s mine.”

  Kirke opened the ice chest. She asked if anyone else wanted a soda and passed one to the driver before selecting one for herself. Then she leaned against Jake and listened.

  For a man who didn’t talk much, Jake held his own with the driver. He just asked questions, seldom offering much information of his own. Her head pounded. She had inhaled enough chloroform to make her sleepy as well as queasy. Remembering her attacker’s hands on her sent shivers through her.

  Jake’s arm went around her. She didn’t know whether their benefactor noticed or not. She didn’t care. She snuggled there and finished the soda. Some of the turmoil i
n her stomach settled.

  She looked at the clock on the dashboard. Eleven p.m.

  She closed her eyes, letting herself be cocooned in the safety of Jake’s arm. Ever since she met him, she’d been wandering around in an unmarked minefield, stumbling from one mine to another. Yet at this moment, there was no place she would rather be. The warmth of his body radiated through her own. She heard the regular beat of his heart and occasionally his arm would tighten around her as if to ensure himself she was there.

  They would be in Virginia before long. Then it would just be a few hours to Richmond. She wished she had the map from their car to follow the way.

  “Where’s the map?” she asked suddenly. “The one in the car.”

  “I didn’t see it,” he replied. “I brought everything in the car.”

  “I marked it,” she said slowly. “Whenever I go on a trip I draw a circle around the destination. When I stop at a rest stop or gas station, I trace how far I’ve come.”

  His body stilled, then he said, “I locked the car, but I left one window open slightly because of the heat. We sat where I could keep an eye on it, but then there was the coffee …”

  “Ja—” she started to say, then remembered he was Ed now. “Ed, he must have taken the map.”

  His arm tightened around her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “There’s no way you could have known he could follow us. I was sure there was no tracking device on the car. If anyone has blame, it’s me.”

  “He knows where we’re going.”

  “We’ll just go somewhere else,” he said.

  But they both knew there was only one place for them to go.

  Ames’s fingers clutched the cell phone.

  “You let them get away?”

  “I saw a chance to get the woman. I figured once I got her, then we could get him when he came after her.”

  “You figured? Well, you figured wrong. You should have waited until you could run them off the road and get them both. Now they know we’ve been tracking them, and they’ll be more careful.”