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He held her, loving the nearness of her, wanting to help, needing to know what was wrong, but afraid to ask more. For now, it was enough that she was safe and unhurt. It didn’t matter what she was running from—only that she was running to him.
He brushed what felt like dried paint from her temple. “You been working in someone else’s workshop, Rabbit?”
“No. I was just playing around with oils today. I tried to mix the colors to match the sky at dawn, but I couldn’t get it right.”
“So, you paint.” He held his breath, fearing she’d think his statement was a question.
“Not much,” she answered. “Not lately.”
“Maybe I’ll give you a chance to do it again.” He smiled at her. “I found an old rocking chair at a yard sale. It needs work, but I could repair the broken pieces of wood and you could paint it red.”
She nodded. “I’d like that. I’ve always wanted to paint a rocker.” She fought down a giggle but he saw her smile.
The sound of a car passing on the road fifty yards away made her jump, but she didn’t leave his arms. When they heard the car pull off the road and head toward them, Yancy held her tighter. He could hear rocks crunching and winter-dead weeds snapping as the tires moved down the rut of a path to the house that no one ever used.
A beam of light flashed through a crack in the door.
They were about to have a visitor and there was no way out except through the barn doors. Yancy felt her panic as he moved his hand across her back trying to comfort her.
He knew she wanted to run, but from the sounds outside, the car couldn’t be more than five feet from the barn door.
Without hesitation, Yancy picked her up. With one step onto his toolbox and another on the table, he was high enough to lift her into the loft. “Get back behind the boards and don’t move.”
“But—”
“Go, Rabbit. I’ll stand guard. No matter what happens, don’t come out.”
She scrambled up. A car door opened somewhere outside. Yancy jumped from the table and ran the few feet to the loft ladder. He swung it down and shoved it beneath the table, where it blended with a pile of loose boards and scraps of materials he’d planned to trash.
As he picked up his hammer, he moved so that he faced the door, the table now between him and whoever might be showing up at this hour.
A car door slammed and footsteps sounded, coming closer, making no effort to be silent.
Yancy raised his hammer. If trouble stepped in through the barn doors, he could throw the tool and have another pulled from the wall behind him before the stranger could react. If someone were coming for the woman in the loft, they’d have to get past him first.
The door creaked and cold air rushed in as if the barn were inhaling.
“Yancy?” a low voice called. “You in here?”
Yancy was so relieved that he almost dropped the hammer. “Fifth,” he answered as Deputy Weathers stepped through the opening. “You scared the hell out of me, man.”
The tall officer smiled. “Sorry, I tend to have that effect on people. It’s hard for me to sneak into a place. I’ve tried lathering my whole body with lard because someone said it was shortening, but it didn’t work.”
“Very funny.” Yancy tried to calm his nerves, but they were still jumping under his skin. “Sounds like a joke one of the old retired teachers would tell.”
“It is. Mrs. Ollie told it to me the other day.”
Yancy forced himself not to look up at the loft. Rabbit wouldn’t come down, and he had to act like it was just an ordinary night. “You must be helping Mrs. Ollie practice so she can get her driver’s permit back. She always tells jokes when she’s nervous.”
“Yeah, she’s doing better with her driving than she is with her stand-up comedy career. Drives fine, just can’t remember if she should be in the right or left lane. Which complicates things on all these two-lane roads.”
Yancy nodded. He’d ridden with her once. His life had flashed before him so many times he thought it was in permanent reruns.
Normally, he would have visited, but tonight all he could think about was saying goodbye to his friend. “What brings you out this late, Deputy? Coming in from a date or on official business?”
“No date. I was just driving home and saw the light. Don’t usually see you working this late. Thought something might be wrong.”
“No,” Yancy said, “I’m just finishing up a project. I get out here working and forget about time.”
The deputy pulled off his hat, leaned against one of the other tables and crossed his arms. He appeared to be planted there for a while. “I almost had a date a few days ago. One of the O’Grady clan. Tall and lean with the prettiest red hair you’ve ever seen. We had a lunch date.”
“Really?” Yancy tried to act interested.
Weathers shook his head. “I think I just wanted it to be a date. She was something, but I didn’t get any signals that she was interested in me.”
“Why not ask her out again? Maybe you’ll grow on her.” Yancy added, “She’s still staying out at the Kirkland place.”
Weathers laughed. “This town is way too small. How’d you know?”
“Cap Fuller’s grandson waited on you at the window of the Dairy Queen. He told Cap you had a tall redhead with you. Anyone in this county with reddish hair is probably an O’Grady and the only one visiting is Quinn Kirkland’s niece. Kirkland told his grandmother when he visited her that she was staying with them.”
Fifth frowned and Yancy laughed.
“That does it,” Fifth swore. “I’m asking her out and taking her across the county line to eat. Nothing ever happens in this town that everyone doesn’t know about.” Weathers put his hat back on and headed toward the door. “By the way, this is going to be one fine house when you get it done.”
“It keeps me busy.” The last thing Yancy wanted to do was talk about his work, but he couldn’t exactly tell the deputy to leave. Fifth was not only a lawman, but he’d become Yancy’s friend. “This is late for you to be out, Fifth. Don’t you have to be in the office by eight?”
“Sure, but I’m working on a missing-person case. You haven’t seen a woman around? Small build. Long black hair. Midtwenties.”
“Nope,” Yancy lied. “What’d she do?”
“Nothing. She’s just missing. Has been since the end of January. Left her car at the bus station in Liberal. Woman matching her description bought a ticket to Santa Fe, but never made it there. Bus driver thinks she must have left the bus somewhere in Texas. He said he had a crowd riding that night and barely remembered her. Once she made the missing persons’ list, we’ve had reports of her buying a SUV in Waco and getting drunk in a bar near Amarillo. That’s what happens when someone puts out a quarter-million-dollar reward. She gets more sightings than aliens do.”
“If it’s illegal to get off the bus, I’m a wanted man, too.” Yancy kept his voice low and even, but it bothered him that someone was offering money for her. It made her sound like an outlaw.
What if the missing woman was his Rabbit? There were lots of small women in their twenties who had dark hair. Hundreds. Thousands in Texas.
The deputy shook his head. “She’s not wanted, just missing. I don’t know much about her except there are a hell of a lot of people looking for her. They’re calling all the places where the bus stops, asking for information. Even got a few big-time private eyes tracking her, I’ve heard.”
“There are dozens of bus stops in Texas.” Yancy wanted to ask more questions, but he knew Rabbit was listening.
Weathers shoved the door open. “That’s why I’m not wasting too much time looking. If I were on that Greyhound route, this town would probably be the last place I’d climb off the bus.”
“Maybe it was dark. The view of the water tower is better then.”
Both men laughed as the deputy moved out into the night. “Don’t work too late, Yancy.”
“I won’t,” he answered. He stood at the door and waved as Weathers backed out. The moon was up and the rain had stopped, leaving a shine on everything. Folks laughed about how plain the land was here in West Texas, how the wind seemed to turn everything to shades of brown, but locals saw the beauty.
Yancy closed the barn door and threw the latch from the inside. Something he’d never done before. “You can come down, Rabbit.” He kept his voice low, knowing that she could hear him.
She looked over the edge. “No ladder?”
“I’ll catch you.”
And he did.
If he held on to her a little too long, a little too tightly, she didn’t complain.
When he set her down, she took her time moving away. She was growing used to him being near and Yancy knew without a doubt that he was growing addicted to her.
They worked in silence for an hour. He had a dozen questions, but he didn’t ask a one. She showed him a way to cut the poles that would become a railing along the staircase. The cuts were all different from each other, shaping the poles at various angles, and at first he thought they were mismatched. Only when she laid them out in a row he saw the pattern flowing like a wave up the stairs.
“It reminds me of the way the wind makes the tall grass dip and flow,” she said then bit her lip as if suddenly unsure of her work. “You can change it if...”
“I love it.” He’d never seen anything like it. The staircase seemed to move and flow as he crossed the room. “I’ll have a work of art in my house thanks to you.”
“We’ve still got a lot of work to go before they’re sanded and stained.”
“How’d you learn to create something so beautiful out of blocks of wood?” The question was out before he thought.
“My dad taught me. I had a playhouse with a staircase like this.”
Yancy smiled, glad he hadn’t upset her with his question. “I had a box in the vacant field next to our apartment once. I called it my hideout, until some homeless guy took it over.”
They both laughed.
When she picked up his coat as if it were now hers, he knew their night was over.
“Sorry about crying,” she said. “And for stealing your coat, which I’ll give back as soon as the nights warm.”
“No problem.” He moved to unlatch the door. “One thing I have to ask, Rabbit. Are you safe when you leave here?”
She nodded. “I stay in the shadows of the trees when I walk. I have a safe hideout to live in with no homeless folks nearby.”
“I hope it’s not made of cardboard.”
Standing on her toes, she kissed his cheek. “It’s not. See you tomorrow night.”
Yancy turned and let their lips touch, making the kiss more than a peck, but just short of passionate.
He felt her tremble again.
Without moving, he whispered against her moist lips, “You’ll always be safe here.”
She moved away, but he saw the truth in her rainy-day blue eyes. She believed him. Maybe she wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe she was more afraid of being close to anyone.
Standing in the open doorway, he watched her disappear into the night. He’d broken a rule tonight. He’d lied to the law and he didn’t care. He’d do it again and again if the lies would keep her safe.
He had no idea why she wanted to step out of her life.
All he knew was that he was glad she’d stepped into his.
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_7b930743-bda7-53d2-9b79-f73b714465d3)
Mauve Monday’s indecision
FOR THE NEXT few days, Parker tried to come up with a plan to get to Tori without anyone following her. She worried that her gallery needed her at the helm, but deep down she knew that wasn’t true. She left it often to visit artists and to travel with some of her collection. She went to other gallery shows all over the world. She’d set up the place to run as smoothly without her as when she was there.
Tori needed her. She had to find a way to get to the farm near Crossroads. The talented painter, like many gifted people, needed someone else to help her work through the everyday problems. Parker knew this firsthand—she had lived with an established sculptor her first year out of college who could demand six figures for his work, but couldn’t remember to pay the electricity bill.
They hadn’t worked out as lovers, but he’d given her the direction for her career. She’d loved the business part of the art world. She was fascinated with the details it took to put a show together, with discovering new talent and directing their careers. She sometimes thought of herself as the director and the artists were the actors. They got the spotlight, but deep down, she knew that a little part of their success belonged to her.
This she could do. Organize. Polish. In a way, it was a safe career. She didn’t have to prove her own talent; she simply had to show off others’.
But with the travel and the late nights, she’d never had time or any real desire to develop friendships or keep a lover longer than a season. Now, when she could really use someone she could trust, there was no one to call.
Tori must have felt that way in the airport that night. Parker knew she could be the artist’s friend, only who would be Parker’s friend?
Each night she watched the news. There must not have been much going on, because a few of the stations were doing nightly updates on Victoria Vilanie’s disappearance. They had experts saying it was obviously a kidnapping. They interviewed Victoria’s high school teachers and her first art instructor in college. All said that Tori was shy. One of the anchormen said that Victoria was one of the best young painters in the country and the world couldn’t afford to lose her.
Parker watched, knowing that when she disappeared to go check on Tori, no one would mention her on the news. More and more, she realized she had to step up and be a true friend. If she didn’t, the public would eat the shy little artist alive if they found her.
So, to be that friend, Parker had to make sure that no one followed her. No one would think that she also was vanishing. She had to make her leaving look like it was simply a business trip, nothing more.
As she planned, she forgot about how her leg felt weak and how her back often hurt. She forgot how sad the young doctor had looked when he’d stared at her. He hadn’t said she had cancer. He hadn’t had to. Parker had always known someday the curse of the Lacey clan would find her. “I don’t have time to die right now,” she said to herself. “I’ve got too much to do.”
She thought of calling Dr. Brown and telling him he’d just have to wait a few weeks before he “made her comfortable,” but she guessed he would have figured that out when he’d returned to her room and found she’d gone. She’d seen his number on her list of missed calls, but she refused to call his office back. Right now she had to convince her staff that she was traveling for work while she made plans to get away totally unnoticed by anyone who might think that she had a connection to Victoria Vilanie.
To disappear, she’d need some help from someone who either knew nothing about what she was doing or could be trusted completely. A saint or an idiot, she reasoned.
Slowly, she began compiling a mental list of all the people she’d called friends over the years. One by one she made calls.
Her lab partner in college didn’t remember knowing a Parker Lacey.
Her college roommate was eight months pregnant with her fourth kid and said she didn’t have time to chat.
Two old lovers wouldn’t take her call.
Her former boss had died two years ago.
The only neighbor she knew had moved a year ago, and Parker hadn’t noticed.
Parker paced the room like a caged lion. Surely, in thirty-seven years, she’d made one friend. She didn’t need a kidney; she only needed a favor. Someone to loan her a car or pick her up from the airport after one of her staff thought they were taking her to catch a plane.
Someone she could trade IDs with, maybe? No, that would be too much like a spy novel.
Even someone to give her a ride would be nice. Surely she knew a friend who would do a favor without asking too many questions.
