Part 15 (1/2)

”Sixteen going on twelve,” Pescoli muttered.

”Give her a break,” Jeremy said, opening the refrigerator again and finding some deli meat. He sniffed it, deigned it good enough to eat, and slapped it on a slice of bread that he'd left on the counter. ”It's not easy, you know.”

”I know. It's not easy for me, either, but it's going to happen. I want it to happen.”

”Okay.” Jeremy dug deeper into the fridge and pulled out ajar of mayo. He quickly slathered one slice of bread, then squirted a thick dollop of some kind of hot sauce onto the meat. ”It'll be cool.”

She eyed her son as he grabbed a butcher knife from the block near the stove and sliced his sandwich into two thick halves. ”Yeah?”

”Uh-huh.”

”Wish I could believe you,” she said on a sigh.

”You can.”

”What, are you suddenly clair voyant?”

”Yeah, me and what's her name? The nutcase who talks to ghosts.”

”Grace Perchant, and we don't call her a nutcase.”

”Since when?” He eyed his mother, almost daring her to argue.

”Plate!” she yelled and he rolled his eyes, but pulled a plate from the already-opened cupboard and transferred the sloppy sandwich onto it. ”What about some vegetables on that.”

”Mom . . .”

She lifted her hands in surrender. She knew she was one of the worst offenders when it came to nutrition, although that was going to have to change, too.

”Give Bianca some s.p.a.ce. Y'know? She'll come around.” He picked up a thick, dripping half. ”If she doesn't and moves in with Lucky and Mich.e.l.le, who cares? It's not the end of the world. Isn't that what you always say?” He smiled as he threw her words back at her, then took an impossibly large bite.

She didn't argue, because he was right, even though it burned her to think of Mich.e.l.le parenting her daughter. But she'd given her kids a lot to swallow, so she bit her tongue. She figured it was time to let the news of her impending marriage settle in and Jeremy and Bianca find a way to deal with it.

Jessica's feet throbbed, her back ached, and she was fighting the pounding in her head as she drove along the mountain road to her newfound home. Working a double s.h.i.+ft was well worth it in tips, but her body was rebelling. She envisioned a magnolia scented bath, thick towels, luxurious shampoo, and the open doors to a shaded veranda where a pitcher of iced tea was waiting.

In another lifetime.

She checked the rearview of her Tahoe, but the street was empty aside from the ever-falling snow. Would it never let up? Enough of the icy flakes had fallen and piled by her drive that it was nearly impossible to see her tracks and she almost missed the turn-off. Again.

One last look in the mirror, then she cranked on the wheel and guided her Chevy through the trees to the clearing and the little ramshackle cabin. Wearily, she locked the SUV and unlocked the house that was dark and nearly as cold inside as out. Closing the door behind her, she stood in the living room for a second, listening. She left the rooms in darkness for a second, hearing the drip of a faucet and the whistle of the outside air as it swirled down the chimney and rattled the window panes. Normal sounds. Noises she'd gotten used to.

She snapped on the lights, one room after another, checking to see that the house was still secure, a.s.suring herself that she was, at least for the moment, safe.

So why did she have the nagging feeling that something wasn't right? That there was a disturbance in the air?

Because nothing is right. Nothing has been for a long time. Why else would you be on the run, hiding out in this isolated cabin? How long are you going to keep running?

As she'd dragged herself from the banks of that muddy river months before, she'd told herself that she just needed a little time to pull herself together, to go back and face the music, to end this.

Before he found her.

G.o.d, what a mess. Yanking off the wig, she dropped it onto the couch, then clicked her dental appliance from her mouth. Stretching the muscles of her face, she unpinned her hair and shook it free, then started working on the dress and padding. When she was naked, her clothes folded, she took a quick shower, never really getting rid of the chill as the water was lukewarm at best.

She toweled off and pulled on fresh underwear and sweats. Tomorrow, in between her s.h.i.+fts, she'd need to drive into town to the Laundromat she'd used once before to clean her uniforms and to take care of other errands.

Then, she determined, she would finally look up Cade Grayson. From the gossip in the restaurant she'd pieced together that the sheriff's funeral was still a week in the future and she couldn't wait any longer. Not when she felt as if she still wasn't safe.

You're paranoid.

He won't find you here. He can't. . . .

But she wasn't convinced. There were still rumors about the corpse of the woman found on the O'Halleran farm, a woman named Sheree Cantnor, being mutilated in some way. That in and of itself wasn't enough to convince her that he'd found her, but then she knew him and also knew what he was capable of. For the love of G.o.d, she'd fancied herself in love with him once upon a time. Even gone so far as to marry him.

Naive fool. He'd never loved her, had only been after her money, but still believed he'd possessed her. That she had no longer wanted him, had no longer wanted to be one of his possessions, had brought out his rage, the depth of his depravity and cruelty.

Her stomach quivered at the thought.

She had trouble believing that he would go so far as to murder an innocent woman. The idea was beyond far-fetched. Surely he wouldn't kill someone else just to terrorize her. No no no. That didn't make any sense.

It's not about you. That woman, Sheree Cantnor, is the one who suffered. Don't turn this around.

Still, Jessica's skin crawled and she felt unseen eyes upon her, as if he were watching her. She double-checked the locks and latches, making certain any possible way into the cabin was secure. She adjusted the shades and curtains, blocking out the chance that anyone could see into the small rooms.

You can't keep running. You can't go on hiding. You have to go to the police.

And tell them what? They'll only think you're crazy. Even you doubt your own sanity at times. They will not keep you safe. No one can.

Disgusted, she flopped back onto the poor excuse of a couch.

Somehow, someway, the madness had to stop.

This place is no-d.a.m.n-where.

Calypso Pope drove through the frigid streets of Grizzly Falls and wished she'd never taken the detour off the freeway. On her way to Missoula, her coffee had kicked in and not only was she a little hyped up on caffeine, her bladder was stretched to its fullest, which was such a pain. She drove past the brick courthouse and noted that the buildings along the waterfront were at least a hundred years old and the parking s.p.a.ces weren't only narrow, but nearly nonexistent. It seemed everyone in the hick town must be out for the night.

”Come on, come on, come on!” she muttered, shutting off the radio in irritation as the song she'd been listening to faded out into a cl.u.s.ter of static. She considered heading back to the main artery into town when she spied a neon sign for a restaurant called, oh so quaintly, Wild Will's. ”Ugh.”

She saw a parking spot on the street. Unfortunately, so did the driver of a huge Hummer or whatever they were called, some long-a.s.s rig that hung out into the street and nearly swiped the cars on either side of him.

”b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” she muttered under her breath, circling the block to come upon a street that led to the edge of the river, an alley almost, and two blocks down found an area under a bridge that was posted NO PARKING.

Oh, h.e.l.l. Who cares? She'd just run into the d.a.m.n restaurant, use the bathroom, and get something to go, if that. Maybe another coffee.

She nearly slipped getting out of her Mercedes and had to catch herself. Swearing silently, she tucked her purse under her arm, remotely locked the car, and hurried carefully along the dimly lit alley to Wild Will's.

Once inside, she nearly peed herself when she came face-to-face with a huge grizzly bear, standing upright, its long teeth pulled back in a snarl, its gla.s.s eyes glittering angrily. It was stuffed and dressed in a ridiculous Cupid outfit complete with glittery wings and a quiver filled with arrows that had red hearts rather than feathers stuck into the shafts. Worse yet, the huge creature was swaddled in a pink diaper and a bow had been propped into one clawed paw.

Whose dim idea was that? ”Your bathroom?” she asked a tall girl with a ponytail and a sour expression who was standing at the hostess station.

”It's just for customers.”