it, because of one gung ho soldier with an itchy trigger finger and a lousy aim. “I don’t want another one like him protecting me.”
“Then maybe you should get out of there.”
She pursed her lips. “No, Jewel. Like I said, it’s probably nothing. I’m just paranoid. Besides, I’m sick of running and hiding.”
“Yeah, and when did you decide that?”
“I don’t know. It’s been a long time coming.” She licked her lips. “When he comes, I’ll be ready. Maybe I should just face him. Only one of us would walk away, but at least the running would be over.”
“You’re scaring me, Beth.”
Beth swallowed hard. “I’m being melodramatic. I’m lonesome. I miss you guys. I miss Dawny.”
“I know. She misses you, too. She’s been begging me to let her come up there for a visit.”
Beth closed her eyes. It was strictly against the government’s rules for her to see her daughter. Then again, according to Arthur Stanton, she wasn’t supposed to communicate with Dawn by phone or e-mail, either. It hadn’t stopped her from doing so. Still…
“It may not be the best time to risk it, Jewel. Try to put her off until I can be sure it’s safe.” She didn’t think Mordecai would harm Dawn, and he probably wouldn’t try to abduct her again now that he’d surrendered his parental rights to her. But given his state of mind, there was no point putting her within his reach.
“Will do. Listen, Beth, I got wind of something at the newsroom. I don’t know if it means anything. In fact it probably doesn’t, but…David Quentin Gray—Mordecai’s ex-lawyer—escaped from Attica last week. They found him dead, shot once in the head, the next day.”
Beth got a chill that didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense. “Who shot him?”
“They don’t know.”
Beth sighed. “It’s probably nothing,” she said. “He didn’t know anything about me. I mean, how could he?”
“No. It’s nothing. I’m sure of it. I just thought you should know.”
“Thanks, Julie.”
“Here’s your drink,” Dawn said. “Can I talk now?”
“Just a sec, hon. Beth, if you need us, let us know. Sean and I can be there in no time. We love you, you know. And we owe you a hell of a lot.”
“I’m the one who owes you, Jewel. Now put the brat on the phone before she has a fit.”
She heard the telephone move, then Dawn’s voice came on the line, and Beth let it wash over her like rain over a dying flower. Dawn talked about her senior year of high school, her teachers, her classes, her plans for graduation and where she might go to college. She was driving now. Her Jeep had gotten a dent from a kid in the school parking lot, and she was mortified about it, and so on and on and on.
Beth listened, commenting in all the right places, and she somehow managed to keep the tears that were sliding down her cheeks from being evident in her voice.
Chapter Four
It was Lizzie. This was her!
Mordecai’s heart had pounded, and he’d barely been able to catch his breath as he watched her running along the winding country lane. Running. Hands clenched into fists pumping at her sides. As if she were fighting.
And then she slowed and walked right up to the front porch of the very house he’d been watching: the fading, former Blackberry Inn. All night, he’d been parked in his car, keeping the boy under surveillance, just as the guides had told him to do. It had made no sense. He’d been frustrated, thinking it stupid and senseless to sit there, cold and uncomfortable, overnight. He knew where the boy lived now, so what was the point? Even if he was to be Mordecai’s heir…
Now he understood. This was the point. The boy was a beacon, pointing the way to Lizzie. Already he was connected to Mordecai, already aiding him in his work. He had led Mordecai to Lizzie. Obviously he was the one. The boy, Bryan, was the one he’d been waiting for. He should have trusted, had more faith. The guides always had a reason for everything they told him to do.
Mordecai took out his binoculars and watched every move Lizzie made. He watched her sit on the porch, sipping tea with an old woman, watched the looks, the smiles, they exchanged.
They were close. The old woman was important to her.
Then the man came out to join them, and Mordecai’s body went stiff and his nerve endings prickled. The man had to be Bryan’s father—the resemblance between the two had told him that much. But what was he doing with Lizzie?
A short while later, she was running again. But this time the man ran with her. The bastard had no business there, Mordecai thought. Lizzie was his. Always had been, always would be. Dead or alive, she belonged to Mordecai.
He let them get a good distance away before starting his car and driving a little closer. He was careful not to get too close, and he never let them spot him.
God, how different she seemed…felt. The energy he sensed surrounding her was not the same as it had been before.
She’d changed.
She thinks she’s escaped you, Mordecai. Thinks she’s above you now.
Look at her, running. Trying to grow strong. She’ll fight you this time.
“She fought me last time,” he muttered. “Isn’t shooting me in the chest fighting me?” His chest ached a little at the memory, even though the Kevlar vest had ensured he only suffered a pair of broken ribs from the bullet she had fired at his heart…even as she kissed his lips.
She was weak, back then. And she still loved you, in some desperate, dependent way. She wept when she thought she had killed you.
But she’s not weak anymore. She won’t shed a tear for you now.
Mordecai decided to ignore the voices for a while, just the way he was ignoring the presence of the man, the interloper, and simply bask in Lizzie’s presence. In being able to see her, watch her. In being this close to her. God, how he’d loved her once. Still. As he should.
Jesus had loved Judas, even after his kiss of betrayal.
Mordecai followed her to where she lived, in a cottage just at the edge of Blackberry. He knew it when they slowed to a walk, entered the house. He even saw her opening the door with her set of keys.
They’ve seen the car, Mordecai.
“Yes. I know.”
You know now. You know where to find her. You can come back.
Nodding slowly, Mordecai drove past the two this time. He had to return to his rented home away from home, because there were things that needed doing. He’d begun the preparations, but he had to finish them. So he went to his temporary home. He took time to shower, to change clothes, to get a bite to eat, take his messages off the machine. The school had called.
