glanced again at the red roots, imagining glossy red hair. He suspected she was tall and willowy and a real looker—with heavy muscle after her. He wondered about Las Vegas and a mob. She was someone’s girlfriend or she had stolen something or knew something. For the kind of muscle involved and her obvious fear, money had to be part of her flight The purse was kept constantly at her fingertips and he guessed she was packing a pistol.
She opened the carton of milk, taking a long drink, and Colin wondered when she had last eaten.
The faint rumble of a car motor grew louder. Even beneath the heavy makeup, her face paled. She stopped chewing, inhaling swiftly, and he had the feeling that she was holding her breath. Her hand clutched the purse until her knuckles were white. She wore no rings on her slender fingers with short, neatly clipped nails. The sound of the motor increased. A car was slowly creeping along the alley.
Colin reached behind his back beneath his jacket to withdraw the 9 mm automatic pistol he carried tucked into his waistband. He watched the door of the garage.
“Maybe you should get down until they’re gone,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual. He glanced in the rearview mirror while she slid down on the floor.
The low growl of a motor went past and faded. As Colin replaced his pistol, he jerked his head. “It’s gone,” he said, and she moved awkwardly back onto the seat.
“We’ll wait a while before we leave here.”
“You can let me out somewhere on campus.”
“They’ll be watching your car and probably the bus station, even though it’s closed. There’s no train.”
She ran a hand over her eyes and turned to stare at the snow-covered garage window. “Have you heard a weather report?”
“The storm is supposed to get worse. I have to head northeast from here. My ranch is several miles from town. I can take you to Pawnee and you can get a bus out of there to Tulsa, where you can get a plane.”
White teeth caught a full underlip and he inhaled as he stared at her rosy mouth, a sudden curiosity plaguing him over what it would be like to feel the softness of her full lips. Crazy notion, an inner voice cautioned. The lady was pure trouble, the kind he did not need. He had already volunteered to drive to Pawnee in a blinding blizzard, which meant he could get snowbound in Pawnee or be until nightfall getting home.
“Thank you, but if you’ll just let me out on campus, I’ll manage.”
Let her out and tell her goodbye. “You won’t get out of town. This is too small a place to get lost easily, and they’ll find you,” he persisted, wondering if he was losing his wits. He ought to be thankful she wanted to be rid of him. And she wasn’t reassured by his badge—that opened more questions, and again he thought of a Vegas showgirl who might know too much for her own good. Except this one didn’t look like a showgirl. Far from it. Or she could be carrying money in the purse. Or drugs. There was a thought, Whitefeather, he told himself with a silent, cynical sneer.
“I think I can manage,” she persisted, and he let it drop. Get rid of the woman because she could only be trouble. She’d made her choice.
They sat in silence for a few minutes and then she opened the chocolate cookies carefully and offered him one which he took. He ate a cookie, watching her bite daintily into one and chew, the tip of her pink tongue flicking out to catch a tiny crumb of chocolate on her lower lip and suddenly he wanted to lean forward and taste her mouth, chocolate and all. What was it about her that stirred the erotic thoughts? With her unattractive clothes and heavy makeup, he should barely give her a thought, yet the woman stirred him in the most basic male way. Disgruntled, he shifted in the seat to look at the garage door and glance again at his watch.
“You’re a policeman and a rancher?”
“A rancher and an honorary deputy. The sheriff hires me occasionally. I prefer ranching. It’s more peaceful.”
She looked as if she doubted what he was saying, and he wondered again what kind of trouble she was in.
He glanced at his watch and opened the door. “It’s probably been long enough. The bad thing—my pickup is noticeable, but there are two others in town as blue as this one.”
He opened the garage door, backed out and closed it again.
As soon as he slid behind the wheel, she turned to him. “The garage door was open when we came.”
“It was closed when that car drove down the alley. I’ll tell my friend I was here and closed it.” As Colin turned onto the street, he couldn’t spot any black car cruising nearby. “Want out any particular place on campus? The Union will have the most people going in and out.”
“Fine,” she said, clutching the purse tightly again.
He drove six blocks before he had to turn onto a street where traffic was heavy. While snow swirled and the wipers clacked like a slow metronome, they inched along. Colin wiped the steamed windows with the back of his gloved hand. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw a black car come out of a parking lot and turn into traffic two blocks behind him. He drove two more blocks and turned left. In seconds he saw the black car moving into the line of cars behind him.
“This isn’t your day,” he said quietly. “I think we picked up a tail.”
Two
He turned at the next two corners, drove a block and looked back to see the black car turn on the same street, now three cars behind him. He glanced at her. “Still want out at the Union?”
She bit her lower lip again, and he wondered if she had any idea that something so casual could be so sexy. Maybe she was a high-priced call girl on the run, accustomed to stirring men. He rejected that thought immediately, when he remembered her reluctance to go with him and the fear in her expression when he had driven into the garage and cut the motor. She was far too afraid of him to be a hooker.
Without signaling he turned abruptly, circling the block. As he glanced in the mirror, he saw the black car move into traffic two cars behind him again. “I can lose them and take you to Pawnee or let you out near the Union, but they’re less than a block behind us.”
He heard her draw a deep breath. When he glanced at her she was looking out the window, her head turned. A stray wisp of brown hair had escaped her cap and curled on her shoulder.
“Or I can take you to the police. They’ll protect you,” he offered.
“No!” The emphatic answer was instant, and he glanced at her. She bit her lip and looked away quickly, but not fast enough that he hadn’t seen fear in her eyes again. His curiosity mushroomed. Why did she want to avoid the police?
“If you don’t mind, I’ll go to Pawnee,” she said, as if he had asked her if she would like a trip to prison.
You got yourself into this. Looking at the tumbling snow, he gripped the steering wheel. Now he had to drive to Pawnee in a blizzard. What had she done to cause such a hunt? And why did she cause him to fall all over himself trying to help her?
For a second he was tempted to go to the station and turn her over to the force and let the law answer the questions. The law would protect her from the topcoats and the police would find out why she was running.
