Читать книгу Double Play: Ambushed! / High-Caliber Cowboy - B.J. Daniels, B.J. Daniels - Страница 14

Antelope Flats, Montana

MOLLY HEARD AGAIN the soft rattle of ice in a glass, the same sound that had drawn her attention to the dark living room—and the man sitting there—in the first place.

She caught her breath as the faceless dark figure rose from the chair and moved toward her slowly, almost awkwardly.

Vince? He couldn’t have found her. Not this quickly. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Run, her mind was screaming, but her feet seemed rooted to the floor.

As the man reached the light from the hallway, Molly saw with relief that he wasn’t Vince. But the look on his face made her take a quick step back anyway. She heard Cash swear.

“Jasmine,” the man whispered. “My God. You’re alive.” His face was ghastly white, his fingers holding the drink glass in his hand trembling, the ice in his drink rattling softly.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Cash demanded, stepping in front of Molly as if to protect her.

“The door was open,” the man said vaguely as he peered around Cash to stare at her. He was soap-operastar handsome dressed in chinos, a polo shirt and deck shoes. But next to Cash, he looked like a cardboard ad cut out from a fancy men’s magazine.

“So you just made yourself at home?” Cash demanded.

The man was obviously shaken, deathly pale with beads of sweat breaking out on his upper lip. Molly thought he might be either drunk or dazed. Or both.

She wondered how he knew her. That is, Jasmine.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Cash snapped.

Yes, Molly thought, who are you? And how did you know Jasmine? One thing was clear, Cash didn’t like him. Nor did the man like Cash.

The man seemed to drag his gaze from her to look at the sheriff. “I needed to talk to you,” he said, glancing down at the drink in his hand as if surprised to find it there. “I called the state investigator. He said I might find you here since you wouldn’t be at your office. The door was unlocked so I helped myself to your Scotch.”

Cash stood ramrod straight, his hands balled into fists at his side, anger in every line of his body. “We don’t lock our doors in Antelope Flats,” he said biting off each word. “Normally we don’t have to. What do you want, Kerrington?”

“Kerrington?” Molly repeated in surprise, recognizing the name from one of the articles she’d read about Jasmine’s disappearance. “The first man you promised to marry,” he said, scowling at her. “As if you don’t remember.”

“She doesn’t remember,” Cash snapped. “She’s suffering from some kind of memory loss.”

Kerrington stared at her. “Right,” he said and let out an unpleasant laugh. As if playing along, he held out his hand. “Kerrington Landow.” His hand was damp and cold from the glass he’d been holding, his grip too firm, as if he thought he could feel the truth in her pulse. “Still want to pretend you don’t know me?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know you,” she said. “I’m sorry.” But she wasn’t. She didn’t like the man.

He glared at her. From his expression, she couldn’t tell if he was glad Jasmine might be alive or just the opposite.

Cash cleared his throat. “Now if you don’t mind…” He grabbed for Kerrington’s arm as if to show him out.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on here,” Kerrington said, drawing back out of his reach. “I thought the state investigators were still looking for her body out at that farm?”

“They are,” Cash said. “She might not be Jasmine.”

“So the state investigator doesn’t know she’s alive?” Kerrington said.

Molly decided the man was both drunk and dazed. And dangerous. She stepped in quickly. “Sheriff McCall, I don’t want Mr. Landow going away with the wrong impression.” She had to convince Kerrington that he couldn’t believe his eyes before he blabbed this all over town. She was counting on being long gone before it hit the newspapers.

“I know I resemble Jasmine,” she said reasonably.

Kerrington nodded and looked smug as if he were finally going to get the truth out of her.

“There is a lot about my past that I can’t remember,” she said. Or don’t want to remember. “So I came here looking for answers. The sheriff has been kind enough to send my fingerprints to the FBI to be compared to Jasmine’s. I’m staying here, out of sight, until we know for sure who I am.”

“You’re hiding her?” Kerrington said and shot a look at Cash, who groaned. “You think I don’t know about the fight you had with Jasmine? And now her car turns up just a few miles from town…. I think the state investigator needs to know what you’re up to.”

“I’m not up to anything,” Cash said between gritted teeth. “What are you doing in town, anyway? Jasmine isn’t your concern. Or is she? I never bought your alibi, Landow.”

Kerrington jerked his head back as if Cash had slugged him. “I didn’t kill her. I have an alibi. And anyway she’s alive, right?” He looked at Molly. “You’re just trying to confuse me, aren’t you. Make me say something you can use against me.”

“I think we’re all getting upset here for nothing,” Molly said quickly. “Let’s just wait for the fingerprint report to come back from the FBI. I don’t believe I’m Jasmine Wolfe. My name is Molly.”

“Molly,” Kerrington said, nodding, but she could tell by his expression that he didn’t believe her. “You look just like Jasmine. You sound just like her.”

She wished now that she hadn’t gotten Jasmine’s voice and mannerisms down quite so well. She’d been able to copy Jasmine’s faint southern accent flawlessly from the videotape. Jasmine’s inflection, mannerisms and tone had been easy for someone who’d learned to mimic from the time she was a child.

“It would be a mistake to assume I was Jasmine, though,” Molly said. “I don’t want anyone looking like a fool because of me. If you were to tell people…” She saw Kerrington reconsider, just as she knew he would. She’d learned to read people. His worst fear would be to look like a fool.

“When will you get the results on the fingerprints?”

“At least a week, probably two,” Cash said, sounding as if he hoped this didn’t mean that Kerrington would stick around that long.

Molly could see Kerrington considering his options. “This isn’t some kind of a trick?”

And to think Kerrington hadn’t looked that perceptive, she thought darkly. “Why would I lie to you?”

He suddenly looked drunker, as if the Scotch he’d poured for himself was one of many he’d already had today. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He looked at the drink in his hand again, must have thought better of finishing it and handed the half-full glass to Cash. “I should go.”

“I agree,” Cash said. “I hope you’re walking, otherwise I’m going to have to drive you.”

“I walked,” Kerrington said straightening. “I’m staying at the motel. The only one in this damned town.” He seemed about to say something but changed his mind as he looked at Molly for a long moment, then left without another word.

“He’d better be walking,” Cash said, going to the door to look after him. Kerrington was. Otherwise Cash would have seen his car parked out front. Molly figured Cash probably knew what everyone in town drove.

He closed the door, locked it and turned to look at her. His jaw was clenched, his body still rigid with anger. “I can’t believe that jackass.”

She wanted to ask him why he disliked Kerrington as much as he obviously did. Was it just jealousy? Kerrington had been engaged to Jasmine first. But Cash didn’t seem like the jealous type.

“He’s going to tell, you know,” Cash said.

“Do you think he’ll go to the press?”

Cash shook his head. “He’ll tell your brother though. Jasmine’s stepbrother Bernard,” he amended. “That means Bernard will have to see for himself whether or not you’re Jasmine.”

“Is that bad?” she had to ask.

Cash swore under his breath. “It’s not good.”

She smiled and saw some of the tension uncoil from his body. “You don’t like Kerrington.”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry. There is no way I could have been engaged to that man.”

Cash’s smile was tight. “Apparently he never got over you.”

“Over Jasmine,” she said, wondering more and more about the woman who had two men she’d promised to marry and both hadn’t let go even after seven years. She must have been some woman.

“He’s married to Sandra Perkins.” He seemed to hesitate, waiting for a reaction from her. “She was your—Jasmine’s roommate. They got married just a few months after you disappeared. I’d heard she was pregnant. Must not have been. They have no children that I know of. Doesn’t act like a married man, does he?”

Molly felt for Kerrington’s wife. “You think she’s here in town with him?”

Cash shook his head. “I doubt she even knows he’s here. And what the hell is he doing here, anyway?”

Kerrington would tell Jasmine’s stepbrother Bernard Wolfe. But would either of them chance going to the press before the fingerprint results came back?

She had no way of knowing. She still believed she could pull this off. Not that she had much choice. But she’d learned from Max long ago that a magician stayed with the trick—even when he realized the rabbit was no longer in the hat.

Las Vegas, Nevada

VINCE TRIED TO SLOW his breathing, afraid he would run out of air in the car trunk before Angel stopped and let him out.

The car moved at a snail’s pace. He could hear other traffic. He was cramped and couldn’t move, the darkness seeming to close in on him. He tried not to think about it or how much air he had left.

He thought instead about Molly and what he would do once they found her. He could understand her fear—especially if she’d heard what had happened to Lanny.

He could even understand her running. It was calling the cops that had him mystified. She obviously didn’t understand the concept of honor among thieves and that disappointed him more than he wanted to admit.

He felt the car speed up and tried to relax. It wouldn’t be long now before Angel pulled over and let him out. He took a breath of the hot musty air, feeling light-headed. He guessed they were on the interstate now, gauging the speed and the smoothness of the road. It was getting hotter in the trunk, closer, tighter.

He was sweating profusely now, the smell of fear filling the tight space. His muscles were starting to cramp, he was having trouble catching his breath and just the thought of being trapped in the trunk brought on a panic attack.

What if Angel had made him get in the trunk for another reason besides hiding him? What if he planned to take him out in the desert and kill him?

Unlike him, Angel had never held much store in the fact that they had some of the same blood coursing through their veins. Angel wasn’t the sentimental type. Angel would have killed his own grandmother if there were something in it for him.

Vince stiffened as he felt the car decelerate. The tires left the smooth pavement for a bumpy road that jarred every bone in his body. Why didn’t Angel stop and let him out? Where the hell was he taking him?

After an interminable amount of time, Angel finally stopped.

Vince held his breath and listened. He could hear the tick-tick-tick of the motor as it cooled. A car door opened and closed, no sense of urgency in the movements. The door opened again. Vince heard the scrape of the key in the trunk lock. That was strange. Why hadn’t Angel just pulled the trunk lever before he got out of the car?

The trunk lid rose slowly.

Antelope Flats, Montana

CASH LED THE WAY up the stairs to the bedroom where Molly would be staying, cursing to himself.

Kerrington. He should have known the moment he caught that fragrance. The memory of Kerrington’s cologne was now all tied up in his memories of Jasmine.

Cash knew he should call State Investigator Mathews and inform him about this latest possible development before Kerrington did. Still, he hesitated. He would know about the fingerprints by tomorrow at the latest. The call could wait until then.

And maybe he would get lucky and find out what she wanted, whomever this woman was whom he’d invited to stay in his house.

Her reaction to Kerrington had certainly surprised him—and Kerrington as well. Not just a complete lack of recognition on her part, but she didn’t seem to like him. It could have been an act, he supposed. It could all be an act. But at least Cash wanted to believe her dislike for Kerrington was real.

He couldn’t put his finger on what was bothering him about her. Part of him acknowledged that she was different from the Jasmine he remembered—the memory loss aside. He told himself that seven years and not knowing who she was would make her different. Not to mention whatever had happened to her before her car ended up in that barn.

As she’d said, she felt something horrible had happened to her. Any change he thought he saw in her could be directly related to that. And she had the scar to prove it.

Or she could be lying, just as Kerrington had accused her, the scar from some other accident. Cash hated that he and Kerrington might ever agree on anything, but there was something about Molly Kilpatrick, something that warned him to be wary whether she was Jasmine—or a complete stranger.

When had he become so suspicious? He knew the answer to that one as he turned to look back at her. She had stopped at the top of the stairs and appeared to be studying an old photograph of the ranch.

“Is this your family’s ranch?” she asked.

The photograph was of the original homestead, the old hewn-log cabin, a herd of longhorns grazing in a meadow behind it.

“Yes.” And no, he thought. But the photo was the essence of the ranch, how it had all begun. If she was curious about what his family ranch was now worth…well then that was something else.

“It’s the Sundown Ranch. My great grandfather drove a herd of longhorns up from Texas to start it.”

She nodded as if she didn’t know what else to say and he saw that she seemed nervous.

“If you’d be more comfortable at the motel…”

She shook her head. “No, it’s just…” She waved a hand through the air and looked into his eyes. Hers were a warm Caribbean sea-green in the hall light, as inviting as a kiss. He remembered almost kissing her earlier with no small regret. “You don’t know me and yet you offered me a place to stay. I could be a total stranger.”

“Could be.” He smiled ruefully. For strictly personal, selfish reasons he wanted Jasmine to be alive. Didn’t want her disappearance hanging over him the rest of his life. He wanted her to remember everything. No matter who it hurt, himself included.

“I might not be the man you think I am,” he warned her.

She met his gaze. “Or me the woman you hope I am.”

“I’m not worried,” he said, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. “Are you?”

Slowly she returned his smile and shook her head. “No. I know it’s the safest place for me to be right now.”

Or so she thought, he mused. “Your room is right down here.”

He led her to the door of the master bedroom and opened it. It was a large, bright room. Fortunately, the house had come with some furniture. The high, white iron bed frame was one of the pieces.

When the house was built, the room was wallpapered in a tiny flower print of yellows, greens, blues and pinks. The print had faded some but was still intact. This room had always seemed too large, as if it demanded double occupancy. That’s why he’d opted for a smaller bedroom down the hall. He kept this one made up for the times Dusty or one of his brothers stayed over.

“There’s a large bath in here,” he said, stepping past her to push open the door.

She let out a cry of delight at the sight of the huge claw-foot bathtub.

“I guess it was made special, that’s why it’s so large.” Large enough for two, he thought ruefully.

“I love it,” she said as if she could see herself sunk in the tub.

He had to smile. “So does my sister. She left an assortment of bubble bath. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze came back to him. Her smile was shy, uncertain, her mouth turning up a little higher on one side. He didn’t remember Jasmine ever smiling like that, but he’d forgotten so much…. And some things he would never forget.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he put down her suitcase. “If you need anything just let me know.”

He hurried out of the bedroom, the large room suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

Who had he invited to stay with him?

“Come down when you’re ready,” he called back. “I’ll just heat us up some dinner.”

By this time tomorrow, he should know. Twenty-four hours. And every moment of it he would be looking for Jasmine in this woman. And waiting. Waiting to find out the real reason she had come to him.

Atlanta, Georgia

THE WOLFE COMPANY JET was winging its way across the Midwest when Bernard got the call.

He checked caller ID and felt his pulse jump. Stay calm. He’d recognized the name on the caller ID. Patty Franklin, Jasmine’s former roommate. Seemed she hadn’t married. Or if she had, she’d kept her maiden name.

He took a breath, not wanting her to hear anything in his voice that might give him away. “Wolfe here.”

“Bernard?” Patty sounded tentative. She always sounded tentative. Didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why Jasmine had befriended her. Can you say doormat?

“Yes?” He pretended he didn’t recognize her voice. Hell, it had been almost seven years since he’d heard from her. He wondered how she’d gotten his cell-phone number.

“It’s Patty. Patty Franklin?” she said. “Your sister’s former roommate?”

“Patty.” He tried to make that one word say, “Why are you bothering me after all this time?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jasmine’s car being found,” Patty said.

The story he’d found out had gone national. Everyone had heard. “Of course.”

“I’ve been so upset. Is there any more news?”

No, and there is no more money to keep your mouth shut either. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to bother you,” she said. “I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do. I’ve never forgotten her. She really was one of a kind.” He couldn’t argue that. “I guess you’re coming to Montana.”

Patty just happened to still be in Montana? He waited for her to make her pitch for more money and said nothing. Force her to ask this time.

“I know how hard this must be for you,” she said hesitantly. “I should let you go. I just wanted to say how sorry I am and how much I appreciated your kindness when we lost Jasmine.”

“Thank you for calling, but I have to keep the line open in case there is any news,” he said and disconnected, turning off his cell phone just in case she called back and wanted another fifty thousand in kindness.

And what was that about “when we lost Jasmine”? Patty hadn’t meant anything to Jasmine and she sure as hell meant nothing to him. Why had she called?

He wondered if he’d made a mistake by not offering her more money. She’d never really blackmailed him. At least not outright. She’d just made a point of mentioning how she would never tell the police anything that might make him look guilty because she knew he couldn’t hurt Jasmine. And the next thing he knew he was paying for her college education. Jasmine would have liked that, he’d told Patty and she’d cried and agreed. What a dummy he’d been.

HE SWORE NOW AND LOOKED at his watch. He couldn’t wait to get to Montana and get this over with. He tried to forget Patty. He hadn’t heard from her in seven years, so maybe her call had been just what she’d said it was.

Maybe by the time he got to Montana, Jasmine’s body would have been found and he could finally put Jasmine to rest.

“Amen,” he said, but Patty’s phone call was still bothering him. He contemplated how far he’d go to get rid of her if she tried to extort him again. One thing was certain. He wasn’t giving her another cent.

Antelope Flats, Montana

MOLLY WAITED UNTIL SHE HEARD Cash’s footfalls die off down the stairs before she let herself relax. What a day this had been!

She’d bought herself a little time. She should have been relieved. But Jasmine’s brother would be in town soon, if he wasn’t already. Cash was convinced that Kerrington would tell Bernard. How would she avoid that bullet?

Knowing that Cash would try to protect her made her feel all the more guilty. That and seeing how much he wanted her to be Jasmine, how much he’d obviously loved the woman.

She looked around the room and tried to tell herself that she was safe and that was all that mattered. No way could Vince and Angel find her. But was that all she had to worry about? Could Cash be right about Jasmine’s abductor being someone she knew, someone who wasn’t going to be happy to see her alive?

She couldn’t worry about that now. She’d just had two close calls. Running into Kerrington and an even closer call with Cash. She’d almost kissed him. Had wanted to kiss him. If he hadn’t pulled back—

He was already suspicious. Kissing him would have been stupid. Something had happened back at his office, she’d done something wrong. She still didn’t know what it was but she remembered the doubt she’d glimpsed in his face.

The only thing that had saved her was his desperation to believe she was Jasmine, she thought with a chill as she glanced around the room. He’d bought this house for Jasmine? And kept it for seven years untouched? Had he expected her to turn up one day just as Molly had done?

He hadn’t moved on with his life, that much was clear. But why, she wondered. Because he’d loved Jasmine too much to let go? Or for some other reason?

She remembered what Kerrington had said about a fight between the two of them. And her car turning up just a few miles from town. Was he insinuating that Cash had something to do with Jasmine’s disappearance?

She shook off the bad feeling that came with the thought. Cash had loved Jasmine. He wouldn’t have hurt her.

And yet he was hiding something from her. She’d seen it in his face when she’d asked about their relationship.

She took a breath and let it out slowly. Don’t borrow trouble. You’re safe. At least for a while. With luck, Vince and Angel have been arrested by now. She still hadn’t heard anything about Lanny Giliano. She would call tonight. Maybe somehow he’d gotten away.

This would be over soon and she would be gone. Like it or not, she would again be Molly Kilpatrick, daughter of the Great Maximilian Burke, magician extraordinaire and thief.

It would be a far cry from the daughter of Archibald Wolfe and the Wolfe furniture fortune. A far cry from being the woman Cash McCall had loved, she thought.

She looked around the master bedroom. If Jasmine really were alive, Cash would be sharing this room with her.

With a shudder, Molly hurried downstairs, feeling as if she’d just walked across the woman’s grave.