Читать книгу Valley of Shadows - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 13

Home. The word danced through Miranda’s mind as the first glimmer of dawn streaked the horizon. She’d wound her way through the Blue Ridge mountains, stopping only once to get gas with a credit card Hawke fished from his glove compartment. The name on it was unfamiliar and, according to Hawke, untraceable. Miranda supposed she should have found comfort in that, but the longer the night had stretched on, the more the idea of returning home appealed.

Last night, she’d been desperate to escape the empty house and Lauren. Now, she’d give anything to step into the bright yellow kitchen, listen to her sister’s footsteps on the tile.

And she could.

Hawke’s eyes were closed, the gun peeking out from beneath the T-shirt he wore. All it would take was one quick yank and it would be in her hands. She could use Hawke’s cell phone to call the police. Then wait somewhere until they arrived. If she could have imagined a good outcome, she might have attempted it, but all she could picture was a cold jail cell and a quick brutal death.

“What are you thinking?” Hawke broke into her thoughts and Miranda jerked, hoping guilt wasn’t written all over her face.

“That I want to go home.”

“To your sister and brother?”

“They don’t live with me.”

“Then what is home to you? A house? A community?”

“Justin. But he’s no longer there, so I guess my job. My routine. My life the way it was before.”

“Before last night?”

“Before Justin died.”

He nodded. “I think many people have times they’d like to go back to.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate and Miranda told herself she should let the subject drop. After all, this wasn’t a casual conversation between friends or an intimate discussion with a man she was dating. Hawke was a stranger, a man she didn’t know and wasn’t sure she trusted.

She stole a quick glance at his profile—the hard line of his jaw, the scar that bisected his cheek—and couldn’t keep herself from asking the questions she knew she shouldn’t. “What times do you wish you could go back to?”

His mouth curved in a half smile and he shrugged. “Right now, I’ll just settle for getting back to Thailand.”

“Do you have family there?”

“A brother. I haven’t seen him in almost a year.”

“You must be happy that you’ll be seeing him soon, then.”

“I won’t be happy until I know he’s safe.”

“Do you think he’s not?”

“He should be, but what should be isn’t always what is. The fact that you’re here with me is a perfect example of that. You should be home safe. Instead, you’re running for your life.” He paused, reached for the pack that sat in the backseat and rifled through it, pulling out a bottle of aspirin.

“Still have a headache?”

“If you can call a sledgehammer in your skull that, yeah.” He swallowed three pills dry and recapped the bottle. “But I’ll live. That’s our exit. We’re looking for a church outside of town.”

The switch in topic was so sudden Miranda almost missed it and her turn. She swerved toward the exit just in time, taking the off-ramp too quickly. The car fishtailed, sliding toward the shoulder as Miranda gripped the steering wheel and tried to remember what she’d heard about reacting to a spin. Should she slam on the breaks? Jerk the steering wheel toward the spin? Away from it?

Her sleep-deprived brain couldn’t hold on to a thought long enough to react and she was sure whatever she did would be wrong.

Hawke’s shoulder pressed into hers, his hands clamping over Miranda’s, his stubble-covered jaw rubbing against hers. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

The car straightened and Miranda let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hands were slick on the wheel, her pulse pounding, her body shaking so hard she was sure Hawke could feel the vibration of her fear.

“No, it’s not okay. I’m not okay.” She whispered the words, not meaning for Hawke to respond, but he did, his hand cupping her shoulder, his touch warm and more comforting than it should have been.