Читать книгу Witness On The Run - Susan Cliff - Страница 16

Cam got dressed in the dark.

He pulled on his jeans over thermal underwear and shoved his feet into steel-toed boots. His long-sleeved T-shirt provided minimal warmth against the morning chill, but he didn’t grab his jacket. He wanted to feel the cold bite of winter, and he did. It had snowed overnight. Powder crunched beneath his soles as he crossed the dark, deserted parking lot. Frosty air filled his lungs and penetrated his clothing.

He made his way toward the front office, which was open but unmanned. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee awaited him. He helped himself to two cups. He didn’t know if Tala liked cream and sugar, so he grabbed packets of both.

“There’s oatmeal,” Ann said, emerging from another room.

He glanced at the cooking pot next to the carafe. His stomach growled with interest, but his hands were already full. “I’ll come back for it.”

“I can deliver two bowls to your cabin.”

A flush crept up his neck at the thought of Ann coming to his door and catching a glimpse of Tala in his bed. He felt like a teenager who didn’t want his mom to find out his girlfriend had slept over. “No need.”

Ann smiled at his quick response. “Thanks for splitting logs.”

“I enjoy the work.”

She nodded, and he escaped the cozy space in a hurry. He had no reason to be embarrassed. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d slept next to Tala without crossing the line. Even if their night hadn’t been innocent, so what? Surely Ann had seen worse in her days as innkeeper. Drunken hookups, seedy affairs, hard partying. She wouldn’t blink an eye at Cam’s pretty young guest. Unless she assumed he was married, which might be the case. He was still wearing his wedding ring.

He winced at the oversight. He’d put it on again a few weeks ago, after a disastrous Thanksgiving at his parents’ house. His mother had invited one of Jenny’s friends—one of her single friends—in a clear attempt at matchmaking. He’d left as soon as possible, claiming he had an important delivery.

Women had flirted with him before, and he’d felt nothing. No whisper of temptation. No need to armor himself with proof of his lack of availability. This time was different. He hadn’t been interested in Jenny’s friend. He’d thought of the waitress at Walt’s Diner, someone he hardly knew, and he’d been struck by a wave of intense longing, mixed with sorrow. It hit him like an avalanche, knocking him off-balance. He’d found his ring and slipped it on. He’d needed a protective shield, because his attraction to the waitress had triggered new pain. His grief had felt staggering, insurmountable.

That was the problem with moving on. It hurt more than standing still.

He took the coffee to the cabin and set the cups down on the mantel by the fire. He poked the ashes and added some wood. Tala stirred at the sound. She sat up in bed with an abruptness that suggested she’d forgotten where she was. Her gaze connected with his, and recognition dawned. She returned to a reclining position, her trepidation fading.

She trusted him not to try anything sexual. Which made sense, he supposed, because he’d kept his hands to himself all night. But if she could’ve read his thoughts in the wee hours of the morning—or right now, for that matter—she wouldn’t look so relaxed. Because he wanted to climb into bed with her. He wanted to kiss away the hurt her husband had caused and show her how a real man treated a woman.

Heat crept up his neck at the thought. Of course he wasn’t going to make a move on her. He wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. He was still wearing his wedding ring. The only way to stay numb was to keep his distance.

“I brought you a coffee,” he said. “Do you want oatmeal?”

She nodded, rising to her feet. She looked rumpled and sexy in his flannel shirt. Her eyes were sleepy, her legs a mile long. When she tugged on the fabric to make sure she was covered, he averted his gaze. He knew she was bare beneath it. He’d seen her pale blue panties hanging in the bathroom. He’d touched them this morning—to see if they were dry. To feel the silky material and imagine it against her skin.

After she went into the bathroom, he released a slow breath. He needed to get a grip before he embarrassed himself. He cleared his throat and left the cabin, sucking in the cold air. There were two servings of oatmeal in disposable cups with lids at the front desk. He carried them back to the room, plastic spoons in hand. Tala was sitting by the fire, sipping coffee. They shared a simple hot breakfast in silence.

He wasn’t eager to get on the road again, despite his discomfort in her presence. He wanted to make sure she was safe before he left town. He hadn’t expected to be so concerned about her welfare, but they were in an unusual situation. They’d spent the past twenty-four hours together. They’d shared personal stories. They’d even held hands.

Cam might be numb, but he wasn’t dead. His protective instincts were working overtime. So was his libido, if he was being honest.

“Do you have another load to deliver?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m supposed to pick it up this morning.”

“What direction are you headed?”

“North, on the Dalton.”

It wasn’t a trip she could take with him. The Dalton Highway was the deadliest stretch of road in Alaska. There were almost no facilities, and constant obstacles. Whiteouts, avalanches, ice patches, snowdrifts.

“You could stay here,” he said, on impulse.

“In Fairbanks?”

“In this cabin.”

Her lips parted with surprise. She hadn’t expected him to make this offer. That made two of them.

“I know the owner of this place, like I said. She might hire you.”

“To split logs?”

“Or for lighter work.”

“I can handle heavy work.”

He believed her.

“The owner is a woman?”

“Yes.”

“How well do you know her?”

Cam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Her husband was a trucker. He died on the Dalton. Since then, I’ve been coming around to do chores for her.”

“Do you really trade services?”

“She gives me a discount. Also, I like it.”

“You like helping women?”

“I like splitting logs.”

She studied his face with skepticism. “Is there anything else you enjoy doing for her?”

He smiled at her question. “Like what?”

“You know what.”

“She’s pushing seventy. My generosity doesn’t extend quite that far.”

Tala set her coffee mug aside. “These cabins aren’t cheap. Even if she hired me, I couldn’t afford to stay here.”

“I can afford it.”

She shook her head in refusal. She wouldn’t allow herself to depend on him, or anyone else, and it pissed him off. She had no belongings, no money, no job, no resources. She didn’t even have a change of clothes. But she’d rather strike out on her own than kick back in this cozy cabin on his dime.

What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him, for that matter?

He should never have given her a ride in the first place. His contract prohibited picking up hitchhikers. She was clearly in trouble with the law. He should be cutting her loose, not trying to keep her around. He didn’t understand what he was doing. He’d made a series of bad decisions upon meeting her. Emotional decisions that threatened his current, stark existence. He’d brought her inside his rig to get warm, and warmed himself in the process.

If he wasn’t careful, the protective layer of ice he’d been hibernating under would thaw. Then the real pain would come.

“At least let me buy you a change of clothes,” he said. She had nothing to wear. He wasn’t leaving her on a street corner without any pants. “I have to go to Walmart and get some supplies anyway.”

She nodded her agreement and ducked into the bathroom to get ready. She had to borrow his sweatpants. Even with the drawstring tightened, they rode low on her hips. Her black waitress shoes were for indoor use only. She needed warm clothes and winter boots no matter what her future plans were. She couldn’t job-hunt in her old uniform, or his pajamas.

The big-box store was about five miles away. He parked on the outskirts of the lot and accompanied Tala inside. He grabbed a cart, swamped by memories of Jenny. Their Sunday shopping trips. Rainy mornings in Seattle. They’d been good together. They’d been content.

He headed toward the women’s clothing department, where Tala browsed the racks. She selected black leggings and an oversize sweatshirt. When he gestured for her to continue, she added a pair of jeans to the cart. They strolled through another section with packages of socks and underwear. She chose basic white cotton, seeming embarrassed.

“That’s all you want?” he asked.

“You don’t have to buy the whole store.”

“This is Walmart. Everything’s cheap.”

“I’m going to owe you.”

“Consider it a gift.”

“No,” she said, her face solemn. “I’ll pay you back.”

Warmth suffused his chest at her assertion. He admired her pride, even though he cursed her stubbornness. The thought of reuniting with her after he returned from the Dalton appealed to him—and not because he wanted to collect on a debt. He’d like to see her again, despite his wariness toward women, and his general misgivings about the trouble she was in.

“You should let me introduce you to Ann,” he said.

She continued walking alongside him, not answering. It was a good sign, he supposed. She hadn’t refused outright. They found the shoe racks. He left his cart at the end of the aisle and accompanied her on the search for practical footwear.

“You know what you said about moving on?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I have to do that, too. I have to keep moving.”

“You’re running away from your problems.”

“And you aren’t?”

He didn’t answer. Of course he was. They both were.

“If you stay in the same place, your past catches up with you.” She turned to study the opposite side of the aisle. “When I first came to Alaska, I went from town to town. I hitchhiked here and there. I didn’t feel safe unless I was on the go. It took me almost a month to settle down in Willow.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she didn’t have to run anymore. He could help her. He used to be a cop. His brother was still a cop. Cam could make some inquiries about her husband. He could probably have the guy arrested, with or without Tala’s cooperation. Cam didn’t extend the offer, because he sensed it wouldn’t go over well. She didn’t trust the police, obviously. She wouldn’t trust him if she knew he’d been a patrol officer.

He also had his own issues with faith and justice. And family, for that matter. Calling his brother would open him up to uncomfortable questions. He’d disconnected from everyone in Washington. He hadn’t spoken to Mason since Thanksgiving.

He massaged the nape of his neck, feeling guilty. It was better to keep his secrets and protect his privacy. Stay distant. Stay numb.

She reached into a large box on a lower shelf and fished out a pair of sturdy black boots. They looked warm and practical, with faux fur trim. She sat down on the floor to try them on. “They fit.”

He grunted his approval. “What else do you need?”

She walked back and forth to test the comfort of the boots. Then she removed them. “This is more than enough, Cam.”

“You don’t have to pay me back.”

“I want to. How long will you be on the Dalton?”

“Three days, maybe.”

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“Of course, but there’s no service. You can leave a message.”

“Give me the number.”

He handed her a business card with his information. She tucked it into the front pocket of his flannel.

“You can go to the cabin anytime. I’ll tell Ann to run a tab.”

She nodded, avoiding his gaze. He didn’t press, because he was afraid to scare her off. Maybe she’d call him in a few days. Maybe she’d rethink his offer to stay at the cabins. She had nowhere else to go, after all.

They headed toward the front of the store together. She added a couple of travel-size toiletries to the cart, along with a simple canvas backpack. He didn’t really need any supplies, but he grabbed a few boxes of snacks. The store was busier now, at the start of the morning rush. He paid for the items in cash.

“I’ll change here,” she said, gesturing to the restrooms.

He went to wait for her near the entrance. There was an in-store restaurant with a café. He sat down at an empty booth. A mounted TV in the upper corner displayed local news. He listened to the weather report with interest. There was snow in the forecast, as usual. Then a photograph of Tala flashed across the screen.

Cam’s blood froze at the sight. Newscasters launched into a story of a missing waitress from Walt’s in Willow. The photo of Tala appeared again. It had been taken at the diner, probably by a patron. Tala was standing at the counter next to Walt.

The caption under her face read “Abigail Burgess.”

Viewers were asked to call a number for the Willow Police Department if they had any information. The segment lasted sixty seconds at the most. He blinked and it was gone, like a figment of his imagination.

Abigail. Abigail?

He tried to remember hearing her name in the diner, or over the radio. The other truckers used terms like “honey” or “cutie” for an attractive waitress. Tala was a distinctive name, and he wouldn’t have forgotten it. She must have lied to him. He was disappointed, but not particularly surprised, by the realization.

Cam pondered this latest development. There was no mention of a crime committed, by her or anyone else. She didn’t have any family in the area to report her disappearance, and she’d only been gone twenty-four hours.

And yet, her story had made the morning news.

What the hell had happened at Walt’s? He got the feeling it was something more serious than a brief sighting of her ex. She’d woken up screaming last night. She’d mentioned a dream about Walt in the dumpster. Dead.

He glanced toward the restrooms, uneasy. She was taking too long to change clothes. Either she’d ditched him to avoid saying goodbye, or she’d run into some more trouble. The first option was far more likely, and it filled him with dark emotions. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Jenny because she’d never woken up. He couldn’t bear to relive the moment his wife had slipped away.

He had issues with saying goodbye. Major issues.

Stomach roiling, he rose to his feet. Women who weren’t Tala breezed in and out of the restrooms. Had she walked by him while his eyes were glued to the television screen? No. She couldn’t have left the store, unless there was another way out. He spotted a garden section in the opposite corner.

Damn it.

Cam strode past the potted plants and fertilizer. Sure enough, there was an alternate exit at this end. He moved forward and shoved through the doors, searching the dark for a wolf-quick girl in a fur-lined parka.

There.

She was in the parking lot—and she wasn’t alone. A man had his hand locked around her upper arm. He appeared to be leading her away by force. She looked over her shoulder at Cam. Their eyes met for a split second. Then the man, who must be her abusive ex, jerked her forward. She stumbled and almost fell.

Cam’s vision went red. He was already on edge, filled with angry tension. The sight of her being manhandled made him completely snap.

He rushed toward them, intent on introducing himself with his fists.