Familiar Stranger (17 page)

"Yes."

"Never saw a gun like this before. Where did you get it?"

David hesitated. "That's because there's not another like it."

Foster noted that David had only answered half his questions.

"Prototype?"

David nodded.

"Interesting. How did you come by it? Did you design it?"

"No, I'm not that skilled."

"I don't suppose you stole it? I wouldn't want to hear something like that, especially since you're going to be the hero of the hour."

David sighed. "It's not stolen. Look, just run the serial numbers through the computer along with my driver's license number. It will explain itself."

Foster nodded. "That sounds simple enough," he said.

"Can we go home now?" Cara asked.

David looked at the detective.

Foster nodded reluctantly. "You say you'll be at Mrs. Justice's house for another day or so?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll just run the numbers on your gun and bring it out to you later this evening, if that's all right?"

"I'll be there," David said.

Cara slid out of his lap. "I can walk," she said.

David pulled her into the shelter of his arms.

"I know, but if you need to, just lean on me, honey."

Cara leaned. Not because she particularly needed to, but because she still could. She'd heard it from his own lips, even though it hadn't been said to her. Within a couple of days, he would be gone, maybe walking into something far worse than what she'd just witnessed, but she swallowed her fears and kept on walking.

The parking lot was a mess. Ambulances were coming and going and from the appearances of the police on the scene, they'd had to call in their reserves. Some weren't even in uniform, but were doing their best to keep curiosity seekers at bay.

When David and Cara emerged from the store, a smattering of applause sounded from some of the bystanders. Obviously, word had already spread that he was the hero of the day. When he saw a television crew pulling into the parking lot, he kept his head down, tightened his hold on her hand and kept on walking.

"Hurry, Cara, I can't have my face splashed all over the news."

Cara looked startled, only then realizing the consequences of what he had done. By saving them, he'd blown whatever cover he'd had left. No one in the world would recognize him as Jonah, but Frank would damn sure recognize him as the man he sought.

With the help of a couple of the officers, the police cruiser blocking David's car was quickly moved. As soon as the car was free, he sped away. Only when they were on their way out of town did he breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank God, that's over," Cara muttered, as she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes.

David glanced at her, but didn't comment. If she only knew, it was probably just beginning. The moment Detective Foster ran the serial numbers of that gun through NCIC, it was going to set off so many bells in Washington that they'd probably hear them in heaven. And then there was Frank. David couldn't depend on anonymity any longer. He needed to start laying a trail for his brother to follow that would lead him as far away from Cara as possible.

A short while later, they arrived at Cara's home. She staggered as he helped her out of the car, then weakly apologized. He glared at her for apologizing again, then scooped her up in his arms. This time, she didn't argue. By the time he got her into the house, she was sobbing. The tenderness in his voice was even more of her undoing.

"That's all right, baby. Go ahead and cry. Lord knows you've earned a few tears after the morning you've had." He set her on the side of her bed and began helping her take off her bloodstained clothes. "There was a time or two when I felt like crying, myself."

She hiccupped on a sob and tossed her bloodstained bra onto the floor. Gently, he cupped the side of her face, wincing at the bruising already taking effect.

"The son of a bitch," he muttered, and then kissed her there. "If I could, I would have killed him twice."

She sighed and leaned forward until their foreheads were touching.

"Oh, David, if you hadn't come back for me when you did, today would have been the day I died."

He shuddered. "Don't! Don't play that if game. It'll make you crazy. I know."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.

"Before today, I hated what the government had done to you, but now…"

A sad smile came and went. He knew what she meant. He and Cara had been cheated out of a normal life, but because he knew how to kill, he'd saved her—saved them all—to live another day.

"Let's get the rest of these bloody clothes off of you," he said. "Can you stand on your own in the shower, or do you want to take a bath?"

"Shower, please, and yes, I can stand."

When she dropped the last article of her clothing in the pile on the floor, she kicked it aside with her toe.

"Throw them away."

"All of them?" he asked.

She nodded. "I don't ever want to wear them again."

He gathered them up in his arms and started for the door, then hesitated.

"Cara?"

"What?"

"The clothes will wash."

"But I—"

The despair on his face confused her, then suddenly she understood. David not only had blood on his clothes, but blood on his hands. And if she was so disgusted by something as inconsequential as bloody clothes, then what must she think of a man who had shed blood?

She made herself smile. "You're right. I just overreacted. Besides, those are my favorite slacks. Maybe if you just tossed them in the washing machine in cold water and let them soak for a while?"

A rare smile of approval appeared on his face, before he turned and walked away.

A couple of hours later, they were in the kitchen eating some sandwiches David had made for them when the phone began to ring.

Cara looked at David.

"Want me to answer?" he asked.

She sighed. No use running from something she would inevitably have to face.

"No, I'll get it, but thanks anyway."

She picked up the portable, eyeing the caller ID screen, then rolled her eyes.

"Hello."

"Oh, my God, Cara, we just heard."

"Hello, Debra. Looks like news travels fast."

"Are you serious? It isn't gossip, honey! The whole thing is on the news."

"Now?" Cara asked.

"Yes, now."

"The television," Cara whispered, pointing to the living room. "Debra says the incident is on TV."

David bolted for the living room. Cara followed, still talking to her friend. To her dismay, she realized it wasn't a local news show, but a national network broadcasting live from the scene, where police were still working the area. She quickly disconnected and then slipped into the seat beside David.

"This isn't good, is it?" she asked.

"They don't have any tape of us. It should be all right."

At that moment, someone blurted out his name.

"Oh, no," Cara moaned.

David's expression darkened perceptibly. She was right. It wasn't good. Even though there were probably thousands of David Wilsons in the United States, there wouldn't be many who could have pulled off the rescue of eleven hostages single-handed. Hooray for the training he'd received at SPEAR and to hell with any anonymity he might have hoped to retain. When she clutched his hand, he slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, shoving all thoughts of Simon from his mind.

Less than ten minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, Cara handed the phone to David with a pleading expression.

David took it unwillingly.

"You could unplug the phone," he said.

"Please?"

He smiled, then answered.

"Justice residence."

"Is this David?"

He flinched. He'd only heard her voice once, but it was as firmly etched in his mind now as was Cara's face.

"Bethany?"

"Yes! We just saw the news about the supermarket in Chiltingham being robbed."

"Yes, so did we," David said. "Here's your mother."

"Thanks. Oh, David…"

"Yes?"

"Nice talking to you."

He found himself smiling. "Nice talking to you, too, honey."

He handed the phone to Cara and then started to get up and give her some privacy, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him back down beside her.

"Hello?" Cara said. "Bethany, darling, how are you?"

"We're all fine," she said. "I just had to call, though. It was so weird, seeing our little hometown on the evening news. Isn't it awful? They said someone was shot. Do you know who?"

"Yes, it was Margie Weller, the Methodist pastor's wife."

Bethany gasped. "How horrible! Was it serious? Is she going to be all right?"

"Yes, it was terribly frightening, but last word we had, she was in surgery and her prognosis was good."

"Thank goodness," Bethany said. "I guess you never know about things like this, but who would have thought it could happen at home, right?"

"Right," Cara said.

"They said there were eleven hostages and some guy named Wilson saved them all."

"Yes, he did," Cara said, wanting so badly to tell Bethany that it was her own father who'd been the hero that day. But telling her something like that over a phone was unconscionable.

"Is he new to the force?" Bethany asked.

"He isn't a member of the police force."

There was a moment of silence and then suddenly Bethany's questions took on the feel of an inquisition.

"Mother, is there something you aren't telling me?"

Cara sighed. "Everything is fine. We'll talk about it when you get home."

"Mother! Please God, don't tell me you were there?"

Cara's hesitation was enough to send Bethany into hysterics. She could hear her daughter screaming at her husband on the other end of the line. She looked at David and rolled her eyes.

David patted her leg. "It's to be expected, honey. It would be enough to scare the hell out of anyone, never mind that it's your mother."

"I guess," Cara said, then put the phone back to her ear. Bethany was shouting her name. "Yes, darling, I'm still here. Are you through screaming?"

Bethany was crying now. "Mother, my God … are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Bethany moaned. "I can't believe this."

Cara tried to laugh, but it sounded awkward, even to her. "I know how you feel. It's a bit hard for us to believe and we were there."

There was a long moment of silence on the other end of the line and then Bethany spoke.

"He was there, too?"

"By he, I suppose you mean David? Oh, yes. Actually, he's the man of the hour in Chiltingham. I wouldn't be surprised if they name a street after him."

Now David was the one rolling his eyes.

"Is he the one they're talking about … the man who saved all of you?"

"Yes."

"I want to speak to him," Bethany said.

"Just a minute," Cara said, then covered the mouthpiece with her hand and looked at David. "She wants to talk to you."

David nodded, gearing himself for the sweet sound of her voice.

"Bethany, I promise your mother is fine."

At first she didn't answer and he thought he could hear her crying.

"Honey … are you there?"

"David, whoever you are, I just want to tell you that I'm so sorry for everything I first thought about you, and I will never be able to thank you enough for saving Mother's life."

"You're welcome," he said softly, and heard her sigh.

"I want to apologize to you," she said.

He smiled. "For what?"

"For thinking you were some kind of con man who was after my mother's money. It's not like she's rich or anything, but she has her home and Dad's retirement and … well … you know what I mean."

It hurt to hear the word Dad come out of her mouth and know she was referring to Ray Justice, but it was a title Ray had earned.

"I understand, and I don't care that your mother doesn't have a lot of money, because I do, okay?"

Cara's mouth dropped. "What on earth is she saying to you?" she whispered.

"She thought I was a con man after your money," David said.

"Oh, my word," Cara muttered. "Give me that phone." She took it out of David's hand with a yank. "Bethany Gail, you might be an adult, but you will never get old enough to question my behavior, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"All right then," Cara muttered. "As long as we understand each other on that count."

"We're coming home a day early," Bethany said. "We'll see you tomorrow sometime after noon. Our plane is due in at Canandaigua around ten in the morning."

Cara hesitated. "Well, I'll be glad when you get home, but please don't shorten your vacation on my account."

"Mother, after this, do you think any of us could find a way to forget what happened to you and have fun? We want to come home … all of us."

"Then come," Cara said. "And have a safe trip."

"We will," she said, then added, "tell David goodbye for me."

"Tell him yourself," Cara said. She handed the phone back to David.

"Hello?"

"David, thanks again." He smiled. "You're welcome." Then she added, "David?"

"Yes?"

"I'm looking forward to meeting you."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm looking forward to meeting you, too."

"Well … goodbye then."

"Yes, honey. Goodbye."

The line went dead in his ear. He handed the phone to Cara and then took her in his arms.

"My God, I don't think I've ever been this scared in my life, except maybe when that bastard put his gun in your face. Not even in Nam. She has every right to hate me."

"She doesn't have a right to hate anyone," Cara said. "She didn't do without a single thing in her entire life. She was loved from the moment of her birth, by both Ray and me. She had loving grandparents on both sides, and siblings, as well. She has known all her life that Ray Justice was her adoptive father. Knowing that you're still alive will be just as big a joy for her as it was for me."

"Swear?" David asked.

"I swear."

He smiled, and then leaned back on the sofa, eyeing the woman who'd given him something he thought he'd never have again—hope.