The Great Escape (4 page)

ward, including her age. Could I perhaps see the downstairs, do you

think . ..?' The voices gradually faded away into silence, while Dee

chewed her lip thoughtfully. This was going to be harder than she'd

first imagined.

She slipped away in the middle of the night and eventually managed

to hitch a ride with a cheerful truck driver who shouted a breezy

conversation over the engine's roar all the way to Virginia. When they

had stopped for a few minutes, she called a major newspaper and told

them that a millionaire heiress was missing, and that she couldn't

reveal her name since she was an employee at the house and might

lose her job. It was a dirty trick, but it would hamper Carridine's

movements, and she had a feeling she'd need all the help she could

get.

IN the end, Dee remembered wryly, she had cravenly slipped away

from the trucker while he was occupied with something else, leaving

a brief, apologetic note behind. Then she had opened up a bank

account with a hundred dollars and her real name at a well known

bank, and she had left that city on an interstate bus wearing a brown

wig that same day. She had figured that it would take a while to

unravel everything, especially the bank account, for why would

anyone just set up an account and leave good money untouched? To

buy time, of course, but she had hoped that it wouldn't be so obvious

to someone trying to figure out what she was up to. Then she had

zigzagged across the country, hitting only very large cities and never

staying long, until finally she had ended up in Akron, Ohio,

exhausted, discouraged, and low on funds.

It had only been the beginning of the struggle, she was to find out.

She then had to find a job and a place to live that was both affordable

and safe. For two weeks straight she spent every day, all day, out

looking for a job, any kind of job. She applied at stores, restaurants,

any business she could think of, and nobody seemed to be hiring.

Finally, when Sammy had interviewed her for a waitressing position

and had told her that he would get in touch later, she had replied

quietly, 'I would rather you told me yes or no right now, sir. I've been

looking all over for a job and I'm gone all day long, so you couldn't

get in touch with me. It seems a pity to waste your time and raise my

hopes if you aren't really considering me for the job.'

Sammy had taken one startled look at her face, and had seen the quiet

desperation and hopelessness. She had started work the next day.

Yes, she had grown up a lot in the last nine months. She could be

responsible for herself. She had been a seventeen-year-old girl when

she had run away from home, and now she was a young woman. And

a stranger wanted to take her freedom away from her.

The phone shrilled a double ring and she went to answer. It occurred

to her that this would be a good, easy way to find out if she was at

home or not, but she had an unlisted number and by the time she'd

thought of it the receiver was off the hook and the damage done. She

sighed, 'Hello.'

'Hi, kid,' Kim answered cheerily. 'The big bad, nasty man is gone

now. He said something about going to the local hospitals, so I'd say

you're safe for a little while. You didn't wreck my car, did you?'

'Of course not,' Dee answered absently, thinking hard.

'Too bad, sugar. I could use the insurance money— who cares about

the car, it's a health hazard, anyway! Well, I need to run, a table has

just been seated in my section. See you!'

Replacing the receiver. Dee wandered back to packing. She didn't

have much time before her cab would be here. Picking up her

knapsack and stuffing her handbag inside, she went into the bathroom

to get some personal items. Nobody could be sure of what Carridine

would really do, and it was a gamble to assume that he had gone to the

hospitals, but she had no oh dice. She couldn't afford to waste any

time, that was for sure.

A crunching of gravel sounded outside, and she froze. It couldn't be!

It had to be the cab coming early. She ran out. to her bedroom

window and looked out—and nearly fell from shock. Mike Carridine

was opening up the car door and getting out. How in the world did he

know to come here? she asked herself frantically as she swept

through the apartment, closing her suitcase and shoving it back into

the closet. He would be inside any moment now—what should she

do?

She sank slowly on to the couch, her hands idle and her face calm

enough, though her thoughts were churning chaotically. There was

nothing she could do but meet him. Mrs Gordon would tell him that

she was home, so there could be no pretence on that score. For the

time being, she was neatly trapped.

She went into the kitchen to start some coffee. Soon the pungent

smell was filling the tiny apartment and she stood indecisively in the

minuscule cooking area, hands clasped nervously. No, there wasn't

any use in pretending to herself: she was very apprehensive about

meeting the man who had been able to track her thus far. She had

become used to thinking of him as the enemy, the pursuer, the stalker

bent on his prey, and the imagery was now frightening to

contemplate.

What would he be like? she asked herself. She couldn't really

remember anything about his personality, though his physical

presence had impressed her, years ago. Would he be a thug? She

wouldn't put it past Judith to hire one, but no, that didn't fit in with

what she knew of him. One thing she could be sure of was that he

wouldn't be easy to fool.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairway, and she tensed. They were

very deliberate and unhesitating. She had herself so keyed up that

when the quick, hard knock sounded on her door, even though she

had been expecting it, she jumped violently. This wouldn't do, she

scolded herself. If you aren't feeling poised, then act it, stupid. With

that tender admonition to herself, she took a quick look in the mirror

at herself.

The last of the adolescent plumpness had disappeared in the past nine

months, leaving her still small but more slim in tight jeans and a black

sweater. Her blonde hair could use a comb, she saw fleetingly, but

then it always could. Her vivid blue eyes were even more huge than

ever in a naturally pale face. This impression was created by delicate

bone structure and high thin cheekbones. There was a thinness about

her face and body that had become apparent as she had matured. She

had often thought she might have been a cat in a former life, for her

entire body was built along a slim, streamlined grace that was

reminiscent of a cat's lithe fragility, or perhaps a greyhound's

raciness. The impression was not a mere illusion: she could run very

swiftly and well, having a natural aptitude for speed.

She was not taking time to stand and contemplate all this, however,

for that firm knock sounded again at her door, and she went to

answer.

The door swung slowly open, and her eyes looked up to meet those of

Mike Carridine. She received a slight jolt, for she hadn't remembered

the colour of his eyes and found herself looking into jewel-green

eyes, arresting in the man's brown face. He was large, with

masculinely wide shoulders encased in a light spring jacket over a

grey shirt that was casually open at the throat. He had on a pair of

black slacks that looked to be well fitting and yet comfortable. His

frame, she noticed, as she ran assessing eyes over him, was not as

bulky as she remembered but instead more on the slim side, though

well muscled. Of course, she acknowledged fleetingly, she was

remembering with the eyes of a child. His dark hair was ruffled from

the March wind.

She finished her perusal and looked up, only then realising that he had

been looking her over too. It was not a sexual look or crude: they both

had been sizing each other up as opponents, assessingly and

objectively. 'Mr Carridine,' she said quietly, holding out a slim hand.

It seemed to startle him, for his eyebrows shot up as he took her

proffered hand and shook it briefly. She felt the latent strength in his

grip as he held her small hand carefully and then let go.

'Miss Janson. May I come in?' was his pleasantly smooth reply. She

inclined her head and stepped back, and he paced into her living

room. It seemed suddenly smaller than ever, and she felt restricted.

'I've made us coffee,' she offered politely. 'Would you like a cup? But

I was forgetting—you had coffee at Dandy's, didn't you?'

After a quick, cursory glance around at the cheerful atmosphere of the

small room and the homey decorations on the walls, he had brought

his gaze back to her and was watching her with a disturbing

closeness. 'Yes, but it was only one cup. Another would be nice,

thank you.'

'You're welcome,' she answered automatically. 'Have a seat and I'll

pour us some.' She walked into the kitchen space, feeling a little

better as the intervening wall hid her from his steady, alert gaze. She

called out, 'What do you take in yours?'

'Nothing, thank you.' That voice was really pleasant, she thought idly,

spooning sugar and milk into her cup. The humour of the situation

had her smiling wryly as she came back into the living room space

with the two carefully balanced mugs. Her sparkling, amused eyes

met his and she received another jolt, though she couldn't explain

why. 'A good joke?' he enquired politely, taking the cup from her.

'I suppose so,' she murmured, then broke through her reserve-and told

him frankly. 'Isn't this a rich scene? I've done my best to shake you

loose from my trail, and for nine months we've been in opposition

with each other, and here we are, face to face for the first time,

politely drinking coffee and acting civilised.'

'You see me as being your opponent, then?' he queried curiously,

cocking an eyebrow while sipping from his cup. Dee was very aware

of that green, keen gaze, and she dropped her eyes to his hands.

'Yes,' she replied shortly. 'Opponents matching wits—yes, I'd say so.'

She set her cup down without tasting it and studied her fingernails

carefully. They needed attention, for they were getting a bit too long

for comfort at work.

Tense silence. Then, 'You were unsurprised when you answered the

door just now,' he commented, and the comment was a question. He

leaned back in the only chair in the room, stretching out his long legs.

They reached nearly to where she sat, and she transferred her gaze to

one shoe for a moment's perusal before answering.

There was no reason to lie. 'I was working today and saw you. But

then you know that from talking to Kim, don't you? She called me

when you left the restaurant, but I wasn't sure that you would be right

here.' Her lips twisted. 'I was gambling that you weren't coming here

right away.'

'Ah, yes,' he answered mildly. 'The hospital gambit. It was a good try

for a last-minute effort, Deirdre. May I call you that? I've been

looking for you so long, I feel I know you.'

Her head came around to his face and she found him smiling slightly.

Her eyes narrowed at that. He looked complacent, well in control of

the situation, in charge. In charge of her? Like hell, she thought

grimly. It would be worth it to see his face when he found her gone,

soon. It did not pay to become too complacent. The only problem

was, she didn't know how she was going to get out of this one. 'Call

me Dee,' she offered casually, widening her eyes and smiling at him,

friendly.

That sharp green gaze flickered over her again. 'And of course my

first name is Mike. Your landlady told me you were sick. Is it really

true, or were you just being consistent with your story?'

'I'm not feeling well,' she said ruefully, 'but I think it's more from

nerves than anything else. I'd begun to relax a bit, you see, and seeing

you get out of your car this afternoon gave me a jolt.' When she had

answered the door a few minutes ago, she had been very pale from

apprehension. 'Tell me, how did you know to check here? Kim surely

didn't let the cat out of the bag, did she? I thought she was a better liar

than that.'

'It was an educated hunch. You see, I'd guessed from a very strange

conversation that I overheard when— Kim, is it?—answered the

restaurant's phone. She jotted down a number and promised the party

that she'd call back. I got a look at the number that she had put down