Anytime Darlin' (27 page)

He’d locked Devlin in the basement with the dead bolt and pocketed the key, ordering Carolyn to keep her mouth shut. None of it would have happened in the first place if she hadn’t interrupted him and Bitsy doing it in the kitchen. Carolyn was supposed to be running errands all afternoon, but she’d come home early. Bitsy had tried to pull away when Carolyn walked in from the garage, but he wasn’t having it. He finished up with Bitsy and told her he’d call her later. Carolyn was as bad as her niece. He’d laughed when she actually waved the steak knife at him. It hadn’t taken much to make her drop it. He’d left the house that night and didn’t return for twenty-four hours, afraid he’d blow it and kill them both.

He called Bitsy from his office. She’d brought him some bandages and a change of clothes. He and her husband wore the same size. They’d discussed their plans to leave the country once he’d got the money. Bitsy wanted to go to somewhere warm, to the Dominican Republic or Belize. Franz had readily agreed with her. What did it matter? She could believe whatever she wanted to believe. When he got his money, he had no intention of taking her with him. She was brainy, she was devious, she was a tiger in bed, she was quite a looker for a middle-aged woman, and she had the right connections in the banking world. But that was as far as it went. Beyond her connections and her financial acumen, she meant nothing to him. No bitch ever had.

When he’d gone home the next night, he expected to find Carolyn hiding in bed nursing her bruises. Instead, she was dressed to kill, and she’d had her hair done. He had done a double take. She didn’t say a word to him. He fished out the key to the dead bolt, intending to see how Devlin had fared overnight and if she’d be more agreeable now. The basement was silent. He’d supposed she’d curled up in a corner. He’d searched the storage rooms and the rudimentary bathroom. She was nowhere to be found. Then he’d noticed the broken window above the washing machine.

He’d pounded up the stairs and yelled for Carolyn, dragging her from the bedroom, demanding to know where Devlin was. Carolyn had looked stunned. She’d said,
“In the basement, where you told me to leave her.”
She’d genuinely seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. Franz believed her. She was too stupid to tell a convincing lie. He’d had to think. And he’d had to think quickly. Where had she gone? Where would the little bitch go? She didn’t have any friends. She didn’t know anyone in Denver. He’d made sure of that.

Dropping Carolyn’s arm, he’d unplugged the bedroom phone and carried it downstairs with him. He’d gone to his study, locking the door behind him. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he pulled out his pistol.
Think,
he’d told himself,
think.
His heart pounding, he could practically hear the police sirens racing down his street.

Wait a minute,
he’d thought, his breathing slowing. She’d had over twenty-four hours to go to the cops. If they’d known anything, anything about him at all, he’d already be in handcuffs. Carolyn hadn’t gone to the cops either. No, he was safe for the moment. He’d thought about the money. As far as he knew, Devlin was still in the dark. They’d kept the lawyer out of Devlin’s hospital room, telling him she was too sick, too traumatized and Carolyn assured him they’d have her contact him when she was feeling better. He’d made sure Devlin never saw any of the letters the lawyer sent her, and he’d had Carolyn forge Devlin’s signature on everything that needed to be signed. Bitsy notarized them for him. It would be all right, as long as he kept his cool. If she hadn’t already gone to the cops, she would have been unlikely to.

Franz had tried to focus and consider the possibilities. The little bitch could very well have vanished. It was winter. She didn’t have any money. She had no warm clothes, no ID on her. He’d seen her backpack and her jacket sitting in the front hallway, where she dropped them the day before. She was thin and sickly. The streets weren’t a very pleasant place to live, even in good weather. If he could sit tight, things might just take care of themselves, unless she had gone back to Iowa. Unless she had tried to hitch a ride back there and she told somebody what happened. But he had kept coming back to the obvious—if she was going to tell somebody, wouldn’t she have already done it?

He’d wondered if the cops might pick her up for vagrancy. It was possible. She’d never been fingerprinted, so they’d only get her name if she gave it to them. Would she? Or had he scared her into silence? She knew what he’d do to her aunt if she said anything. She’d already kept her mouth shut for months.

What did the police do if they found a body on the streets? Did they put a photo in the paper or just an article and wait to see if anyone came forward? Maybe they contacted only those families who had filed missing persons reports, if the description matched the body. There was no one to identify Devlin, except maybe that teacher. She was the only one he had had to watch out for.

The longer he heard nothing from her and nothing about her, the better his odds of staying out of trouble and getting her money. It was a lot of money, and he loathed the thought of giving it up. Just in case things went bad, he had made a reservation on United for a flight to San Francisco and then on to Hong Kong. He’d paid full price to so he could change his dates if necessary. He’d called Bitsy and filled her in. He’d let her know the girl had run off, but not why. He’d asked Bitsy how long someone had to be missing before they could be declared dead. She’d said she’d look into it for him. Then he’d packed a bag and stuck it in the trunk of his car. The next morning, with Bitsy’s help, he’d liquidated as many of his assets as he could.

If it wasn’t for Bitsy, he’d never have known Devlin had turned up, not until he found himself in the back of a patrol car anyway. Bitsy had called him a few days later to tell him that a runaway girl had been brought into the emergency room. She’d been raped, and the cops were involved. The cops only had a first name. It was Devlin. Bitsy had said she was told the girl was in pretty bad shape. She might die. Franz had decided he couldn’t take a chance on “might.”

He was on his way to the door when he had seen Carolyn lurking in the hallway. She’d barely ventured from her bedroom for two days, and he’d almost forgotten about her. She was a loose end, a big one. She’d had his gun in her hand, the one he kept in his bedside table. They’d struggled. She’d tried to fire it, but she didn’t know how to release the safety. He’d wrestled it away from her in the kitchen and shot her once, in the chest at close range. Blood spattered his clothing. Instead of driving to the airport, he was forced to hurry upstairs and shower, then get rid of the gun and the clothes. He’d shoved everything in a plastic yard-waste bag and tossed it into the creek at the far end of his property. The water was running high and fast after the recent snows. The bag would wash up somewhere, but by then he’d be long gone.

Bill finished his beer. He’d been patient five years ago. He almost snorted out loud. The accident had worked out better than he ever dreamed. They’d all died, except for her. It was almost a perfect plan. He motioned to Margie. He slid her a twenty-dollar bill and his extra room key. She smiled that bucktoothed grin, and he imagined knocking out a few of those teeth. Then he remembered where he was and who he was supposed to be and smiled back. He wanted to check out Devlin’s place once more before he headed back to his motel. His patience was at an end.

Jake took the exit Devlin had indicated, turning north on the highway. He smiled as he glanced over at her. Dev somehow managed to look peaceful, even scrunched on her side, asleep in the front seat of a compact car. He hated to wake her, but he didn’t know how to get to her house. Besides, he wanted her wide awake when they got there. Like he told her, he had plans, if Dev was up for them, that is.

“Dev,” Jake said softly. “Wake up, baby.”

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. God, she looked like an angel. How did he get so lucky? Devlin stretched, making that mewing noise Jake loved so much, causing him to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

“I need directions to your place.”

“Did you take the exit yet?”

“Yeah. I’m on Highway 146 North.”

Devlin looked around. “Just stay on it right through town.” She laughed. “It’s a little town. My house is five, six miles north of Grinnell. It’s pretty dark out there, so I’ll have to show you the road. It’s a dirt road, and it’s not marked.”

Jake shot her a look of disapproval. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that. Maybe Mary has a point about you living alone.”

“Well,” Devlin drawled, reaching over to take his hand, “I’m not alone now, am I?”

“No, darlin’, you’re not alone.” Her hand felt warm in his. “Get used to it.”

William Franz was fuming. He’d just wound his way back and forth through sticky rows of corn in utter blackness, all for nothing. Her house was dark, her parking area empty. He’d scraped his knees when he tripped and fell against a pipe, but he didn’t dare use the flashlight he brought. Damn that bitch Devlin. He’d only managed to accomplish one thing, cutting the padlock off her barn with the bolt cutters he’d bought at the local hardware store. He’d risked a little light once he was inside. It looked like a workroom or studio. It didn’t matter what she used the barn for. He just wanted a place to hide, maybe ambush her if he had the opportunity.

Before he left, Bill hung the broken pieces of the padlock through the hook. Even if the neighbor noticed, who cared? So what if he told Devlin somebody tried to break into her barn? Big fucking deal. If Devlin didn’t show up by tomorrow night, Franz would split anyway. He couldn’t hang around here much longer. The risk of getting caught grew by the day. He’d have to wait for another time. Who knew how long that might be? And that pissed him off no end.

Margie was coming to his room tonight. He couldn’t afford to slip up. Franz didn’t want to screw her any longer. He wanted to beat the shit out of her. That would take the edge off. On second thought, maybe it would be better if he sent her home, maybe tell her that the company had an emergency and he had to leave early in the morning. He needed his sleep. Yeah, it would be safer that way. The fucking bitch Devlin had ruined another night for him.

Franz looked around, checking to make sure the road was empty before climbing into his car. He backed out of the dirt pathway slowly, keeping his headlights off until he’d been on the road for a few seconds. It wouldn’t be smart to make anyone suspicious. He only passed one car coming the other way as he drove to the motel. What a dead-end backwater piece of shit town, he thought. That accident did them all a favor. They were better off dead.

Fuck it, he decided. He had no idea where she was or when she’d be back. He could wait around for weeks, and she still might not show. He supposed he could try to pry the information out of Farmer Brown, but that would probably blow his cover. Threatening the man would definitely blow his cover, and then he’d have to kill him. No, he’d check out early and go by her place and trash it. Break all the windows, jack off on her sheets, tear up her workroom. Put the fear of God into her. He wondered if she’d know it was him. He hoped she’d think it was him. William Franz laughed out loud. Maybe he’d leave her a note. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Hell, why not burn the place to the ground? There was plenty of stuff in that barn of hers he could use. There was no need to leave a note. She’d know damn well it was him. His bad mood dissipated as he returned to his motel room. Maybe he wouldn’t send Margie away after all.

* * * *

Jake turned down the dirt road. Devlin had described it accurately. It was dark, hard to navigate, and surrounded by cornfields. Her isolation made him uncomfortable. They’d only passed a single car coming the other way since exiting the freeway. As far as Jake was concerned, this was not acceptable. Dev was at risk out here. If not from William Franz, then from anyone else who learned she lived alone. Jake determined to remedy the situation as soon as possible. He’d already scheduled himself off for another ten days. His field office could manage without him for a little longer. He wanted to get Devlin packed up and settled with his folks. After the wedding, they could decide what to do with this place.

Jake had a couple of projects to finish up with the Bureau of Land Management. Once he completed them and trained his replacement, he’d have time to focus on updating the summer cabin at the ranch. It would be a good opportunity to check out the stock, and Devlin could get to know his family. Jake looked forward to building a home for himself and Devlin on the property in Idaho. The plans were all drawn up, the materials on order. His brother had agreed to spend next summer with him, building the cabin and barn and putting up some fencing. Jake had recently hired a couple of local carpenters. The surveyors had already completed their work.

Devlin motioned to the left. The headlights illuminated a graveled driveway. He pulled in and parked close to the house. When he switched the lights off, the night became pitch black. Dev turned to him and smiled. He could just make out her features.

“See how dark it is?” She pointed at the night sky. “Don’t you love it? Look at the stars. You can see the entire Milky Way.”

“Dev, I don’t like you living…”

Her lips interrupted him. Her seat belt was undone, and she’d climbed over the console. His arms were around her in a heartbeat, his worries forgotten in an instant. Her mouth was liquid satin. She tasted like chocolate and strawberries, fresh peach pie, and desire. Jake squirmed, his sudden erection uncomfortable as the seat belt tightened against him.

“God,” he exclaimed, pulling his lips from hers, “I’ve got to get out of this car.” Jake unfastened his seat belt and bolted out the door.

Devlin giggled. She climbed out after Jake and found him leaning against the car, adjusting the front of his jeans. She brushed against him, once, twice, and he grabbed her by the waist, lifting her easily onto the warm hood.

“Perfect,” growled Jake, picking up where they left off. His lips descended upon hers. His kiss was demanding, possessive. He pulled her long legs apart and wrapped them around his narrow waist, thrusting himself against her, wanting her open and spread for him. Right here, right now, beneath the black sky, in the velvety air of this August night. He slid his hands beneath her shirt. Her breasts felt soft and warm against his calloused palms, her nipples beaded into hard points. Unable to resist, he rolled the tempting tips between his thumbs and his forefingers.