Flee the Night (24 page)

Conner must have seen his debate. He frowned. “So you haven’t told her how you feel. Do
you
even know?”

“I love her. But she’s … she’s got a black hole in her heart where her faith was. She used to be this woman who loved God with abandon. Her passion for God stirred my own.” He thought of her anger in the café and later her apathy in the truck. “I almost don’t recognize this person.”

Conner sat on the bed. “You see a prisoner, Micah. Someone trapped in the darkness. You see who she was and what she could be. If I understand her sketchy history at all, I’m guessing Lacey hasn’t had a lot to thank God for—at least from her perspective. Her problem is, she can’t see God in her life. She can’t see how He might be reaching out to her through the darkness.”

Listening, Micah propped himself up on one elbow.

Conner snorted. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that in her darkest moment, she might call for a person who walks in the light? The one person who knows the dark paths she’s taken? Didn’t you say she murdered your best friend?”

“That was an accident.” Micah was amazed at how easily he jumped to Lacey’s defense.

“All the more reason for God to use you, pal, to help her see His love. You’re right; she
does
need you.”

“I don’t deny that I think God is at work here, Sparks.” He rubbed his forehead. “But I can’t declare my love for her until I can ask her to marry me.”

Conner’s mouth opened, just enough to declare shock. “Marry? Whoa, okay, so something did happen in the last forty-eight hours. You should have been ready to do that when you kissed her.”

Micah made a wry face. “The truth is, I should have asked her about thirteen years ago when she showed up in Iraq.” Or maybe even before that. Like prom night, her senior year. “But I was … afraid. I loved her so much, but I couldn’t squeeze the words out of my mouth.”

Conner steepled his fingers, grinning. “Ah, a classic case of the Gideon complex.”

Micah stared at him, completely baffled.

“You wanted her to prove to you that she wouldn’t hurt you before you declared your love for her. You wanted a wet fleece.”

Micah remembered Lacey’s hollow, broken expression after their kiss on Lover’s Bluff and her words about John not being there to kiss her … suggesting that Micah was, and that was okay. And then her soft voice in the truck last night, unveiling the truths in her heart …
it hurts too much
. He had wanted proof that she was worth fighting for. That in the end she wouldn’t turn toward John and away from Micah. No, John hadn’t deserved her … but neither had he.

“You have no choice,” Conner continued. “You have to take the Romans 5:8 route.”

“Conner, I’m tired—”

“You gotta tell her you love her, not expecting anything back. You need to lay your heart out there, even if it’s going to get squashed. God did that for us. And He expects us to do it for each other.”

Micah let out a long breath. “That’s gonna hurt.”

“Anyone can give her a kiss. Even me—”

“Try it. I guarantee you’ll lose a kneecap.”

Conner laughed. “You need to do something that really … makes her do a double take … maybe … a poem?”

“Oh, who are you, Cyrano de Bergerac?”

Maybe it was the morning light threading through the curtain, but he thought he saw Conner blush. “I dunno. Maybe you’re right. I’m a lot of talk. But I’m thinking that if you’re trying to show her what it means to be loved by God, you can only model it yourself.”

Micah blinked and sat up. “If she’s unavailable to hand over Ex-6, then she can’t be charged.”

Conner frowned at him.

“Can you make me a copy of her program if I get it to you?”

Conner nodded, his expression wary.

Micah pushed to his feet. “Fire up your gizmos, Sparks. And get me a topo map of Coward’s Hollow. She’s not going to make the exchange … I am.”

Lacey stood in the shower, letting the water wash off the smell of the hospital, the vestiges of fatigue, even the sweet scent of Micah’s coat.

Now that she was back in Poplar Bluff, she had to figure out a way to shake Micah. She shouldn’t have told him about Coward’s Hollow. But if she enlisted Dannette, perhaps—and what exactly was his relationship with the tall blonde, anyway? Lacey hadn’t missed the worry in the woman’s eyes, which made her wonder just how well she knew Micah.

Dannette knew, for example, that he wasn’t in tip-top shape. The fact that she phoned someone named Sarah and asked her to go over and check on Micah meant he had told them about the cancer.

That others knew Micah better than she did shouldn’t surprise her. But she couldn’t help the spurt of jealousy. Stupid, stupid woman. Micah would be wise to hook up with a gal like Dannette. Or anyone else whose future didn’t include being a fugitive from the U.S. government. She braced her arms against the wall and lifted her face into the shower, trying to wipe the image of Micah holding someone else—like Dannette—in his arms.

She shouldn’t have surrendered to his embrace. Again, she was about to get her heart ripped out. Just when she thought she’d scarred over for good. But, no, he’d held her, then politely stepped out of her life. Just like he had fifteen years ago. Only he didn’t know that she’d seen how hard that had been for him.

Lacey plugged the tub, and the water pooled around her. She closed her eyes, letting memory be her friend.

Once she’d said yes to John’s proposal, life moved faster than she could breathe. Suddenly, she was walking down the aisle on a warm June day in her tiny hometown church toward the man who would be her future. A man who made her feel important and beautiful. Lilies and roses fragranced the sanctuary, and ahead of her stood her groom—handsome, built, adventurous John, his blue eyes full of mischief and delight. He looked stunning in his tuxedo, and she barely noticed the man standing next to him, staring at his polished shoes … Jim Micah.

She spoke words, she was sure of it, because the ceremony ended with applause and the pronouncement of husband and wife.

And then John swept her away in a limousine. “You’re so beautiful,” he said as he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

She’d be happy—she knew it. John Montgomery, for all his sparkle and charisma, had chosen her, loved
her.
And she loved him back, with the part of her that longed for something more than the life her mother had. She wouldn’t be a farm-wife, stuck in a small town waiting for her man to return home from his overseas adventures.

She’d be by his side wherever he went. In fact, she’d be the best thing that ever happened to Lt. John Montgomery. And the fact that being with him offered a life of adventure, a noble purpose … wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? She smiled, kissed him back, putting passion into her touch.

“Wow,” John said, pulling back. “I hope there’s more of that.”

“Of course,” she said and settled into his embrace.

Two hours later, the cake had been cut, the toasts made, the dancing had begun. Occasionally, she’d spotted Micah, mostly chatting with his parents, his brother. He never glanced at her once. Still, she noticed when he left, and the tendrils of their former friendship tugged at her heart. “John, I need some fresh air,” she said when he pulled her close for yet another love song.

He looked at her, frowning. “Are you okay?”

She smiled. “Of course. I’m just … overwhelmed.”

“Okay. Do you want me to come with you?”

She said no and felt relief when John didn’t argue.

The cool air, redolent of roses from the nearby garden, stirred the worry in her heart as she walked out into the night. The stars shone with a brilliance unequaled. She cut away from the club, followed the path down to the pond.

The sound of quick breaths stopped her. She hid behind a willow tree and peered through the night toward the pond. Jim Micah sat on a bench, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His shoulders shook.

Lacey watched, realizing he was … crying. Her mouth dried. Big, powerful Micah, dissolving before her eyes. Broken. Weeping in some private agony. Her throat thickened. Why would he be crying?

She turned and crept away, back to the reception. But she buried the image in her heart, taking it out now and again to ponder it. To hope, perhaps, that he’d been crying for her. For the
them
that had never been.

Now tears burned her eyes, and under the cover of running water, she let sobs rack her body. Weeping, just like Micah, for the
them
that would never be.

Chapter 15

MICAH OBVIOUSLY DIDN’T trust her as far as he could throw her, which must not be very far, because his friend—what was his name again? Conrad? Conway?—stood outside the motel door when Lacey emerged wearing a pair of Dannette’s track pants and a sweatshirt.

She recognized a pit bull when she saw one, even one as cute as Conway, with his curly, burnt blond hair and mischievous smile. He had his arms crossed over his chest—now clothed in a black knit shirt and red down vest. “We’re waiting for you down at the café. Want some breakfast?”

“We?” She slung the backpack, bulging with her yellow wig and dirty clothes, over her shoulder. They might come in handy at the next stop. The rabbit’s foot key chain she’d clipped to the waistband ties of the pants. If she could have found duct tape, she would have taped it to her body.

“Yeah, me and the rest of Team Hope,” Pit Bull Conway answered. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked casually ahead of her, but she had no doubt that should she bolt, he’d tackle her like a halfback. The guy had military written all over him despite his nonchalant grin. They appeared to be two friends, but his undercurrent of suspicion could power a small town.

“Who’s Team Hope?” she asked, scanning the parking lot below as she trailed behind him. She counted seven cars in the lot, three with Missouri plates. None looked government issue. Across the street at the gas station, a man in an orange baseball cap fueled his pickup, his back to her, and another on a motorcycle kicked up his stand and motored off without glancing in her direction. Cars rolled by, splashing at the curb. Overhead, the sun beamed from a cirrus-filled sky, the clouds deflated of ammunition. Sparrows chirruped. So maybe she could relax and allow herself a couple of deep breaths.

“Oh, just a bunch of friends,” her bodyguard replied. “We hang out together and sometimes do search-and-rescue ops. Micah pulled us in to search for Emily.”

At her daughter’s name, Lacey’s throat thickened.
Emily, please be safe.
How she suddenly longed, as she once had, to kneel and find comfort in handing over her fears, her pain, into God’s hands. But there was no going back now. Despite Micah’s words about God breaking her free of captivity.

“They cried out to the Lord in their trouble and he saved them from their distress.”

The thought caught her, and she couldn’t deny the way her heart spasmed. But the idea of returning to God, knowing that she’d turned her back on Him—willfully—no, she didn’t have the right to ask for His help now.

“What was your name again?” she asked as they descended the stairs.

“Conner Young.”

When he smiled at her, she felt a tug toward friendship. Conner, not Conway. And he did seem like a Conner—sorta honorable. Polite. Possibly … kind? Maybe she’d been too rough on the guy. Just because he had been sent to keep an eye on her didn’t mean he wasn’t on her side.

In fact, he looked almost … familiar. “Have we met before? What did Micah say yesterday about you remembering me?”

Conner cut her a glance, and she thought she saw chagrin on his face. “Yeah. We met in Iraq. I was … with Micah.”

Oh yeah. One of Micah’s roughed-up Green Berets she and John had helped free. She grimaced. “You were wounded.”

He looked away. “I never thanked you for coming in after us. You were gone by the time they discharged me from the hospital in Germany.”

She recalled the young man with the matted, bloodied hair, the leg wound, and pained eyes. Mostly, she remembered she’d been young, foolish, and idealistic.

“What a beautiful day, huh?” Conner said, as if wanting to yank them out of painful memories. “Yesterday the sky was groaning, pouring itself out. Today nothing but blue skies and sunshine. As if God washed the landscape clean.”

Lacey nodded, not sure how to respond. She felt like she was talking to Micah, Mr. Faith. The desire to figure out a way to save Ex-6 and Emily and to start again rushed over her. Micah
had
kissed her.…

No, fatigue had eaten away at her common sense. Micah may have kissed her, but it had been nothing but a heart-rending panic reflex, a physical expression of relief after she’d nearly killed them both. And she wasn’t going to do anything that might get another man she loved killed.

“Yes. It’s a great day.” She heard the despair in her voice.

Conner said nothing as they crossed to the tiny café in the front of the motel. He opened the door and out spilled the sound of chatter, the stomach-grabbing smell of bacon frying, and the taste of small-town friendship. He pointed at a small group crammed into a corner.

Lacey approached with a smile while she searched the room. Two elderly ladies in a booth along the front window; a single man, dressed in a business suit, reading today’s news and sipping coffee at a middle table. No NSA duos. Still, her stomach knotted.