Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [102]
“Thank you, Lieutenant Drummond. We’re fine.”
“No, I meant you, personally,” he said. “And I figured I ought to tell you that Gaynor’s been cleared of any charges in Wisconsin, as well. They decided your cousin must have pushed your car into the ravine before he left Wisconsin. I have my doubts, but I figure Gaynor’s been through enough.”
She blinked. “Gaynor?”
“Come on, Miss Kincaid. You didn’t think we didn’t know what was going on, did you? We had Dillon in custody before you were even in the ambulance. He was with your mother, waiting for us. Not that she was particularly appreciative. She was bitching him out, big time.”
“He was there? Where did he go?” she asked faintly. She hadn’t felt this disoriented since Nate had cracked her across the face with the butt of a shotgun.
“I’m afraid he spent three weeks as a guest of the state. Given his record, the D.A.’s office thought he might not be so innocent in the matter. But DNA testing cleared everything up—the wonders of modern science. He was released last Thursday, and he’s back in Wisconsin.”
“He was in Connecticut all this time? In jail?” She was going to throw up.
“Your mother knew. She said not to bother you with that information—it would only upset you.”
“She was right.”
“Anyway, good to see you. Happy holidays!”
“Merry Christmas,” she replied absently.
There was a Wal-Mart just down the road, part of a new strip development that her mother had decried. Jamie found what she wanted in record time—a pink tinsel tree with flashing lights and a revolving base that played Christmas carols on a tinny computer chip.
Isobel was taking her afternoon nap when Jamie returned home. It took her fifteen minutes to set up the tree, another five minutes to write the note, and ten more minutes to pack. And then she was out of there before her mother even knew she’d lost her.
She threw everything in the back seat of the Cadillac, including the wallet he’d given her when he’d sent her away. She stopped and looked at the leather seats, remembering the first time she’d been there. And the last.
It started snowing when she reached the Wisconsin state line, and she almost laughed. The AM radio was playing Christmas carols, the heater was pumping out enough heat to warm half the state, and by the time Jamie pulled up to Gaynor’s Auto Restoration it was almost midnight.
She turned off the car and sat there in the darkness for a moment. Mouser was gone, and she hadn’t even had time to mourn him. Everything had changed. She’d been out of her mind to show up without warning, and she should get her ass out of there before he realized she’d arrived.
There were lights on in the garage, and she could hear Nirvana blaring. She could just walk in the open door, leave the keys and the wallet on the kitchen table and take off on foot. She wasn’t about to give up the jacket. Of course, there was the problem of her suitcase. She could always stash that and come back and get it after she rented a car. It couldn’t be that far to civilization, even if it seemed as if the garage was at the back end of beyond.
She climbed out of the car, and her sneakers sank into the snow. She grabbed his wallet and walked to the door.
She was right, it was unlocked, as it always was. But she was wrong, the kitchen wasn’t empty. Dillon was sitting at the kitchen table. Looking up at her in shock.
She almost backed out again in panic, but it was too late. She stepped inside, into the warmth, and closed the door behind her.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Where had she heard those words before? She swallowed. The room seemed different. Different refrigerator, and the table seemed even more battered than before. Only one chair, and it looked as if it were held together with duct tape. And no cigarette smoke in the air.
“Did you stop smoking?” she blurted out.
“A while ago.” His voice was flat, uncompromising. “I repeat, what are you doing here.”
She walked toward the table, carefully, as if approaching