Moonlight Masquerade

  Kim was happy and chatty, and at no time did she pry into Sophie’s problems. In fact, when Sophie started making a weak, hesitant explanation about why she’d been out of contact for so long and why she needed to hide, Kim saved her by interrupting. “I’m just glad you’re back in my life. When I get home we can talk and you can tell me as much or as little as you want to. But for now, I think you just need to feel safe.”

  Her words had been so exactly on target that when she hung up, Sophie allowed herself her first quick tears. But she knew she couldn’t indulge herself that way.

  She spent the night in a motel, paid for with cash she’d taken from where she’d hidden it from her step-father—she hadn’t even trusted a hometown bank to hold money for her—and was on the road just after the sun was up. By the time she neared Edilean, she’d calmed down some, but not much. She couldn’t help comparing herself to Kim and Jecca. They were the same age as Sophie, but both of them now had fabulous jobs and she’d learned via the Internet that both of them were married. Sometimes Sophie felt that her roommates had been given fairy godmothers while Sophie had been overlooked.

  She shook her head at the absurd thought. Years ago when her mother had said she was going to marry Arnie, Sophie had seen the future. By then she was in the third year of college and her mother was ill. “He’s only marrying you to get custody of Lisa when—” Sophie broke off. “When I die?” her mother asked. “Go on and say it. I know it’s happening. As for Lisa, she can take care of herself. It’s you who has the problems.” Sophie resented that statement. Hadn’t she fought like a demon to get herself into college? But when she pointed that out to her mother, she’d only scoffed. “You’re a dreamer, Sophie. I mean, look at the facts. You go to college but what do you study? Art! What use is that? Why didn’t you learn something that could get you a job? Be a doctor or a lawyer, or at least work for one.” Again, Sophie had no reply to give her.

  Her mother died two days before Sophie graduated from college, and she ran home for the funeral. When she got there, she saw her stepfather leering at her pretty little sister. Sophie decided to stay for the summer, but she never left. Until now.

  She walked to the other side of the car and opened the door, but paused before even touching the big envelope. Did she really have it in her possession? The book? The one the whole Treeborne empire was based on? Were there police after her? She had her laptop with her, but she hadn’t checked the Internet. Her cheap phone had no Web connection, so she didn’t know what was going on. Would federal agents be brought in? If so, how far back would they look to find out where Sophie was? There’d been no contact between her and Kim since college graduation, so they wouldn’t find calls to Edilean.

  Sophie shut the car door and told herself that she had to return the book. She’d go to Edilean and send the package back to Carter. Maybe if they got the book back he’d drop the pursuit. If there was one.

  She got into the driver’s side and turned the key, but nothing happened. Dead. “Like my life,” Sophie muttered. Whereas before she’d thought the surrounding countryside was lovely, now it looked scary. She was down a gravel road that stopped just a few feet ahead, blocked from view of the main highway. It would soon be dark, and if she stayed in the car she’d never be found.

  She looked at her cell phone. No signal. She went outside, walked around, holding her phone aloft, but there wasn’t even a hint of a signal.

  There was only one thing to do: walk. She opened the trunk and rummaged through bags and boxes until she found her running shoes. Not that she ever ran. She was not very athletic. In the last few years, the most she did was walk from her desk to the water-cooler.

  She removed her pretty gold sandals, put on some ankle socks, and tied on her big shoes. She pulled out a pink cardigan to wear over her summer dress. It was going to get cool before she reached Edilean. She went to the front, got her handbag, and at last picked up the big envelope. She’d left her tote bag hanging on a kitchen chair, so she didn’t have anything to carry it in.

  She tried starting the car again, but nothing happened, so she locked it and walked back on the gravel road to the highway. The shade of the trees had become deeper so that it was almost dark. A burst of wind rustled the leaves, and Sophie pulled her sweater closer. When she heard a car coming down the road, she instinctively stepped back into the shadows and waited for it to pass. Every horror story of hitchhikers and the mass murderers who picked them up went through her head.

  After the car passed, she started walking again and telling herself she was being ridiculous. According to Kim, Edilean was the safest place on earth. Nothing bad ever happened there. Well, except for some major robberies in the last few years that Sophie had read about online, but it was better not to think about those.

  Two more cars went by, and each time Sophie stayed under the trees and waited. “At this rate I’ll never get there,” she said aloud and shuddered as she had a vision of walking along the road at midnight. Every few minutes she stepped onto the pavement and checked her phone, but there was still no signal. But then, she hadn’t gone even a mile from her car.

  She was so absorbed in maneuvering her phone around that she didn’t hear the approaching car. It had come around a curve, headlights glaring, and for a second Sophie felt like a deer mesmerized by the lights. The car was coming straight at her! She could clearly see the BMW symbol just a few feet away. Survival was the only thing on her mind. She threw up her arms and like a diver heading into the water, she dove straight for the side of the road. She landed, facedown, in the sharp branches of a clump of scrub oak, her mouth full of dirt. Quickly, she turned to look back toward the road. She was just in time to see a sleek little silver blue BMW drive over both her phone and the book. Thankfully, she’d been wearing her handbag crosswise, so it was still with her. The car kept going; it didn’t stop.

  All of Sophie hurt as she got up, hobbled onto the road to retrieve the remains of the phone, and picked up the envelope. There were tire tracks across it and one edge had been torn open. There was little light but she could see that the book inside was frayed, the pages bent. She didn’t know if it had been that way or if it had been done by the reckless driver in the BMW.

  Sophie carried everything to the side of the road and for a moment she fought back tears. Maybe she wouldn’t have been prosecuted if she’d returned the book in pristine condition, but now it looked to be nearly destroyed. She was going to prison because of some jerk in a Bimmer.

  As she pulled leaves out of her hair, raked dirt out of her mouth, and brushed at bloody scrapes on her arms and legs, she knew her logic was flawed, but if she didn’t give her anger an outlet she’d fall down into a ditch and never get out.

  She started walking. This time she didn’t step aside for the cars, but kept going. Three cars, each with a single male driver, asked if she wanted a ride. The anger in her was increasing with every step and she had glared at the men as she said no.

  Her legs ached, the cuts and scrapes on her arms and legs hurt, her feet were blistering. In fact, it seemed that every inch of her was in pain. But the image of the expensive car driving over the book kept her going. In her mind, it was just like Carter driving over her. He’d never looked back either. She put one foot in front of the other, each step so hard it jarred her body. But she kept going, never slowing down—just as the driver had done.

  She heard the noise of the tavern before she saw it. It wasn’t particularly loud, but when the door was opened the music, a mixture of rock and country, floated out.

  Sophie’s steps began to slow down. Here at last was civilization. She’d be able to call a cab. Or maybe her landlady, Mrs. Wingate, could come and get her. If this town of Edilean was as good as Kim had said it was, there would be help.

  When Sophie stopped and waited for a car to pass, she saw it. In the far left of the parking lot was the silvery BMW that had nearly run over her, had destroyed her phone, and was probably going to cause Sophie to spend a few y
ears in prison. She put her head forward, set her sore jaw in a hard line, the recipe book in its torn envelope under her arm, and strode across the street.

  Inside the restaurant, the lights blinded her for a moment, so she stood in the doorway to look around. It was a quiet place, with booths full of people eating huge amounts of fried food. Very American. To the left was a big jukebox, a dance floor, and some tables with men and women drinking beer from pitchers and eating great bowls full of chicken wings.

  Sophie had been sure that she’d be able to pick out the person who’d nearly killed her.

  Over the last several miles she’d conjured an image of a long face, close-together eyes, even big ears. She imagined him to be tall and thin, and of course he was rich. Carter’s family was rich. If he ran over a woman, he’d wonder why she didn’t get out of his way. Would he call it his “summer hit-and-run”?

  She walked to the bar along the wall and waited for the bartender to come to her. He was a young man, blond and blue eyed.

  “Hey! What happened to you?” he asked.

  “I was nearly run over.”

  He looked concerned. “Yeah? Want me to call the sheriff?”

  Sophie tightened her grip on the stolen book. “No,” she said firmly. “I just want to know who owns the silver BMW.”

  The young man’s mouth opened as though he meant to say something, but a woman sitting at the bar spoke first. “See the guy over there in the blue shirt?”

  “Is that him?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes it is,” the woman answered.

  “Mrs. Garland,” the bartender began, “I don’t think—”

  “Take it from me,” the woman said to Sophie, “that guy’s a real bastard. Thinks he knows more than anybody else in town. I’d like to see him taken down a peg or two.”

  Sophie didn’t answer, just nodded and walked straight to the table. He had his back to her so she couldn’t see his face. There were two other men sitting there, and when they saw Sophie their eyes lit up in appreciation. Ignoring them, she walked to stand in front of the man.

  Her first impression was that he was strikingly handsome, but he looked tired—and sad. She might have felt sympathy for him, but when he saw Sophie he grimaced, as though she were someone he was going to have to do something for. It was that look that broke her. All she’d wanted to do was talk to him, tell him what she thought of him, but she’d be damned if anyone was going to look at her as though she were a . . . well, a burden. She’d not been a burden since she got her first job at sixteen. She prided herself on carrying her own weight.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked, his deep voice sounding as though Sophie was going to demand something dreadful of him.

  “You own the BMW?”

  He nodded once, and that look that Sophie was a great bother to him deepened.

  She didn’t think about what she did. She picked up a full pitcher of beer and poured it over his head. Not dumped, but poured it so it took several seconds to empty the contents. While cold beer was running down his face, she was aware that every person in the tavern had stopped talking. Even the jukebox was silenced, as though it had been unplugged.

  As for the man, he just sat there, blinking up at Sophie, nothing but surprise on his face. When she finished, the restaurant was totally silent. Sophie glared at him, his face dripping beer. “Next time, watch where you’re going.” One of the men at the table took the empty pitcher, and Sophie walked across the room and went out the front door.

  Outside, she stood still for a moment, not sure what to do next. Then the door behind her opened and one of the men who’d been sitting at the table came out.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Russell Pendergast and I’m the new pastor in town and I think maybe you might need a ride.”

  When Sophie heard noise returning to the tavern, she didn’t give herself time to think. “Yes I would,” she said and got into a green pickup beside the man. They started the drive into Edilean.

  Two

  They rode in silence for a while before Russell said, “Is it possible that you’re Sophie Kincaid?”

  Immediately the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Had he heard her name on the news? CNN maybe?

  “Sorry,” Russell said as he glanced at her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Kim said you didn’t want the whole town to know about you, but she told me you were coming because she married my brother.”

  Sophie let out a sigh of relief. “And you’re a pastor.”

  “Newly,” he said, smiling. He was a very handsome man. “In fact, everything about me seems to be new. New town, new job, newly married, new to being a father.”

  At the words married and father Sophie felt a bit of a letdown. It looked like she wasn’t dead after all.

  “I’m even new to having a brother,” he said. When that tidbit sparked no interest in Sophie, he changed the subject. “How did you get here?”

  “Car. I pulled off the road and it quit working. I’m surprised it ran as long as it did.”

  “I’ll call the sheriff and he—”

  Sophie drew in her breath sharply.

  A quick frown momentarily creased Russell’s forehead. “The sheriff’s family owns Frazier Motors,” he explained. “They’ll fix your car or tow it or do whatever it needs.”

  “My clothes are in it,” she said, looking down at her dirty skirt. On her lap, her hands tight on it, was the tattered envelope. When she saw that her knuckles were white, she tried to relax them.

  “Sophie,” Russell said softly, “if you need someone to talk to, I’m always available.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “but . . . ” How could she tell a man of God that she’d stolen something that was the backbone of a very large company?

  “Whenever you want to,” he said. “How about if I take you to Kim’s house tonight instead of Mrs. Wingate’s? Kim has closets full of clothes, and maybe it will feel more familiar to you being around her things.”

  Quick tears of gratitude came to Sophie’s eyes but she blinked them away. “I would like that,” she said softly. The thought of soaking in a tub full of very hot water and putting on clean clothes made her begin to relax.

  “Do you have plans for your visit?” Russell asked cautiously as he glanced at Sophie. She was extraordinarily pretty, with hair that looked to be naturally blonde, big blue eyes, and skin as perfect as a camellia petal. As for the rest of her, he’d seen the way everyone in the tavern had watched her walk. She had a figure that people did double takes on.

  But her physical appearance aside, he could see that she was extremely upset. She was holding on to the big envelope with the tire tracks across it, as though it were the key to life. Her clothes were torn and dirty, there was a big smudge on her chin, and one knee was bloody.

  Whatever had happened to her seemed to have been caused by Reede Aldredge.

  Russell had to work to cover his smile at the sight of this beautiful young woman pouring beer over Reede’s head. Russell knew he’d go to his grave with that image in his mind.

  Not long before, Reede had entered the restaurant looking like he wanted to murder someone. Russell and Roan had been having an interesting conversation on the religions of the world, but Reede’s bellyaching took over.

  “He said it was a heart attack so I went running,” Reede said. “Never mind that I hadn’t been to bed in two days. It was only indigestion. You know what his eldest daughter did while I was there?”

  “Come on to you?” Roan asked. He and Reede were cousins and had a long history together. “She’s a pretty little thing and she’s not that young.”

  “Not interested,” Reede said as the waitress put a clean glass in front of him and a new pitcher of beer on the table.

  “Not interested in her specifically or in any woman?” Russell asked.

  “If you’re implying what I think you are, be glad you’re a preacher or I’d deck you,” Reede said.

  “I’d like to see that fight,” Roan said.
“Russell here is younger than you are and from the look of you, healthier. When did you last take some time off?”

  “I think that was when I was in college.”

  “Before Laura dumped you?” Roan asked.

  Reede groaned and took a deep drink of his beer. “Don’t you start on me too. Everybody in this town thinks I’m pining away for a girl I barely remember.”

  “They like the romance of the story,” Russell said.

  “Believe me, getting told to get lost is no romance,” Reede said.

  “And that attitude is the reason everyone still talks about you and the Chawnley girl,” Roan said.

  “You know how you could stop the gossip, don’t you?” Russell asked. He was a new friend to both men.

  “I know this is a trick, but what is it?”

  “You should get married,” Russell said.

  Reede nearly choked on his beer.

  Roan laughed. “Well said, and I couldn’t agree more wholeheartedly.”

  “What about you?” Reede was looking at his cousin.

  “I missed out on Jecca.”

  “We both did, but at least I didn’t nearly lose Tris’s friendship over her,” Reede said.

  Roan grinned. “Who would have thought that a city girl like her was actually a woman?”

  “They grow them in the cities too, you know.”

  “Maybe.” Roan didn’t sound convinced.

  “If you two are through with your bromance,” Russell said, “I’m serious, Reede. You should get a wife. You can’t cook and you’re losing weight. You live in that awful apartment, and your bad temper is legendary.”

  Reede gave a one-sided grin. “It keeps the staff in line.”

  “Ha!” Roan said. “Those poor girls are in the match-making business, and you’re their only client.”