Evie turned, peered through the glass, and caught him staring. Her face remained blank, just a hint of sadness in her expression, but she didn’t shy away from his gaze.
He went to her.
“Chris is napping.”
“Good.”
“Have you seen the news?” Evie wouldn’t make eye contact with him, her voice sounding as blank as her face appeared.
“Look at me, Evie.”
“Don’t ask me to do that.”
“Please.” Clancy placed his hand on her shoulder, then let his fingers trail down her left arm. “You need to tell me everything. It doesn’t matter what this looks like on the news or what anyone else is saying. I want to hear it directly from you—what’s real, what’s politics, what’s complete bullshit. Just tell me what is going on and we’ll go from there. Whatever I can do, I’ll do it.”
“Chris won’t be asleep for much longer.”
“All the more reason to not waste any more time.” Clancy eased her around so that she faced him. So much pain in those pale green eyes, so much fear etched in her beautiful face. It was obvious how alone she felt, and it wasn’t right. The girl he once loved so deeply shouldn’t feel that way.
“First, I need to ask you to do something for me. It’s important.”
“If I can, I will,” Clancy said.
“I need you to somehow get a message to my father, telling him we’re okay. But it’s not safe to call or e-mail or even write. I think the FBI is—”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Her eyes widened. “You will?”
Clancy put his fingertip under her chin and forced her to look up at him. “I can safely get a message to your family that you and Chris are all right. It will just take a little ingenuity.”
Evelyn grabbed Clancy’s forearm for support, as if she felt light-headed. “You’ll do that for me? It’s only my dad. I know he’s going crazy right now, not knowing what’s happened to—”
“I didn’t know your mom passed away.” Clancy couldn’t begin to imagine the weight of the grief she carried. Both her sister and her mother were gone, and he hadn’t been there to help her through any of it.
Again . . . her choice. So why was it still so hard for him to remember that? Why did he have to keep reminding himself that Evie chose not to write to him, not to have him in her life?
She nodded. “The summer after you and I . . . she had cancer. It was very quick. Dad, Chris, and I are what’s left of the family.”
“I wish I would have known, Evie. I’m so sorry. About your sister, too.”
She didn’t say anything, just dropped her eyes to her feet.
“Evie, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. Right now.”
Her head snapped up. “I . . .” Tears began to well in her eyes. She tried to stay in control but her chin trembled. Ah, shit. It was obvious she needed to be kissed more than she needed to be interrogated.
He put his hands on her upper arms and pulled her tight to him, lowering his mouth to hers without delay. Damn, she was delicious. She was Evie, silky, sweet Evie from so long ago. Clancy slid his arms around her body and lifted her off the deck, still kissing, still holding, still doing whatever it took to get her to come out of hiding. He waited. . . . Evie didn’t shove him away or take her lips from his. In fact, Clancy felt her clutch on to him for dear life, her hands gripping his back, her muscular legs flying up to grip him around his waist—which wasn’t recommended for a utility belt outfitted with a loaded Glock, handcuffs, Mag flashlight, mace, and a Taser, among other things.
“Evie. I gotta put you down. Hold on just a second.”
She wouldn’t let go. Her lips moved on his and she tightened her thighs. Ah, God it felt so damn good, but it was crazy unsafe. “Evie?” She only grabbed him tighter.
Clancy managed to pull her off, and guided her to the top of the deck railing, where he plopped her down.
“Give me a second. My gun is loaded.”
Evie looked down the front of his body and smiled. “It sure is.”
They both laughed as he unhooked his utility belt and laid it across one of the deck chairs. He returned to Evie, and when he got close enough she opened her legs and pulled him in to stand between her thighs. Just like so long ago.
“Keep kissing me. Please.”
Clancy brushed the side of her cheek. It was almost too wonderful to believe. She was right here with him, after so much time. Evie gazed into his eyes, and suddenly, she didn’t even look like the same woman. Her face had opened in softness, her eyes were so wide and vulnerable that she looked fourteen again.
Clancy feathered his lips against hers, trying to be gentle when all he wanted was to disappear deep inside her, bite down into her flesh and consume her. It took everything he had to hold back, to simply enjoy her gifts of sweet, soft, luscious kisses. His hands went around her firm waist. Evie gently held the backs of his thighs, pressing him a little closer, demanding a bit more from his kiss.
They were on the edge and they both knew it. His hands went to her hips, back, thighs—oh, God—these kisses and these touches were not the cautious exploration of two kids. This was the real deal. Evie’s flesh felt firm and hot and her legs were open to him. She wanted him. And he wanted her so badly he was about to explode.
“This is very dangerous,” he said.
“Danger is my middle name nowadays.” She slapped her hands on his ass.
They went there again—raging, hot, and wild, her legs flying around his waist. Clancy felt all of her, the delicate juncture between her thighs, her perfect breasts pressed up against his chest, her heat, her need, the muscle strength of those thighs and calves claiming him. He kissed the living hell out of her until they were both gasping for breath.
So this was Evie—all grown up.
They panted, staring at each other in silence. She looked stunned, and Clancy was sure he did, too. There was no logical explanation for what was happening. They hadn’t said a word to each other for nearly two decades. She was a fugitive on the run and he was a cop who had decided to risk everything to help her. This detonation of lust made little sense.
Clancy smiled at her. All he had intended to do was comfort her, ease her sadness. Instead, he’d unleashed eighteen years of desire. Clearly, it was mutual.
“Oh, dear God,” Evelyn whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Where do we even start?”
“Wherever you want.”
She bit her lip and looked past Clancy into the house. “She won’t be asleep too much longer—maybe a half hour at the most.”
“We can cover a lot of ground in a half hour.”
“If the last three minutes are any indication, you’re right.”
“Talk to me, Evie.”
“All right.” She sighed, her moment of soft vulnerability gone. Once again her face was etched with mistrust and fear. “Why did you bring us here? What are you doing?”
“I want to help however I can.”
“But you know I’m wanted for kidnapping, right? That I’ve committed a federal felony and broken the heart of a doting father.”
“If you say so.”
She laughed bitterly. “Everything’s right out there for you and the whole world to see. All my friends, my patients, blog readers . . .” She stopped, then imitated the deep and serious tone of a news anchor. “‘Neighbors and coworkers of this otherwise law-abiding sports therapist and blogger called her ‘quiet’ and ‘disciplined.’”
“Yeah. It did have a serial killer ring to it.”
“And this doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course it does, Evie! I look at you. Then I see the FBI bulletins and TV reports and I know something doesn’t fit. You’re in a seriously shitty situation, but I believe there’s got to be a good reason you took Christina and
ran. And now’s your chance to tell me what it is.”
Evie breathed deeply, then rubbed her hands over her face. When she looked up at Clancy again, there was intense grief in her expression. “I was living and working in Augusta when my father called to tell me Amanda had come home unexpectedly and refused to tell him why. Within a few weeks, she admitted she was pregnant. She told us the identity of the father wasn’t important and she would give us that information when—and if—she thought it was necessary. She asked my dad and me to drop the subject, so we did. We just assumed the father was some young professional she met on the job, another overworked, ambitious, too-smart-for-their-own-good twentysomething who wanted to be at the center of it all. We thought maybe he was married.”
Clancy reached out for her hand. “You’re doing great. Go on.”
“Well, one day, when Christina was about a year old, Amanda and I went out to the main road to get the mail like we sometimes did, and on our walk back to the house, she just pulled me to the stone wall, set me down, and it all came spilling out.
“She was twenty-five when she started working as Wahlman’s personal assistant in DC. She described how she had admired him, saw him as eloquent and sexy and larger than life. Everything started out as innocent flirting, she said, but Wahlman began slipping in an innuendo or two whenever they were alone for more than a few seconds. He seemed to really enjoy how smart she was and how she could go toe-to-toe with him in conversation. Soon they were sharing ideas and confidences. My sister said Wahlman treated her more like a colleague than a scheduling assistant.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that,” Clancy said.
Evie nodded sadly. “Amanda said there were rumors, you know, that he had a thing for much younger women, but she told herself that she was different. She convinced herself that they shared something real and she wasn’t just another diversion.”
“Ugh, poor kid.”
Evie laughed a little. “She said he told her he loved her and would leave his wife for her.”
“Oh, God. What a bastard.”
“She really beat herself up for being so naive.”
“I’m sorry she went through all that, but how does that justify you running away with Christina?”
Evie’s mouth pulled tight. “It doesn’t.”
“So . . .”
“So that day Amanda cried her guts to me, she told me she’d made me legal guardian of Christina in case anything happened to her. And she made me swear I would never, ever let Wahlman be a part of her life.”
Clancy felt his eyes widen. “That’s pretty intense. Did she say why?”
Evie turned her head away, trying to compose herself.
“Sure. Amanda said that when Wahlman found out she was pregnant, he tried to give her an envelope full of money, insisted she get an abortion, and made reference to how young women in her situation had been known to disappear from Capitol Hill and are never heard of again.”
“What?” Clancy’s jaw dropped. “He threatened to physically harm her?”
“The conversation took place between my sister and Wahlman’s chief of staff. He sent her to Amanda’s apartment to deal with the situation because he didn’t have the balls to do it himself.”
“But Wahlman claims he never knew your sister was pregnant.”
Evie laughed bitterly. “Yeah. He says a lot of things that aren’t true. Like that he won custody.”
“He didn’t?”
“No. I can’t figure out what he did, but he used his influence somehow to steamroll us. He basically stole Christina from her family.”
Clancy stared at her. She did have her reasons. And they were good ones, if they could be proven.
“So.” Evie lowered her chin and frowned at him. “Why would you automatically assume I’m not guilty as charged? You don’t even know me.”
Clancy realized he had just become the subject of this interrogation. “I did know you, once, a long time ago, and I am looking at you right now. You’re right here in front of me. I’ve watched how devoted you are to Christina, how much she loves you. And I see you carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, more crap than any one person should have to deal with. But you know what I don’t see when I look at you?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t see a ruthless kidnapper. And I will do whatever I can to help you sort this out.”
Evie’s chin trembled. It took her a moment to pull herself together enough to speak, and when she was ready, she lifted her sea-glass eyes to Clancy. “So you’re not going to turn us in?”
“Ah, Evie. No. I’m not. But we’ve got our work cut out for us.” Clancy held out his arms and she fell into his embrace. He felt her begin to shake slightly. He knew she was trying not to cry.
“It’s going to be all right.”
She shook her head against his chest, then sat upright, wiping her eyes. “I really do need your help. I have nobody else to turn to.”
“You’ve already got it.”
“What are we going to do about my name? My alias is all over TV. I picked Cricket because that’s Chris’s nickname for me, which only my immediate family knows. Dickinson is my mother’s maiden name. But now I can’t be Cricket or Evelyn.”
“I guess you’re Evie again.” Clancy gave her a gentle smile. “At least until we sort this out.”
She blew out air and looked away for a moment, like she was summoning courage. “Before we go any farther, I have to know—did you ever think of me? Even just a little?”
Clancy wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Of course I did. For a very long time.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you ever write me back?”
He took a step away. Apparently, she was serious, which made absolutely no sense. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. He was baffled. “I’m sorry . . . what?”
“Clancy, I’ve missed you. I think I’ve missed you my whole life.”
His pager went off, and before he could answer it, his cell phone rang. Clancy shook off the mind-blurring confusion and retrieved his utility belt off the deck chair. He answered the phone at the same time he checked the beeper.
“Flynn here.”
“Chief, it’s Jake. They’re on their way from the Vineyard. ETA is fifteen minutes. We’re meeting them at the airstrip.”
Clancy spun around on his heels, checking out the horizon. At the same time he motioned for Evie to go inside. “I’m on my way.”
“We were told to expect media, too. Everybody’s got a helicopter these days.”
“Great.” He opened the door for Evie and placed his hand on the small of her back, hurrying her along. She flashed him a confused look but didn’t resist.
“And the congressman is traveling with the FBI.”
Ugh. “On my way.”
Once they were inside, Clancy locked the double doors and jogged into his bedroom to batten down the dog door. He found Evie standing in the kitchen, leaning up against the cabinets, arms crossed.
He walked right over to her. “Listen to me.” Her eyes widened. “Do not leave the house. Do not answer the door for anyone but me.”
“What’s happening?” Her voice sounded shaky.
“Come over here a second.” He took her hand and pulled her with him into the living room. “Look, I’m sorry to be dragging you around but I’ve got very little time.” Clancy yanked on his police department cap and grabbed his keys from the hook, then picked up the costume bags.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a mermaid costume for you and a pirate costume for Jellybean. If, for whatever reason, you think you absolutely must leave the house—as in a dire emergency—these will give you something to hide behind. I don’t know when I’ll be back. You should be able to find stuff to eat.”
“Who was tha
t on the phone?”
He wouldn’t bullshit her. “The FBI and Wahlman are on their way. Please lie low.”
She pulled her lips tight.
“Do you have any hard evidence about how Wahlman gamed the custody system?”
“Not yet.”
He nodded. “We’ll continue our conversation later.” Clancy grabbed her by the upper arms and kissed the bejesus out of her. “But there’s one thing you need to hear before I leave. Please listen to what I’m telling you.”
“Okay.”
“I never got a letter from you, Evie. I didn’t write you back because I never heard from you. I thought you weren’t interested in me. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and was gone.
A bewildered Evie stood in the doorway. He waved to her as he peeled out from the gravel drive.
* * *
Richard always enjoyed the drama inherent in helicopter travel. Disembarking involved ducking to avoid being beheaded, feeling the violent whip of trouser fabric against his legs, and being escorted off across the tarmac or landing pad. Today was no exception.
A few of the local yokel police officers were at the airstrip to meet them. Richard and six FBI agents endured quick greetings and were given the keys to two Jeeps they could use while they were on the island. But it was the same story they’d heard on Martha’s Vineyard—no witness sightings, no photos or smartphone videos, no credit card use, no cell phone pings, no conclusive store videos, and no indication that Evelyn and her niece had ever been there. But they would look anyway.
Special Agent in Charge Teresa Apodaca rattled off a list of questions directed at the head yokel, who seemed friendly and cooperative enough.
“Any reports of squatters in any of the boats in the harbor?”
“No, Agent. Every boat is occupied by owners or rented out during festival week. The marina is fenced and locked. Slip tenants aren’t very welcoming to strangers.”
“Any empty buildings?”
“Some industrial space by the shore is unused. Feel free to check it out for signs of habitation, but it is secure and we do patrol the area. I don’t think it would be the first choice for a woman and child, since there is no power or water and you’d have to scale the walls to access the interior.”