In the Running Page 5

  “Thanks again, Bronwyn,” she said, indicating the fresh bandages. “Don’t worry about Matt’s supper.”

  “You rest,” Bronwyn ordered. “Matt’s not helpless.”

  Maura gave her a lopsided smile. “Neither am I. I am a cook, you know.”

  The two women shared a long look. Bronwyn nodded.

  “See you in the morning, then,” she said.

  A few hours later, Maura looked longingly at the bed in Matt’s father’s room. She’d had a busy afternoon. Matt had told Bronwyn he’d be back to make dinner at five. Her face relaxed into a smug, albeit weary, smile. He wouldn’t have to cook.

  She was exhausted but proud of preparing that one small meal, considering the limited number of ingredients in Matt’s kitchen. Her feeling of accomplishment was out of all proportion to the size of the job, but it was the first situation she’d been able to control since she’d found that manila envelope.

  What could it hurt if she put her head down for a minute or two? Dinner would be fine in the warming oven for a while and Matt would waken her when he returned.

  She was drifting off to sleep when a resounding clang and a repeated thumping sound brought her to her feet. Someone was breaking down the outside door that led to the mudroom that adjoined the kitchen. Bronwyn must have recognized her, after all. Jon was on the other side of one flimsy wall!

  She had to get out of here. She wasn’t far from the front door. But she had no idea where to run. Jon could have someone outside that door waiting to catch her. Even if she did get away, she’d freeze to death, wearing only cotton sweats and socks.

  The thumping stopped.

  She held her breath and listened. She heard nothing. Why had they quit? Had they succeeded in breaking down the door? Or were they coming around to the front? She strained to hear, but could identify only the whirring of the furnace fan pushing hot air through the vents and the ticking of the Grandfather clock in the living room. She could pick out no sound of footsteps or voices inside the house or out.

  Maura looked wildly around the bedroom for something to protect herself with. The kitchen! There was a chef’s knife in the block on the counter. She could grab it, then find a place to hide.

  Maura tiptoed silently through the living room keeping close to the short wall it shared with the kitchen. Her stockinged feet made no noise, but her heartbeat was so loud she was sure it could be heard all over the house. She stopped at the archway to the kitchen.

  She hadn’t imagined the noise. Where were the intruders? She peered into the empty room, then dashed to the counter. The familiar heft of the large chef’s knife felt good. This was something she could defend herself with - if it came to that.

  Whoever had tried to break in seemed to have gone. But she was still going to find a hiding place upstairs - preferably in a room that had a telephone. If Jon’s people had already found her, there was no longer any reason to avoid the police.

  As she turned to head towards the living room, she heard a cautious footstep in the mudroom a few feet away.

  Chapter Five

  The dim afternoon light was fading into darkness as Matt hurried toward the house. He flexed his cold fingers. He’d kept at his scraping and sanding almost an hour longer than usual. The forty-foot mahogany hull of his newfound treasure was almost ready for her first coat of varnish. Gus had promised to take a few hours off on Thursday to give him a hand.

  The thought of Gus brought rushing back the questions he’d resolutely pushed out of his mind all day. Who was suddenly dead? In the throes of her nightmare, Reenie had been frantic about the discovery that some man was dead. He’d heard panic in her voice, real fear for her own safety. Her story about the death of her dog showed quick thinking but it didn’t wash. Had she killed a man?

  Reenie Kelly was feisty but he didn’t think she could kill anyone. At least, not intentionally. How about in a robbery gone wrong? What was in that tapestry handbag? Even semi-conscious in the Jeep while he was checking her injuries, she’d kept the bag clutched in one hand.

  He was confident he could find out if the police were looking for her without asking Gus directly. His old sailing buddy liked to ramble on while the two of them were working on the boat. One mention of the kidnapping of Bronwyn’s idol’s girlfriend and Gus would be off and running about all the missing persons his ridiculously overworked sheriff’s department was supposed to be alert for. He’d be easy to pump.

  The warm glow of the kitchen light shone through the snow that was beginning to sift down. Opening the door to the mudroom beside the kitchen, he was met by a wonderful aroma. Bronwyn must have found time to put dinner in the slow cooker before she left. Nothing had ever smelled so good.

  He glanced into the empty kitchen. There were two placemats on the knotty pine table, set with cutlery and two water glasses. Bronwyn must think that Reenie was well enough to get up to eat.

  He grabbed clean underwear, plaid shirt and jeans out of the set of drawers in the mudroom where he and Pete kept a change of clothes and hurried into the adjacent washroom. A quick shower to get the sawdust out of his pores and he’d go check on Reenie.

  Only minutes later, he emerged barefoot, wearing jeans that he’d zipped but not yet buttoned, vigorously toweling his hair. Before he’d taken two steps into the kitchen, he knew he wasn’t alone.

  Reenie was leaning against the counter, her right arm down by her side. In her hand was a wicked-looking kitchen knife. She looked about ready to collapse.

  “I didn’t know it was you. I heard crashing and banging. I thought someone was breaking in.” The whisper rasped with residual fear.

  “I’m sorry.” He should have warned her before he got into the shower. “I forgot how loud that racket the pipes make sounds in Pete’s room.”

  He dropped the towel and went to her.

  “It’s all right, Reenie.” He pried the knife out of her fingers and laid it on the counter. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Resisting the temptation to pull her into his arms, he placed his hand lightly on her back and guided her to a chair at the end of the table.

  “I overreacted,” she said, with an embarrassed little grimace.

  Her left eye was almost swollen shut and the bruises on her forehead and cheek were more vivid than they had been that morning, but even so, she was lovely. When her injuries healed, she would be breathtaking. Of course, he reminded himself, she’d probably be far away by then.

  “I’m not quite back to normal,” she said, shrugging off his hand and starting towards the stove. “But I’m getting there. I’ll have your dinner ready in twenty minutes.”

  “You?”

  The twinkle in her eye and the self-satisfied smirk on her delectable-looking lips told him she was enjoying his reaction.

  “Hunters’ chicken,” she announced almost jauntily. “I’m afraid I opened your last can of tomato paste. I couldn’t find the pasta so we’re having potatoes instead.”

  He stared at her in amazement. She must have pushed herself to the limit to explore the contents of the kitchen.

  “I told you cooking is what I do.”

  “It smells wonderful. But you were supposed to be resting.”

  “I want to do my share,” she stated. “The least I can do is cook your meals while I’m under your roof.”

  Before he could start thinking of the reasons why he should not be so glad that she wasn’t planning to leave the second she was strong enough, he grasped her long graceful fingers with their no-nonsense short fingernails in both hands and drew her back to the table.

  “Deal,” he said. “But right now, I want you to sit down.”

  Reenie’s fingertips were trembling. She was exhausted, and he could tell her nerves were about at the snapping point. It was all he could do not to wrap her sexy little body in his arms and kiss her until he’d wiped her mind clear of all her fears. Instead, he dropped her hands and read himself the same old lecture again. There was too much unexplained about
Reenie Kelly to give in to his sudden infatuation with her. He wasn’t a randy kid any more. All he really knew about the woman was that she was frightened.

  “Tell me what to do,” Matt said, more emphatically than he had intended. “You cooked. I’ll do the serving and clean up duty.”

  For a moment, Reenie looked as if she was about to object, then she gave an exasperated sigh and sat down. He retrieved his shirt from the mudroom, yanked it on and hurried back to her.

  There wasn’t much left to do and Reenie’s instructions were clear. Ten minutes later, he was seated opposite her.

  Before the agency had yanked Matt out of the field to take advantage of his knack for following the devious money trails of international terrorist organizations, he had worked in the most sophisticated cities of the world and eaten in some famous restaurants. He’d never had a chicken dish that surpassed this one. Reenie hadn’t lied about her experience in a kitchen. She had a delicate touch with herbs and garlic. The parsleyed potatoes were firm with just a trace of butter and the tossed salad crisp and tangy.

  “I’m impressed,” Matt told her sincerely when he’d tasted everything on his plate. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  Maura didn’t see why she shouldn’t tell him some of the truth. “My parents had a restaurant. I grew up in the kitchen.”

  “I should have known by the amount of chicken you cooked.”

  The man with the granite face was wearing an easy smile and actually teasing her. She hadn’t been wrong about the impact of his smiles.

  “It reheats well,” she replied with a wry smile of her own.

  “When you said you didn’t have any family…” Matt hesitated. He appeared to be uncomfortable prying but his compelling dark eyes held hers. “Did you mean your parents don’t live in the area?”

  “My parents died in a boating accident when I was fifteen. I lived with my grandmother for the next three years,” she told him, then blurted out her first lie. “She’s gone now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  To her relief, Matt turned his attention back to his meal. Even though he wasn’t looking at her, Maura felt the magnetic energy that seemed to surround him. Perhaps it was her own current lack of vitality that made him so attractive. She managed to eat a few bites of chicken and a piece of potato before she had to give in to her fatigue.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll take you up on your offer to clear away and head back to bed,” she told him. “Finish your dinner.”

  Matt pushed back his chair.

  “No, don’t get up,” she protested.

  “After tasting your cooking, I don’t want you to get dizzy and wipe out on the hardwood floor,” he said, taking her elbow firmly in his large, warm hand. “This service is purely selfish.”

  For once, it was good to be able to lean on someone else’s strength. Maybe this warm, cherished feeling explained why some of her friends were happy with men she’d always considered overbearing. She told herself not to get carried away. She and Matt would have only these few days together. But he wouldn’t be easy to forget.

  They crossed the few feet to the ground floor bedroom too quickly.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Bronwyn left one of your tee shirts for me to sleep in and I keep a toothbrush in my bag.”

  “Leave your door open. I’ll look in on you later.”

  She’d never be able to sleep if she thought he was hovering outside her door.

  “Why don’t you go to Bronwyn’s meeting,” she suggested. “I’m sure I’ll sleep like a baby. You don’t have to watch over me.”

  “Madam Chairman will tell me what happened. If you need me, I’ll be here.” Matt’s voice sounded even huskier than usual.

  He took a step closer and cradled her jaw in his hard hands. Maura met his gaze for a long intense moment, mesmerized by the heat in his eyes. When he inclined his head as if he were going to kiss her, she didn’t have the will power to resist. She simply looked up at him and waited. But, instead of kissing her, Matt brushed his thumb gently across her lips, once, then again. Every sensitized nerve in her lips ached for the completion of the kiss.

  “Sleep well,” he said, gruffly, and turned on his heel.

  Maura stood, like an infatuated adolescent, clutching Matt’s I’d Rather Be Sailing shirt to her breast and admiring the set of his broad shoulders and the action of his well-muscled buttocks under his worn jeans until he turned the corner into the kitchen. She had to grin at her own unabashed ogling. Well, she’d lost everything else. Why be surprised that she was losing her sanity?

  Next morning, she woke from a long dreamless sleep to find that the throbbing in her head was almost gone. She sat up without a trace of dizziness. When her worries came flooding back, she felt almost ready to deal with them.

  After all, that birch branch didn’t seem to have inflicted any permanent damage. And she’d actually been capable of putting a meal on the table last night. Any time now, she’d be able to get a job. As soon as she had a little money, she could get far away from Michigan and start a new life.

  She only wished she could figure out how to see that Jon didn’t get away scot-free. There had to be a way.

  Through the closed bedroom door, she could hear voices. Either Matt had the radio on in the living room or his sister had arrived. Oh, Lord, Bronwyn! There was hardly a community in Michigan that didn’t have a branch of the Good Earth League, but it was rotten luck that Matt’s sister should be the chairperson of the local committee. Even so, Bronwyn probably didn’t know Jon well enough to mention the accident victim in her father’s house to him. Most of her dealings would probably be with Walt Ames. Maura didn’t know if that was much better. Jon’s right hand man had been one of the four men in Danny’s office on Sunday night.

  Moreover, appeasing angry GEL members was bound to be fairly low on Jon’s list of priorities right now. Before he did anything else, he had a fiancée to kill.

  But, he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t find her, could he?

  She could smell bacon and coffee. She should get up and find out what Bronwyn’s GEL committee had decided to do about Jon’s betrayal of their cause. She liked the thought that Jon’s shining armor was beginning to appear tarnished to other people.

  She frowned at her scruffy reflection in the mirror as she washed her face and hands. Maybe she shouldn’t wash her dingy brown hair, but she was going to have a shower sometime today whether Bronwyn approved or not!

  She pulled on the large navy sweatshirt and her own laundered jeans that she guessed Bronwyn had left on the dresser. Not all the bloodstains had come out; but at least, these pant cuffs weren’t dragging on the floor. Nevertheless, with the shirt’s sagging neckline and the sleeves hanging to her fingertips, she still looked a little like Charlie Chaplin after a mugger had finished with him. Good thing she wasn’t trying to attract anyone.

  When she opened the door, she caught the end of Bronwyn’s sentence. “… tell I was upset so Walt is going to call me at this number when he gets to Millbridge.”

  “What can he say?” Matt commented. “Your fearless leader threw in the towel.”

  Walt Ames was coming to Millbridge! Maura wheeled back into the bedroom. He’d recognize her in a minute. He saw her or talked to her on the phone almost every day. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Maybe she could fool him if she didn’t speak - and if she wore the reading glasses. Was there a chance she’d shoved them into her purse? She dived at the bed, reached under a pillow, pulled out her handbag and yanked the drawstring open. She had the plastic eyeglass case in her hand when she heard someone come into the room.

  She spun around.

  “I thought you were coming in to join us,” Matt said. His eyes were fixed on her open purse.

  She flourished the case at him.

  “I’d forgotten my glasses.” She took out the rimless half glasses, perched them on her nose and turned back to
push the manila envelope back down into her bag and pull the drawstring closed. “I thought Bronwyn might let me read her newspaper.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Matt’s reaction. He tilted his head and studied her face for a full second. Then he nodded.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Well, that was informative. Did that mean she looked good in glasses? Or did he agree with her own assessment that she looked like the skinny spinster hen in the old TV cartoons?

  “I’m cooking this morning,” he informed her. “Can you handle toast, bacon and scrambled eggs? With Bronwyn’s peach marmalade?”

  All of a sudden, she was ravenous.

  “Oh, yes,” she said and smiled broadly for the first time in at least three days.

  Matt got an odd look on his face, then quickly averted his eyes. No wonder. She probably looked like a gargoyle grimacing.

  “I looked in on you when I got here,” Bronwyn told her. “But you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you. Sit here and take off your glasses.”

  She patted the sofa beside her. Wielding her penlight, she peered into Maura’s eyes.

  “Matt told me you cooked a great meal last night. Too soon, of course. But, you don’t look any the worse for doing it.”

  “Frankly, I’m not great at spending my time resting and watching soaps,” she paraphrased.

  “Touché.” Bronwyn’s open grin was appealing. Under other circumstances, Maura thought they might become good friends.

  “So what was decided at the GEL meeting?” she asked.

  “Jon Casen’s spin doctor is coming to pour oil on troubled waters,” Matt answered, entering the room bearing a tray.

  “Not funny. Too much stuff is already being poured on the waters,” Bronwyn retorted. “And Walt Ames is coming to town today because he wants to explain Jon’s strategy in person.”