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“They tell me you helped rescue Evan,” he said, his lips thin as he glared at her. “I guess I owe you thanks, and … I’m sorry for giving you so much grief.”
Any apology, however reluctant, was the last thing she’d expected. “No matter what you think of me, Steve, I couldn’t just sit around and let something happen to Evan.”
Evan glanced across at her. He knew, as she did, that the police would never have found him. Not in time to save his life.
Steve’s sun-browned face held a hint of malice. “As you did to your husband, you mean?”
She sighed. Trust him to bring the subject up with the police and the FBI in the room. “He physically and mentally abused me, Steve, and I have the scars to prove it.” She hesitated, then shrugged away the rise of guilt.
She’d paid for the mistake she’d made that day—through isolation, loneliness, and fear—and it never seemed to be enough. And yet, if she had the chance to undo the past, she wouldn’t.
“That’s no justification for killing him.”
She lowered her gaze from his. “I didn’t kill him. The fire did.”
“The fire that you lit.”
Yes, the fire was hers, but she’d just wanted him to stop, to leave her alone. She briefly closed her eyes, then repeated the same old lie. “It was an accident, Steve.” She shrugged. The scorn in his face told her he would never believe her, no matter what she said. “And it’s not important now. You should be worried about Evan, not about my past.”
He frowned, sudden worry replacing the contempt in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“The woman has already taken Evan once from your home. What makes you think she can’t do it again?”
He snorted. “If she has any brains, she’ll be on the run. She has to know the net is closing in on her.”
“Are you willing to bet your son’s life on that?” She could tell by his suddenly defensive stance that he wasn’t. “Take Evan and Jayne and go on a vacation. Don’t tell anyone where. Just get the hell out of here, and keep Evan safe.”
She pushed the coffee mug away and rose. “Am I able to leave yet?” she asked, glancing across at Mack.
He nodded, then frowned when Steve snorted. “For the moment. But if you happen to see Barnett, tell him I need to ask him some questions.”
She nodded and dragged her sodden coat off the back of the chair. “I don’t suppose you can give me a lift back to the motel?”
“I can take you,” Steve growled.
Getting into the car with her brother-in-law was the last thing her headache needed. The light in his eyes told her he hadn’t yet said everything he’d come here to say. Even the ten-minute trip to the motel would be too much time spent in his company. She shook her head. “No. I meant it when I suggested running, Steve. The sooner you get away from this place, the better.” She glanced down at Evan. “I’ll talk to you when I get home.”
If I get home, she thought, and followed the FBI agent from the room.
* * *
DUSK WAS BEGINNING TO CREEP ACROSS THE SKY BY THE time she got back to the motel. Maddie kept a careful eye on the shadows as she made her way across the parking lot. Though she knew Eleanor wasn’t likely to leap out at her, there was an uneasiness to the bitter wind that made her nerves tingle.
Something felt wrong. She just wasn’t entirely sure what.
The room was dark when she entered, but it wasn’t empty. She could feel Jon’s presence, a warmth that surrounded her as securely as a cloak.
“Don’t turn on the light,” he said softly.
His voice came from the direction of the beds and was edged with exhaustion. She frowned and locked the door before she walked across to the bed.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized that he wasn’t wearing much beyond boxer shorts—and a huge bandage on the upper part of his well-muscled left thigh.
“Are you okay? What happened?” she asked, sudden concern making her stomach churn.
“I’m fine. Hank just stuck a knife into me.”
His tone was touched with reluctance, as if he didn’t want to discuss the matter. Her frown deepened. The uneasiness she’d felt walking across the parking lot was nothing compared to the tension suddenly filling the room. “And what happened to Hank?”
