Wanted Woman Read online

  “You must be cold,” he said still holding her clothes out to her, keeping his eyes averted.

  She was cold. Freezing. Her body felt numb from the waist down. She took a step toward him and her clothes afraid she would stumble and seem even more vulnerable. Like being naked in the middle of the river with a cop holding her clothing wasn’t vulnerable enough.

  Looking away, he held out his free hand to her.

  For a moment, she considered ignoring his offer of help. But she knew that would be foolish. Her body ached from the cold water and she had no chance of escape without her clothing.

  She took his hand and let him steady her as she climbed over the rocks, all the time working on a plan of escape. All the time praying he hadn’t already made some deal with Blackmore that involved the Seattle cop taking her back to the city.

  “Nice little town you have here,” she said.

  He nodded, seeming a little amused, and without looking at her, handed her the bra, the white lacy one she’d been wearing the night she went to meet Norman at the pier. She put it on. Jesse seemed to be staring downstream as if completely unaware of and unaffected by her nudity.

  She knew better than that but she liked that he tried damned hard to hide it.

  He handed her the shirt.

  She couldn’t help thinking about his art, about him. He wasn’t like Blackmore. A man she would bet would have leered before he drowned her in the river.

  “You a local?” she asked, buttoning her shirt and trying to get some warmth back into her body. She would need to move fast when she got the chance.

  “Born just down the road,” he said. “I left for a while.”

  He handed her the white matching lace panties, seeming almost a little embarrassed. She balanced on a rock on one foot to pull them on. He held out an arm to steady her, eyes still averted. She accepted his help again, then held out her hand for her jeans.

  He handed them to her and she pulled them on over the panties, buttoned and zipped them.

  “Spent some time in Mexico,” she said.

  He smiled. “My paintings. You seem to know more about me than I know about you.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” she said. “What made you come back to Timber Falls?”

  He shrugged. “I got homesick for something familiar and I missed my family.”

  “Yes.” She certainly knew that feeling. She dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see the tears that suddenly burned her eyes.

  “How’s the ankle?” he asked.

  “Better.”

  He nodded, turning to face her now that she was dressed.

  She pointed to her boots a little farther from the river on the bank. Her socks were sticking out of the top of each boot. He moved out of her way to let her go to them.

  If she could have felt her feet, she might have made a run for it. But she had no chance barefoot and she doubted she could outrun those long legs of his even with her boots on.

  She sat down on a rock along the bank, feeling the sun rising behind her back, the day growing brighter.

  He looked good in his uniform. But she hadn’t missed the gun strapped to his hip. At least he hadn’t drawn it, wasn’t now pointing it at her. But then he might think he had nothing to fear from her.

  Didn’t he realize she would do whatever she had to if he tried to turn her over to Blackmore? Maybe not.

  She slipped on her biking boots, then stood, hands on her hips, feeling warmer. She was still scared but at least dressed she might stand a fighting chance.

  “I thought we should have a little talk,” he said. “You had breakfast yet?”

  “Breakfast?” Was he serious?

  “I know a place that serves great pancakes.”

  She looked down the river for a moment, then at him. “I’d rather not go back into Timber Falls.”

  He smiled. “Not in the daylight, huh. I had a feeling you’d say that. I was thinking we’d avoid town and go to my place.”

  She eyed him and looked around, expecting Detective Blackmore to show up any minute. “You come out here alone?”

  He nodded.

  She studied him. “Why pancakes? Why not just run me in? Or shoot me right here? Better yet, you could have drowned me in the river when you had the chance and no one would be the wiser.”

  He seemed to flinch, those dark eyes widening in surprise. “I know you’re running from something but what would make you think I would want to kill you?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe because the last cop I trusted tried to?”

  His eyes darkened. “Don’t worry. I’m not much of a deputy. I’ve never killed anyone and I’m hoping I don’t have to before this uniform comes off in a couple of months.”

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  He laughed. It was a great sound, deep and rich. It made a humming in her chest like an echo.

  “Look,” he said, “I suspect you’re the kind of woman who seldom needs help, probably doesn’t know how to ask for it even when you do. But I think right now you could use some breakfast—and maybe a good listener.” He held up both hands as if in surrender. “I’ve been in trouble a few times myself. I know how hard it is to trust anyone. Especially a stranger. Especially someone in a uniform.”

  Except he didn’t seem like a stranger. She’d felt safe with him. Her heart told her that if she couldn’t trust this man, she couldn’t trust anyone ever. Suddenly her chest gave as if she’d been holding her breath for days. She fought the tears that stung her eyes. “Pancakes?”

  JESSE SMILED and nodded, seeing her relax a little. “An old family recipe.”

  “Your mother’s?”

  He shook his head. Not likely. “My dad’s. He used to get up every weekend and make pancakes for my brother and me.” He smiled at the memory. “I think it was the only thing he knew how to cook at the time.”

  She returned his smile but he could still see the tension in her body like a coiled spring. He’d have to keep an eye on her. But the tentative smile had made him desperately want to see a real smile. A smile like he’d painted, a smile like he knew she would smile. Eventually. If he could get her to trust him.

  A little voice at the back of his mind warned him he could be all wrong about her. He ignored it. He’d learned a long time ago to live with his heart not his head. It had gotten him into some tight spots that was for damned sure. But it was the way he’d lived his life and he wasn’t about to change that just because he’d put on some uniform.

  “You have what you took from the newspaper and Dennison Ducks?” He was still Timber Falls’ only deputy and Charity would have his hide if he didn’t get her file back. Also he was anxious to see what had been in the locked file cabinet in Wade Dennison’s office.

  She nodded and he walked with her to the tent. Everything he’d felt the first time he’d laid eyes on her was there and then some. The woman had some kind of hold on him. He hated to think what that hold might be—the one thing that would make her off-limits the rest of his life.

  Whatever emotions she evoked in him, that one simple possibility wasn’t something he was likely to forget.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, ducking into the tent with her. It was close quarters inside, but he had to make sure she didn’t have a weapon stashed under the sleeping mat. “Sorry,” he said, after he’d checked and found nothing more lethal than a toothbrush.

  She handed him two files both thick, one from the Cascade Courier, the other from Wade’s personal file cabinet at Dennison Ducks. Wade’s file had just what Daisy said would be in it. All the reports from the investigators they’d hired to find Angela and the biggest prize of all, the DNA test results on Wade and an illegitimate daughter he’d had by the family’s former nanny.

  “Charity will be glad to have these back,” Jesse said of the newspaper clippings.

  “You know Charity Jenkins?”

  He nodded, meeting her gaze. “She’s my soon-to-be sister-in-law. She’s marryi
ng my brother. The sheriff.”

  Maggie tensed. “Your brother’s the sheriff?”

  “Afraid so,” he said with a smile that he hoped would reassure her. “I try not to hold it against him.”

  “Tell me why I should trust you?” she asked, sounding scared again.

  “Because I make great pancakes and I’d bet you haven’t had anything good to eat for a while,” he said. “Also, you need my help.”

  “Do I?” She seemed amused by that. “I thought you just said you weren’t much of a deputy.”

  He laughed. “You’ve got me there.”

  They stepped out of the tent. The sun peeked over the treetops, turning the forest to emerald.

  “Mind if I ask what you’re going to do with me after breakfast?”

  Oh, he had all kinds of thoughts on that subject but none he could act on. “After breakfast you can tell me why you had to rob the newspaper and Dennison Ducks,” he said.

  She eyed him with obvious suspicion. “And then?”

  “And then I do everything in my power to help you.”

  She met his gaze, then nodded slowly. “I believe you mean that.”

  “I do.”

  “I need you to promise me something,” she said and bit down on her lower lip. She had to know he couldn’t make her any promises. “Promise me you won’t turn me over to Detective Blackmore,” she said, her voice breaking.

  She’d said the last cop she’d trusted had tried to kill her. Blackmore? Jesse was in no position to promise her that. Not only was he the law in Timber Falls, he could go to jail for aiding and abetting a criminal, if she turned out to be one.

  He met her gaze and saw fear flashing like madness in her brown eyes. “I promise.”

  Her relief was so profound she seemed to sag under its weight.

  He reached out and gripped her arm to steady her, shocked by the touch of his skin to hers. He let go as if he’d been burned.

  “We’ll break your camp and I’ll come back and take care of your bike,” he said, hoping she hadn’t noticed his reaction to her. “I’m going to have to insist that you come with me in the truck. Not that I don’t trust you.”

  “Right,” she said but smiled at him. He saw that flicker in her gaze. She wanted to like him. The thought warmed him more than it should have.

  BACK AT HIS CABIN, Jesse watched Maggie put away another stack of his pancakes. He’d taken back roads after hiding her bike and thought they would be safe. At least temporarily. He poured them both more orange juice.

  “These are the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten,” she said between bites.

  “Either that or you just haven’t eaten for a while,” he said, smiling across the table at her.

  She stabbed the last bite with her fork, soaked up the butter and syrup from her plate and popped it into her mouth. She looked up at him. Her eyes were several shades lighter than his own, hers rich with gold and ambers.

  He stared into them realizing he hadn’t quite captured her eyes in the painting he’d started of her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “My pleasure. It gave me an excuse to make them.”

  “I’m not talking about the pancakes,” she said quietly. “But the pancakes are amazing.” Her smile brightened the entire room.

  “Wait until you try my dad’s,” he said basking in that smile and all the time hoping she’d be around long enough that she’d get the chance. “It’s his recipe and he’s had years of practice.”

  “Your mother didn’t cook?”

  He smiled at that. “She passed on when I was nine.” Passed on being a mother.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes turned to warm honey. “I lost my mother five years ago. I can’t imagine losing her when I was nine. That must have been very difficult for you. Your dad lives close by?”

  “Just down the road.”

  “I envy you.” She ducked her head in what he figured was an attempt to hide the depth of her pain. “I lost my father two months ago.”

  The plane accident. “I’m sorry. You were close.”

  She looked up again, nodded and seemed to be swallowing back tears.

  “Maggie, let me help you.”

  She got to her feet, scooping up her plate and silverware and taking them over to the sink. “The last man who tried to help me got killed.” She rinsed her dish, then shut off the water and turned to look at him, leaning back against the sink as she did.

  He stared at her for a long moment, then got up and went to the couch and sat. “I’ve always found it’s easier to start at the beginning,” he said. “I haven’t read you your rights so anything you say can’t be used against you in a court of law.”

  “If I tell you, I will be jeopardizing your life,” she said sitting down to face him from the opposite end of the couch.

  “I’ll take my chances,” he said, turning toward her so he could watch her face. “Also the job came with a gun.” He saw that she got his humor. What more could a man ask for?

  “Detective Rupert Blackmore is trying to kill me. I know that sounds crazy….”

  “I’ve heard crazier stories.”

  She cocked her head at him. “Well, try this one on for size then. The reason he’s trying to kill me is because I’m Angela Dennison.”

  He nodded.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  He wished he didn’t. “Why don’t you tell me why you think you’re Angela.”

  Maggie took a breath and told him everything, starting with the fact that her parents had always told her she was adopted. She told him about the plane crash that killed her father, the conversation Norman Drake overhead just before her father’s attorney Clark Iverson was murdered, the phone call from Norman demanding ten thousand dollars in return for proof that her father’s plane crash wasn’t an accident, her call to Detective Rupert Blackmore and finally what had happened the night at the pier.

  “Whoever was behind my kidnapping has successfully kept it a secret for twenty-seven years,” she told him. “They thought they were safe. If my father hadn’t found out and decided I needed to know the truth…”

  “Why do you think he did that?” Jesse asked.

  She shook her head. “He hadn’t been well since my mother died.” Her voice trailed off. “I think he was worried that if I didn’t know…”

  “That once he was gone, the kidnapper might show up.”

  “My family is fairly wealthy,” she said as if it were some dirty, dark secret she wished she could keep.

  Fairly wealthy. He smiled at her obvious understatement. “And you’re the only child.”

  She nodded and met Jesse’s gaze. “You knew this already,” she whispered, her eyes widening with fear.

  Jesse quickly said, “I knew some of it, but not all of it. I ran your bike plate. There’s an APB out on you. You’re wanted for questioning in both Clark Iverson’s and Norman Drake’s murders.”

  She let out a cry and was on her feet. “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “I believe you.”

  She stopped moving, stared down at him. “Detective Blackmore was at Dennison Ducks last night. He almost caught me.” She moved to the window to look out as if she half expected him to be coming up the road right now. “It’s just a matter of time before he shows up on the pretext of taking me back for questioning. If you hand me over to him, I’ll never make it back to Seattle alive.”

  “You’re positive the man on the pier was Blackmore? You’d seen him before?” Jesse asked.

  She nodded as she turned to look back him. “His photo was in the paper.” Her gaze pleaded that he believe her. “He’d been given some award for bravery in the line of the duty. I know now that’s why Norman didn’t go to the police. He said he didn’t recognize the voice of the man who killed Clark Iverson. I didn’t believe him. Now I know why he lied.”

  “You think he recognized Blackmore?”

  She nodded and sat down again on the end of the couch. “When I told Norman
that I’d called the detective on the case, he went ballistic. Just seconds later Norman was shot and killed and…” Her voice trailed off. “Just before I rolled off the pier using Norman’s body as a shield, I saw the killer. It was Blackmore.”

  Jesse didn’t bother to ask why she hadn’t gone straight to the police. Or the FBI. For the same reason Norman hadn’t. She feared she wouldn’t be believed and with good reason. What did Blackmore have to gain by killing her and the lawyer and his assistant while Maggie had just inherited a fortune.

  Her story would spark an investigation. If this cop really was a killer, he was too smart to leave a trail. Instead, the heir who’d just inherited would be the number one suspect.

  The plane crash would suddenly be suspect. The facts in Clark Iverson’s death and Norman Drake’s could be twisted just enough to make Maggie Randolph look like a greedy adopted only child who couldn’t wait for her last parent to die to get the money. She had to get rid of her father’s attorney because he’d become suspicious and Norman Drake had heard her kill him and was blackmailing her. That would explain the money in her saddlebag and the fact that Norman went swimming with the fishes.

  Any other woman and Jesse might have believed it himself. But not Maggie.

  “There is something I need to tell you,” he said and he saw her tense. “I ran your prints after the newspaper break-in. I suspected Blackmore had inquiries about you tagged so he would know about them immediately. That could be how he found out where you were.”

  She shook her head and reached over to touch his hand.

  He jumped at her touch, both startled and uncomfortable by it, and jerked his hand back.

  If she noticed, she didn’t say anything as she was quickly on her feet and pacing again. “He knew I would come to Timber Falls once he realized I was alive. I’m sure he realized that when Norman’s body washed up and mine didn’t. He will contact you for help.” She looked at Jesse for his agreement.

  Jesse shook his head. “If he was going to, I would have heard from him by now.”

  She took a shaky breath. “You think he plans to take care of me himself without involving you?”

  “It certainly looks that way.”

  She shook her head. “I just don’t understand what it is that he’s afraid I’ll find out. That I’m Angela Dennison? In that case, it’s too late. Or that I’ll find proof that he was behind my kidnapping?”