White lies

There was a tall, black-haired man standing next to the helicopter, surveying the scene with grim, narrowed eyes. Lucas walked straight to him. "You took a chance, setting us up in your own cabin," he snapped.

Kell Sabin looked around the meadow. "It was a calculated risk. I had to do it to find the mole. Once the location of the cabin was leaked, I knew who it was, because access to that information is very controlled." He shrugged. "I can find another vacation spot."

"The mole blew my cover?"

"Yeah. Until then, I had no idea he was there." Sabin’s voice was icy, his eyes like cold black fire.

"So why the masquerade? Why drag Jay into it?"

"To keep Piggot from finding out you were alive. Your cover was blown. He knew about your family, and he’s been willing in the past to use someone’s family to get to them. I was trying to buy time, to keep everyone safe until Piggot surfaced and we could get to him."

Sabin looked up at the trees behind the cabin. "I assume he won’t be bothering us again."

"Or anyone else."

"That was your last job. You’re out of it."

"Damn straight," Lucas agreed. "I’ve got better things to do, like get married and start a family."

Suddenly Sabin grinned, and the coldness left his eyes. Few people saw Sabin like that, only the ones who could call themselves his friends. "The bigger they are," he jibed, and left the rest of the old saw unsaid. "Have you told her yet?"

"She already knew. She figured it out while I was still in the hospital."

Sabin frowned. "What? She didn’t say anything. How did she know?"

"My eyes. They’re a different shade of brown than Crossfield’s."

"Hell. A little thing like that. And she still went along with it?"

"I think she figured out that the whole thing was to protect me."

"Women," Sabin said softly, thinking of his own wife, who had fought like a tigress to save his life when he’d been a stranger to her. It didn’t surprise him that Jay Granger had put herself on the line to protect Lucas.

Lucas rubbed his jaw. "She doesn’t even mind this ugly mug."

"The surgeons did what they could. Your face was smashed." Then Sabin grinned again. "You were too pretty anyway."

The two men stood and watched the mopping up process, their faces becoming grim again at the loss of life. Three men were dead, counting Piggot, and four more were in custody. "I’ll notify your family that you’re alive," Sabin finally said. "I’m sorry they had to go through this, but with Piggot on the loose, it was safer for you, and all of them, as well, if the charade was played out. It’s over now. Collect Jay from wherever you’ve stashed her, and we’ll get the two of you out of here."

Lucas looked at him, and slowly the blood drained out of his face. "She hasn’t called Frank?" he asked hoarsely.

Sabin went still. "No. Where is she?"

"She was supposed to drive to the next town, check into a motel and call Frank. Damn it to hell!" Lucas turned and ran for the shed, with Sabin right beside him. Suddenly he felt cold all over. There was a possibility Piggot could have gotten to Jay before coming here, as well as the slightly less terrifying possibility that she could have had an accident. God in heaven, where was she?

After leaving Lucas, Jay simply drove, automatically following the highway signs picked out by the headlight beams, and eventually wound up on U.S. 24, the highway that they had taken to Colorado Springs. She turned in the opposite direction. She didn’t pay any attention to the tune; she just kept driving. U.S. 24 took her through Leadville, and finally she connected with I-70. She took a right, toward Denver.

The sun came up, shining right into her eyes. She was nearly out of gas. She got off at the next exit and had the tank filled.

It would be over by now.

Exhaustion pulled at her, but she couldn’t stop. If she ever stopped, she would have to think, and right now she couldn’t bear it. She checked her money. She didn’t have much–a little over sixty dollars–but she had her credit cards. That would get her back to New York, to the only home she had left, the only refuge.

I-70 went straight to Stapleton International Airport in Denver. Jay parked the Jeep and entered the terminal, carefully noting where she had parked so she could tell Frank where to retrieve his vehicle. She bought her ticket first, and was lucky enough to get on a flight leaving within the hour. Then she found a pay phone and called Frank.

He answered in the middle of the first ring. "Frank, it’s Jay." She identified herself in a numb monotone. "Is it over?"

"Where the hell are you?" he screamed.

"Denver."

"Denver! What are you doing there? You were supposed to call me hours ago! Luke is tearing the damned place up, and we have every cop in Colorado prowling the highways looking for you."

Her heart lightened, the terrible dread lifting from it. "He’s all right? He isn’t hurt?"

"He’s fine. He took a little nick on the arm, but nothing a Band-Aid won’t cover. Look, exactly where are you? I’ll have you picked up–"

"Is it over?" she asked insistently. "Is it really over?"

"Piggot? Yeah, it’s over. Luke got him. Tell me where you are and–"

"I’m glad." Her legs wouldn’t support her much longer; she sagged against the wall. "Take… take care of him."

"My God, don’t hang up!" Frank yelled, the words shrieking in her ear. "Where are you?"

"Don’t worry," she managed to say. "I can get home by myself." Totally forgetting the Jeep, she hung up the phone, then went into the ladies’ rest room and splashed cold water on her face. As she pulled a brush through her hair she noticed the pallor of her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. "You guys sure know how to show a lady a good time," she murmured to her reflection, drawing several startled glances her way.