After working up a sweat, Anthony left the spare bedroom and headed for the master bathroom. He needed to take a shower. He could hear the water running in the bathroom and wondered for a split second how long he'd been using his dumbbells. He grabbed some clothes from the dresser and headed for the guest bath. He wouldn't deny Christy her long shower. Hot showers were something he enjoyed. He stood under the spray and let the warmth soak in and soothe his tired shoulders. He smiled when he thought about her offer to make him a grilled cheese sandwich.
Thoughts of her being nude in his shower invaded his mind, and he quickly turned the hot water faucet off. After a good dousing of cold water, he dried off and got dressed. He headed for the kitchen. She wasn't there. He walked back to the master bathroom and noticed her suitcase was still on his bed. He knocked on the bathroom door. No answer. He called her name. No answer. He knocked again. He yelled for her and after still not getting an answer, he jiggled the handle. It was locked. Stepping back, he kicked hard and the door flew open. He lunged in. She wasn't there.
Anthony Bear never panicked, but there was no denying that he was feeling an unsettling in his soul. He reached in his back pocket. The Volkswagen keys he'd removed from his jeans and transferred to the clean pair were still there, as were his truck keys. She couldn't have left, she had to be in the house. After searching the obvious places, he made a mad dash for the front door. He flung it open and stood there staring at the empty spot where her Rabbit had been parked. He charged toward his truck and after rounding the front of it he noticed the ice pick plunged there that was slowly deflating the front tire. A picture of himself with an ice pick protruding from his heart floated through his mind as he headed for his office. Was it the ice pick she could've stabbed him with in his sleep or the ice pick that pierced his heart at the thought of her falling in to the wrong hands? He could get on his bike or take his other car, but he had a more urgent matter. He needed to let X know the hunt for Christy Chapman was now a real one and it was imperative that his men find her before someone else did. Because he realized that his soul wasn't feeling unsettled knowing that she was gone. It was feeling empty.
He approached the phone on his desk and thought about Christy and all the emotions she'd managed to stir inside of him. Emotions he didn't know existed until she drove up to the Chapman mansion in her borrowed Corvette. Sure, he'd understood feelings like hate, greed, and bias. Even indifference. He never once cared what anybody thought about him. But the thought that Christy feared him enough to risk driving away brought an ache to his chest that he'd not felt since the day he decided to run away from his uncle's home so many years ago. Earlier today, he tried to avoid the thought that she'd gotten under his skin. It was only hours later and he was already admitting that she was taking up space in his heart, too.
He reached for the phone and noticed what was propped up against it. A blank check made out to Anthony Bear and signed by Christy Chapman.
Suddenly, it dawned on him that no amount of money could pay for what he really wanted.
And what he really wanted was Christy Chapman.
He spun around and gazed out his office window. "Why’d you run, Princess? Where are you going?"
Chapter Fifteen
Naples, Florida 1978
Pressing on the accelerator, Christy pushed the limits of her little car and didn't stop checking the rearview mirror until she'd finally turned off the long winding road that led away from Anthony's lonely ranch house. She'd been subconsciously calculating her options and supposed that Detective Cochran had broadcasted an alert for her white Rabbit. And more than likely, Anthony would do the same. They would be looking north of Naples. She made a quick and last-minute decision to head over the Alley to the east coast of Florida. She knew her bank had branches over there. She would hit up a store for some hair dye and clothes, get a hotel room and when the banks opened in the morning she would withdraw some money. She’d ditch her car and get a cab to a small private airport tomorrow. Once there, she would anonymously charter a jet. She was certain that the right amount of cash paid to the right pilot would guarantee her privacy. She wasn't sure where she would go, but she had the hour and a half drive over the Alley to think about it.
It was dark now, and she was grateful the ominous clouds that had threatened at Anthony's hadn't followed her. She used the drive to reflect on the man she'd left behind and her decision to leave him a signed blank check. She didn't know how much Van owed Anthony, but she secretly hoped there was enough in her account to cover it. She didn't want Anthony coming after her. At least that's what she told herself.
She turned on her radio and frowned when she heard The Bee Gees "How Deep Is Your Love." She switched stations and "Heard It in a Love Song" floated through the speakers. I'm not in the mood to hear love songs! she screamed in her head. She went through three more stations rejecting each one before finally deciding to try her favorite oldies station. “Stop! In the Name of Love” was just finishing up and was immediately followed by Paul Revere & the Raiders “Indian Reservation.”
“Seriously?” she asked herself out loud looking heavenward. Turning off her radio she tried to concentrate on the road and block any thoughts of the man whose dark eyes haunted her. The man she'd tried to placate with a blank check. The man whose stare rivaled the menacing clouds she’d escaped. The man who'd held her fevered body in a cold shower. Who'd taken her to see her newborn nephew and had eaten lunch with her extended family. Who'd taken her to Abby's grave.
She hmphed when she remembered he was protecting his investment. He was a killer who did what needed doing. She was nothing more than another job to him. She knew it was true, but couldn't deny there was a longing in her soul that for a millisecond of time, convinced her that she saw something in his eyes hinting it could be more. Shaking off the ridiculous notion, she grabbed her Fleetwood Mac tape and shoved it in the eight-track player and turned up the volume. "Over My Head" blasted through the speakers. Yes, I am, she thought as she sped through the murky night.
It wasn't until she was about twenty miles from exiting Alligator Alley that she noticed the fuel light. She was running low, but was certain she could make it. There had to be a gas station at the end of the Alley. She was more than disappointed after discovering she was wrong and a small sense of panic started to seep in. It was pitch black and there wasn't a headlight in sight. Taking a calming breath, she told herself she would drive as far as possible, walk or hitch to the closest gas station and either get a ride back to her car or to a hotel.