Cold Comfort (39 page)

Stahl leaned against the barn, watching him. He looked toward the trees where she hid. "Up there. See the tracks?"

Trapp started toward her.

Now or never. Claire twisted sideways and gripped the gun behind her. She squinted through her good eye, aimed by the feel of the gun, and pulled at the trigger. Her stiff fingers couldn't do it. Gritting her teeth, she tried again. The shot jerked the gun in her hand, but she held on.

Trapp spun, slipped, and fell back in the snow. Had she hit him? No, she thought, ducking behind the tree, only scared him.

Stahl dived behind the car door, spewing expletives like a burst sewer pipe. He fired two shots into the trees. "How did she get a gun, Trapp?"

"Don't kill her. She's mine. I owe the bitch," Trapp said.

Forcing everything else from her mind, she concentrated on Trapp, braced herself against the tree. She twisted to the right and fired again, doing her best to aim. The snow kicked up close to Trapp. Her ears rang, her vision blurred. How long could she keep this up?
As
long as it takes. As long as I have bullets.

Crouched in the snow, Trapp raised his gun and cursed again. "She can't shoot worth shit, and she's alone."

* * *

The three men in the speeding car watched the road in silence. Riley put fresh magazines in his gun and Will's. He leaned so far forward he was practically in the front seat, straining to see ahead. Claire's face replaced Nadia's in his mind. He knew Will was going as fast as he dared. How much farther? Jennings guided them through a series of back roads surely and without hesitation. They'd never have found it without him.

"Take the next road to the left. The house is about three hundred yards on the right," Jennings said.

Will slowed. He cut the lights and turned. They saw the driveway ahead. He lowered the windows. "Listen," he whispered.

They heard nothing.

He stopped at the foot of the winding drive, blocking it. "Sir, you stay in the car."

Riley was already out, running silently forward. Will followed. A shot rang out. One, two, coming from beyond the house. Riley gained the wall of the house, peered around the corner. A grove of firs blocked his view. He saw Will at the far corner of the house. Will would circle around on the far side of the trees and he would go straight in, following the driveway. Car tracks showed clearly in the snow.

A third shot sounded, then another. Riley charged, abandoning caution.
She's alive
. From the corner of his eye, he saw Will running toward the other side of the trees. Riley reached the outer edge of the copse, saw Trapp crouched behind the car, holding his leg. A trail of blood stained the snow. Yes! She hit him.

Trapp raised his gun, pointing into the trees.
Where is she?
Riley stopped and took aim, fired. Trapp jerked backward into the snow. At the same time, another shot came from the trees, kicked up snow and dirt in front of the Mercedes. Claire. A third sounded like an echo from beyond the trees
—
Will.

Frankie Stahl, hiding behind the Mercedes, threw up his hands. "Don't shoot, don't shoot!"

"Claire! Stay where you are
—
don't come out." He didn't know if Trapp was out or what Stahl might do. He started forward. No response from Claire.

Trapp rolled and raised his gun.

Riley fired, and Trapp slumped into the snow.

Will's car came barreling around the corner of the house. It slid to a stop and the senator leaped from the car. "Where is she? Is she hurt?"

Riley followed her trail in the snow, ran as hard as he'd ever run in his life. Blood drummed in his ears. She wasn't far in. He spotted her bare foot sticking out from behind a large fir.
Please, let her be alive.

He skidded around the tree to find her lying on her side in the snow, the gun only a few inches from her bound hands. He dropped to his knees beside her, felt for a pulse. She was so cold! Her icy purple hands
—
the tie restricted her circulation. He damned Trapp and Stahl with every curse he'd ever heard, sliced the tie with his pocketknife. As he slid his arms under her, her head rolled back, exposing the side of her face and her eye. Blind rage swept through him. If they weren't dead, he'd snap their necks with his bare hands. Lifting her carefully, he breathed deeply in the cold air, forcing himself to stay calm. "Get the car up here! She's alive."

How could he let this happen? Of all the people he'd been able to help and keep safe, why hadn't he been able to care for the two who were most innocent, least able to help themselves? He knew he'd never had a chance to save Nadia, but he should have been able to protect Claire. He loved her quiet courage and gentle beauty
—
he'd been so wrong about her in the beginning. He could no longer imagine his life without her, but he'd have to learn. She didn't belong in his world, deserved so much better. And now she'd have a father who loved her, who'd take care of her. Riley had to let her go
—
once he knew she'd be all right, recover from this night.

* * *

Claire wakened once to find herself cradled in Riley's arms. The last thing she remembered was his warning cry, the gun sliding from her fingers. She'd seen the cold, white world around her.
I'm safe now.

She tried to open her eye.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I should never have left you." His hoarse voice pulled her back. "Can you hear me?" She felt his hand close around hers.

Another hand touched her, tentatively. A second voice whispered, "Claire?"

The motion of the car made her dizzy. She closed her eye again, dreaming her father called her name.

Chapter 27

Budding trees coated every possible surface with a layer of green pollen. Sneezing, Claire turned into the parking lot of her apartment complex. Her lilac would be blooming before long. She missed it.

She'd sold the house to a couple she knew without having to advertise it, and she'd sent Riley a large check for the bill he'd never sent. Nolan, as she called her father, had wanted to pay him, but she refused. Whatever Riley's help cost in dollars, she knew he'd given her more than she could ever repay. He'd saved her life and found the father she'd never known. She should have been satisfied.

Nolan planned to stay on in the Senate long enough to see his bill through, but because of his health, he wouldn't run again. He'd taken her silly photographs of the activity in the marshlands to a hearing
—
it didn't make up for the birthdays, school plays, and dance recitals they'd missed, but it was enough. Over Christmas and on weekends, they spent time together, getting to know one another. He told her about Caroline and their time together, and she told him about her life with Blanche, avoiding any mention of Riley.

Nolan asked her about him only once. "Why don't you call him?"

"No. If he wanted me, he'd have called. He has a different life, one I'd never fit into." She'd bottled up the images, tried to forget the sense of belonging she felt with Riley. Nolan meant well, but she couldn't afford to dwell on what might have been. "I have to move on."

"Are you sure, Claire? Did you know he held you all the way to hospital, had me calling in the best doctors I could find to meet us there? He spent the entire first night in the hospital at your side. I had to run interference with the hospital staff. He wouldn't leave until he knew you were going to be all right."

She had known. Lying in the darkened room with bandages over her eye, she'd half wakened as images of the barn and Trapp came to her. A warm hand would close over her arm, or stroke her hand, soothing her. She'd known he was there, and the night terrors faded. He cared, but how much?

Clasping her hands in her lap, hope flared briefly before she crushed it. "It's not a choice
—
I haven't heard from him since I said goodbye to Jesse in the hospital. He and Will were there visiting." She remembered how stiff and withdrawn Riley had been. "If I went to him, he might say yes, but it would lead to regrets. He has to work it out and decide for himself if we're to have a chance."

In the hospital, Will had kissed her goodbye, whispered, "Give him time. He'll figure it out."

She'd clung to those words, hoping against hope. But he hadn't. It had been almost four months, and she hadn't heard a word. She remembered the ride to the hospital, his whispered words, barely a warm breath in her ear, knew he suffered over her injuries. She thought he'd call, at least to see how she was. Knowing how different they were, the kind of lives they led, she told herself she could let him go, but she was wrong. She smiled at her father through blurry eyes. Maybe the women in her family weren't meant to be lucky in love.

Nolan traced the faint red line above her left temple. "He'll miss you. He'll find a big hole in his life. I did, when I lost your mother."

Her father called often, asked her to come. Slowly she came to realize that Nolan needed her as much as she needed him. "I'm so glad you're well now."

"I almost didn't make it," he said, his expression sober. "When I had my heart attack, Tony showed up to 'help' me. Help me into the grave is more likely. I'd hardly seen him over the years, but he thought he'd be the one to inherit anything I left. I found out he had huge gambling debts. He was a suspect in at least one brutal murder, but the police never found enough evidence. And he and his father killed Caroline—they thought you were dead too. You and Riley saved the taxpayers a trial."

He was quiet for a while, then took her hand. "We've missed so much, you and I. I looked for Caroline after Marianna died, but there was no trace of her. If only I'd known about you."

"I've had a good life. And now you've given me what I've always wanted," she'd told him.

Yesterday Nolan came by with news. "Sandra Krakowski finally agreed to testify. She identified Carmine Bellante and Guiseppe Trapp, Tony's father, as the two men who came to the apartment and told Caroline to disappear or they'd kill her. Sandra hid in a closet. She heard it all and saw them through the cracked door. Caroline made her promise not to tell
—
not that she would have. Carmine terrified Sandra. She knew what he was."

"He was the unknown threat Blanche feared all those years," Claire said.

"Yes. Sandra thinks Carmine figured Caroline was pregnant. The women packed what they could, and Caroline left that night
—
she was afraid for you. Sandra mailed the letter to Blanche for her. I think with you, Sandra, and the nurse in South Carolina, we can put Carmine away for the rest of his life."

"Thank goodness." She smiled, watching his eyes, the exact color of her own. "It's over now, and I have you." It should have been enough.

Chapter 28

Claire was hanging hand-painted Ukrainian eggs on an Easter tree when Ray came into the shop. "Hi," she called out, considering where to place the Ivy McLaurin sign. She was pleased to be carrying the South Carolina artist's work. She'd had many requests for the eggs with their intricate, colorful designs and considered them something of a coup.

At the sound of Ray's rapidly approaching footsteps, Claire turned. Images of Riley came unbidden to her mind. She tried to shut them out.

Ray, his expression serious, came straight to her. "Riley's in trouble."

"What? How?" She dropped the sign and grasped his arm. "Is he all right?"

"Come on. I'll take you to him."

She didn't stop to think, just ran with Ray. "Where is he?"

"His house."

It was the quickest trip she'd ever made, because they went directly to Riley's, but it seemed the longest. In spite of her questions and pleas, Ray wouldn't explain, said only, "He called, said he needs help." He shifted on the seat so he could see her. "He sent me to get you."

"Where's Will? Is he with him?"

"Will's on a job for some South Carolina defense contractor."

"Oh." She watched Ray's expression, but he wasn't giving anything away. Why would Ben Riley need her help? What with? Did it matter?
—
she couldn't refuse. "What about Jesse?"

"Good as new
—
working with Senator Borg on something."

She gave up, didn't ask anything else. She couldn't concentrate on his answers anyway. Leaning her head back against the seat, she pictured Riley as she'd last seen him, standing by Jesse's bed, solid and strong, living by his own code of honor. Cold comfort.

They rounded the last curve, came to the fence marking his property. The gate stood open, denying her another few seconds respite. Ray slowed to a stop.

She saw him, a tall figure standing on a low hill. Her heart turned over, danced wildly in her chest.
Be still, dammit
. She didn't trust herself to speak, just slid off the seat as Ray held the door for her.

Her feet moved automatically toward Riley. She reached the top of the rise, stopped at his side. Then she saw it. A rustic gray house faced the water. "Your plans. You're building your house."