The Great Escape Read online

  Sammy had taken one startled look at her face, and had seen the quiet desperation and hopelessness. She had started work the next day.

  Yes, she had grown up a lot in the last nine months. She could be responsible for herself. She had been a seventeen-year-old girl when she had run away from home, and now she was a young woman. And a stranger wanted to take her freedom away from her.

  The phone shrilled a double ring and she went to answer. It occurred to her that this would be a good, easy way to find out if she was at home or not, but she had an unlisted number and by the time she’d thought of it the receiver was off the hook and the damage done. She sighed, “Hello.”

  “Hi, kid,” Kim answered cheerily. “The big bad, nasty man is gone now. He said something about going to the local hospitals, so I’d say you’re safe for a little while. You didn’t wreck my car, did you?”

  “Of course not,” Dee answered absently, thinking hard.

  “Too bad, sugar. I could use the insurance money—who cares about the car, it’s a health hazard, anyway! Well, I need to run, a table has just been seated in my section. See you!”

  Replacing the receiver, Dee wandered back to packing. She didn’t have much time before her cab would be here. Picking up her knapsack and stuffing her handbag inside, she went into the bathroom to get some personal items. Nobody could be sure of what Carridine would really do, and it was a gamble to assume that he had gone to the hospitals, but she had no choice. She couldn’t afford to waste any time, that was for sure.

  A crunching of gravel sounded outside, and she froze. It couldn’t be! It had to be the cab coming early. She ran out to her bedroom window, and looked out—and nearly fell from shock. Mike Carridine was opening up the car door and getting out. How in the world did he know to come here? she asked herself frantically as she swept through the apartment, closing her suitcase and shoving it back into the closet. He would be inside any moment now—what should she do?

  She sank slowly onto the couch, her hands idle and her face calm enough, though her thoughts were churning chaotically. There was nothing she could do but meet him. Mrs. Gordon would tell him that she was home, so there could be no pretence on that score. For the time being, she was neatly trapped.

  She went into the kitchen to start some coffee. Soon the pungent smell was filling the tiny apartment and she stood indecisively in the minuscule cooking area, hands clasped nervously. No, there wasn’t any use in pretending to herself: she was very apprehensive about meeting the man who had been able to track her thus far. She had become used to thinking of him as the enemy, the pursuer, the stalker bent on his prey, and the imagery was now frightening to contemplate.

  What would he be like? she asked herself. She couldn’t really remember anything about his personality, though his physical presence had impressed her, years ago. Would he be a thug? She wouldn’t put it past Judith to hire one, but no, that didn’t fit in with what she knew of him. One thing she could be sure of was that he wouldn’t be easy to fool.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairway, and she tensed. They were very deliberate and unhesitating. She had herself so keyed up that when the quick, hard knock sounded on her door, even though she had been expecting it, she jumped violently. This wouldn’t do, she scolded herself. If you aren’t feeling poised, then act it, stupid. With that tender admonition to herself, she took a quick look in the mirror at herself.

  The last of the adolescent plumpness had disappeared in the past nine months, leaving her still small but more slim in tight jeans and a black sweater. Her blonde hair could use a comb, she saw fleetingly, but then it always could. Her vivid blue eyes were larger than ever in a naturally pale face. This impression was created by delicate bone structure and high thin cheekbones. There was a thinness about her face and body that had become apparent as she had matured. She had often thought she might have been a cat in a former life, for her entire body was built along a slim, streamlined grace that was reminiscent of a cat’s lithe fragility, or perhaps a greyhound’s raciness. The impression was not a mere illusion: she could run very swiftly and well, having a natural aptitude for speed.

  She was not taking time to stand and contemplate all this, however, for that firm knock sounded again at her door, and she went to answer.

  The door swung slowly open, and her eyes looked up to meet those of Mike Carridine. She received a slight jolt, for she hadn’t remembered the colour of his eyes and found herself looking into jewel-green eyes, arresting in the man’s brown face. He was large, with masculinely wide shoulders encased in a light spring jacket over a grey shirt that was casually open at the throat. He had on a pair of black slacks that looked to be well fitting and yet comfortable. His frame, she noticed, as she ran assessing eyes over him, was not as bulky as she remembered, but instead more on the slim side, though well muscled. Of course, she acknowledged fleetingly, she was remembering with the eyes of a child. His dark hair was ruffled from the March wind.

  She finished her perusal and looked up, only then realising that he had been looking her over too. It was not a sexual look or crude: they both had been sizing each other up as opponents, assessingly and objectively. “Mr. Carridine,” she said quietly, holding out a slim hand. It seemed to startle him, for his eyebrows shot up as he took her proffered hand and shook it briefly. She felt the latent strength in his grip as he held her small hand carefully and then let go.

  “Miss Janson. May I come in?” was his pleasantly smooth reply. She inclined her head and stepped back, and he paced into her living room. It seemed suddenly smaller than ever, and she felt restricted.

  “I’ve made us coffee,” she offered politely. “Would you like a cup? But I was forgetting—you had coffee at Dandy’s, didn’t you?”

  After a quick, cursory glance around at the cheerful atmosphere of the small room and the homey decorations on the walls, he had brought his gaze back to her and was watching her with a disturbing closeness. “Yes, but it was only one cup. Another would be nice, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she answered automatically. “Have a seat and I’ll pour us some.” She walked into the kitchen space, feeling a little better as the intervening wall hid her from his steady, alert gaze. She called out, “What do you take in yours?”

  “Nothing, thank you.” That voice was really pleasant, she thought idly, spooning sugar and milk into her cup. The humour of the situation had her smiling wryly as she came back into the living room space with the two carefully balanced mugs. Her sparkling, amused eyes met his and she received another jolt, though she couldn’t explain why. “A good joke?” he enquired politely, taking the cup from her.

  “I suppose so,” she murmured, then broke through her reserve and told him frankly. “Isn’t this a rich scene? I’ve done my best to shake you loose from my trail, and for nine months we’ve been in opposition with each other, and here we are, face to face for the first time, politely drinking coffee and acting civilised.”

  “You see me as being your opponent, then?” he queried curiously, cocking an eyebrow while sipping from his cup. Dee was very aware of that green, keen gaze, and she dropped her eyes to his hands.

  “Yes,” she replied shortly. “Opponents matching wits—yes, I’d say so.” She set her cup down without tasting it and studied her fingernails carefully. They needed attention, for they were getting a bit too long for comfort at work.

  Tense silence. Then, “You were unsurprised when you answered the door just now,” he commented, and the comment was a question. He leaned back in the only chair in the room, stretching out his long legs. They reached nearly to where she sat, and she transferred her gaze to one shoe for a moment’s perusal before answering.

  There was no reason to lie. “I was working today and saw you. But then you know that from talking to Kim, don’t you? She called me when you left the restaurant, but I wasn’t sure that you would be right here.” Her lips twisted. “I was gambling that you weren’t coming here right away.”

  �
��Ah, yes,” he answered mildly. “The hospital gambit. It was a good try for a last minute effort, Deirdre. May I call you that? I’ve been looking for you so long, I feel I know you.”

  Her head came around to his face and she found him smiling slightly. Her eyes narrowed at that. He looked complacent, well in control of the situation, in charge. In charge of her? Like hell, she thought grimly. It would be worth it to see his face when he found her gone, soon. It did not pay to become too complacent. The only problem was, she didn’t know how she was going to get out of this one. “Call me Dee,” she offered casually, widening her eyes and smiling at him, friendly.

  That sharp green gaze flickered over her again. “And of course my first name is Mike. Your landlady told me you were sick. Is it really true or were you just being consistent with your story?”

  “I’m not feeling well,” she said ruefully, “but I think it’s more from nerves than anything else. I’d begun to relax a bit, you see, and seeing you get out of your car this afternoon gave me a jolt.” When she had answered the door a few minutes ago, she had been very pale from apprehension. “Tell me, how did you know to check here? Kim surely didn’t let the cat out of the bag, did she? I thought she was a better liar than that.”

  “It was an educated hunch. You see, I’d guessed from a very strange conversation that I overheard when—Kim, is it?—answered the restaurant’s phone. She jotted down a number and promised the party that she’d call back. I got a look at the number that she had put down and called from a pay phone, finding that it was a local time and temperature recording. Nothing conclusive,” he ended dryly, “but enough to make me wonder, and it couldn’t hurt to check here before checking the hospitals. I’m beginning to recognise your methods.”

  She acknowledged that with a nod, her eyelids down to hide their expression. She was thinking rapidly, furiously, and for the first time since she had seen him getting out of his car, hopefully. Her knapsack and bag were in the bathroom, and there was a window. Could she pretend sickness or something, and get in there to try to get out? The problem was that it was a second story window and she had no idea if there was anything to climb down, or that she would even fit through the tiny square. It was, however, worth considering.

  She needed a little time to think, so she sat back and looked at him directly, her blue eyes losing their friendly light. “So,” she said abruptly, “now what? Surely you had something in mind for this occasion?”

  A quick turn of his head had him looking at her oddly. “I’m going to take you back home, of course,” he stated calmly. The confidence in his manner made her hackles rise, but she managed to hide her antipathy for the moment as she stared at him unblinkingly, eyes wide. His expression changed, became more gentle. “There are some very worried people back in Kentucky, Dee. They care about you and want you back home. Surely you can work things out, now that everyone’s had plenty of time to think?”

  “Don’t make me laugh!” she snarled, and as quickly as her hostility had surfaced, it vanished, as she got a grim hold on herself. She had time to notice that his brows had shot down at her outburst, his eyes becoming sharper, stern. She continued hardly, “Do you happen to know the law in Ohio, Mr. Carridine?” She saw him register her deliberate use of his last name, felt him tense. “I don’t. In some states it’s against the law to try to force a minor over sixteen years of age to go back home. Don’t you think you’d better check up on that before you so blithely decide your course of action?”

  “I don’t need to,” he said quietly, his eyes now as hard as hers, implacable, frightening. He really was the enemy, she thought, sickened. He was as much the enemy as all the others. “You see,” he said gently, the tone making her shudder, “you’re going to come with me, or I’m going to the newspapers and telling them your name, address, place of work and real identity. It’s one or the other, Deirdre. Your choice.”

  “God!” she muttered, paling. Her eyes searched his and found him absolutely sincere, with no softening of resolve. He didn’t exactly look cruel, she had to admit. He was merely doing his job, no matter what. “Why? Why does it have to be that way? Why can’t I just go on with my life as it is here? Damn it, man, it’s my life, not yours or anybody else’s!”

  “You should go back if for no other reason than your obligations,” he said sternly. “I was hired to find you. If you don’t wish to accompany me back, I can easily call your aunt and uncle to fly out and make the trip back with you, if you’d like. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve done my job.”

  Dee had blanched at the mention of her aunt and uncle and he had seen it. His face had changed, grown puzzled, but he didn’t press the issue. He let silence fall in the room as he gave her time to consider the options he had given her. She was feeling that terrible sense of being trapped again, and it was stronger than before. She couldn’t go back! That would be the death of all her independence and happiness. Judith and Howard were her legal guardians until her twenty-first birthday, and that was an eternity away. For all Dee’s blossoming maturity, she somehow shrank at the thought of confronting her aunt again. She couldn’t, wouldn’t do it. She had a right to her own life, and this man sitting so quietly in front of her now was doing his best to take away that right.

  “I don’t understand,” she muttered sickly. “I really don’t comprehend this. I’m nearly eighteen years old! This is a ridiculous situation!”

  “You may be nearly eighteen, but you aren’t like other eighteen-year-olds,” he replied, impatience creeping into his inflections. “Good God, child, can you imagine the horror if some nut or criminal found out that you were living in a cheap, accessible apartment in the bad part of Akron, Ohio? I wouldn’t give two dimes for your chances of survival!”

  “Who would know, if nobody told them?” she cried out, then put a shaking hand to her forehead and then to her mouth. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. One part of her was acknowledging wryly that it wasn’t wholly assumed. This man was overwhelming her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her sharply, leaning forward to stare into her face.

  “I’ll be fine,” she mumbled into her hand, too quickly. She bent her head and stared at the worn carpet, letting all her anxiety, her misery show. She didn’t have to act that. “W-would you excuse me for a moment? I’m a bit nauseated…”

  He rose to his feet when she did, his eyes following her out of the room, his expression thoughtful and concerned. She left, mentally cursing. She hadn’t wanted to see that concern. It didn’t support the impression that she had carried of him all these months. She didn’t want to know if he could be kind.

  She closed the bathroom door behind her and carefully, silently locked it, then she flew to the window to assess the situation. It looked extremely difficult, but possible. There was a drainpipe right along the edge of her window and if it would hold her weight, then she could shin down. It was an old pipe, and made out of sturdy metal, not like the newer, lighter ones. She would take the risk. Moving rapidly, she switched on the bathroom sink taps so that the water was gushing out at full strength, then she carefully slid open the ancient window. It creaked and she hissed with frustration, but she didn’t really think that Carridine could have heard it over the water.

  The window stopped moving upwards and she wasn’t sure if she would fit through, but she was in too much of a hurry to struggle with it. She zipped up her knapsack and threw it out of the window, then grasped the edge of the sink with her hands for support while she struggled to get her legs out of the window. It was a furious, quick, frantic wriggling squeeze to get her hips through, but she made it and slid with a bump to hang with her shoulders in and her bottom out. She had lost the grip on the sink as she had scooted back, and she scrambled for a handhold on the window sill before edging one shoulder and then the other out the tiny open area. Then, hanging by her hands from the second story window and suddenly realising that if she fell she would be landing on harsh, cutting gravel, she cautiously tried to reach fo
r the drainpipe with one hand while calling herself a crazy fool for even attempting the stunt. She barely reached the pipe, but was able to get a firm enough grip, and there she hung, unable to loosen either hand for fear of losing her grip entirely and falling. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth so hard it hurt her jaw, and with a supreme effort unclenched her right hand.

  The world swung around frighteningly and the strain on her left arm was enough to make her cry out, but she was soon latching on to the drain with her right hand like a hook of steel, then she was going down, hand over hand, until the ground was at a reasonable distance for dropping. She let go with both hands, landed at a crouch, turned and picked up her knapsack, and was out into the street with a huge spring.

  The whole manoeuvre had taken perhaps a minute and a half.

  She saw a yellow battered car bearing a taxi emblem on its hood turning on to her street, down the block, and she could have laughed at the wonderful timing. It was the first thing that had gone right that day. She raced down the street, confident that Carridine couldn’t see her as her living room window was on the opposite side of the house, her bathroom window being towards the back. At her frantic wave, the taxi slewed over to stop beside her. She briefly looked over her shoulder, then she was opening the back door of the car and saying breathlessly, “Thank God you’re here! I told you the wrong time, and I might miss my plane! Could you step on it, please, and get me to the Municipal Airport as fast as you can haul it?”