discussed with Hunter earlier,” Tom said.
“Note?” Anne repeated.
Tom’s eyes met hers. “Fred didn’t tell you?”
Anne looked over at her friend. “Fred?”
“You’re on vacation, Anne,” Fred said, shifting uneasily in her chair. “Besides, this business is getting nasty and it’s not your affair.”
“This is my affair,” Anne said, not ungently. “Now, what’s going on?”
Fred exhaled heavily as she leaned back in her chair. “Turns out a couple of hikers up at the campgrounds saw the rusty-red VW Beetle on Friday night in a high-speed chase with a green van.”
“Lindy was being chased,” Anne said, leaning forward in her chair. “That’s why she was going so fast when she lost control of her car.”
Fred nodded. “Looks that way.”
“What did the driver of the green van look like?”
“Hikers couldn’t say,” Fred answered. “Vehicles went by too fast.”
Anne turned to Tom. “You know who was chasing her?”
“No. But when Hunter called me with the news, I thought I’d better hand over the note Lindy left.”
Tom drew it out of his pocket and gave it to Anne. She unfolded the paper and reread the note that she had found in the pocket of the cardigan that morning.
So, he was turning over the note to the police, despite the implications in it. Anne felt a sense of relief. At least Tom drew the line at how far he’d go to protect his reputation. On a scale of one to ten, she supposed he deserved a point or two for that.
“She suspected someone was following her,” Anne said simply, not letting on that the note was not news. “Does Hunter know about the baby?”
“He knows that Lindy left him with me,” Tom said, and Anne could tell from the way Tom worded his reply that Hunter still didn’t know that the baby was Tom’s.
Anne leaned forward to place the note in Fred’s waiting hand.
“Why didn’t Hunter call me?” Anne asked Tom, while Fred scanned the note’s contents.
“He probably did,” Tom said. “Every time I’ve tried to call today, I’ve gotten the message that you were unavailable.”
Anne remembered now. She had turned off her cell phone. Tom had been there when she had given the number to Hunter, and she didn’t want to chance his having remembered it. Which he obviously had.
She had told herself that she never wanted to see or talk to him again. But now that he was here, she knew that she had lied.
“Where’s the baby?” Anne asked.
“Maureen Cooper is watching him for me. Anne, I need to talk to you.”
Tom was looking at her with an intensity that unnerved her.
“Now?” she asked, and realized her voice had cracked on the word.
Tom glanced at Fred as he got to his feet. “No offense, Fred. But it’s a private matter.”
Fred didn’t look pleased. “You haven’t finished your meal, Anne.”
Tom held out his hand to Anne. “It’s important.”
Anne remembered the last time he’d held out his hand to her. And how wonderful it had felt when he clasped his strong fingers around her wrist and pulled her to her feet.
The next thing she knew, her hand was once again encased in his strong grasp and she was being drawn out of her chair. He tightly interlaced their fingers, as though worried that she might change her mind. The warm, hard feel of his palm pressing into hers shivered up her arm.
“I’ll phone you later,” Anne called over her shoulder to Fred as Tom pulled her toward the door of the restaurant.
Anne had left her coat in her car, and the icy sleet-soaked air assailed her the moment they stepped outside. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Your place.”
“Why?”
“Because if we stand out here much longer, we’re going to get soaked.”
Tom kept a firm clasp on Anne’s hand as he led the way to her car and handed her inside.
“I’ll follow you,” he said, before closing the door. And then he just vanished into the dark, wet night.
During the drive to her town house in Pittsfield, Anne
“Note?” Anne repeated.
Tom’s eyes met hers. “Fred didn’t tell you?”
Anne looked over at her friend. “Fred?”
“You’re on vacation, Anne,” Fred said, shifting uneasily in her chair. “Besides, this business is getting nasty and it’s not your affair.”
“This is my affair,” Anne said, not ungently. “Now, what’s going on?”
Fred exhaled heavily as she leaned back in her chair. “Turns out a couple of hikers up at the campgrounds saw the rusty-red VW Beetle on Friday night in a high-speed chase with a green van.”
“Lindy was being chased,” Anne said, leaning forward in her chair. “That’s why she was going so fast when she lost control of her car.”
Fred nodded. “Looks that way.”
“What did the driver of the green van look like?”
“Hikers couldn’t say,” Fred answered. “Vehicles went by too fast.”
Anne turned to Tom. “You know who was chasing her?”
“No. But when Hunter called me with the news, I thought I’d better hand over the note Lindy left.”
Tom drew it out of his pocket and gave it to Anne. She unfolded the paper and reread the note that she had found in the pocket of the cardigan that morning.
So, he was turning over the note to the police, despite the implications in it. Anne felt a sense of relief. At least Tom drew the line at how far he’d go to protect his reputation. On a scale of one to ten, she supposed he deserved a point or two for that.
“She suspected someone was following her,” Anne said simply, not letting on that the note was not news. “Does Hunter know about the baby?”
“He knows that Lindy left him with me,” Tom said, and Anne could tell from the way Tom worded his reply that Hunter still didn’t know that the baby was Tom’s.
Anne leaned forward to place the note in Fred’s waiting hand.
“Why didn’t Hunter call me?” Anne asked Tom, while Fred scanned the note’s contents.
“He probably did,” Tom said. “Every time I’ve tried to call today, I’ve gotten the message that you were unavailable.”
Anne remembered now. She had turned off her cell phone. Tom had been there when she had given the number to Hunter, and she didn’t want to chance his having remembered it. Which he obviously had.
She had told herself that she never wanted to see or talk to him again. But now that he was here, she knew that she had lied.
“Where’s the baby?” Anne asked.
“Maureen Cooper is watching him for me. Anne, I need to talk to you.”
Tom was looking at her with an intensity that unnerved her.
“Now?” she asked, and realized her voice had cracked on the word.
Tom glanced at Fred as he got to his feet. “No offense, Fred. But it’s a private matter.”
Fred didn’t look pleased. “You haven’t finished your meal, Anne.”
Tom held out his hand to Anne. “It’s important.”
Anne remembered the last time he’d held out his hand to her. And how wonderful it had felt when he clasped his strong fingers around her wrist and pulled her to her feet.
The next thing she knew, her hand was once again encased in his strong grasp and she was being drawn out of her chair. He tightly interlaced their fingers, as though worried that she might change her mind. The warm, hard feel of his palm pressing into hers shivered up her arm.
“I’ll phone you later,” Anne called over her shoulder to Fred as Tom pulled her toward the door of the restaurant.
Anne had left her coat in her car, and the icy sleet-soaked air assailed her the moment they stepped outside. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Your place.”
“Why?”
“Because if we stand out here much longer, we’re going to get soaked.”
Tom kept a firm clasp on Anne’s hand as he led the way to her car and handed her inside.
“I’ll follow you,” he said, before closing the door. And then he just vanished into the dark, wet night.
During the drive to her town house in Pittsfield, Anne
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