The Stolen Bride

“I’m stubborn, but not that stubborn,” he said. “I like being a cop.”

“You don’t have to convince me about being stubborn.”

“I thought I was downright accommodating in the old days.” After all, he’d poured his earnings from a lawn-mowing job into movie tickets and hamburger dinners, not to mention a couple of tuxedo rentals that nearly broke his personal bank.

“You were, except when we broke up,” she reminded him. “I wanted to talk things over. I wanted to give our friendship a chance. You insisted it was hopeless.”

“Don’t remind me. The past is dead and buried, Erin. If you’re going to be staying with me, we have to agree on that.” He didn’t want things hitting too close to home.

Just being around Erin made Joseph want things he shouldn’t. He’d long ago made his peace with the injustices of the past. He didn’t need a nest of stinging emotions stirred up again.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause. “I agree. Under protest.”

“Duly noted.”

They fell into silence. During the eight-mile drive into town, the gentle rocking of the car, combined with her exhaustion, put Erin to sleep.

A lock of her shoulder-length brown hair, crinkly where she’d brushed it out of its twist, floated in a draft. Joseph imagined how it would feel against his cheek, as silky as a whisper in the night.

In the old days, he’d have slung his arm across the back of the seat and she’d have scooted close. It was ridiculous how natural it felt to be riding with her again, as if the intervening years had evaporated.

He’d expected to fall in love with someone else by now. When one potential relationship after another failed to develop, he’d attributed it to the rigors of a policeman’s schedule and to the difficulty of trusting anyone.

Maybe taking her home with him ran the risk of reigniting an old flame. But under the circumstances, what else could he do?

He returned his attention to his driving. As they made their way through the heart of town, Joseph spotted a luxury sedan like the previous one, again lagging a few car lengths behind them. If it had followed them on the highway, he hadn’t noticed.

He made a couple of turns, and the car disappeared. Gone, he hoped. Most likely a different vehicle.

On Little Creek Lane, which wound through a grove close to his cabin, he caught sight of it again. He hadn’t imagined it; they were being followed.

Erin’s eyes blinked open. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was dozing. I felt the car speeding up.”

“We’re being tailed again.” Before she could sit up, he added, “Stay low.” He didn’t expect the guy to start shooting, but you never knew.

Erin obeyed. “Can you see who it is?”

“Not yet.” Joseph considered his options. The other car hadn’t broken any laws, so he could hardly call dispatch. Normally, he’d pull into a public place such as a gas station, but there was only woodland on both sides and the road was too narrow for him to reverse course.

Although he carried a gun, he didn’t want to risk a shoot-out in the middle of nowhere. While he hated to lead whoever was tailing them to his house, his property would offer cover and a chance for Erin to escape inside.

The funny thing was, the vehicle seemed familiar. Not just because he’d seen it earlier today, either. That particular make, that beige paint—well, they were common enough. The only thing he could say for sure was that the figure behind the wheel didn’t appear as large as Chet.

Maybe it was another resident. Although the houses were set far apart, including vacation cabins that frequently lay empty, it was possible the guy lived nearby. Maybe that was where Joseph had seen the car before.

They passed one driveway, then another. The vehicle didn’t turn. Finally, the only one left was Joseph’s.

“Looks like we’ve got a visitor.”

“Can’t you call someone?” Erin kept low, as he’d instructed. “Cops can call 911, can’t they?”

“Sure. Or I could use my radio. But I’ve been out conducting an investigation against the chief’s orders, and I’ve got a feeling whoever’s behind us wants to talk about it,” Joseph said. “I’m not real eager to bring in the rest of the department unless things get sticky.”

“Okay,” Erin said. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you.”

“If there’s any trouble, I caused it for myself.”

He hoped his decision not to call for help wasn’t putting her in unnecessary danger. For himself, Joseph never worried. Except for the pain it would cause his mother, he didn’t fear death nearly as much as disgrace or false imprisonment, the fate his father had endured.

His driveway wound uphill through dense woods. Normally, Joseph enjoyed the sense of leaving civilization behind. In all but the worst weather, he rolled down the windows to enjoy the twitter of birds and the scent of pines. Not today.

With Erin at risk, he had to assume that whoever was tailing them might turn nasty. He made some quick calculations.

“You may have to duck inside,” he said. “There’s a spare gun in the bedroom, in the nightstand.”

“I don’t like guns,” Erin said.

“Ever fired one?”

She nodded. “My dad took me to a shooting range a couple of times. He said I needed to know how to protect myself.”

“Watch out for the recoil,” he told her. “It’s a .38. That’s powerful but we don’t know if this guy’s on drugs, so if you have to shoot him, fire at least two or three rounds. One bullet might not stop him.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t get scared. Get mad.” He’d adopted that slogan as a teenager, and it had served him well. “Okay, enough of the pep talk. When I turn off the motor, I’ll hand you the keys. There are two, one for the car, one for the door. Stay out of sight until I give the word, then bolt for the house. He may not know you’re here, so you’ve got surprise on your side. The bedroom’s the first door to the right.”

“Thanks,” Erin said. “I’ll be okay as long as I know the plan.” She sounded steady and determined. Joseph respected people who kept their heads in an emergency.

Cresting the hill, they came within sight of the cabin. A gravel clearing fronted the wood-and-stone building, which had a carport situated on the far side.

“I’m going to stop in front of the porch,” Joseph said. “If you have to duck out the door, you’ll be right there.” Pulling into the carport would have given him more cover but would slash Erin’s chances of making it inside. “Don’t go until I tell you to.”

“I won’t.”

So far, there’d been nothing threatening about their pursuer other than the fact that he was following them. Unexpectedly, the other car jolted forward, almost hitting Joseph’s bumper. It felt like a threat.

In the rearview mirror, the driver’s eyes met Joseph’s. Cold fury radiated at him.

At least he understood why he’d recognized the car. The man behind the wheel was Edgar Norris.

Judging by the chief’s taut jaw and the angry gesture with his car, he was royally ticked about having his orders disobeyed. That didn’t explain why he’d left the wedding and lit out after them. Or why he emerged from the car with one hand hovering near his gun.

Eleven years ago, as detective lieutenant, Norris had headed the investigation into the robbery-murder of jewelry store owner Binh Nguyen. It was Norris who’d evaluated the evidence against Lewis Lowery, recommended that he be charged and sat at the prosecutor’s side during much of the trial.