Valley of Shadows

“The world knows Lauren, but they don’t know I’m her sister.” Lauren had never allowed the press any information regarding her son. In that way at least, she’d done what was best for Justin.

“It won’t take long for the press to find out. Once it does, your name and face will be plastered on every news station and newspaper in the country.”

“Maybe the local news, but I doubt what’s happened will be of much interest anywhere else.” But even as she said it, Miranda had the sinking feeling Hawke was right, that the double tragedy of losing a son and then having a sister turn felon would be enough to make Lauren headline news.

“I think you know you’re wrong.”

Miranda nodded, wishing she could believe otherwise. “At least Lauren doesn’t have any recent pictures of me.”

“Someone else will. The press always finds a way.”

“They’ll be hard-pressed to find anything that doesn’t show me thirty pounds heavier and ten years younger.” In the years since she’d been caring for Justin, Miranda had had little time to spend in activities that might have involved picture taking. Except for the occasional bridal or baby shower, the past few years had been spent at her bakery, at home or at church.

“Heavier. Younger. It won’t matter. Your face is one people will notice and remember.”

“I’m not that memorable.”

“No?”

“No.” Miranda could feel Hawke’s gaze as she maneuvered the car around a slow-moving vehicle, and her cheeks heated.

“Perhaps you just don’t know what people find memorable.”

“And you do?”

“I’ve made it my business to know people.” The words seemed almost a threat and Miranda wondered exactly how he used the knowledge he possessed.

“That makes one of us anyway.”

“You know enough about people to stick with me. That’s a start.”

“I just hope I’m not making a mistake.” The words slipped out and Miranda regretted them immediately. Letting Hawke know how scared she really was, letting him see how unsure she felt, could only be a mistake. And she’d made enough of those for one night. “What I mean is—”

“Exactly what you said. Don’t worry, sticking with me isn’t a mistake. Whether or not you’ll regret it, I can’t say.” He spoke quietly, all gruffness gone from his voice. In its smooth timbre Miranda heard echoes of exotic worlds, hard realities and a loneliness she understood all to well.

“Hawke—” She wasn’t sure what she meant to say, how she planned to finish. Before she had a chance to figure it out, the high-pitched shriek of sirens rent the air.

She jumped, her hands tightening on the steering wheel, her gaze flying to the rearview mirror. Lights flashed in the distance, brilliant against the darkness and coming fast.

“The police. They’ve found us.” Her voice shook, her foot pressing on the gas pedal in a knee-jerk reaction that sent the car lunging forward.

“Ease up, babe. Speeding will just call attention to us.” Hawke rested a hand on her shoulder, his palm warm through her T-shirt.

“Call attention to us? They’re right on our tail.” And getting closer every minute.

“No. They’re not. They’re on the way somewhere else. We just happen to be between them and where they’re heading.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No, I can’t. But this car’s not registered in my name. There’s no way they can know I’m in it. All we have to do is slow down and pull out of their way.”

“But—”

“Babe, my neck is at stake here, too. Pull over and get out of the way before they start wondering why we’re speeding ahead of them.” His words were calm, but there was underlying tension to them. Not fear. Something else. Frustration. Worry. Anger.

She nodded, easing her foot off the pedal, forcing herself to pull to the shoulder as the police cars sped toward them. The sirens crested to a screaming frenzy, lights flashing their dire warning. Every muscle in Miranda’s body tensed, her mind shouting that she should get out and run while she had the chance.

If Hawke was wrong, if…

In a wild, shrieking chorus, three police cruisers sped by, their lights illuminating the car, then leaving it in darkness once again. Silence settled over the night, the hushed chug of the engine a quiet backdrop to the racing beat of Miranda’s heart. She knew she should pull back onto the highway, get the car moving again, but she was shaking so hard she wasn’t sure she could manage it.

“They’re gone now. You’re safe.” Hawke’s voice was a whispered breath against her ear, his fingers stroking down her arm and capturing her hand, his palm warm against her clammy skin. His touch much too comforting for her peace of mind. “Everything is all right.”

“No, it isn’t.” She took a deep breath, tugged her hand from his and pressed down on the accelerator. “I’m with a man I don’t know, driving hundreds of miles from home so that I can catch a ride to a country halfway around the world. The police think I’m a murderer. Some drug dealer I’ve never had any contact with wants me dead. My nephew…” She shook her head, stopped herself before her sorrow could take wing. “It’s not all right.”

Hawke figured it would be better not to argue the point. Mostly because Miranda was right. While they might be all right for now, there was no telling how long that would last. “No, but we’re safe for the time being. That’s something to be thankful for.”

She shrugged, taking one hand off the steering wheel and rubbing at the base of her neck, the bicep in her arm firm beneath pale, silky skin. Hawke resisted the urge to brush her hand away and feel the strong line of her neck under his palm, the softness of her hair against his knuckles. That would be a mistake. One he couldn’t afford to make.

“Telling me we’re safe for the time being doesn’t make me feel safe at all.”

“Then what will?”

“Waking up to find this is all a nightmare.” Her voice shook, the hollows beneath her eyes darkly shadowed. For the second time that evening and probably only the second time in a decade, Hawke felt the hard edge of guilt nudging at him, telling him he’d gotten an innocent woman into the kind of danger she might not survive.

“If I could make that happen for you, I would. But I can’t.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep driving and pray we both manage to make it through this alive.”

“You may want to keep me off that request, babe. God might be more willing to answer.”

She glanced in his direction, the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable, but she didn’t ask what he meant. Maybe she already knew. “God doesn’t play favorites. He’ll watch out for us equally.”

“Maybe.” Hawke’s head was pounding too hard for him to engage in philosophical debate. Besides, while religion wasn’t his thing, he’d experienced enough of life to believe there was something more to it than what could be seen; that a power greater than his own will and strength existed. What he had yet to decide was whether or not that equated to a loving God who took a personal interest in His creations.

“Sometimes I have a hard time understanding it all. How He works. Why He answers some prayers with a yes, others with a no, but I guess what it boils down to is faith. Just believing that no matter what happens, He’s there.” Miranda spoke so softly Hawke barely heard the quiet words that seemed more for herself than for him.

This time he gave into temptation and slid his hand under the thick weight of her hair, his palm resting on the silky skin at the nape of her neck. “Someone like you never need worry that God won’t be there.”

She glanced his way, her eyes shadowed. “Like I said, neither does someone like you.”

She didn’t seem to expect a response and Hawke didn’t give one. Instead, he let the silence of the night and the darkness beyond the windows envelop them.

SIX

Home. The word danced through Miranda’s mind as the first glimmer of dawn streaked the horizon. She’d wound her way through the Blue Ridge mountains, stopping only once to get gas with a credit card Hawke fished from his glove compartment. The name on it was unfamiliar and, according to Hawke, untraceable. Miranda supposed she should have found comfort in that, but the longer the night had stretched on, the more the idea of returning home appealed.

Last night, she’d been desperate to escape the empty house and Lauren. Now, she’d give anything to step into the bright yellow kitchen, listen to her sister’s footsteps on the tile.