LuAnn looked at him, confusion on her face. “What are you talking about?”
Riggs blinked and stepped back. “The car that was chasing you.”
LuAnn looked over at Charlie. Riggs watched closely but he saw no discernible signals passing between them. Then LuAnn pointed over at Riggs’s truck. “I saw that truck and another car driving erratically, but I didn’t stop to ask any questions. It was none of my business.”
Riggs gaped for a moment before he responded. “The reason I was doing the two-step with the Honda was because he was trying his best to run you off the road. In fact, I almost took your place as the wreck of the week.”
“Again, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you think I would know if someone were trying to run me off the road?”
“So you’re saying that you always drive eighty miles an hour around curvy, mountainous roads just for the fun of it?” Riggs asked heatedly.
“I don’t think my driving methods are any of your concern,” she snapped back. “However, since you happen to be on my property, I think it is my concern to know why you’re here.”
Charlie piped in. “He’s the guy who’s building the security fence.”
LuAnn eyed Riggs steadily. “Then I would strongly suggest you concentrate on that task rather than come up here with some outrageous account of my being chased.”
Riggs’s face flushed and he started to say something, but then decided against it. “Have a good day, ma’am.” He turned and headed back to his truck.
LuAnn didn’t look back. She passed by Charlie without a glance and walked quickly into the house. Charlie stared after Riggs for a moment before shutting the door.
As Riggs climbed back in his truck another car pulled up the drive. An older woman was driving. The back seat of the car was stacked with groceries. The woman was Sally Beecham, LuAnn’s live-in housekeeper, just back from early-morning grocery shopping. She glanced over at Riggs in a cursory fashion. Though his features were laced with anger, he curtly nodded at her and she returned the gesture. As was her custom, she pulled around to the side-load garage and hit the garage door opener clipped to the car’s visor. The door in from the garage led directly to the kitchen, and Beecham was an efficient person who detested wasted effort.
As Riggs pulled off he glanced back up at the massive house. With so many windows staring back at him he didn’t catch the one framing LuAnn Tyler, arms folded across her chest, looking resolutely at him, a mixture of worry and guilt on her face.
Chapter twenty-four
The Honda slowed down, turned off the back road, then made its way over a rustic wooden bridge spanning a small creek, and then disappeared into the thickness of the surrounding forest. The antenna clipped some of the overhanging branches, sending a shower of dewdrops onto the windshield. Up ahead, under an umbrella of oak trees, a small, ramshackle cottage was visible. The Honda pulled into the tiny backyard and then into a small shed located behind the cottage. The man closed the doors of the shed and walked up to the house.
Donovan rubbed his lower back and then worked his neck around some in an attempt to overcome the aftereffects of his early morning escapade. He was still visibly shaking. Donovan stamped into the house, threw off his coat, and proceeded to make coffee in the small kitchen. Nervously smoking a cigarette while the coffee percolated, he looked outside the window with a slight feeling of apprehension, although he was fairly certain no one had followed him. He rubbed his brow. The cottage was isolated and the landlord didn’t know his real name or the reason he had decided to take up temporary residence here.
The guy in the truck, who the hell had he been? Friend of the woman or some guy who had happened by? Since he had been seen, Donovan would have to shave off his beard and do something with his hair. He would also have to rent another car. The Honda was damaged and the guy in the truck could’ve gotten the license plate number. But the Honda was a rental, and Donovan had not used his real name in leasing it. He wasn’t worried about the woman doing anything about it, but the guy might put a crimp in his plans. He wouldn’t risk driving the Honda back into town to exchange it for another rental. He didn’t want to be spotted driving it, and he didn’t want to have to explain the damage to the bumper right now. Tonight, he’d walk to the main road and catch a bus into town, where he would pick up another rental car.
He poured a cup of coffee and walked into the dining room that had been set up as an office. A computer terminal, printer, and fax and phone were set up on one table. File boxes were stacked neatly in one corner. On two walls hung several large bulletin boards. They were filled with newspaper clippings.
The car chase had been stupid, Donovan muttered to himself. It was a miracle both of them weren’t dead in some ravine right now. Tyler’s reaction had absolutely astonished him. Although, thinking about it now, it probably shouldn’t have. She was scared, and she had ample reason to be. Donovan’s next problem was apparent. What if she disappeared again? Finding her the first time had been part hard work and part luck. There was no guarantee he would be as fortunate the next time. However, there was nothing he could do about that now. He could only wait and watch.
He had established a contact at the regional airport who would advise Donovan if any person matching LuAnn Tyler’s description or traveling under the name Catherine Savage was headed out of the area via plane. Unless she had another identity already set up, it would be difficult for Tyler to travel any time soon except under the name Catherine Savage, and that would leave him a trail. If she left the area by means other than airplane, well, he could watch the house, but he couldn’t do it twenty-four hours a day. He briefly contemplated calling in reinforcements from the Trib, but there were many factors that cautioned him against doing that. He had worked alone for almost thirty years, and bringing in a partner now was not very appealing, even if the newspaper would consent to do it. No, he would do what he could to dog her movements, and he would work very hard to set up another face-to-face. He was convinced that he could make the woman trust him, work with him. He didn’t believe that she had killed anybody. But he was fairly certain that she and perhaps some of the other winners were hiding something about the lottery. He wanted that story, wherever it led him.
A fire blazed in the hearth of the spacious two-story library, which had floor-to-ceiling maple bookcases on three walls and inviting, overstuffed furniture arranged in intimate conversation patterns. LuAnn sat on a leather sofa, her legs drawn up under her, bare feet protruding, an embroidered cotton shawl covering her shoulders. A cup of tea and a plate of uneaten breakfast sat on the table next to her. Sally Beecham, dressed in a gray uniform with a sparkling white apron, was just leaving, carrying the serving tray. Charlie closed the arched double doors behind her and sat down next to LuAnn.
“Listen, are you gonna tell me what really happened or not?” When LuAnn didn’t answer, Charlie gripped one of her hands. “Your hands are like ice. Drink the tea.” He rose and stoked the fire until the flames made his face redden. He looked at her expectantly. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, LuAnn.”
Over the last ten years a lasting bond had been built between the two that had seen them through many crises, both minor and major, in their travels. From the time Charlie had touched her shoulder as the 747 climbed into the skies, until they had arrived back in America, they had been inseparable. Even though his given name was Robert, he had taken “Charlie” as his accepted name. It wasn’t too far from the truth, as his middle name was Charles. What was in a name anyway? However, he referred to her as LuAnn only in private, as now. He was her closest friend and confidant, really her only one, since there were things she could not even tell her daughter.