Run Wild (38 page)

Natasha flipped herself around, damn near jumping to her feet. Another time she might have grinned at Trent’s astonished look, but there wasn’t time to waste and she knew it. She knew exactly why Ethel left the room, and as long as Jim was with her Ethel wouldn’t be able to call Natasha’s father and warn him. A lot more made sense now, although it was still jumbling around in her head so fast it was difficult to grasp it all.

“We’ve got to go,” she said urgently, and grabbed Trent’s arm.

He didn’t budge but looked up at her, his brooding expression showing he was still taking time to digest everything they’d just heard.

“There isn’t time,” she hissed, tugging on him harder.

Trent stood slowly, coming to his full height, then tugged on his shirt. Another time, maybe when all of this was over, Natasha might remember to ask him if he even owned a sheriff’s uniform. At the moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to her father before he ran again.

“Come on, damn it.” She was getting pissed. Jim and Ethel might be back at any moment. “We need to go to my father,” she whispered.

“What?” That got his attention.

“I’ll explain on the way.”

“What did Ethel say to you?” Was that concern on his face?

Natasha’s heart warmed in spite of the urgency of the moment. “I’ll tell you once we’re out of here. Let’s go,” she commanded, then started toward the door. “Tell them you got a call. Anything. I don’t want Ethel alarmed.”

Ethel might guess Natasha would run to her father the moment she left the ranch, although she wasn’t the smartest woman Natasha had ever met. They stood a good chance of reaching her father if she and Trent left right now. Trent started following her but not as fast as she’d like. If she had it her way, they would be bolting out of the house and spinning tires as they peeled out of the driveway.

“I’ve got it all figured out.” It wasn’t completely the truth, but it got Trent moving.

“I want every detail. No holding back this time!” he barked, but was on her heels. Jim was at the other end of the room, hunched toward a closed door, more than likely talking his sickeningly sweet talk to his wife.

There was no excuse for infidelity. None whatsoever. But Natasha could see how Ethel had grown weary of the man who’d provided her with the lifestyle she so obviously adored. Sacrifice for so many material possessions often came with a high price.

Not her problem. Her problem was shacked up in a motel room in Redding and might just still be there if they hurried and got to him before he got tipped off by Ethel.

“Jim, I’ll be in touch soon.” Trent was all business and placed his hand on Natasha’s shoulder as he escorted her to the front door.

“Oh.” Jim turned around, took a few hesitant steps toward the two of them. Then he looked nervously back toward his wife. “I do apologize. A man should have more control of his own household,” he sputtered, appearing seriously distraught. “She’s suddenly under the weather.”

“I hope she will be okay.” Trent had reached the front door and opened it.

Natasha almost ran to the Suburban, taking time to glance around the wide-open area leading to the highway. There were outbuildings behind the house. One of the two work trucks that had been parked in front of the house was no longer there. Had there been anyone else in the house with them? She hadn’t heard anyone, but that didn’t mean anything. The house was not only huge but also very well built. She doubted a floorboard squeaked anywhere.

Natasha didn’t hear the rest of Trent’s parting words to Jim Burrows, but she didn’t care. She was in the passenger seat, seat belt on, and tapping her fingers against the dash when Trent came around the front of the Suburban and entered on the driver’s side.

“What the hell was that all about?” he barked, sliding his key into the ignition. He fired up the motor and put it in drive.

“How fast can you get to Redding?”

“What?” Trent cursed under his breath.

“How fast? Head there now. I’ll talk. You drive.” She looked urgently at the highway, not even sure which way they needed to turn but checking both directions for oncoming cars. There weren’t any. “Go, go!” she demanded.

“Slow down right now,” Trent snapped, turning onto the highway, then accelerating. He appeared to be putting his foot into it.

Natasha would have to accept he’d hurry as fast as possible. “I know where my father is,” she said, turning and focusing on Trent. “Ethel told me. She’s been hiding him.”

“What?” Trent shot Natasha an annoyed look. “I don’t like being in the dark. Talk. Talk now and don’t leave out even the slightest detail.” Then as he shot her another side-glance, his harsh expression softened only a bit. “I’m heading to Redding. Where in Redding is he?”

“He’s staying at the Holiday Inn.”

“There are two. Which one?”

“Crap.”

She must have looked horrified, because Trent cursed again, white-knuckled the steering wheel, and brought the Suburban up to the speed limit as he worked his way along the two-lane highway.

“Tell me what you found out,” he said, his voice calmer. “You said you’ve got it all figured out. Did she confess to the murder? Or say who killed Carl?”

So it was the second little white lie Natasha had told this afternoon, the first one being a cross-her-heart promise she wouldn’t take the sheriff to her father. Ethel had been convinced, as apparently was Natasha’s father, that Trent would take him in immediately on suspicion of murder. Ethel also seemed to know his fingerprints had been all over Carl’s body.

Instead of answering Trent, Natasha started at the beginning. It was the only way she could get it all out of her and have it make any sense.

“I was pretty nervous to be left alone with Ethel,” she began, forcing herself to take slow, deep calming breaths in between sentences to help calm down. “It was bothering me a bit too much that she was being so sweet. And it didn’t stop when you two left the room.”

She needed to think straight right now. An overwhelming sensation that everything was unfolding around her, all the facts, the truth about what had happened, and it was slipping around her in a world of treachery and deceit. That made it harder to grasp ahold of the truth, especially in a world where so many of those possibly involved lied on a daily basis.

“Go on,” Trent said, staring ahead at the road.

“The moment we were alone and sitting at the table, she gushed, wanting me to tell her everything I could about my father.”

“She wanted to know about George King?”

“It was more than the question. It was how she asked it,” Natasha said, wishing she could calm down. “Like I said, she was gushing. She poured us tea and sat down opposite of me with a grin so big you would have thought I’d brought her favorite gift to her. And I had.”

When Trent gave her an odd look she bit her lip, knowing once she dove in there was no turning back. She hated how all of this would make Trent think less of her father. Maybe her dad was a player, but she loved him. Once they got to him, and after Natasha killed him for being the biggest idiot in the world, she would prove that love and clear his name.

“I brought her me. She was ready to do anything if I would just share with her everything I could about my dad. She wanted to know his favorite food, what he liked to do in his spare time, how many girlfriends he’d had over the years, what he’d done before he came here.” She paused, caught her breath, but knew she’d gotten her message across.

“You’re kidding me.” He looked shocked.

Natasha nodded. “I knew the moment we sat down. It’s bad, terrible even, but unfortunately it’s the truth.”

“What is the truth?” Trent snapped, suddenly frustrated. “What are you talking about?

“She looked and behaved just as so many women in the past have looked who have fallen in love with my father. Once they had me alone they hounded me for information about him.” She took a deep breath and continued, staring out the window instead of at Trent’s disgusted expression. “My dad kept his private life private. Women were always falling for him and tried getting him to open up to them. Then he would saunter out of their life. Too often he would leave a desolate lady clinging to me and demanding to know where he went. I hated not knowing any more than they did. When I permanently moved in with my aunt and uncle the parade of women stopped. I agreed to appease Ethel’s curiosity if she told me where Dad was.”

“And she knew.” Trent didn’t make it a question. He loosened his grip on the steering wheel, then tightened it again.

“Oh yes. She knew. She’s been hiding him since all of this mess, as she put it, happened on the ranch. Ethel was worried when Carl was murdered there would be so many questions asked and that George would appear suspicious when he wasn’t where he was supposed to be at the time of the murder.”

“Crap,” Trent hissed. “Do I want to know where he was?”

Natasha cringed. It was as bad as she thought. Trent might be a wild lover. He was aggressive and demanding. But when it came down to what was right and what was wrong it was a line he would never cross, no matter what. In spite of Natasha telling herself it was all for the best, long-distance relationships seldom worked, a heaviness weighed down on her she couldn’t shake.

“He was with Ethel.” It was harder to choke out the words than Natasha had thought it would be. “But on the plus side,” she added without taking a breath, “he didn’t kill anyone. He’s got an alibi, but a very reluctant one for obvious reasons.”

She snuck a look at Trent and he took his attention from the road and stared at her a moment. His gaze was dark, calculated, and very pissed off.

“Did she say anything else?” he asked tightly.

That weight descending on Natasha began pressing against her chest. “She said something about getting money together. She told me it was just to protect my dad, but I think she has something bigger planned. I think she was planning on taking off with my father.”

“She got a bit spooked when we started talking about the money found in the cabin and in the safe-deposit box.”

“Jim is so in love with her he didn’t notice.”

“I think he’s in love with having children,” Trent said, a sour edge to his tone.

If the baby was even his. Natasha didn’t voice her fears, but the unspoken possibility hung between them.

“And that’s everything she said to you?” Trent asked after a few minutes of silence passed and they continued along the highway. It was starting to get dark and the drivers of the occasional cars passing them flicked off their high beams as they approached. Trent did the same, then turned his high beams back on once there was no oncoming car. “What made her hurry into the den?”

“Oh. Well, she’d been pushing for any personal information I could offer her about my father, and honestly, I was getting tired of talking about him with her.” Natasha stared out the window. Talking to Ethel had resurfaced too many old memories, and the emotions that had gone along with them.

“Sounds like fun,” Trent said dryly.

“No, it wasn’t fun.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

She shot him a pensive look. Dark shadows crossed his face, making his features appear even more restricted. This was the exact reason why not to let a man get under her skin. She’d been foolish enough to think she might be willing to give Trent a chance. That simply would never happen. Let him look at her as he did now, not quite with disgust but definitely shut down. Natasha stared at a stranger, a man she thought she was getting to know and, damn it, even open up to, but that wasn’t the case. They were from different worlds.

“No, it’s okay,” she said, remaining calm even with her insides twisting in painful knots. “My father is now, and always has been, in love with women. Or better yet, the idea of loving women.” Maybe she was clinging to childhood beliefs, but she always thought he’d only loved one woman, her mother.

“Which is why you have gone to so much effort to never fall in love with anyone,” Trent said, his voice rough, tight, a raspy whisper, as he looked away from her and returned his attention to the road.

“What?” she gasped.

He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he changed the subject. “Better find the numbers of those two Holiday Inns and find out where your father is. We’ll be in Redding soon.”

Natasha fumbled with her phone, called Information, then wrote the first number down and pushed the button to put the call through on the second number. The first Holiday Inn confirmed George was staying there, and she jotted down the address.

“Got it,” Trent said, nodding when she told him which motel. “Now tell me again why we are rushing in here to see him?”

“What?” she asked again, feeling as if she and Trent were suddenly existing on two different planes. “To let him know he doesn’t have to keep hiding!” she exclaimed, almost shouting. She threw her hands up in the air, then let them fall to her lap. Her palms slapped against her legs. “He’s got an alibi. We know he didn’t kill Carl.” Natasha shot Trent a focused glare. “You aren’t going to arrest him, right? Because if you are, just turn around right now. I wouldn’t be able to live with the knowledge that I was responsible for bringing my father in.”

Trent didn’t look at her. “I’m going to talk to him.”