But then most runaways never did. He couldn't very well just leave her here, at least not without filling her belly. It was the least he could do.
"Breakfast?" The thought of food made Emily's empty stomach rumble, but she thought of the piddly amount of money in her shorts pocket. Hungry or not, she wasn't certain she could afford anything, let alone to spend the last dollar she had.
"I—I don't know. I think I'd better just get going." She glanced around. There were plenty of trucks here. Surely she could hitch another ride that might get her closer to Nettle Creek.
That, she'd decided, would be her destination. Somehow it seemed a safe place to go, the place where her adopted father, Joe, had grown up. He'd loved it there, she remembered, if the stories he'd told were any indication. And it seemed a perfect place to hide out—just in case.
"Now come on, Em, you've got to eat." Charley grinned as she tied her tennis shoes. "My treat for keeping me company all night."
She laughed. "Charley, I wasn't much company. I slept most of the night."
"Maybe so, but it was company to me just the same." He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, his eyes concerned. "Come on now, Em, I know you're running from something. I been driving this truck for too many years, seen too many runaways in my day not to recognize one. I know whatever it is you're running from, you probably think it's the end of the world, but it's not. Kids and their parents fight all the time. Heck, me and my oldest boy, Charley Jr., why we used to go at it tooth and nail all the time, but as mad as I got at that boy, I tell you, if he'd ever run off, I'd have been sick with worry." He paused, wondering how far to push. "Does anyone know where you're at?"
She shook her head. "No," she said softly.
"Well, being a father and a grandfather I can guarantee you that someone somewhere is worried senseless about you right about now." The thought had him lovingly glancing at the pictorial array on his dash, grateful his brood was home, grown and safe. "Now, no matter what your problems with your folks or your family, you should give 'em a call, just to let them know you're safe." He pulled down his visor to gather his wallet and his cigarettes, then shoved them in his shirt pocket. "Will you at least think about it?"
She nodded. But she wasn't about to call home; she didn't have a home anymore.
"Now come on, Em, I'm buying breakfast, no arguments." He grinned. "Okay?"
Emily smiled. "Okay."
"Good. Diner doesn't look like much, but they've got the best food in the state." And while they were eating, he was going to try to convince her to either go back home, or at the least, call someone to let her know where she was.
Charley threw open his door and hopped down to the pavement. "Now wait there, Emily, and I'll come down and help you."
* * *
With a quick glance around, Emily stepped into the phone booth tucked in the corner of the truck stop parking lot. Charley was right, she realized. She had to let someone know what had happened last night, where she was, and there was only one person she trusted enough to tell.
Saying a quick, silent prayer that her cousin was home, and alone, Emily dropped coins into the phone, then punched in the number by heart.
Her eyes closed and she leaned tiredly against the closed door, listening to the phone ring.
"Hello."
Emily jerked upright, unexpected tears filling her eyes at the familiar voice. "Liza, it's me, Em."
"Oh, God, Emily." Weak-kneed, Liza Colton sank down on the couch in her living room. "Where are you? Are you all right?" She pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead. "I've been worried sick about you." She had to choke back a sob.
"Liza, I'm fine, really. At least I am now." Emily's hand started to tremble, and she sank wearily against the closed door again. "Last night, Liza…Oh God, it was a nightmare, Liza. I—I'm terrified."
"Em, what the hell happened? The entire family is in an uproar. They think you've been kidnapped." Liza cleared her throat; it had grown increasingly hoarse over the past few hours.
"Kidnapped?" Shocked, Emily jerked upright. "Why on earth would they think I've been kidnapped?" She shook her head. None of this made sense.
Liza gripped the receiver tighter, tucking her long legs under her. "Your father called to say a ransom note was delivered to him this morning. Everyone in the family is just beside themselves."
"What? My God, I don't believe it." She shook her head. "Why would anyone deliver a ransom note to my dad when I haven't been kidnapped?"
"Are you sure you're all right?" Liza asked again, not certain what was going on, but wanting to be certain that her cousin was truly safe.
"Yes. But something did happen last night. Something awful."
"I knew it." Tears spilled from Liza's eyes and her hands started to tremble. "I knew something was terribly wrong. You were supposed to call me last night, and when I didn't hear from you…" Her voice trailed off.
"Liza, this is all bizarre. I don't know what the heck's going on." Emily glanced up at a heavyset man heading toward the phone booth. She'd have to make this quick. "Liza, listen to me. I don't have long to talk. I'm at a pay phone in Wyoming—"
"Wyoming? Emily, what are you doing in Wyoming?"
"Last night when I got home no one was home. The house was dark. I let myself in, then went upstairs. My bedroom door was partially closed."
"Why?" Liza frowned. "Your bedroom doors are never closed unless everyone's in for the night."
"Exactly. I pushed open the door just a bit to see in but not be seen." Emily took a deep breath, pressed a hand to her heart as if she could slow its suddenly raging beat. "Liza, there was a man in my bedroom, with a knife, waiting for me."
"Oh God, Emily. Oh God." Letting her head fall to her hand, Liza tried to stop the well of tears. "What did you do?"
"I ran, Liza. And hid in the alcove. You remember the alcove we used to play in as kids?"
"Sure."
"I hid in there for hours, until it was safe and I was sure the guy was gone." Rubbing her brow, Em nervously glanced around the parking lot. The heavyset trucker had stepped into the phone booth next to her. "When I was sure it was safe, I crept out and headed toward the highway. I hitched a ride and I'm in Wyoming. I had to leave, Liza. I didn't think it was safe to stay at home any longer."
"Emily, what is going on?" Liza swiped at her eyes and shook her head. "None of this makes any sense."
"I know. Why would someone send a ransom note to my dad when I haven't been kidnapped?"
Absently, Liza rubbed her sore throat again. "I don't know, Em."
Emily's mind whirled as she tried to put the pieces together. "It had to be someone who knew I didn't come home last night. Someone who felt I wouldn't be home for a while. Otherwise, they'd never have been able to feel comfortable sending that ransom note. I mean, it would be pretty hard to claim I've been kidnapped if I came sauntering in the house this morning." She twisted the phone cord, thinking.
"You think the ransom note and the guy who tried to kill you are connected?"
"Has to be," Emily concluded. "There's no other explanation. No one knows where I'm at, or that I've left California—except the guy who was chasing me. He knows I disappeared, so he told whoever he was working for, and they thought they'd make a quick buck off of it."
"What are you thinking, Emily?" Liza's eyes widened. "You don't think…your mother…"
Emily frowned. "Liza, listen to me, someone tried to kill me last night and I don't know why. Someone's sent a ransom note to my father, and I don't know why. Nothing has been the same in my life since the day of the accident. Meredith changed that day into someone neither of us knows. Other than you, who else knew I was going to a movie with friends last night? Who else knew that I'd be coming home to an empty house?"
"Oh God, Em, what are we going to do?"
"For now, I'm going to stay in Wyoming and out of sight. I want a chance to see if I can get to the bottom of this."
"Okay."
"Now Liza, listen to me. You and I are the only ones who suspect there's something seriously wrong with Meredith."
"Yeah, so?"
"So." Emily blew out a breath and chose her words carefully. "So if any of this has anything to do with the fact that we suspect there's something wrong with Meredith, that means you might be in danger as well. Please, please be careful."
A chill washed over Liza. "I will. I promise."
"Don't tell anyone where I am. For now, let them think I've been kidnapped. I'll get in touch with you when I can. I'm headed to Nettle Creek so I'll—" Emily frowned. "Liza, aren't you leaving on tour tomorrow?"
Liza sighed. She dreaded the grueling singing tour she was to face, thanks to her strict manager, her mother Cynthia. "Yes, but you know my schedule." She inhaled deeply, rubbing her throat again. "Oh, Emily, I'm so scared for you."
"Don't be." Emily forced the worry from her voice. "I'm fine, really. I figure I'll get a job in Nettle Creek, and an apartment, and see if I can do some digging from there. Please don't worry, Liza, I'll be fine."
"I hope so." Liza tried to think. "Do you want me to wire you some money?"
"Wait until I get an address you can send it to."
Liza sighed. "Okay. But please be careful and take care of yourself."
"I will. As soon as I can I'll let you know where I am."
"Okay, please. And, Em?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
Emily smiled. "I love you, too, Liza. You be careful and take care of yourself, too. Good luck on the tour."
"Yeah, thanks." There wasn't much enthusiasm in her raspy voice. She sighed heavily. "I'm not looking forward to it and will be glad when it's behind me." She had to clear her throat again, fearing she was losing her voice. Her mother would be furious.
"Look, Liza, I gotta go. I'll be in touch." Quietly, Emily hung up the phone, then pressed her fingers to her burning eyes to stop the tears. Lifting her head, she touched the phone, said a prayer for her cousin, then stopped out of the phone booth and glanced around, looking for a ride that would take her into Nettle Creek, where hopefully, she'd be able to put the pieces of this puzzle together and find some safety.
And some answers.
Ten
F
aith heard the commotion in her outer office, but didn't pay any attention to it. She was weary and exhausted from a sleepless night of crying.
After the scene with Ali last night in the parking lot, after he admitted she was not the kind of woman he could love, she'd lain awake all night, cursing herself for her sheer stupidity.
She'd allowed him to use her last night, to use her to deceive his parents, something she knew was wrong, and yet she'd let him persuade her with what seemed like logic at the time.
The man touched her, and she lost her head.
Shades of her mother, she thought with a sigh, feeling worse by the minute.
Sometime during the night she realized that she simply couldn't bear to see Ali again, to be in his presence, not knowing what she knew, not knowing what kind of man he was, and what kind of woman she became when she was with him.
Not knowing how he truly felt about her.
Or rather couldn't feel about her.
She refused to admit that somewhere along the line her feelings for Ali had changed into something she couldn't even bear to acknowledge.
So this morning, instead of going to the investment house to finish working on his system, she sent one of her best consultants. She didn't ever want to see Ali again if she didn't have to.
Instead, she'd come into the office to finish some much-needed paperwork, certain if she stayed busy, she could ease the ache in her heart.
She heard Martha's deep, booming voice and smiled to herself, confident her office manager could handle whatever problem had apparently cropped up.
Martha had been with her since the day she'd opened the office seven years ago, although Faith still wasn't certain who had hired whom.
At the time, she'd been advertising for almost a week and had had no responses. Martha had walked in, taken one look around at the chaos and announced it would do. She'd been with Faith ever since.
With the looks of Stalin, the bulldog determination of Churchill, and the cantankerousness of Patton, Martha could handle anything and anyone.
So Faith was more than surprised when her office door flew open and Martha stood there huffing like a peacock who'd just gotten its feathers plucked.
"Man's an imbecile. Determined as can be. He won't leave and he won't take no for an answer. But I'll handle him. Just don't you mind the commotion."
"Man?" Faith glanced up with a frown. "What man?"
"That man." Martha jerked a finger over her shoulder, moving back and forth in the doorway to block his path so he couldn't sneak past her. He was standing right behind her, breathing down her neck. "Doesn't understand I can't be letting in all kinds of riffraff."
"'Riffraff'." The man's deep, booming voice was laced with outrage.
Ali.
Faith heaved a deep, heartfelt sigh, then rubbed her weary eyes. She didn't want him here. "My good woman, do you have any idea to whom you are speaking?"
Faith rolled her eyes at his imperious, highfalutin tone. She was used to it by now, and simply ignored it. Martha, on the other hand, was a whole other kettle of fish.
If Ali had any brains at all, he wouldn't be using that tone of voice with Martha, who did not take kindly to anyone with an attitude or without an appointment.
"No, but I got me a feeling you're going to tell me who you are, aren't you?" Martha asked with a weary sigh, planting thick hands on her even thicker waist.
Ali's spine stiffened. "My good woman, I am Sheik Ali El-Etra, a member of the Kuwati royal family." Arrogant outrage sharpened every word, making Faith sigh once again. Anyone else would have been quaking in their shoes at that haughty tone. Not Martha.
She merely gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder. "Well, I'm sure you're rightly proud of yourself, but all that fancy stuff doesn't amount to a hill of beans here in
this
office. In this office, no one gets in to see Ms. Martin without an appointment. And you ain't got one, so you're not getting in and I don't give a fig's fart if you're the Queen Mum herself."