Authors: Perfect
her nap?"
"Sure thing. C'mon, sweetheart," he said, and the pair walked off hand in hand, a giant of a man and a little girl who regarded him as her personal teddy bear.
Too tense to sit down, Matt shoved his hands into his pants pockets and watched in taut silence as a pretty young woman stepped up to the bank of microphones, wearing a simple white wool dress with
gold buttons at the collar and cuffs, her long dark hair caught at the nape in a pleated bow. "God help him," Matt said, referring to Zack. "She looks like Snow White, which is going to make the whole damned world scream for his blood for kidnapping her."
But when the mayor of Keaton finished warning the press about the courtesy he expected them to show her and Julie Mathison began to explain what had happened to her at the hands of her captor, Matt's frown began to fade and then, slowly, it gave way to an astonished smile. Contrary to his expectations, Zack's captive was somehow managing to describe her week with him as if it had been an adventure she'd had, courtesy of a man she carefully described to the world as "extremely kind," instead of a terrifying ordeal at the hands of an escaped murderer.
When she related the truth behind her attempted escape at the rest stop and told of Zack's quick-witted
method of thwarting her, she did it in a way that evoked a ripple of reluctant, admiring laughter from several members of the press. And when she solemnly described her second attempted escape on a
snowmobile and Zack's effort to "rescue" her from the creek, she made him sound like the
compassionate hero she clearly believed he was.
At the end of her statement, the room exploded with shouted questions from the press, and Matt tensed at the sharp edge they all had:
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"Miss Mathison,"a CBS reporter called out,
"did
Zachary Benedict at any time threaten you at
gunpoint?"
"I knew he had a gun because I saw it," she replied with smiling poise, "and that was enough to convince
me—at least in the beginning—that I probably shouldn't pick a fight with him or criticize his old movies."
Laughter erupted in the room punctuated by more shouted questions.
"Miss Mathison! When Benedict
is recaptured, will you press kidnapping charges
against him?"
With a teasing smile, she shook her head and replied,
"I don't think I could get a conviction. I mean, if there were women on the jury, they'd acquit him in a minute, as soon as they heard he did half the cooking and cleaning up."
"Did he rape you?"
She rolled her eyes in amused disbelief. "Now really, I've just given you a detailed account of what happened during the entire week, and I specifically said that he did not physically abuse me at any time.
I
certainly couldn't have said that if he'd even attempted to commit such a despicable act."
"Did heverbally
abuse you?"
She nodded solemnly, but her eyes sparkled with laughter as she said, "Yes, actually, he did—"
"Would you describe the occasion?"
"Certainly," she said. "He took grave offense one evening when I deliberately left his name out of my list
of favorite movie stars."
Guffaws erupted in the auditorium, but the reporter who'd asked the question didn't seem to realize she was joking.
"Did he threaten you at that time?"
he demanded.
"What exactly did he say and how
did he say it?"
"Well, he spoke to me in a very
disgusted
voice, and he accused me of having a peculiar obsession for short men."
"Were you afraid of him at any time, Miss Mathison?"
"I was afraid of his
gun
during the first day." she said carefully, "but when he didn't shoot me after my attempt to pass a note to a clerk in a fast-food restaurant nor after my next two escape attempts, I realized that he wasn't going to hurt me, no matter how much I provoked him."
Again and again, Matt watched her deflect their questions and manage to begin swaying them from animosity to empathy toward her captor.
After about thirty minutes of relentless questions, the pace began to slow. A CNN reporter called out,
"Miss Mathison, do you want to see Zachary
Benedict captured?"
She turned her face in the direction of the reporter and said, "How could anyone possibly want to see a man who was unjustly imprisoned sent back to prison? I don't know how a jury ever convicted him of
murder, but I do know that he's no more capable of that than I am. If he were capable of it, I would not
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be standing here now, because as I explained to all of you a few minutes ago, I repeatedly tried to jeopardize his escape. I'd also like you to remember that when he thought we'd been found by a helicopter, his first concern was for my safety, not his own. What I'd like to see happen is for this manhunt to be stopped while someone reviews his case." In a firm, courteous tone, she concluded, "If you have no more questions, ladies and gentlemen, we can end this interview and you can all go back to your homes. As Mayor Addelson explained, the town of Keaton wants to return to normal, and so do I,
therefore I will not give any further interviews or answer any other questions. Our town has been delighted to have your 'tourist' money pouring into our cash registers, but if you choose to stay here, I have to warn you that you'll be wasting your time—"
"I have one more question!"a reporter from the
Los
Angeles Times
shouted imperiously.
"Are you in
love with Zachary Benedict?"
She looked at him, lifted her graceful brows, and disdainfully replied, "I'd expect a question like that from the
National Enquirer,
but not the
Los Angeles
Times."
Her attempt to sidestep that got her laughter, but no success this time, because a reporter from the
Enquirer
shouted,
"Okay, Miss
Mathison, we'll ask the question:
Are
you in love
with Zachary Benedict?"
It was the only time Matt saw her falter, and sympathy swelled in his heart as he watched her struggle to
keep her smile in place, and her expression noncommittal, but her eyes betrayed her—those huge
long-lashed sapphire eyes turned dark and solemn with an emotion that distinctly resembled tenderness.
And just when Matt's sympathy for her plight was at its peak, just when he realized the reporters had finally trapped her, she changed tactics and walked willingly into their trap in a way that made him draw in a sharp breath at her courage:
"At one time or another," she said, "most of the female population of this country has probably imagined
themselves in love with Zachary Benedict. Now that I've known him," she added with a tiny break in her voice, "I think they showed excellent judgment. He
—" she hesitated, visibly searching for the right words,
and then she said simply, "he is a very easy man for any woman to love."
Without another word she turned away from the bank of microphones and was quickly surrounded by two men Matt presumed were probably FBI agents and several uniformed deputy sheriffs who ushered her safely off the stage.
He pressed the off button on the remote controller as the CNN reporter began to recap the interview, then he looked at his wife. "What do you think of that?"
"I think," Meredith said quietly, "that she was incredible."
"But did she change your opinion of Zack at all? I'm biased in his favor, but you never knew him, so you'd probably react to her interview pretty much like everyone else did."
"I doubt that I'm as unbiased as you think. You're a very tough judge of character, darling, and you've made it clear that you believe he's innocent. If you believe that, then I'm inclined to believe it, too."
"Thank you for the tribute to my judgment," he said tenderly, pressing a kiss on her forehead.
"Now, I have a question for you," she added, and Matt sensed instinctively what she was going to ask.
"Julie Mathison said she was taken to an isolated house somewhere in the Colorado mountains. Was it our house?"
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"I don't know," he said truthfully, grinning when she gave him a skeptical look. "But I imagine it was," he added for the sake of honesty. "Zack has been there before, although he always flew in, and over the years, I've repeatedly offered him the use of the place. He would naturally feel free to use it now, so long
as he didn't directly involve me—"
"But you are involved!" Meredith burst out a little desperately. "You—"
"I am not involved with Zack in any way that could jeopardize you or me." When she still looked unconvinced, he reiterated calmly, "When he went to prison, Zack gave me his power of attorney so that I could manage his investments and handle his finances, which I continue to do. That is not illegal nor is it
a secret from the legal authorities. Until he escaped from prison, he was in regular communication with me."
"But what about now that he's escaped, Matt?" she asked, her eyes searching his face. "What if he tries to communicate with you now?"
"In that case," he said with a casual shrug that worried her more, not less, "I will do what any law-abiding citizen must do and what Zack would expect me to do: I'll notify the authorities."
"How quickly?"
He laughed at her perceptiveness and put his arm around her shoulders as he steered her toward the bedroom. "Quickly enough to stop the authorities from charging me with collusion," he promised. And not one bit quicker than that, he added silently.
"What about his having used our house? Will you tell the authorities what you suspect?"
"I think," he decided after a moment's consideration,
"that's an excellent idea! They'll see that as further proof of my innocence and a gesture of extreme good faith on my part."
"A gesture," his wife provided wryly, "that can't possibly harm your friend because, according to Julie
Mathison, he left Colorado several days ago."
"Very clever of you, darling," he agreed with a grin.
"Now, why don't you climb into bed for our little
'nap' and wait for me while I telephone the local office of the FBI."
She nodded but put her hand on his sleeve. "If I asked you not to have anything more to do with anything that concerns Zachary Benedict—" she began, but he shook his head to silence her.
"I'd do anything in the world for you, and you know it," he said in a voice that was gruff with emotion.
"But please don't ask this of me, Meredith. I have to live with myself, and I'd find it very difficult to do if I
did that to Zack."
Meredith hesitated, astonished again by the loyalty Matt felt for that one man. Generally regarded as a brilliant, but tough businessman, Matt had hundreds of acquaintances, but he neither trusted them nor gave them his friendship. In fact, to the best of her knowledge, Zachary Benedict was the only one he'd ever truly regarded as a close, trusted friend. "He must be a remarkable man for you to be this loyal to him."
"You'd like him," he promised, chucking her under the chin.
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"What makes you so certain?" she teased, trying to match his lighthearted attitude.
"I'm certain," he said with a deliberately smug look,
"because you happen to be crazy about
me."
"You can't mean the two of you are alike?"
"A lot of people probably thought so and not necessarily in a flattering way. However," he added, sobering, "the fact is that I'm all Zack has. I'm the only one he trusts. When he was arrested, the sycophants and competitors who'd fawned all over him for years dropped him like he had the bubonic plague and reveled in his downfall. There were other people who stayed loyal to him even after he went to prison, but he cut them off and refused even to answer their letters."
"He was probably ashamed."
"I'm sure he was."
"You're wrong about one thing," she said softly. "He has one other ally besides you."
"Who?"
"Julie Mathison. She's in love with him. Do you think he saw her or heard what she said tonight?"
Matt shook his head. "I doubt it. Wherever he is, it's somewhere very remote and it's not in this country.
He'd be a fool to stay in the U.S., and Zack is no fool."
"I wish he could have heard her," Meredith said, her heart going out to him despite her fear for her husband's safety. "Maybe he got lucky and he knows what she's trying to do."
"Zack has never been lucky in his personal life."
"Do you think he fell in love with Julie Mathison while they were together?"
"No," he said with absolute finality. "Besides the fact that he'd have had much more pressing things on his mind at the time, Zack is … almost immune to women. He enjoys them sexually, but he doesn't have
much respect for them, which isn't surprising given the sort of women he's known. When his acting career
was going strong, they stuck to him like flypaper, but when he became a director—with juicy movie roles to dispense to lucky actresses—they swarmed around him like beautiful, sleek piranhas. He was completely inured to them. In fact, the only real tenderness I've ever seen him show is to children, which
is the main reason he married Rachel. She promised him children, and she obviously reneged on that as well as her vows." Shaking his head for emphasis, he finished, "Zack wouldn't fall in love with a pretty young schoolteacher from a small town—not in a few days, not even in a few months."
Against the setting sun, the tall man walked down the dusty road that led from the village to the busy docks, a newspaper and several magazines in his hand. As he headed down the pier, he spoke to none of the fishermen who were unloading the day's catch or mending their nets, and none of them spoke to him, but several pairs of curious eyes followed the stranger toward his boat, a forty-one-foot Hatteras
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with the name
Julie
stenciled on the stern in fresh blue paint. Other than the boat's name, which was required by marine law to be displayed on the stem, there was nothing to note about the craft. From a distance, it looked much like the thousands of boats that glided through the waters off the coast of South America, some of them chartered out to sports fishermen, most of them used strictly as fishing boats, all