He related how he had finally reached the car after almost giving up hope. “It was completely covered with snow, ice underneath. Like to never have got the door open.”
But he had. The toughest part, he said, was resisting the urge to rest. He knew if he did, he was in danger of falling asleep and freezing.
“Once inside the car, I allowed myself about thirty seconds to catch my breath, then got busy. I had to wedge my arm through the gap between your dashboard and the passenger seat, which was only a few inches wide.”
He’d had to reach further than arm’s length before he finally felt the silk bag. “I pinched some of the cloth between two fingers,” he told her, demonstrating. “I was afraid I’d push it forward, out of reach. But I managed to drag it toward me until I could get a better grip on it.”
“And then you had to make the trip back. With a concussion and a sprained ankle.”
“The important thing is that I made it in time.” He glanced at the fireplace. “We’ll need more wood before the night’s out.”
“Are you going outside barefoot?”
He had pulled on his coat but was moving toward the door on bare feet. “I don’t intend to stay out that long.”
He stepped onto the porch and quickly shut the door behind him. Lilly was there to hold it open when he carried in an armload of logs. “Thanks.” As he stacked the firewood on the hearth, he said, “I saw the message you left on the kitchen cabinet.”
She didn’t know how to respond, so she said nothing.
He stood up and faced her. “You’re not the only one who thinks that. I got the motor of your car to start, turned on the radio in the hope of hearing a weather report.”
She had an uneasy premonition of what was coming.
“The FBI is looking for me,” he stated bluntly, then brushed past her on his way to the porch again. “Apparently one of your calls to Dutch got through after all.” He slammed the door shut behind him.
Lilly sank onto the sofa. She was trembling but was unsure if the weakness came from relief or dismay. If he was Blue, this was good news. But if he wasn’t, she had incriminated an innocent man.
In a flurry of blowing snow, he entered with another armload of firewood and kicked the door shut. “The forecast calls for the snow to end tonight. Temperatures will remain well below freezing, but conditions will improve.”
He continued stacking the logs on the hearth. His tone was casual and unconcerned. “The roads will remain impassable for days, but with any luck, there’s an outside chance you could be rescued tomorrow.”
“Tierney—”
“We still have to get through tonight though,” he said, brusquely interrupting. He turned to her, dusting off his hands. “That must be an awfully distressing prospect for you.”
He motioned toward the backpack beneath the end table. “Pistol, handcuffs, you know where they are if you feel the need for them. Now that you’ve got your medication and a supply of firewood, you could fare on your own until help arrives.”
“Are you leaving?” She was stunned by how fearful she was that he would go again.
He snuffled a bitter laugh. “I’m tempted, but no. Now that my name has been broadcast, every hillbilly with a deer rifle is going to be on the lookout for me. My hide would be the hunting trophy of the season, and in my present state I’d be easy prey.
“No, until I can get some food and rest, you’re stuck with me. But I won’t have you cringing every time I come near you. So if you want to handcuff me to the bed again, I’ll go peacefully. Not exactly willingly, but I won’t put up a fight.”
She ducked her head and looked down at the floor, at her own stocking feet, then over at his bare toes, poking from under the wet hems of his jeans. It didn’t take her long to make a decision. “That won’t be necessary, Tierney.”
“You’re no longer scared of me?”
She looked at him and said simply, “If you were Blue, you wouldn’t have come back.”
“But don’t you see, Lilly, I would have had to come back, for my own survival. I would have died out there, one way or the other.”
“But you didn’t have to revive me. Blue would have let me die.”
“Where would be the thrill in that? Watching you die wouldn’t be the same as taking your life. Not at all.”
She studied him for a long moment, searching his eyes for answers to questions he adroitly dodged with more questions, or silence, or lies, or by playing devil’s advocate. He was excellent at the game, but she was tired of playing it.
Wearily she said, “I don’t know who you are, Tierney, or what you’re about, but I don’t think your intention is to end my life or I would be dead.”