Shirley Murphy - Cat Pay the Devil

Was Cage headed there? Did he mean to dump her there? Kill me and leave me under the fallen walls or in some caved-in cellar , where no one will find me? Leave me there to get back at Wilma? Certainly Cage hadn’t kidnapped her for a ransom. He wouldn’t get much, she thought ruefully, she wasn’t some heiress worth millions.

Oh, but Max would pay. He’d pay with the ranch, the horses, the cars, and every smallest thing he owned, go into debt for the rest of his life, if that was the only way to save her-except that Max was too clever for that, Max would never be so foolish, he was far sharper than these two cheap crooks, he would never let them twist him around.

Wouldn’t he? To save my life?

And she knew he would.

Was this revenge against Wilma? Did Cage think he could make Wilma suffer far more if he killed her niece? Or, she thought, could Cage want something from Wilma, something besides revenge? Am I a hostage? Is this some kind of trade? But trade for what? Certainly he can’t buy his freedom from the law with a hostage. The U.S. courts don’t make that kind of bargain.

This was all too unlikely, too bizarre. It had been such a peaceful afternoon, she’d so been looking forward to a quiet ride, to spending some time with Ryan. And then…everything had gone to hell.

The sky was going dark now. Cage, still grousing over the flat tire, which was all Eddie’s fault because it was Eddie’s Jeep, hadn’t glimpsed her peering over the back. She caught her breath when she saw another light, a flash as brief as a firefly, one pinprick, then gone. But then another, farther down the hills, where she thought their ranch lay. Then the trail behind them was hidden by a thick stand of pine. The Jeep came up over a rise and dropped down again, and Cage swung around in the seat, turning his light on her; he caught her looking, and before she could duck, he smacked her in the face so hard he sent her sprawling. She lay unmoving, hurting, detesting Cage Jones. And thinking about the lights.

Someone was at the ranch or was approaching it. Or did those lights belong to someone following the Jeep? Ryan must have arrived by this time and found her gone. Found the door unlocked, the tire tracks, the animals upset. If she had, there’d be cops all over, and Max would be following their tracks.

They topped the rise and turned, bumping over rocks. She glimpsed broken stone walls, they were in the ruins, the old Pamillon estate. Did Cage mean to kill her here? She had to get away, get back down the trail to Max-If Max couldn’t get a vehicle up that trail, he’d follow her on horseback. Not alone on horseback , Max , please. They’re both armed. Please …There was a shotgun between the front seats, she’d seen it when they threw her in the Jeep, and Cage had a handgun.

Stop it , she thought. Max is no fool. If he comes on horseback, they’ll never see him , never know he’s there. Twisting her hands in ways she hadn’t thought they’d bend, she again tried desperately to free herself; she felt blood flowing, making her hands slick as she tried uselessly to undo the knots. Cage pulled the Jeep deeper in among the fallen walls, stopped, and killed the engine.

The Jones house had been dark when Greeley arrived back there, though it was only an hour since he’d left, since he’d seen them cats tossing the place. What the hell were they doing? What were the little sneaks looking for? They couldn’t know what this was all about. Approaching the Jones’s front windows, he could see no light now. Had Lilly gone to bed? Not until he stepped around the side of the house did he see that one lamp was burning low, just about where Lilly had been sitting earlier. Was she still in that same chair, mindlessly knitting away? Moving around to the front porch again, he rang the bell, hoping she might be in a better mood this time around. Hoping to hell them cats was gone, dirty, nosy varmints.

Well, he was damn glad to be shut of that cop, rousting him out of Mavity’s place like that. As if a cop had that kind of rights. Like some Gestapo bully. Stateside cops were as bad as them Panamanian La Guardia, didn’t give a damn for people’s rights. Unless you lined their pockets. In Panama, if you didn’t buy your freedom, the Guardia’d just as soon shoot you. Cheaper than feeding you, in jail. Well, hell, it made no difference. You get thrown in a Panama jail, only way out is in a pine box-if they bother to put you in a box, if they don’t just throw you to the sharks.

He’d stayed in that motel patio, after that cop followed him from Mavity’s, until he was sure the rookie was gone. Watched him drive away, talking on the radio like he was heading on another call. Watched him as far as he could see the cop car, then he’d retrieved his own car and headed up the few blocks to Lilly’s place. Oh, he’d checked in to the motel, all right. Waited till that cop called them, then said he’d changed his mind.

He didn’t know how he was going to convince Lilly to let him stay, but he’d figure it out. Once he got settled in one of them upstairs bedrooms, he could search the house at his leisure, do it while she slept. Do it before Cage got back. Sure as hell this would be his last chance before Cage barged in here to get the stash.

If Cage got it first, he’d turn right around and head back to the city, to the same fence. And once that fence started moving Greeley’s own share to collectors, the feds would hear about it and them bastards’d have the dogs out.

He rang the bell again, fidgeting. What the hell was Lilly doing? At last he heard her padding to the door and he had to think how best to con her. She wasn’t an easy woman. So far, she sure hadn’t been what you’d call cordial.

He’d thought of phoning her first, asking real nice if he could stay there a day or two, that his sister had a problem with the apartment he was in. Maybe tell her the water pipes broke? But Lilly’d of hung up on him, sure as pigs had curly tails. He’d thought of pretending to be Cage, telling her to give Greeley a room, but their voices were too different, no way he could pull that off. He heard the knob turn, and she opened the door with the burglar chain on, peered out through the little crack at him. One good lunge with his shoulder and he could break that puny chain, send the door flying. Instead he gave her a big smile. “It’s me, Lilly. I come back. I…I have a kind of a problem. You think I could come in? Come in and maybe tell you about it and maybe get warm for a minute?”

“It’s still ninety degrees, Greeley.”

“Well, it’s a lot hotter in Panama,” Greeley said pitifully. “My blood’s thin. And I sure do need some help. For old times’ sake?”

“What old times?”

“It’s Mavity,” Greeley said. “Something happened to her apartment where I was staying. She’d rented it and those folks showed up early to move in, and I had to leave. She didn’t have no more room; I just need me a place to stay for the night. Until I can get a motel, until the tourists go home. Motels are all full, I got me no place to sleep.” He hoped to hell she didn’t check. “I’d be gone again first thing in the morning…”

She stood scowling down at him for a long time. They were the same height, but with him standing a step down on the porch, she was some taller. She looked real sour at being disturbed, sour and stubborn. He could have been starving or sick, she would have looked just as mean. When she shut the door, he thought that was the end of it, that he’d lost the first round.

But she’d only closed it to slip the chain. She opened it again, still scowling. She stared at him for another long minute, then stepped back, opening it wider. He gave her a pitiful, grateful look and moved inside, doing his best not to grin. He thought of going back to the car to get his duffle but was afraid she’d change her mind and lock the door. There wasn’t nothing in it he really needed.