Paula Graves - Fugitive Bride

“I’ll call it in.” The deputy finished jotting notes and headed out of the room.

Trask looked down at the dead man lying facedown on the floor. Poor bastard, he thought. All dressed up and nowhere to go.

* * *

“DO YOU, TARA, take Robert as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others...” The pastor’s intonation rang in Tara’s head, making it throb. She wanted to run, but her feet were stuck to the floor as if her shoes were nailed to it. She tried to tug her feet from the shoes, but they wouldn’t budge.

Breathing became difficult behind the veil that had seemed to mold itself around her head and neck, tightening at her throat. She attempted to claw it away, but the more she pulled at the veil, the more it constricted her.

“Owen!” she cried, the sound muffled and puny. She knew he was here somewhere. Owen would never let anything bad happen to her.

“I’m here.” His voice was a warm rumble in her ear, but she couldn’t see him.

“Owen, please.”

Arms wrapped around her from behind. Owen’s arms, strong and bracing. The veil fell away and she could breathe again. Her feet pulled loose from the floor and she turned to face her rescuer.

Owen gazed at her, his face so familiar, so right, even in the shadows.

“You awake now?”

The shadows cleared, and she realized where she was. It was the old Boy Scouts camp cabin in the woods. Night had passed, and with it the rain. Misty sunlight was peeking through the trees outside and slanting into the cabin through the dusty windows.

And she was wrapped up tightly in Owen’s arms on the mattress they shared.

“Yes,” she answered.

“You were dreaming. Must have been a bad one.”

She forced a smile, the frightening remnants of her nightmare lingering. “Just a stress dream. You know, late for class.”

“You called out to me.”

She eased away from his embrace and sat up. “Probably wanted you to do my algebra homework for me.”

He sat up, too. The blanket spilled down to his waist, revealing his lean torso. She rarely saw him shirtless, and it came as a revelation. Owen might not be bulked up like a bodybuilder, but his shoulders were broad, his stomach flat and his chest well-toned. He’d talked often about Campbell Cove Security’s training facilities, which were apparently part of the company’s connected training academy, but she’d been so wrapped up in her wedding plans she hadn’t listened as closely as she should have.

“Did you hear it, too?” he asked in a half whisper, and she realized he’d been talking to her while she was ogling his body.

She lowered her voice to match his. “Hear what?”

“Voices. I think I’m hearing voices outside. Listen.”

Tara listened. He was right. The voices were faint, but they were there. “A woman and a man,” she whispered. “Can’t make out what they’re saying.”

“Maybe one of those kids did tell their parents about seeing us last night.” Owen rose, grabbing his shirt from where it lay on the floor nearby and slipping it on as he crossed to the cabin’s front window. Tara noticed that grime had smudged the snowy-white fabric.

“Can you see anyone?” she whispered.

He nodded. “They look normal.”

“By normal, I assume you mean nonhomicidal.”

He turned to flash her a quick grin. “Exactly.”

“Maybe we should go out and meet them. It’ll look less suspicious.”

“Good idea.” He glanced her way. “Wrap the blanket around your bottom half. It’ll be hard to explain half a wedding dress.”

Smart, she thought, and grabbed the blanket that had been covering them to wrap around her. She joined him at the door. “Ready?”

He took her hand. “Let’s not tell them what really happened. Too hard to explain. I’m just going to say we’re newlyweds whose car broke down in the storm.”

“Okay.” She twined her fingers with him and followed him onto the porch, surprising the couple approaching the cabin through the underbrush.

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed as they came to a quick halt. “I reckon y’all are real after all.”

“You must be the parents of one of the kids we scared last night,” Owen said with an engaging smile. “Sorry about that.”

The woman, a plump brunette with a friendly smile, waved off his apology. “Don’t you worry about that. Those young ’uns had no business bein’ out here in the middle of a rainstorm. But we figured we should at least come out here and make sure you weren’t in some kind of trouble.”

The man grimaced at the cabin. “Y’all had to sleep here last night?”

“Sadly, yes,” Owen said. “Our car broke down late yesterday afternoon, and then the rain hit, so we had to settle for what shelter we could find. And then, to our complete horror, we discovered we’d both left our cell phones at the church. So we couldn’t even call for a tow.”

The woman took in their appearances—the beaded bodice of Tara’s torn dress, Owen’s grimy white tuxedo shirt and black pants—and jumped to the obvious conclusion. “You’re newlyweds, aren’t you? Bless your hearts—this is where you spent your wedding night?”

Owen laughed, pulling Tara closer. “It’ll be quite the story to tell on our golden anniversary, won’t it? I don’t suppose we could borrow a phone to call for help?”

“Of course you could.” The woman dug in the pocket of her jeans and provided a cell phone. “Here you go.”

“Thank you so much.” Owen took the phone and went back inside the cabin to make the call, leaving Tara to talk to the friendly couple.

“Do you live close?” Tara asked.

“Half a mile. Kind of hard to see the place through all the trees. If it was winter, you’d probably have seen us and not had to spend the night here,” the husband said. “I’m Frank Tyler, by the way. This is my wife, Elaine.”

“Tara B—Stiles. Tara Stiles, and my husband’s name is Owen.” Tara smiled, even though her stomach was starting to ache from the tension of lying to this nice couple. But Owen was right. As crazy as the “newlyweds with car trouble” story was, the truth was so much more problematic.

Owen came back out to the porch, a smile pasted on his face. But Tara knew him well enough to know that his smile was covering deep anxiety. It glittered in his eyes, tense and jittery. He handed the phone back to Elaine Tyler. “Thank you so much. I’ve called someone for a tow, so we’re set.”

“Glad we could help. You know, we could drive you to where your car is parked.”

“Not necessary. I’ve arranged for someone to meet us on Old Camp Road. Easy walk from here to there. You should get back to your family.” Owen shook Frank Tyler’s hand, then Elaine’s. “Thank you again.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” Tara added, smiling brightly to hide her growing worry. Who had Owen called and what had he heard?

When the Tylers were out of earshot, Tara moved closer to Owen. “What’s wrong?”

He caught her hand, his expression pained. “Tara, I don’t know how to break this to you. Robert’s dead.”

She stared at Owen, not comprehending. “What?”

“He’s dead. Shot, from what my boss told me.”

She covered her mouth with one shaky hand, not certain what she was feeling. Her fiancé was dead. The man she’d been close to marrying. Even if she had become convinced he wasn’t the man for her, it didn’t mean she hadn’t cared deeply for him.

And now he was gone? Just like that?

It was crazy. It had to be wrong.

“This has to be a mistake,” she said, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly.

Owen led her to the steps and eased her into a sitting position on the top step. Ignoring the uncomfortable dampness of the wood, she turned to look at Owen as he settled down beside her and wrapped one strong arm around her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”