Beverly Barton - The Outcast

He heard a car door slam, and then another. Laughter. Silly, drunken laughter. Tracy Stanton's laughter.

"Dammit!" He muttered the word under his breath as he threw back the covers and got out of bed. What the hell was she doing here in February? He'd had no idea that she used her parents' summer cottage as a trysting place in the winter months. She'd brought him here in May.

The keys to the Jeep and the T-Bird were on the night-stand. If they hurried, they could be out of the house before Tracy and her lover came inside.

Suddenly Reece remembered that his and Elizabeth's clothes were scattered on the living room floor. Damn! Making his way out of the dark bedroom, he eased open the door and dashed down the hallway, bumping into the edge of a small oak table in the foyer. He stifled a vivid curse, damning the table silently.

He could hear Tracy's voice outside, but not yet on the porch. She laughed again, then a deep male voice said something Reece couldn't quite make out.

Thankful that so many windows graced the living room, allowing in the moonlight, Reece scrambled around on the floor, picking up the clothing Elizabeth and he had discarded so carelessly only a few hours ago.

As he made his way back into the foyer, he heard footsteps on the porch, then a loud, heavy thud.

Tracy's laughter echoed in the black stillness. "What's the matter, Jeffie-pooh, are you drunk?"

"Hell, yes," Jeffie-pooh said. "Come on, Trace, give a guy a hand."

"You got down there all by yourself, lover. You can pick yourself up. I'm going inside. It's freezing out here."

Reece heard the key sliding into the lock, and saw two shadows outside the French door. Careful to avoid the foyer table, he rushed back to the bedroom. He pulled on his jeans and shirt, then slipped on his boots, not worrying about his socks. Finding Elizabeth's bag at the foot of the bed, he pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater, then stuffed her thermal underwear into the bag. Leaning over the bed, he gave Elizabeth a gentle shake.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and smiled at Reece, assuming he had awakened her for more lovemaking. She reached out for him, but instead of encountering his sleek, naked body, she felt her clothes thrust into her arms.

"Get dressed as quickly as you can, Lizzie," Reece whispered. "Tracy Stanton is here. She's brought one of her lovers. They're on the porch, and they're both drunk."

Elizabeth jumped out of bed, pulling on her clothes as quickly as possible. "What's she doing here? Did you know she used this place in the winter?"

"There's no time for questions. We've got to get out of here." Reece pulled Elizabeth into his arms, slipping the keys to the Thunderbird into her hand. "I'll take the Jeep and go straight to the sheriff. You go to Sam's motel and tell him what's happened."

"Oh, God, Reece, they'll hear us when we drive off."

"Probably." He gave her a quick kiss. "No matter what happens, just keep driving. Don't look back. Don't think about me. Don't worry about me."

"What about our bags, our food?" Elizabeth didn't hesitate to follow Reece when he pulled her out of the bedroom and into the hall.

"We'll take our bags." Reece lifted both bags off the floor. "We won't need the food."

"They'll call the sheriff as soon as they hear us. They'll think we're burglars."

"My guess is that Tracy won't call the sheriff. If she did, she'd have to explain what she was doing out here."

"What if we can't get out without their seeing us?"

"Hush. Listen." Reece stopped dead still just before entering the foyer. Keeping Elizabeth behind him, he glanced out into the entrance hall. The front door swung open. The overhead light came on. Tracy Stanton stood in the doorway, her slender body wrapped in a gray fox jacket.

"Come on, Jeffie. Make us a fire in the fireplace so we can warm up."

A tall, lanky young man came up behind Tracy, grabbing her around the waist. "I can warm you up just fine without building a fire."

Pulling out of her lover's embrace, Tracy headed straight for the living room. "You get a fire started, and I'll pour us some drinks."

Elizabeth peered around Reece's side, watching as the other couple went into the living room.

"We'll go out the kitchen door," Reece told her. "We'll have to squat down behind the counter. Be as quiet as you can."

Elizabeth nodded agreement, the roar of her heartbeat drumming inside her head.

"Look, Trace, there's already a fire in the fireplace," Jeffie said.

Elizabeth froze. Reece nudged her. Together they walked out into the foyer and toward the kitchen, Reece carrying their bags, hers in his hand, his over his shoulder.

"So there is," Tracy said. "Isn't that odd. I didn't see a car out front. Wonder who's been here."

"Maybe your parents," Jeffie said.

"They're in Gatlinburg skiing all this week."

Knees bent, Elizabeth squatted beside Reece behind the kitchen counter and they did a quick duck-walk toward the back door. Reaching up in the darkness, Reece grabbed the doorknob, turning it until he heard the lock release.

The lights came on in the living room. Reece jerked open the back door, pulled Elizabeth to her feet and ushered her outside.

“Reece!'' Tracy screamed his name.

"Keep running," Reece told Elizabeth. "Get in your car and go straight to Sam."

"She saw you. She knows it's you!"

"Go, Lizzie. Go, now!"

Obeying, Elizabeth made a mad dash through the backyard, but before she could get to Sam's Thunderbird a car pulled up behind her, the headlights blinding her.

"What the hell?" Reece said, turning sharply when he heard the vehicle.

The driver kept the motor running. The bright headlights cut through the darkness, trapping Elizabeth and Reece in their glare.

"Lizzie, come here to me." Reece's gut instincts told him that whoever the driver was, he wasn't the sheriff or any law officer. A shiver of apprehension raced up Reece's spine.

Elizabeth began walking away from the T-Bird and toward Reece. A car door slammed.

"Stay right where you are, witch-woman. Reece's little psychic whore. He can't help you, and you can't help him anymore."

Reece dropped their bags to the ground. Sweat beaded his upper lip and forehead, despite the cold air whipping around him. The sharp, metallic taste of fear coated his tongue. Harry Gunn!

"Let her go, Harry," Reece said. "This is between us. She's got nothing to do with our fight."

Dammit all, why hadn't he remembered Kenny saying that Harry had been following Tracy around? If only he had remembered, he might have been prepared. And Elizabeth. Why hadn't she sensed Tracy's arrival or Harry's? Had she been so consumed by their lovemaking that all else had been obliterated from her mind?

Elizabeth breathed deeply, uncertain what to do. Harry Gunn had come to kill Reece. There was no doubt in her mind about that one fact. But why hadn't she sensed that Tracy Stanton would bring a lover to the cottage, and Harry Gunn would follow her? Only the strongest thoughts and emotions could have blocked out her precognitive powers. Making love to Reece had consumed not only her body, but her mind and her heart. And all her thoughts of the future had centered on the child Reece had given her.

Tracy Stanton ran out the back door, Jeffie following her. "My God, Reece! I had no idea you'd ever come here to the cottage."

"Yeah, pretty good hideout," Harry Gunn said, his voice loud and clear. "I knew if I kept following your brother's wife around, sooner or later she'd lead me to you."

"Are you crazy, old man?" Tracy screamed. "Do you think I'd have helped Reece?"

"When a woman's got the hots for a guy as bad as you do Reece, she'll do anything for him." Harry Gunn stepped around the front of his car, out of the direct glare of the headlights. He held a gun in his hand-an old .38 caliber revolver.