Moon - New Moon Part 73

She lifted her head. "Thank you for saving me. But why did you hold Falcone back?"

"So the cops would find someone in the house."

A throat-clearing noise made her look around. From the other side of the car, a voice said, "Maybe you'd better get some clothes on, so we can get the h.e.l.l out of here. Before the cops figure out that explosion was just a diversion."

She felt her face heat.

One of the men tossed a pair of pants and a s.h.i.+rt to their side of the car. Logan pulled them on and Rinna dressed in the clothing he'd brought from the house. When they were dressed, they climbed into the car-she and Logan in front and the others in back.

As Logan started the engine, he said, "My brother Lance. And my cousin Ross."

"Thank you," she breathed.

"Logan went crazy when he knew you were gone," Lance said.

She looked from him to Logan. "I'm so sorry. I knew Falcone would hunt you and kill you. I had to get him away from you."

"I figured you were going to do it your way."

"You used the explosion to get past the police?" she asked.

"Yes," Ross answered. "Lucky your mate carries equipment for blasting rock."

She winced. "I'm sorry I caused so much trouble."

"We've had worse. And we owed you-from when you helped us get Boralas," Lance answered.

She nodded, then asked. "What will the police do?"

"They'll try to figure out what happened, but they won't get too far," Logan answered, "unless they round up some of those soldiers who dashed out the back door." He reached for her hand. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm hoping you can do one more thing."

"What?"

"That cop, Jake Cooper, probably thinks we're involved in some way. Can you send him a suggestion that he doesn't have time to check up on us for a couple of days. That will give Ross time to get you an ID."

She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. "I can try," she murmured.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

JAKE COOPER KEPT thinking he should go have a chat with the Marshalls. But he had a lot of details to take care of after the hostage situation-and the explosion in the woods that had drawn a lot of his men away from the house. Had some guys from inside gotten out and set off the explosives? Or had it been someone else?

The only man they'd taken into custody had been lying on the floor, unable to speak. Maybe he'd rotted out his mind with some designer drug, because toxicology couldn't figure out what he'd taken.

Jake had tried to get an ID on him, but he hadn't had any luck with that either. With one thing or another needing his attention, he didn't show up at the Marshall house until two days after the hostage crisis was over.

As he stepped onto the front porch, he eyed two pairs of dirty tennis shoes-a man's and a woman's-tossed onto the wooden boards, like the couple had been gardening and taken off their shoes before they came in.

He rang the doorbell. After a few moments, Marshall answered. He was casually dressed in sweatpants and a T-s.h.i.+rt. But his eyes were wary, and his shoulders were tense. He looked like a man with something to hide. What exactly?

"Is your wife at home?" Jake asked.

"Yes."

"So you found her okay?"

"Yes." The man didn't elaborate.

"What happened?"

"Just a misunderstanding," Marshall replied.

Jake was sure there was more to it than that. "Do you mind if I come in?" he asked.

Marshall shrugged and stepped aside.

"Did you hear about the hostage situation in Mount Airy?" Jake asked, watching the man's face.

Marshall kept his gaze steady. "Yes."

"You know anything about that?" Jake asked.

Marshall shrugged again. "Just what I saw on television."

"When I was here the other day, I didn't check your wife's ID," Jake said.

"Is that routine?"

"No. But I'd be remiss if I didn't see some identification."

Marshall turned toward the back of the house. "Honey, the detective we met the other day is here. Can you come out here and bring your purse?"

Moments later, Rinna Marshall stepped into the room, a worn leather purse slung over her shoulder.

"He'd like to see your ID," Marshall said.

The slender dark-haired woman reached into her bag and pulled out a leather wallet that had obviously seen a lot of use. From the card case, she extracted a Maryland driver's license.

Jake looked it over, noting the vital statistics.

Rinna Marshall was twenty-two, five feet six inches tall with green eyes and brown hair. The picture matched her perfectly.

Still, he should take the license out to the car and check it through the motor vehicle administration's computer. But something kept him standing there.

He should...

He forgot what he had been thinking about. He didn't want to ha.s.sle these people.

The woman held out her hand, and he gave back the plastic card.