Midnight Jewels

turned his head to look at her and found her watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. She blinked sleepily and yawned like a cat.
    "It's okay, honey," he said gently. "I know you didn't mean it."
    "Mean what?" Her eyes were closing as she nestled her head more comfortably into the pillow.
    "What you said earlier about being in love with me. It was the tension and your nerves talking. And you have a tendency to say rash things before you've thought them through."
    "I really wish you'd stop putting your foot in your mouth, Croft." She turned over on her side, presenting her back to him. "It's going to be hard enough as it is to respect you in the morning."
    She was asleep before he could even begin to formulate a response to that one. Croft gazed at the curve of her bare shoulder for a long while before he finally got up, pulled on his jeans and sought solace in his meditation.

    Mercy awoke to find herself alone in the motel room. Judging from the position of the sun, she guessed it was early afternoon. She probably hadn't had more than four hours of sleep, but it seemed to be sufficient. She felt rested and the frazzled feeling was definitely gone.
    She stretched luxuriously, letting her mind drift back. The events in Drifter's Creek seemed very distant in the light of day. Ghosts always faded in the sun.
    Except for Croft. He seemed as real and substantial as ever, even in full daylight.
    Mercy tossed the covers aside and padded into the bathroom for a shower. While she stood under the driving water she wondered if Croft had done his civic duty and telephoned the authorities.
    I don't deal well with authorities
. Mercy recalled his words and wondered what they meant.
    Mercy finished her shower and put on her jeans and a fresh shirt. She was busy securing her hair into a no-nonsense twist that would keep the tawny mass out of her eyes when Croft materialized in the doorway.
    As usual there had been no sound of the door opening, no footsteps to warn her, no knock. The door was simply closed one instant and the next he was in the room with her. Croft was obviously back to normal. He was carrying a paper sack that had come from a restaurant.
    Mercy met his eyes in the dressing table mirror and her hands stilled on top of her head. As memories of her early morning aggression returned she determinedly fought down the blush that threatened to turn her face a vivid pink.
    "Is that coffee? Good. I could use a cup. Did you call the sheriff about Dallas and Lance?" She kept her voice bright and chatty and hurried to finish pinning her hair in place.
    "Coffee for you, tea for me. Ye?, I called the sheriff. About two hours ago. Anonymously from a pay phone." He walked over to stand behind her, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.
    It was Mercy who looked away first, pretending to be searching for a hairpin. "So they'll pick up Dallas and Lance."
    "If Gladstone hasn't found them first."
    "Do you think he'll have gone looking for them?" Mercy demanded.
    Croft set the cup of coffee down on the table, leaned over and dropped a lingering kiss on the exposed nape of her neck. Mercy shivered and her eyes flew back to meet his in the mirror.
    "No." Croft straightened, apparently satisfied with the telltale shiver he had induced in her. "I don't think Gladstone will have found them. I doubt he even looked for them. When Lance and Dallas failed to return last night, he probably assumed they were dead."
    "Dead!"
    "It's how he would have left them if he'd been in my place." Croft shrugged. "By now he'll have something more important on his mind."
    Mercy chewed her lower lip. "Escaping?"
    Croft shook his head. "I don't think he'll run very far. Not yet. There are too many loose ends. But that helicopter makes him too damn mobile. With any luck he'll decide he's safe enough where he is for the time being. Even if Dallas and Lance turn up in the hands of the sheriff, Gladstone isn't in danger of anything more than having to answer a few polite questions."
    "Won't he be afraid we'll lodge a complaint against him?"
    "I don't think so," Croft said. "He'll probably assume we're operating on our own. That's what I want him to think. That means we aren't likely to complain to the cops. Even if we did, all Gladstone has to do is deny any knowledge of Dallas and Lance's activities."
    "You really do believe he's Egan Graves, don't you, Croft?"
    "I'm almost sure of it now. But I can't move until I know where he's going to go to ground. As soon as I