Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(99)

You’ve had plenty of time. Are the documents ready for me to sign? As we discussed? Annalee

Aiden was almost disappointed she hadn’t called. It would be fun to hear the shock in her voice as he told her the scam hadn’t worked. He e-mailed Ron Preston and asked for his recommended response. Ron e-mailed back that he should try the following:

They are not, Mrs. Zubac. Your marriage to Mustafa is the only legitimate marriage of record and it turns out I don’t need a divorce after all. Get lost and don’t bother me again.

Her e-mail and his response were forwarded to Ron, who, he assumed, would make sure the authorities got it, as well. After that, there was nothing for Aiden and Erin to do but attempt to get on with their lives. But Annalee had gotten the drop on him so many times, it was hard to relax. Nothing would be so welcome as word that she’d been apprehended.

He began to immediately regret not participating in that event.

“I’m worried about my sister,” Marcie told Ian. “There’s something wrong and she keeps denying it.”

“How can you be so sure there’s something wrong?” Ian asked.

“I can hear it in her voice. There’s a tension, a nervous laugh that Erin never had, and she used to call me every day, sometimes twice a day, and now I almost always have to call her. Something’s wrong.”

“You’re just being overly pregnant,” Ian said. “What could be wrong?”

“She went to Virgin River, fell in love, got engaged and is starting a whole new life, all in about two months. What if something is wrong between her and Aiden?”

Ian cradled her little sprite of a face in his hand, looked deep into those mischievous green eyes and asked, “If there is, what can you do about it?”

“I can be there for her,” she said. “If she’ll just talk to me, maybe I can help. I do know more about relationships than she gives me credit for. Erin’s kind of an oddball—she’s pretty old to be having her first serious relationship.”

Ian smiled and shook his head. “She’ll be home in a couple more weeks. We’re having a baby in three. This will keep. When she’s home and the little guy is out, you two can talk about it day and night.”

That was a very husband thing to say, Marcie thought. Were men wired to say things like just relax? But it wasn’t good enough for her—she was sure she’d heard something in her sister’s voice that indicated there was a problem. And even if Marcie couldn’t make it go away, she was damn sure going to know what it was.

She was thirty-five weeks pregnant, had just had a doctor’s appointment and everything was perfectly normal and on schedule. She’d be having her C-section at thirty-eight weeks—a couple of weeks before her due date. All was well. She could make a quick run up to Virgin River, spend one night with Erin, get the lay of the land and drive back in the morning. The doctor said no more trips, but not because a trip would throw her into labor or because anything was wrong—only because she was supposed to be near her doctor and hospital in case she went into labor early. If that happened, she could have her C-section early. It was very unlikely, he had said, but he wanted her to err on the side of caution.

Still, everything she read about first babies and labor said it usually lasted forever. Worst-case scenario—if she went into labor, she’d pull over and summon help, an ambulance or whatever.

After Ian left for work in the morning, she threw a few things into an overnight bag and wrote him a note.

Took a run up to Virgin River to see Erin. I’ll call and leave a message when I arrive safely—hope to be there by noon. I’ll talk to you tonight. Be back first thing tomorrow. Do NOT worry, I feel great. And I love you.

She had cell reception most of the way and after three hours on the road, feeling great, she checked her cell and had not missed any calls. When she talked to Ian later, he was going to be very cranky about this, but she wasn’t worried. He couldn’t stay mad at her. Besides, he’d grown accustomed to the fact that she did as she pleased. She smiled to herself. That was how she’d captured him, after all—doing as she pleased.

By the time she neared the cabin, she wasn’t feeling so great. Typical day for Marcie—late pregnancy was no picnic. For one thing she was small and her load was large; sometimes the pressure on her lower pelvis was wearing. She was probably a little dehydrated, though she’d had water with her the whole way. And hungry, though she’d had peanut butter crackers. She’d get a bite and maybe lie down for a while once she got to Erin’s. She’d made fantastic time, she was proud of that—it wasn’t quite noon.

Erin’s SUV was not at the cabin and neither was Aiden’s. They must be off on errands or something, but no problem for her. She’d eat something and rest. She opened the door and walked in; the blinds were all drawn and the place was a little dark. She closed the door behind her and went first to the new French doors, opening the blinds to the view. When she turned, she almost shrieked in surprise.

A blonde woman with a bruised and swollen face was pointing a small gun right at her. “Who are you?” the woman asked Marcie.

Marcie grabbed her chest in shock, then recovered herself. “I’m Marcie Buchanan and this is my cabin! Put that thing down before you hurt someone!”

The gun did not move. “Where are Erin and Aiden?” she asked.