hear right now. He escaped as quickly as he could.
As he made his way back to his car, he saw that half a dozen more calls had come in, none of them from the person he wanted to talk to. He tore the parking ticket off his windshield and headed for the Ike. By the time he reached the expressway, his stomach was a mass of knots. He told himself she'd come home sooner or later, that this wasn't an emergency. But nothing could still his sense of urgency. She was in pain because of him-suffering from his stupidity-and that was intolerable.
He hit a traffic backup on the East West Tollway and didn't reach the Calebow house until one-fifteen. He scanned the cars lining the driveway for an ugly green Crown Victoria, but Annabelle's car was MIA. Maybe she'd ridden with somebody else. But as he rang the bell, he couldn't shake off a sense of foreboding.
The door swung open, and he gazed down at Pippi Tucker. Stumpy blond pigtails stuck out on each side of her head, and she held a menagerie of stuffed animals against her flat chest. 'Pwince! I didn't go to preschool today 'cause my school got busted water pies.'
'Is that right? Is, uh, Annabelle here?'
'I been playing with Hannah's stuffed animals. Hannah's at school. She don't have busted water pies. Can I see your phone?'
'Pip?' Phoebe appeared in the hallway. She wore black slacks and a purple turtleneck draped with a blue and yellow paper lei. She took in Heath's unkempt appearance through a pair of rimless half glasses. 'I hope the police caught whoever mugged you.'
Pippi hopped up and down. 'Pwince is here!'
'I see.' Phoebe set her hand on the child's shoulder without taking her eyes off Heath. 'Did you come all the way out here to gloat? I wish I were a big enough person to congratulate you on your new client, but I'm not.'
He wedged past her into the foyer. 'Is Annabelle here?'
She pulled off her glasses. 'Go ahead. Tell me all the ways you plan to bankrupt me.'
'I don't see her car.'
Her cat's eyes narrowed. 'You've talked to Dean, right?'
'Yeah, but he didn't know where Annabelle was.' Grilling Phoebe was a waste of time, and he headed for the living room, which was spacious and rustic, with exposed beams and a loft. The book club had gathered in a nook beneath it, all of them except Annabelle. Even casually dressed and draped in paper leis, they were an intimidating bunch of women, and as he crossed the room, he felt their eyes on him like hypodermics. 'Where is she? And don't tell me you don't know.'
Molly uncrossed her legs and rose. 'We do know, and we've been ordered to keep our mouths shut. Annabelle wants time to herself.'
'She just thinks she does. I have to talk to her.'
Gwen regarded him over her enormous stomach like a hostile Buddha. 'Are you planning to give her more reasons she should marry a man who doesn't love her?'
'It's not like that.' He gritted his teeth. 'I do love her. I love her with all my frickin' heart, but I can't convince her of that if somebody won't tell me where the hell she's gone.'
He hadn't meant to sound so angry, and Charmaine took offense. 'When did you have this miraculous realization?'
'Last night. A blue woman and a bottle of scotch opened my eyes. Now where is she?'
'We're not going to tell you,' said Krystal.
Janine glared at him. 'If she calls, we'll relay your message. And we'll also tell her we don't like your attitude.'
'I'll relay my own damned message,' he retorted.
'Not even the great Heath Champion can bulldoze his way through this.' Molly's quiet stubbornness sent a chill up his spine. 'Annabelle will contact you in her own way and in her own time. Or maybe not. That's up to her. I know it goes against your nature, but you'll have to be patient. She's calling the shots now.'
'It's not as though you won't be busy,' Lady Evil drawled from behind him. 'Now that Dean has turned his back on the goodwill of the woman who holds his contract-'
He spun on her. 'I don't give a damn about Dean right now, Phoebe, and here's a news flash. Some things in life are more important than football.'
Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly. He turned back to the women, ready to strangle the information out of them if he needed to, only to discover he had no anger left. He lifted his hands, shocked to see they were unsteady, but not as unsteady as his voice. 'She's… I-I have to make this right. I can't stand knowing she's… That I've made her suffer. Please…'
But they had no hearts, and one by one, they looked away.
He walked blindly out of the house. The wind had picked up, and a blast of chilly air cut through his jacket. Mechanically, he reached for his phone, hoping against hope that she'd called, knowing she hadn't.
The Chiefs were trying to reach him. So were Bodie and Phil Tyree. He set the heels of his hands on the hood of his car and bowed his head. He deserved to suffer. She didn't.
'Are you sad, Pwince?'
He looked back toward the house to see Pippi standing on the top step of the porch, a monkey under one arm, a bear under the other. He fought a wild urge to pick her up and carry her around for a while, to tuck her under his chin and hold her close, just like one of those stuffed animals. He drew in a little air. 'Yeah, Pip. I'm kind of sad.'
'You gonna cry?'
He pushed his response around the lump in his throat. 'Naw, guys don't cry.'
The door behind her opened, and Phoebe emerged, blond, powerful, and merciless. She paid no attention to him. Instead, she crouched at Pippi's side and adjusted one of her pigtail stubs, speaking softly to her. He reached in his pocket for his keys.
Phoebe headed back into the house. Pippi dropped her stuffed animals and scampered down the steps. 'Pwince! I gotta tell you something.' She ran toward him, pink sneakers flying. When she reached his side, she tilted her head back to gaze up at him. 'I gotta secret.'
He crouched next to her. She smelled innocent. Like crayons and fruit juice. 'Yeah?'
'Aunt Phoebe said don't tell nobody but you, not even Mommy.'
He glanced toward the porch, but Phoebe had disappeared. 'Tell me what?'
'Belle!' Pippi grinned. 'She went to our campground!'
A surge of adrenaline shot through his veins. His head reeled. He pulled Pippi off her feet, drew her against him, and kissed the hell out of her cheeks. 'Thanks, sweetheart. Thanks for telling me.'
She cupped his jaw and pushed him away with a frown. 'Scratchy.'
He laughed, gave her another kiss for good measure, and set her back on her feet. He'd forgotten to turn his phone off, and it rang. Her eyes widened. He automatically reached for it. 'Champion.'
'Heathcliff, I need an agent, man,' Dean barked, 'and I swear to God, if you hang up on me again-'
He thrust his phone to Pippi. 'Talk to the nice man, sweetheart. Tell him all about how your daddy's the greatest quarterback who'll ever play the game.'
As he pulled out of the driveway, he watched Pippi heading back to the porch, his phone pressed to her ear, her pigtails twitching while she chatted away for all she was worth.
Inside the house, the front draperies moved, and through the window, he glimpsed the most powerful woman in the NFL. Maybe it was his imagination, but it looked like she was smiling.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Heath reached the Wind Lake Campground a little before midnight. Only the watery glow of the Victorian streetlamps on the commons and the single porch light at the bed-and-breakfast shone through the rain-swept darkness. His wiper blades beat at the Audi's windshield. The unheated cottages sat empty and shuttered for the season. Even the caged yellow dock lights in the distance had been turned off. He'd originally planned to fly, but foul weather had closed the small airport, and he hadn't been patient enough to wait out the delay. He should have,
