Saving Faith

CHAPTER 37

Lee got up before Faith, showered, changed his clothes and then stood next to the bed, watching her as she slept. For a few seconds he allowed himself to forget about everything ex­cept the wonderful night the two had spent together. He knew it had changed his life forever, and that thought scared him to death.

He went downstairs, moving a little slowly. Parts of him were aching that hadn't in a long time. And it wasn't just from the dancing. He went into the kitchen and made coffee. While it was brewing, he thought about last night. In his mind, Lee had made a very strong commitment to Faith Lockhart. Per­haps an old-fashioned sentiment to some, but sleeping with a woman meant you had deep feelings for her, at least as far as Lee was concerned.

He poured a cup of coffee and went out to sit on the deck off the kitchen. It was already late morning and a warm sunny day, but off in the distance, Lee could see darkening clouds ap­proaching. Ahead of the storm was the twin-prop plane as it floated in for a landing with another load of passengers. Faith had told him that during the summer months, the planes might make ten or so trips a day. Now it was down to three; morning, noon and early evening. And so far none of the plane passengers had remained on this street. They had driven off to other places, which suited Lee just fine.

As he sipped his coffee, Lee concluded that he did have such feelings for Faith, even though he had only known her a few days. Stranger things had happened, he guessed. And their re­lationship had certainly begun on the shakiest of grounds. After all she had put him through, Lee knew he would be jus­tified in hating the woman. And after what he had done to her that night, drunk or not, she would be right to loathe him. Did he love Faith Lockhart? He knew that right now he didn't want to be away from her. He wanted to protect her from harm. He wanted to hold her, spend every minute with her and, yes, have incredibly energetic sex with her as often as his body could manage. Did that constitute love?

On the other hand, she had participated in a bribery scheme involving government officials and was wanted by the FBI, among others. Yes, he thought with a sigh, things had gotten very complicated indeed. Right before they were taking off to God knew where. It wasn't like they could go to a church or even a justice of the peace and get married. That's right, Father, we're the fugitive couple. Could you please hurry it up?

Lee rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. Marriage! Good God, was he nuts? Maybe that was how he felt, but what about Faith? Maybe she was into one-night stands, although every­thing he had observed about the woman argued against such a conclusion. Did she love him? Maybe she was infatuated, caught up in his role as her protector. Last night could be ex­plained away by alcohol, the intoxication of the danger swirling around them or perhaps just simple lust. And he wasn't going to ask her how she felt. She had enough going on.

He focused on the immediate future. Was traveling cross­country on the Honda to San Diego the best plan? Mexico and then South America? He felt a pang of guilt when he thought of the family he would be leaving behind. Then he thought about something else: his reputation, what his family would think. If he ran, he would be admitting guilt of sorts. And if they did get caught while running, who would believe them?

He slumped back in his chair and suddenly pondered a very different strategy. A few minutes before, flight seemed the wis­est choice. Faith, understandably, didn't want to go back and help send Buchanan to prison. Lee really didn't have much in­terest in doing that either, not after hearing why the man had been bribing the politicians. In truth, Danny Buchanan prob­ably should be sainted instead. That's when an idea started to form in his head.

Lee went back inside and picked up his cell phone from the coffee table. He had one of those mega-minute deals with no long distance or roaming charges, so that he rarely even used his hard-line phone anymore. It had voice mail, text mail, caller ID. It even had a news banner where you could check out late-breaking stories, or how your stocks were doing, not that he had any.

When he had first started out as a private investigator, Lee had used an IBM typewriter; touch-tone phones were cutting edge; and fax machines spit out curly thermal paper and were the domain of only the largest companies. That was less than fifteen years ago. Now he was holding a global communica­tions command center in the palm of his hand. Change that fast just couldn't be healthy. But still, who could live without these damn things now?

He plopped down on the couch and stared at the slowly re­volving ceiling fan's rattan blades, contemplating the pros and cons of what he was thinking about doing. Then he made up his mind, and slipped his wallet out of his back pocket. The piece of paper was in there with the number his client, who he knew now was Danny Buchanan, had originally given him. The one he had been unable to trace. Then doubt seized him. What if he was wrong about Buchanan's not being involved in the attempt on Faith's life? He stood and paced. When he looked out the window at the blue sky, he saw only possible disaster looming in the approaching storm clouds. Still, Buchanan had hired him. He was technically working for the man. Maybe it was time to report in. He said a silent prayer, picked up his cell phone and punched in the numbers from the piece of paper.