by Alice Sharpe
Jerry Bucker. Hadn’t the old man in the restaurant said the contact Ella met before she lost her memory was a guy named Jerry? And hadn’t he said no one had seen or heard from Jerry since that contact?
This revelation seemed to nail Ella against the wall.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Devin on the other end and he led off with a question. “Did you hear the police want Ella as a person of interest in the death of a man dumped near her house the day you think she disappeared?”
Simon ran a hand over his face as though he could wipe away all the confusion and doubt. “Yeah, I heard. There’s not much in the paper.”
“It was big news a few days ago. I don’t know why I didn’t think to connect the murder to her right from the start, but the cops are bound to find out I’ve been asking questions.”
“Tell them as little as you can without endangering your license,” Simon said.
“It might help if you hired me.”
“You’re hired. First thing I’d appreciate you doing is contacting the Cozy Comfort Motel in Witchit and making arrangements for my truck to be stored there and not towed away.”
“Sure.”
“What do you know about the victim?”
“Probably not much more than you know. Former cop from Chicago, late sixties, retired up along the Columbia River. No one seems to know why he was in Blue Mountain.”
“How was he killed?”
“The police aren’t saying. I don’t know why they’re so closemouthed on this. You could probably call your partner—”
“No. I won’t get Mike into this. Do you know what connected Jerry Bucker to Ella?”
“They’re not saying, but word on the street was his car was seen in front of her house and since she’s gone, it looks suspicious.”
“That’s a very loose connection.”
“Your girl still batting zero with the memory?”
“More or less. No way she can explain what a dead man was doing visiting her when she can’t remember who she is.”
“There’s something else. Probably unrelated, but after missing the connection last time, I’m not taking any chances.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There was an old guy found dead in his car at a parking lot in Rocky Point a few days ago. Isn’t that where you said you were? Anyway, his last name was Connors, first name Robert. Ring any bells?”
“Where was the car?”
“North of town, out by a restaurant. Seemed emergency vehicles responded to a call about a woman going off the bluff and a guy going to her rescue. By the time they got there, the woman and her rescuer were gone. That’s when someone noticed the old man in the car with a slit throat.”
“Oh, God.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Devin said.
“If it’s the man I think it is, I know who killed him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know a name, I just know a face.”
“You have got to start thinking about yourself,” Devin warned.
“Ditto. I’m going to get to the bottom of this in four or five hours and then I’ll figure out the best way to go to the authorities. Don’t call me anymore, I’ll call you on a pay phone. From now on, the cell is out.”
“Yeah, okay. I kept coming up against a wall while looking into Ella’s background,” Devin said as the waitress delivered Simon’s coffee and took his money. “It looks to me like she went to some trouble to distance herself from her past. I don’t even think we got her maiden name right. Now that I know Jerry Bucker was a former cop in Chicago, I can do some digging back there and see what I come up with.”
Handing over his debit card, Simon said, “Just be careful.”
He snapped the phone shut and this time turned off the power. He was grabbing a couple of napkins when he saw Ella emerge from the ladies’ room. She’d removed a couple of the bandages and combed her hair, and despite the fatigue and scratches, she positively glowed as the morning sun filtered through the window and bathed the delicate bone structure of her face.
God, how he’d once loved her. He’d looked past the things that drove him crazy and basked in the simple joy of being with her. The qualms he should have acknowledged right from the beginning he’d buried under blithe rationale. She would come around. She would open up. She would love him for who he was….
A knot formed in his throat as she approached.
She was depending on him to help her find the one person in the world she remembered.
Had Carl killed Jerry Bucker and forced Ella to come with him? Was that why she’d left the clues at her place, the lights on, the snow globe in the empty garage? Or were those inconsequential oversights in her rush to leave her house? Was she in this deeper than he could imagine? There were two murders now, two dead men, both of whom saw Ella right before their deaths. But at least he knew she couldn’t have killed the second contact.
Did he? She’d disappeared outside for five minutes before Carl gave up paying the bill and went to find her….
No. This was impossible. That would mean she was faking the amnesia and he knew she wasn’t; he’d bet his life on it.
His career…
“You look very worried,” Ella said as she paused in front of him.
Resisting the urge to cup her face, to plead with her to remember something, anything, he reached for the door and held it open for her. “Just anxious,” he said as they hurried back to the rental place.
THEY MADE IT TO TAMPOO with enough time to stop at a shopping mall. Ella loved the violet-blue tunic she found and wore it out of the store with her new jeans and a pair of sturdy walking shoes. She couldn’t help but wonder if she always had such a hard time finding pants that fit in the waist.
They stopped at a men’s store next. While Simon disappeared into the back, Ella looked through a rack of shirts. She found a dark gray one that would match Simon’s eyes, just as her new tunic matched hers. When she looked around the store for him, she discovered he was already at the counter making a purchase.
Once outside, he stopped at a secluded bench, took a red-and-navy plaid flannel shirt from the bag and started pulling off tags.
“That’s what you chose?” she asked, smiling. “Instead of the pretty gray shirt I found, you bought something my father would wear to chop wood?”
“Is that a specific memory or a generalization?” he asked.
She sagged onto the bench. “I remember my dad wearing a shirt like that one. I must have been ten or eleven and we were going to go cut a Christmas tree at a farm. There was a boy there, too, older than me, with dark hair, but he kind of ran ahead.”
“I wonder if the boy is your brother.”
“Maybe. I just remember staying with my father, holding his hand. I can hear a woman’s voice say, ‘Such a daddy’s girl.’ Being with my dad was all that mattered.” She wiped a couple of warm tears from her eyes as the memory seemed to wrap its arms around her.
“You’re getting older in each memory,” Simon said softly.
“I noticed that. The way they just pop into my head as unrelated pieces of flotsam and then sucker punch me with the emotion that follows is unnerving. Wow, I really adore my dad. He must be a huge part of my life.”
Buttoning the shirt over the T-shirt he’d started the day in, Simon grabbed a burgundy cap from the bag, as well. With the big flannel shirt and the cap pulled over his dark hair, he looked different.
“You bought yourself a disguise,” she said. “The dark stubble on your jaw is a good touch.”
“You think so?”
She looked down at her hands, suddenly swamped with a feeling of fear and despair. He sat down beside her. “What is it, Ella?”
“Why is my father going about reaching me in such a dangerous way? The guy back in Rocky Point said my father needed me. And what about my mother? Where is she?”
“Do you remember her?”
Ella clasped a hand to her che
st as she nodded, more surprised by the realization she did remember her mother than by the significance of the actual memory. “It was her calling me a daddy’s girl,” she said, her voice hushed. “She had deep blue eyes and faint freckles. How can I remember nothing about her but her face and voice and so much about my father but not what he looked like?”
“It’s curious, isn’t it?”
She reached over and took Simon’s hand, turning his wrist so she could see his watch, but enjoying the contact with his warm skin too much to let go. “We only have an hour before we meet the next contact. What about Carl and the other man? What could they possibly want with my dad?”
He shook his head as his fingers closed around hers. The motion sent heat waves up her arm and she looked at his face, at his mouth, and heaven help her, but she wished she could kiss him.
“I don’t have answers for you,” he said softly.
“Do you think the contact will be in danger?”
His look at her was sharp. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because the one back at the restaurant said no one had heard from the first man who came to see me. His name was Jerry.”
Her stomach fluttered as something shifted in Simon’s eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” She withdrew her hand and tucked it into a pocket.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“Okay,” he said with a sigh, “I’m lying.” He started stuffing tags and papers into the sack as he slid her a sidelong glance. “Listen, Ella, you’ve trusted me so far, trust me a little while longer.”
“I’m trying,” she said.
“I know.” He looked in her eyes. His were the color of granite today. He added, “You don’t have to go to this meeting. We can get the police involved. They can meet your father’s contact and capture Carl and the big guy. You don’t have to do it.”
“But my father—”
“Is not worth risking your life or safety.”
“We’ve been through this. If you’ll give me a ride to the depot, I’ll take it from there. You can go on your way.”
He cast her an impatient look. “Okay, we’ll do it your way on one condition. I want to case the place before you enter. I’m sure Carl and what’s his name will be there, but I think they’ll think twice about trying anything in public.”
“And Carl knows I have to speak to the contact alone, don’t forget that.”
“Right. They’ll make their move afterward, out in the open. That’s when they’ll try to grab you.”
“Have you figured out why Carl wanted to jump the gun last night?”
“My best guess is he wanted to control the situation going in.”
“What does that mean, you know, in real person talk?”
“It means he’s going to have to try to nab you today in broad daylight in a public place. If he’d gotten you last night, he might have been able to arrange the situation at the depot to his liking.”
Her eyes grew wide. “I wonder if he’s been giving me some kind of sedative or something, you know, to make me more submissive. Maybe that’s why my stomach hurts half the day.”
Simon’s dark eyes flashed, and for a second, dressed as he was, his handsome face rough with beard, he looked more dangerous than comforting. “The bastard better hope like hell he didn’t,” he said, standing abruptly as though a powder keg in his body suddenly exploded. He grabbed her hand. “Come on, babe, it’s time to go. Let’s get this over with.”
The unexpected and casual endearment caught her off guard, but the surprise was short-lived, followed by a warm feeling of certainty.
She’d asked herself a question the night before, a question she hadn’t been able to answer, but now she could.
Yes. Somewhere, someone either loved her now or had loved her in the past.
And that someone wasn’t Carl Baxter.
Chapter Eight
The Tampoo Bus Station occupied half a block of Second and Pearl in downtown Tampoo with large garages running at right angles to each other, surrounding what appeared from the outside to be the main lobby. An abandoned café took corner space with its own street entrance, boarded up now, windows blacked out.
There were three large buses occupying the garage area, including one with its engine compartment open. A truck with the logo Mobile Bus Mechanics was backed up to the bus. Three men in coveralls carried lunch boxes toward a cluster of trees in the far corner of the parking lot.
Simon had finally convinced Ella to lie down on the backseat so it would appear he was alone in the car in case Carl Baxter or the big guy with the knife happened to be watching and recognized him. The plaid shirt and hat weren’t a very sophisticated disguise. He just hoped Ella was right about the dark stubble blurring the contours of his face. He drove slowly past the depot, pulling to the curb half a block farther on.
Turning in the seat, he peered into the back. Ella’s huge blue eyes looked stark against her pale complexion. “Give me five minutes,” he said, slipping his wallet into the glove box. He’d decided not to carry identification, though he wasn’t clear why he’d made that decision. Was he still trying to protect his job? That seemed idiotic, but he locked his wallet in the glove box anyway and turned to hand Ella his watch.
She pulled it over her hand. “I’ll just lie here and listen to my heart pound in my ears.”
“Try not to look for me when you enter the depot. Judging from the original two contacts, this one will be another older man….”
The words were out of his mouth when he realized what he’d just done, that he’d told her he knew what her original contact, Jerry Bucker, now dead, had looked like.
“How do you know how old Jerry was?” she asked.
“I just know.”
“Because you saw him at my house? Oh, God, Simon, were you there?”
“No, I wasn’t there, I promise.”
“Simon—”
And suddenly, Simon knew he couldn’t send her into the bus depot and harm’s way without being honest with her. She had a right to know what she was getting into. Maybe she’d change her mind if she realized how dangerous it was. “Because an older guy named Jerry Bucker is dead,” he said simply. “It was in the morning paper.”
Did he mention Robert Connors’s stabbing death in Rocky Point? He wasn’t positive it was the same man who had met with Ella though the law of coincidence leaned heavily in that direction. One glance at her face made the decision—that news could wait.
She closed her eyes and her words were blurred as she muttered, “When did he die? Where?”
“Days ago, back in Blue Mountain. His body was found in a vacant lot.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “I think I saw it on television. Carl turned the TV off, but I think I saw the recovery of the man’s body. Who killed him?”
“They don’t know.”
“How was he killed?”
“They’re not saying.”
“Oh, my God. Did I have something to do with his death? I can’t remember—”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Simon said.
“How can you be sure?”
How could he be sure? Truth: he couldn’t. He said, “I just know it in my heart,” and hoped she believed him. Before she could go further with this, he added, “Listen, it’s getting late. Do you want to go through with this or do you want to drive away?”
“I can’t drive away,” she said, determination stealing back into her voice. “I have to find my father.”
“Then give me five minutes,” he said, “and when you meet this contact, warn him, okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
Simon locked the doors as he exited the car. The first order of business was to walk around the building making notes of exits. He passed a room with lockers visible inside and several doors with chains and padlocks and no clue as to where they led. Once he had a feeling for the exterior, he entered the building.
The interior door to the abandoned café was ri
ght inside, occupying a front corner. Through the glass insert in the wood doors, Simon could make out stacks of dusty chairs. The doors were chained and locked.
The ticket counter, with a few people lined up in front of it, was to his left. He parked himself behind a young couple holding hands and proceeded to pat his pockets as though looking for his wallet or a misplaced ticket. While doing that, he surreptitiously looked around the place.
Five iron benches took up the center of the waiting area while a few plastic chairs and a couple of vending machines and arcade games were scattered against the walls. Five or six people sat in various states of boredom.
A minute later, the restroom door opened, disgorging a tall man with brownish skin wearing a tan raincoat. It took Simon a second to recognize him, and as soon as he did, he turned his face against the wall. It was the man with the knife. He’d shaven off his beard and looked younger, his face thinner, but Simon would know those intense black eyes anywhere. The man immediately made his way to a vending machine, where another peek revealed him making a show of studying snack choices. Simon saw how often his gaze went to the doors. There was no sign of Carl.
Okay, he hadn’t expected them to come inside the depot. As far as he knew, Carl and the guy with the knife were just as anxious for Ella to get her next message as Ella was. He’d thought for sure they’d wait until she stepped outside. He guessed the man with the knife was there just to make sure Ella was covered when the meeting was over.
Simon scanned the gathering for a sign of an elderly man who might be the contact. Everyone was too young with the exception of one person, but that person was female and sat with her back against a wall with her eyes closed.
Simon moved up a step in line just as the door opened and Ella walked inside. Their formerly bearded adversary visibly stiffened at the sight of her and he looked away quickly. Ella chose a deserted bench in the middle of the room and sat down. She didn’t look at anyone else, keeping her gaze directed at Simon’s watch. She’d pushed it up her arm, where it was held in place by the bunched sleeve of her thick knit shirt. He could practically see her trembling.