by Julie Miller
Between what she remembered about the ghost and the wedding dress and now this, knowing that she’d been locked in the truck of a car, was proof positive that she hadn’t been the happy bride-to-be. She knew that Cal had been bothered by the wedding dress and what it meant. It hadn’t been the same for her. She’d known that it was nothing. Still, it had been a bit hard to ignore.
Yesterday, when she’d remembered her silver ring, it had given her a reason to pause. Something told her that silver ring was very important to her. Was it a wedding ring? An engagement ring? She could see it clearly and it didn’t look like that but maybe the giver had been unconventional. It looked old. Maybe it was a family heirloom?
When she thought about her ring, her body seemed to have a reaction. She felt hot and slightly nauseous and very angry. It was just crazy.
Cal had said, Your memory is coming. Be ready. Was she? Or had something so horrible happened that she was blocking it out. Maybe it had nothing to do with the bump on her head? Maybe it was simply her way of coping.
She needed to get over it.
They would go to the truck stop today. She would stand in the parking lot, breathe in the cold air and will her memory to return. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Once she finished a quick shower and dried her hair, she dug into the closet for some additional clothes. She found a pair of black leggings and a long red sweater. She pulled on the black boots that were a little big but a huge step up from going barefoot. She looked at the knife that Cal had given her the day before. She slipped it into the pocket of the red sweater.
When she walked downstairs, Cal was standing in the kitchen, his rear end resting against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. He looked fresh and capable and once again, she thanked her good luck that he’d been the one who’d found her in the snowdrift. “Good morning,” she said.
“I’d make you some toast with your coffee but there’s no bread.”
“Maybe we can actually get breakfast at the diner,” she said.
“The cook, or I should say chef, is a good one. We go for information, maybe get an omelet as the icing on the cake.”
She shook her head. “Based on the apple pie, I’d rather have the cake.”
He drained his coffee. “Let’s go.” He picked up his coat and under it was another black wool jacket. “I got this out of the closet upstairs. It belonged to my mom. Will it work?”
“Perfect,” she said.
The road in front of the house was still snow-covered but once they got back to the highway, it was much better. They drove through Ravesville, dutifully obeying all the four-way stops. Cal accelerated as they left town. It was definitely better driving. Easier for them and easier for the men chasing her.
Almost as if he’d read her mind, Cal turned to look at her. “Nervous?”
She shook her head. “Anxious. Hopeful.” She turned to stare out the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn on the car radio.
She didn’t want to listen to talk radio. She wanted to know more about Cal. “Will you stay in Missouri?” she asked. “After your visit with your brothers?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about it.”
“You don’t have a job to go back to?”
“Nope. Gave them my notice. I’ve been thinking about starting up a small engineering company, taking on projects that really interest me. Maybe contract with the government on building ships and submarines. Every time I was on one, I’d find all kinds of things that could have been designed better, more efficiently, so that it would work better. I think I’d find that worthwhile, making sure the next generation of sailors has it better.”
“That sounds very cool,” she said. “You could probably do that work from anywhere.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I should buy the Fitzler property, live just down the road from my old house.”
He was joking. But the idea didn’t seem all that crazy to her. “It has that big outbuilding,” she said. “Certainly big enough for creating prototypes or whatever it is you engineering types like to make.”
He scratched his head. “You know what they say, you can never go back home again. Somebody very wise probably learned that the hard way.”
“That’s just something that parents try to tell their kids when they’re graduating from college. Come on. It would be cool. You’d be in one house and Chase in the other. It would be as if you owned the road. Like the road might really be called Route 6 but everyone in the community would refer to as Hollister Road.”
“Now you’re getting crazy,” he said good-naturedly.
She let it go. It was his decision. She would be long gone. With that unsettling thought heavy on her heart, she reached for the radio knob and started looking for something to listen to.
They didn’t talk again until Cal said, “Five minutes out.”
She rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
“It’s possible that the Mercedes Men may have the location staked out,” he said.
She’d thought of that. The risk was worth it. For some reason, the Mercedes Men had stopped at Dawson’s Diner. She didn’t think it was as simple as they suddenly had a hankering for a ham sandwich. “I’ll get down on the floor. You check out the parking lot. If we see their cars, we leave.”
“That should work.”
She unbuckled her seat belt and got on the floor. “I hope they’re there,” she said.
He chuckled. “Ready to bust somebody’s chops?”
“Maybe.”
“Even if the lot is clear, I should probably go in first, just to make sure that they haven’t gotten smart and changed vehicles. Give me a three-minute head start.”
She could tell when they turned into the lot. It was rougher and Cal slowed way down. The SUV made a big circle. He was going around the building. “Anything?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m going to park. Three minutes,” he reminded her.
“Got it,” she said.
He parked, shut off the vehicle and got out without another word. She looked at her watch.
The first minute went fast. The next sixty seconds dragged on. She held her breath for the third minute. Then she straightened up, opened her door and calmly walked into the diner.
Cal was sitting in a booth and smiled at her. She sat down.
He pushed a menu in her direction. “See anybody interesting?” he asked, his voice low.
She shook her head. As she’d walked in, she’d looked at everybody. There hadn’t been a flicker of recognition in her blank slate of a mind and nothing alarming on anyone else’s faces.
“The same waitress is working today. Her name is Lena. Maybe she’ll be helpful. I left a really good tip.”
Despite her anxiety, she smiled. When the waitress came up, she was wearing a bright fuchsia smock and white pants and her hair was pulled up into a lopsided bun. She was probably midforties.
“Hey,” Lena said, looking at Cal. “I remember you.”
A woman would have to be dead not to remember Cal Hollister. Big tip or not.
He smiled up at her. “The apple pie was so good I had to come back.”
“Glad the storm didn’t get you,” Lena said. She turned toward Stormy. “Can I get you some...” Her voice trailed off. “Coffee?” Lena finished stronger.
She had to take the chance. “Have we met?” she asked. “You look so familiar.” She did her best I’m sweet and harmless imitation.
“I...uh...” Lena stammered and looked at Cal. He had a relaxed look on his face and was looking at the menu as if his greatest ambition in life was to discover the morning breakfast special.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Lena said. “But I saw a picture of you. Just the other day.”
“Oh really, w
hich one was that?”
“You were sitting at a bar. Wearing a royal blue dress that crossed in the front.”
She could see the dress. Could see herself at the bar. She’d been nursing a glass of white wine. Waiting.
Damn it. Who was she waiting for?
Who the hell had taken a picture of her there?
And how in the world had this woman seen it? “Love that dress,” she said.
“Your fiancé was flashing it around when he came in to talk to Pietro about the food for your wedding reception. He’s pretty proud of you.”
She was glad no one had yet poured her coffee. She would have surely choked on it. She couldn’t very well ask her fiancé’s name or for a description. She put a finger up to her lips and tapped thoughtfully. “I’m trying to remember how he knew Pietro,” she said.
“He told me that the two of them had worked together at Moldaire College. I got the impression that they hadn’t seen each other for a while.” Lena lowered her voice. “I know Pietro and his wife moved here about four years ago. Unfortunately for him, she and their son left about a year ago, moved back to Kansas City. He stayed, though, said he liked the area.”
“That all rings a bell,” she said. “You know, I’d love to say hello to Pietro. Is he working today?”
“Nope. It’s his day off.”
“Shoot.” She waved her hand in Cal’s direction. “My stepbrother helped me pay for the wedding. We’d both appreciate having the opportunity to thank Pietro personally for making it such a special day. Does he live nearby?”
“A couple miles down on Summerfield Road,” Lena said. “Big yellow house on the hill.”
Cal gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Great,” she said.
Lena smiled. “He’s a nice guy but his ego does need to be stroked. He’ll enjoy hearing how the food was at the reception.”
Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Just because he’d fixed food for the wedding reception didn’t necessarily mean there’d been a wedding. “Delicious,” she said. “It was delicious.”
“You two going to have breakfast?” Lena asked.
She could hardly wait to follow up on the two leads. Pietro and Moldaire College. But it would look odd if they didn’t eat. “Absolutely. I’ll take a short stack of pancakes and a big cup of coffee.”
Cal ordered eggs, bacon and hash browns along with coffee. He waited to speak until Lena was at the other end of the restaurant.
“Nicely done,” he said.
“Thank you. We probably better leave her another big tip.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stormy ate half her pancakes before pushing her plate aside. He figured that was as good as he could have hoped for.
He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her that she’d done a nice job. She’d struck just the right chord with Lena and the two of them had been chatting like old friends.
Lena came by, dropped off the check and cleared their plates. He took one last swig of coffee. “Ready?”
Stormy nodded.
He saw her glance at the check amount and knew that she was likely going to add it to her list of expenses to reimburse, somewhere between basil and flour.
He left Lena a tip in line with what he’d left the first time. Her information had been golden but there was no sense letting on that they were too grateful.
He led the way out of the diner and, after opening the door, stood in the entrance and scanned the exterior. Nothing too different than when they’d come in. Different vehicles getting gas, of course, but none of them was a black Mercedes. Of course, it was possible that they were being observed from a distance. He and Stormy had done just that at the toboggan factory. He glanced off into the distance. There wasn’t anything close enough to warrant concern. He stepped away from the doorstep and started walking. He shortened his stride so that Stormy could easily keep up.
“Pietro or Moldaire College?” he asked.
She opened her door and slid in. He walked around the SUV.
“Pietro,” she said, buckling her seat belt. “Even if Moldaire is a small college, it will still be like looking for a needle in a haystack because I won’t know where to start.”
“The first time I met Lena, she told me that Pietro was a chef at a restaurant in the student union at the college. Catered all the significant events.”
“That helps,” she said. “Still, let’s see if we can find him. Maybe he can start to fill in the missing pieces.”
“He might be in on it. Maybe one of the Mercedes Men is his best friend. His brother.”
She sat back in her seat, evidently considering his comment. He appreciated that in her excitement at having a lead, she didn’t immediately dismiss his concerns. She was a thinker.
“Lena said they worked together at the college. She didn’t say they were old friends or any kind of relative.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know the extent of their relationship,” he countered.
“Maybe. I need to take the chance. But you’re right. There is a risk. I’m going alone.”
“Like hell you are,” he said.
“It only makes sense,” she argued. “If he’s in on it, then we don’t want him to know anything about you. If that happens, your home will be compromised.”
“What if he tries to detain you until his friends come back?” He didn’t know why he was bothering to even discuss it. It wasn’t going to happen.
“Let me see your gun,” she said.
That surprised him. “Why?”
“I want to see if it feels familiar.”
He didn’t care if she’d given shooting instruction to the military. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
She shrugged. “I think so.”
“The fact that you think you know how to shoot a gun is not terribly comforting.”
She waved a hand. “I promise I won’t shoot myself or him, unnecessarily,” she added.
He could feel his breakfast rumble in his stomach. He, who never got nervous about anything. “I’m not giving you my gun.” He started the car. Pulled out of the lot.
“I assume you know where Summerfield Road is?”
“Sort of. I think it’s only a few miles from where I found you. There won’t be that many houses. We should be able to find the yellow one on the hill.”
“Okay. Get me close and then I’ll let you out. Once I talk to him, I’ll be back to get you.”
“No. You let me out, give me ten minutes to get into position and then drive up to the house.”
She didn’t say anything. Then finally she sighed. Loudly. “Fine. Let’s just do this.”
He took the same exit off the Interstate that he’d taken just two days ago. When he made the sweeping turn, he couldn’t help but look at the place where he’d found Stormy. The wind had whipped the snow around and there was no sign that he or anyone else had tromped through the ditch.
“Was that the place?” she asked, her voice soft.
He slowed down. “Yeah. Want to have a closer look?”
She shook her head. “I am amazed that you saw me from the road. I...could have easily frozen to death.”
She could have. That thought made his knees feel as if they were made of jelly. But she didn’t need to be dwelling on the what-ifs. “I think you were probably knocked out when you hit your head on the fence post. You were just regaining consciousness when I arrived. I suspect you’d have gotten up and thumbed a ride from the next car.”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted.
She was quiet for another two miles before she turned in her seat. “I’m glad it was you,” she said. “I’m glad and very, very grateful it was you.”
His throat felt tight. He was falling for Stormy. He didn’
t know her real name or her real story but none of that mattered.
“Did you recall that picture that Lena was describing, the one where you were wearing the blue dress?”
“Oddly enough, I did. I can’t remember my own name but I could see myself in the blue dress, sitting at the bar.”
“What bar?” he asked casually.
“The Blue Mango.” She turned to him wide-eyed.
“Who were you with?” he followed up quickly.
* * *
SHE TRIED TO visualize it. But it made her feel sick. She shook her head. “It appears my subconscious is onto your tricks.”
“At least we got The Blue Mango,” he said. “That first night, in the hotel, you smelled like mangoes.”
She felt warm. “It was the hotel lotion.”
“I’m fond of mangoes,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Have you ever heard of this place?”
“Nope.” He pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket and tossed it into her lap. “See if you can find it.”
His browser was fast and it took less than a minute. “There are three Blue Mangoes. One in Connecticut, one in Los Angeles and one in Kansas City.”
“Focus on the Kansas City one,” he said. “Proximity should never be ignored.”
“It’s on Lager Avenue. They have their menu posted. It’s a restaurant, too, not just a bar. Looks good,” she added, rather stupidly, she thought. His remembering how she’d smelled that first night had shaken her.
He slowed down to take the turn off onto Summerfield Road. It was a roughly paved road with large potholes at the edges.
Heck, maybe she’d only remembered The Blue Mango because she’d used mango lotion post injury. She certainly couldn’t explain why some things were there and most things were not.
But maybe they wouldn’t need The Blue Mango after all. Maybe everything would fall into place after their visit with the chef.
She knew that Cal was worried but she intended to be very careful. The knowledge that she’d been tied and drugged just days ago was still very fresh in her mind. But she’d push the man for answers if she had to. Time was ticking away. It was already Thursday.