The Truth About Jane Doe

by Linda Warren

  “Pete always supports me. He and Maggie taught me never to make a decision unless I had the strength to handle the consequences.”

  Did she have that much strength? She could lose everything. Why did that bother him so much? He shook his head, reminding himself that he was getting sidetracked.

  “How did you find out you were left on their doorstep?”

  She shrugged while negotiating a turn. “Seems like I’ve always known. I can remember as a small child people pointing at me and whispering.”

  He remembered that, too, and had often wondered how people could be so cruel. “That must have been hard for you.”

  “Yes.” She managed a laugh. “I never could understand why people didn’t seem to like me. Maggie said they were afraid of me. They didn’t know who I was or where I came from. I could be a sister, daughter, cousin or related in some way, and people don’t like skeletons in their closets. So instead of dealing with it, they chose to ignore me.”

  “That probably changed when you went to college.”

  “Yes, people were friendlier there.”

  “And I bet those college boys buzzed around you like bees around honey,” he said.

  “I didn’t notice. I was too busy concentrating on my studies.”

  “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

  She spared him a quick glance. “Okay, I had lots of invitations for dates, but I didn’t get serious with anyone until my senior year. When his parents found out I didn’t even know who my parents were, Shawn’s interest cooled. I promised never to let myself in for that type of pain again.” She took an aching breath, hardly able to believe she was telling him her innermost secrets. Secrets she never shared with anyone.

  Figuring turnaround was fair play, she said, “I suppose you’ve had lots of serious relationships?”

  “A few,” he admitted.

  She noticed his forefinger rubbing his temple. He did that whenever he was uncomfortable, she decided. Obviously Matthew didn’t like to talk about the women in his life.

  Throwing caution aside, she pressed on. “So why haven’t you ever married?”

  A long pause followed her question. She could feel those dark eyes boring into her, but she kept her own eyes steadily on the road.

  Finally he said, “I don’t know, but I guess after witnessing the perfect marriage, I find it hard to settle for anything less.”

  Perfect marriage. He was talking about his parents. Those old fears clamored in the back of her head.

  “So you’re looking for someone like your mother,” she said to block out doubts she didn’t want to feel.

  “Not exactly. It’s that special feeling my parents shared. They were partners, friends, lovers and so much more. They just enjoyed being together and still held hands and kissed right up until the end. My parents were truly in love and that never changed—like it does with so many these days.”

  Matthew thought of Gail back in New York, one of the lawyers in his firm. He never liked to get involved with a colleague, but through many long hours and late nights, they were drawn together. They’d been seeing each other about a year. He knew Gail was getting serious, so he’d decided to slow things down because he didn’t want her to be hurt. This time away was what he needed, to sort through his feelings. He hated to admit he hadn’t missed Gail at all and thought about her very little. It was the trauma of his dad’s death, he told himself, but he knew it was more. That special feeling just wasn’t there.

  C.J. heard the love in his voice when he talked about his parents. There was no way she’d ever want to change that. She noticed his distant look and knew he wasn’t thinking of his parents now. It was someone else. A special woman probably. Whoever she was, she was very lucky, C.J. mused. She didn’t want to analyze that feeling much further.

  Matthew watched hypnotically as C.J.’s hands maneuvered the steering wheel. She was so different from Gail and the other women he dated. She was real, like a red rose among a bouquet of silk flowers—no facade or superficial decoration, just a genuine beauty, inside and out. He wondered what it would feel like to spend every day with her. He turned the conversation resolutely in a different direction.

  “Other than the Townsends, you don’t have any clues to your parentage?”

  She was startled at the quick change of subject, but promptly marshaled her thoughts. After all, this was what she wanted to talk about. She had to choose her words carefully. “No,” she answered. “When the money started coming for college, I figured that was it, now I’d find out. But nothing happened. It was so frustrating and I thought…” Her voice trailed away.

  “What?” he prompted.

  She turned and looked him straight in the eye. “That your dad was giving me the money.”

  Matthew met that look. A flicker of apprehension coursed through him. Her face was saying much more than her words, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what. His eyes narrowed. “Did you ask him?”

  “Yes, and he denied it.”

  “You didn’t believe him?”

  She shrugged. “At times I did, others I didn’t. But I always felt he knew something about my birth he wasn’t telling me.”

  “Like what?”

  “If I could answer that, we wouldn’t be making this trip.”

  He took a deep breath and decided to confront her. “Listen, C.J., you’re trying to tell me something, so why don’t you just come out and say it, and we can discuss it like two adults?”

  How could she tell him her doubts? She had a hard enough time telling herself, but the words were there. She had to say them.

  Matthew watched her struggle. Something was creating a great deal of turmoil. Was she thinking about his father? The money? What was causing her such distress?

  “I really…” she started, then stopped, frowning into the rearview mirror.

  “What is it?”

  “That eighteen-wheeler truck’s been following us for some time, and now he’s right on my tail.” As the last word left her mouth, the truck hit the bumper, jarring them.

  “Damn,” Matthew cursed. He turned to look out the rear window as the big truck loomed over them. It hit them again and C.J. swerved to keep from being pushed off the road. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

  “I don’t know.” C.J. kept her eyes on the road, hands tight on the wheel. “But if he’s in such a hurry, I’m going to ease over and let him pass.”

  The road was narrow and C.J. pulled onto the uneven grassy verge. The truck bounced up and down and the big cab roared alongside them, but didn’t pass. Instead, it veered, hitting the driver’s side with a crashing sound of metal against metal. The blow knocked them almost into the ditch. C.J. managed to steady her truck.

  “The damn fool,” Matthew said just as the cab crashed into them a fourth time, rocking the truck with determined force.

  “He’s trying to run us off the road!” C.J. shouted.

  The truck rammed them again. “He’s doing a damn good job.”

  “Oh, no!” she cried.

  “Just keep watching the road,” he said. “You’re doing great.”

  “It’s not that. Sutter’s Cliff is up ahead and it’s a sharp drop to nowhere.”

  “We’ve got to do something before we get there.”

  “What?”

  “Hit the brakes.”

  Her foot slammed on the brake. The tires squealed and her truck spun around, coming to rest in the ditch. The eighteen-wheeler zoomed by, unable to stop at such high speed.

  The seat belts held them firmly in place, but they were stunned and shaken.

  Still gripping the dash, Matthew gasped, “You okay?”

  She let out a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

  Quickly assessing the situation, he said, “Try to turn it around. We’ve got to get moving.”

  She shifted into Reverse. The truck wouldn’t budge. “There’s something wrong.” She shifted the lever on the floorboard into four-wheel drive. The t
ruck moved awkwardly.

  Matthew hurriedly undid his seat belt and jumped out. “Damn, we blew out a tire.” In the distance he could hear the grinding of gears.

  “He’s turning around. Come on, we have to get out of here.”

  She killed the engine. “We’ll have to go on foot.”

  He glanced at the barbed-wire fences and dense woods. “Anybody live around here?” he asked.

  “Not for miles.” C.J. yanked on her door. It wouldn’t open, so she climbed out the passenger side. She stood beside the truck and surveyed the rugged land, then her gaze met Matthew’s.

  He lifted a dark eyebrow. “I guess it’s over the fence and into the woods. I don’t think he’ll come after us on foot.”

  Matthew pressed down the bottom wire with his foot and raised the next one with his hand, making a hole for her. She gave him a sharp glance. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t a helpless female, but decided this wasn’t the time.

  She crawled between the wires, then held the fence open for him. Their eyes met a second before he scrambled through. The engine of the big truck roared closer.

  “Hurry,” Matthew urged. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her behind him. The woods were thick with undergrowth and bushes that tugged at their clothes, hair and skin, but they pushed on. He wanted to get them far out of sight.

  Suddenly a gunshot broke the silence and a bullet whizzed close by, embedding itself in a tree. “My God, he’s shooting at us!”

  They heard someone crashing through the undergrowth. “He’s following us!” she cried.

  Matthew squeezed her hand and started off as fast as he could, almost dragging her. A bramble bush caught her hair and jerked her backward.

  “Ouch!” Her hands clutched her head as she tried desperately to untangle her hair.

  “Be still,” Matthew said, and tried to help her.

  “I can do it myself,” she snapped.

  “Dammit, for once in your life let someone help you.” The harshness in his voice stilled her efforts. With gentle fingers, he deftly freed her hair from the bush.

  “Come on.” Matthew grabbed her hand again and began to run. If their pursuer got close enough, they’d both be dead; Matthew was certain of it. A strong sense of protectiveness surged through him. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

  They emerged onto a grassy knoll. Taking several deep breaths, they raced to the edge. About a hundred feet below ran the Colorado River.

  They heard the whine of another gunshot.

  “He’s getting closer,” C.J. said.

  Matthew glanced at her anxious face and back at the woods, then down to the river. “The river or the gunman? What’s your choice?”

  She stared down at the murky depths and wondered what lay beneath the surface—hidden rocks, snakes, a bottomless pit?

  As a bullet sped past her, she said, “I hope you’re a good swimmer, city man,” and quickly removed her shoes and vest. If she was going to die, it wasn’t going to be at some stranger’s hand.

  Even in a crisis she had a sense of humor. Oh, he liked this country lady. “I’m a damn good swimmer,” he replied, grinning as he took off his jacket and tie, then jerked off his boots.

  Matthew clutched her hand and stared into her green eyes. All the sparring humor disappeared. Seriousness gripped them. By mutual consent they were taking their chances with the river.

  “At the count of three we make a run for it and jump,” he told her.

  “Okay,” she said. The fear inside her dissipated as she gazed into his confident dark eyes. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather be with at that moment.

  “When you hit the water, try not to come up immediately and don’t fight the current. Swim to the edge and crawl onto the bank and flatten yourself against the cliff. That way he won’t be able to get a clear shot at us.”

  “Okay,” she said again and took a steadying breath.

  “One, two, three!” he shouted. They set off at a run and sailed over the cliff into the water below. The last thing Matthew remembered was the green of her eyes.

  C.J. held on to his hand as long as she could, but the impact of their bodies hitting the water forced them apart. Down, down she went into the dark water. The current immediately lifted and moved her body like a piece of driftwood. She didn’t fight it, remembering what Matthew had said. When the current released her, her lungs were tight, and she tried to swim toward the surface. She was starting to panic. Where was the water’s edge? She didn’t know; there was no way to tell beneath the surface. She let her instincts take over and swam with all her strength. Her lungs begged for oxygen, but she held her breath. Not yet, she kept thinking.

  Suddenly her head broke the surface and precious air gushed into her chest. As she struggled to stay afloat, she saw she was about fifty feet from shore. Relief swept through her and she swam swiftly toward the edge. Her feet touched bottom and she dragged herself through the mud and weeds to the bank and collapsed in exhaustion.

  She lay there, sucking air into her starved lungs. Slimy mud coated her face, and the water tugged at her weak legs, trying to pull her back in. She dug her elbows into the mud and pushed. Her body slid forward. She was safe. She was safe. She was safe. Matthew! She lifted her head.

  Matthew wasn’t on the shore. She looked up and down the lonely water’s edge, feeling a shiver of alarm. He’d said he was a good swimmer. He should have been here, somewhere. What if he’d gotten confused in the water like she had and swum toward the center of the river and the current had taken him under so deep he couldn’t— Oh, God, no! her heart cried.

  “Matthew,” she whispered, and tried to get to her feet, determined to go back into the water and find him. She had to. She couldn’t go on without him. The realization trembled through her with amazing clarity.

  Then, like the answer to a prayer, his dark head shot through the surface about fifty feet downstream. “Matthew,” she sighed. The pain in her chest eased and she sagged onto the bank.

  C.J. watched as he swam vigorously for shore. Then he began to wave his arms frantically, motioning for her to get to the cliff. In her terror she had forgotten his instructions. She scrambled to her feet, but before she could take two steps she tumbled back into the mud. Damn, her foot was caught in the undergrowth of viney weeds that grew along the water. As she struggled to free her foot, Matthew reached her and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her to the cliff. He wrapped his arms around her and flattened them both against a wall of hard rock and dirt.

  As their wet bodies molded together, gunfire sprayed the water. Over and over the bullets kept coming. The place where she’d lain was now pitted with bullet holes. The constant firing was like thunder in her head. She tried to cover her ears, but Matthew tightened his arms around her.

  Abruptly the shooting stopped. They remained perfectly still, knowing that if the man suspected they were below him, they’d be dead in an instant.

  The firing started again, all over the water, the edge, as if to ensure they wouldn’t make it out alive. Then the gunfire stopped again, echoes receding into the swift flow of the river. A satisfied laugh resounded along the muddy embankment.

  C.J.’s skin crawled at that horrible sound. As they waited, they heard the man thrashing back through the woods.

  They remained against the base of the cliff. After a while C.J. raised her head from Matthew’s chest and stared into his dark eyes. Without a word they sank to the ground, but they still didn’t speak, afraid that any noise could alert the gunman.

  Their wet tired bodies huddled together. Everything was silent now, except for the steady gurgling of the water. Cradled between steep banks, the river had an eerie calm. They were in the middle of nowhere, a part of the Colorado where no one ever ventured except by boat. C.J. shivered. They were lucky they’d made it out alive.

  Unexpectedly a cow trudged down a narrow trail on the other side of the river. She picked her way to the water’s edge and drank thirstily. Lifting
her head, she stared at the strange sight of two people crouched on the other side. She shook her head as if to dispel the image, then drank more water and went slowly back up the trail.

  Something beside them moved, and C.J. realized it was a large water moccasin sunning itself.

  Don’t scream. Don’t scream, she kept repeating to herself.

  Panic rushed through her and she had trouble breathing. Ever since she could remember she’d been afraid of snakes. Living on a ranch she should be used to them, but try as she might, she’d never conquered her fear or revulsion.

  Don’t scream.

  She stifled a gasp deep in her throat as the snake slithered back into the water.

  Matthew saw the snake, then glanced at C.J.’s face and saw the stark fear in her eyes. She was afraid of snakes!

  Another crack in the wall she presented to the world. He hoped he was there when that wall came tumbling down. He hoped that— Matthew pulled himself up short. He was acting as if C.J. had a place in his life. After this case was over, he’d probably never see her again. That thought brought little comfort.

  They heard the distant roar of an engine and both sat up straight, listening closely.

  “Do you think he’s gone?” she whispered.

  The sound receded into the distance. “Yes.”

  “Thank God.” She pulled out of his arms and tried to wipe some of the wet mud from her face and clothes. The fear was completely gone from her face.

  He watched her useless efforts to remove the river’s grime. “Do you always take someone trying to kill you so calmly?”

  C.J. reached for his hand and placed it beneath her breast. He could feel her heart thumping rapidly. “I was scared to death,” she admitted. “I didn’t think he was ever going to stop shooting and I was terrified he’d spot us.”

  The warmth of her body and the softness of her breast infused a need in Matthew so strong that he got stiffly to his feet. He had to concentrate on getting them out of this watery grave, instead of how she felt in his arms.

  “Why was he trying to kill us?” C.J. asked. Matthew’s eyes were shrouded and he wouldn’t look at her. Suddenly it dawned on her.

  “He wasn’t trying to kill us. He was trying to kill me.” She said the words she knew he was thinking.