The Truth About Jane Doe

by Linda Warren

  Beal knelt down to investigate. “You’re right! It is blood. And if you look at the ladder from this perspective, you can see the dust is disturbed all the way down.”

  “Someone used this ladder recently!” Matthew said excitedly.

  “And that person was bleeding.”

  Matthew didn’t want to consider what that meant. He just wanted to find C.J. and he felt he was close. “Help me, Beal. Help me figure this out. Where does the ladder go? It doesn’t go up or down. I’ve checked the ceiling and the floor.”

  “Let’s look for more blood. That might give us a clue,” Beal suggested.

  On hands and knees they examined the floor, the corners, the crevices. Matthew was the first to respond. “Here, I’ve found some,” he exclaimed, kneeling by the closet door. “See.” He pointed to faint splotches on the floor. “You can hardly see them. They’re about the same color as the wood.”

  “Yeah,” Beal said, “and there’s several by this door. What’s behind it?”

  “A supply closet,” Matthew replied, and yanked open the door. “Let’s get these canvases out of here. I want to look at the floorboards.”

  Pete and Beal helped him remove every canvas. Matthew stared at the floor. “The blood ends here.” He pointed to an area just inside the door.

  Beal frowned. “What does it mean?”

  “I’m betting there’s something under this floor. Something the ladder goes to. It has to be. Pete, give me that knife.”

  Pete quickly got the knife and Matthew began to insert it in the cracks, hoping and praying the floor would give, but nothing happened.

  “Damn,” he muttered, leaning back on his heels. “Am I losing my mind? Am I just grasping at straws?”

  “You’ve tried the boards sideways. Now try from the front of each board,” Pete said. “If there’s a trapdoor, it stands to reason it would open that way.”

  “You’re right.” Matthew began to do as Pete had suggested. The first time nothing, the second time nothing, the third time nothing. Frustration maddened him, but he had to keep trying. He took a deep breath and inserted the knife again, and finally he felt something. Then, as they all watched in shock, a door popped up.

  “My God!” Matthew cried, peering down into the dark hole. “C.J.!” he shouted over and over. “C.J.!” But there was only a deadly silence.

  “There’re grooves here for the ladder. Bring it over. I’m going down.” Matthew felt fear dig into his spine once again.

  As he and Beal dealt with the ladder, Pete went to get a flashlight.

  Matthew started down, but Beal stopped him. “Wait for the flashlight. You can’t see a thing down there.”

  “I don’t care, I’m going,” he muttered. He’d taken one step on the ladder when Pete came back with a flashlight.

  Matthew grabbed the light and shined it into the hole. He couldn’t see anything but dirt. Then… The dim light pooled around something he recognized. “There’s a boot! It’s C.J.’s boot, and there’s blood everywhere,” he choked out. Hurriedly he began to back down the ladder.

  Beal stopped him again. “Matthew, this doesn’t look good. Be prepared.”

  Matthew didn’t want to hear what the detective was saying, but he knew Beal thought she was dead. He wouldn’t accept it, not now. She had to be alive.

  As he reached the bottom of the ladder, he saw her, and all his fears became a reality. She sat against a wall, head tilted forward, her hair all around her, and she was covered in blood. He dropped down beside her, his breath in his throat. She was so still. With a shaky hand he touched her blood-soaked hair.

  He fought the tears that stung his eyes. Her blouse was also blood-soaked, and her face was dead-white. Trembling, he reached for the pulse in her throat.

  “Is she down there?” Beal shouted.

  Matthew had to swallow twice before he could answer.

  “Yes. I’m bringing her up.”

  Scooping her into his arms, he felt her blood soak through his shirt. Almost paralyzed with fear and pain, he held her with one arm and carried her up the ladder.

  He gently placed her on the floor.

  Pete squatted beside her, tears streaming down his haggard face. “Is she…dead?”

  Matthew had to swallow again. “I don’t know. I couldn’t feel a pulse, but I’m not sure I…”

  His voice trailed off and he kissed her check. “C.J., can you hear me? Please, can you hear me.”

  A sound, like a sob, left her throat.

  “She’s alive!” Matthew gasped, drawing air into his lungs. “Oh, God, she’s still alive, but barely. We have to get her to a hospital.”

  C.J. AWOKE in a strange room. For a moment she was disoriented, her mind fuzzy, her body sore and aching. But then, through the haze, everything came flooding back. “Oh,” she moaned. “Oh…”

  The two men by her bedside were immediately alert. “C.J., are you okay?”

  She knew that voice. Matthew. He’d found her. She gave him a tentative smile. “I knew you’d come for me,” she said, her voice weak but filled with certainty. Looking into his eyes, she asked, “Is it true?”

  He knew what she was asking and he nodded.

  “Victoria Townsend is my mother.” She had to say the words to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “And…” Suddenly a strong hand gripped hers.

  “I’m so sorry, my precious girl. I had no idea.”

  She knew that voice, too. Pete. Her father. She managed another smile. “I know. It’s okay.” She wanted to reassure him.

  Matthew watched as they embraced, trying to make up for missing a lifetime of father-daughter hugs. He went to get the doctor.

  THE NEXT TIME C.J. awoke, the same two men were sitting by her bedside. Pete was slumped in his chair, head bobbing on his chest. Matthew’s head was tilted to one side. He had a growth of beard and wore the same clothes she’d last seen him in. She knew without a doubt they’d been here the whole time. What stubborn men. Oh, but the thought gave her such a feeling of happiness.

  She moved slightly and both men were instantly on their feet, gazing down at her with worried expressions. She smiled, and they both relaxed.

  “How are you?” Pete asked.

  “Better.”

  Matthew pushed the hair away from her bandage. “How’s the head?”

  “Still throbs a little.”

  A nurse poked her head around the door and said, “Mr. Sloan, you have a long-distance call from New York. If you like, I can have it transferred to this room.”

  New York, C.J. thought. Why would someone call him here? Unless…

  “Yes, that’ll be fine,” Matthew replied.

  As Matthew picked up the receiver, Pete squeezed her hand. C.J. turned toward him. “I want to hear all about my mother,” she said.

  Pete started to talk, but she was half listening to Matthew.

  “Yes, Gail. It’s okay. When? Can’t you get another postponement? No. I guess the judge has been more than lenient…. I know I need to be there. It’s just…okay. I’ll catch the next flight out of Austin.”

  Those last words caught C.J.’s full attention. She shifted to look at Matthew, and she could see that a part of him was already back in New York.

  “I guess you heard,” he said tiredly, his eyes holding hers. “Jury selection starts day after tomorrow. I have to get back to New York. I need some time to prepare.”

  She’d known Matthew was going to leave someday, but she hadn’t expected it to be this soon. Not when she was in the hospital. Not when she was so vulnerable. Not yet.

  So many words hovered on her lips. “Yes, of course,” were the ones that slipped out.

  Matthew wanted to hold her, to touch her. He had to, or he wasn’t going to be able to leave. He glanced at Pete.

  Pete received the message loud and clear. “Think I’ll stretch my legs,” he said.

  As the door closed, they gazed at each other.

  Don’t go, her heart cried.

  She kn
ew he had to. No commitments, she’d told him that night in Austin. And yet their relationship had gone way beyond that. Now they had to deal with their two different worlds. Matthew’s career, his whole life, was in New York. Although she was too weak at the moment to contemplate living in the big city, she knew she’d live anywhere to be with him. But Matthew’s roots were in Coberville, and C.J. was hoping she would be the catalyst that would pull him back. So she had to be strong. She had to let him go with dignity…without tears…without regrets.

  She was the first to speak. “We knew this was going to happen. Your life is in New York.”

  “Yes…I have responsibilities, obligations.”

  “I know,” she said quietly.

  “I have to go.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want to leave you like this.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Why was she taking this so calmly? he wondered. Why wasn’t she begging him to stay? But he knew that wasn’t C.J. And he suddenly realized she was being strong for his sake.

  Matthew leaned over and gently kissed her lips. No response. Except when he drew back, he saw that her bottom lip trembled and she caught it between her teeth.

  The lady wasn’t as strong as she appeared. He took a deep breath and wondered how to handle that stiff pride of hers. Then he asked himself what he’d do if she begged him to stay. He didn’t know.

  The thought of bringing her to New York drifted briefly through his mind. But he couldn’t take her away from the one thing she’d waited so long to have—a father. He couldn’t be that selfish. Besides, she’d hate New York and he’d be spending sixteen to eighteen hours a day on the Peterman case. Their two worlds had now collided, and he was feeling the force of the impact far more than he’d feared.

  Taking another deep breath, he sat on the bed and gathered her into his arms, careful of the bandaged cut on her head. The smell of antiseptic mingling with the glorious scent of her wafted through his weary system. His lips met hers in a warm tender kiss.

  C.J. hesitated for a moment, then eagerly kissed him back. She had to. Oh, she needed this!

  His stubble against her sensitive skin was an erotic awakening. It reminded her of a morning in Austin when the two of them were alone, facing insurmountable odds. Now the odds of their ever being together were just as insurmountable.

  She moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, her hands smoothing and stroking his hair, his face. She wanted to remember every contour, every detail about him.

  Matthew’s hands found the opening in the hospital gown and he caressed her bare skin. Deep pleasure spiraled through him. Oh, yes, he needed this.

  For a moment they were lost in the heady sensation of each other, making every touch, every kiss a fervent prayer.

  Finally they drew apart. “I’d better go,” he said in a raw voice, his hand stroking her hair.

  “Yes.” The back of her hand brushed against his cheek.

  Don’t cry.

  “I’ve got to get cleaned up and say goodbye to my mom.”

  “Yes,” she said again.

  He sighed heavily and got to his feet. So many times he had questioned his emotions for her. Staring at the sadness in her eyes and feeling the pain in his chest, he knew he loved her. And he knew she loved him, too. Now they’d put that love to the ultimate test. It would either thrive and find a way to survive between their two worlds, or it would die as they each went on with their separate lives. That thought intensified the pain he felt in his chest.

  “If you need me, call.”

  “I will,” she replied, fighting back tears.

  “You sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, unable to take the necessary steps away from her.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

  He swallowed hard and headed for the door.

  “Matthew…”

  He glanced back.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

  He nodded and opened the door. Pete walked in. Matthew looked back one more time. C.J. was gazing into Pete’s eyes, her hand clutched tightly in his. C.J. would be fine. She had her father.

  Matthew walked out the door and down the hall and—maybe—out of her life.

  THE NEXT DAY two dozen red roses arrived. Without reading the card C.J. knew who’d sent them. Matthew. She stared at the phone, remembering his words. “If you need me, call.” She needed him, she needed him—more than her parents, more than the very air she breathed. But she couldn’t call and tell him that. Matthew had to come back on his own. It had to be his decision.

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS were overwhelming. The doctor said she was fine, but she was going to be weak for a while because she’d lost a lot of blood. So many people came to wish her well. The Townsends came, all of them, even John. It was hard to accept their smiles and apologies, but she knew she had to. They were her family.

  For years she’d wanted only one thing—to find her parents. Now she had. All her life she’d felt so incomplete, so empty, because she didn’t know who she was. Funny, she still had that same feeling, and she knew why. Matthew wasn’t here. He wasn’t here to share her life. Was she destined, like her mother, to love a man she could never have?

  EPILOGUE

  THE LAW OFFICES of Newman, Feldman, Smythe, Dickerson and Sloan occupied the forty-second floor of the Manhattan skyscraper. Matthew’s office was decorated in a Southwestern motif, in tune with his Texas roots. Colorful area rugs enhanced the hardwood floor. Western paintings graced the walls. On the mantel over a stone fireplace a collection of horse sculptures was displayed. A wreath made of rope and barbed wire hung on the stone. The office and decor had been a gift from the firm when he’d become partner.

  The room wasn’t him, Matthew thought as he glanced around. It was too artificial. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked onto the New York skyline. His gaze focused on the street, seething with activity. Yellow cabs jockeyed for position in the heavy five-o’clock traffic. People jostled shoulder to shoulder in their eagerness to get home. But in his mind’s eye, Matthew saw only a beautiful woman with long black hair and sparkling green eyes.

  “Matthew, come join the party,” a cheerful voice called.

  “In a minute,” Matthew answered, and turned to see Gail Davis standing in the doorway. Tall and slim with dark hair and eyes, Gail was a woman any man would want. But not him.

  Gail noticed his somber expression. “Aren’t you happy? We won.”

  “Of course I’m happy about the win.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” she asked. “You haven’t been the same since you came back from Texas.”

  It was true. He hadn’t been the same. A big empty space occupied his chest—the space where his heart used to be.

  Realizing that Gail was waiting for a response, he said, “You’re right. I’ve had to force my way through every second of this trial. My cases used to consume me, but this time I couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept wandering and that frightened me, especially since I held a man’s life in my hands. I don’t have the same drive, the same goals, anymore.”

  “You’re not thinking of quitting, are you?”

  Matthew looked her in the eye. “I’m thinking about making some changes, yes. I’m not sure exactly what.”

  “You’re experiencing burnout, that’s all.” She sent him a consoling smile. “Take some time off—take a vacation. That’s probably all you need.”

  “It isn’t,” he said, and he shrugged wearily.

  Gail studied him. “Does this discontent have something to do with that woman you helped in Coberville? The one who found her parents after so many years—and became a wealthy woman overnight?”

  C.J. Every day he waited for her call, but the call never came. She was busy with her new life, her new family, and he was happy for her. But it hurt like hell that she’d forgotten him so easily.

  His answer was sharper than he’d intended. “Why do females
always assume that when a man’s upset, it has something to do with a woman?”

  “And why do males have such a hard time admitting it?” she countered.

  “You’re right.” Matthew gave a lopsided grin. “C.J. has changed my life dramatically. I thought I had everything I ever wanted right here in New York, but she made me realize what’s really important in life—home and family. I’d always taken those things for granted. She even made me realize that I’m a country boy at heart. There are so many other things that…” His voice trailed off. He knew he was rambling, showing Gail a side of his personality she’d never seen before—a vulnerable side.

  “Sounds like a remarkable woman,” Gail said.

  Matthew didn’t miss the envy in her voice. “Gail—”

  She held up a hand. “Don’t apologize. You can’t make yourself feel something that’s not there.”

  “Mr. Sloan, your mother’s on line one.” His secretary’s voice cut through the conversation.

  Gail forced a smile. “You’d better get that. Then come have a glass of champagne. It can work wonders.”

  “I will,” Matthew answered, a slight smile curling the corners of his mouth.

  Matthew scowled at the blinking red light on the telephone. Another call from his mother. Just what he needed, he thought sarcastically—more tidbits on C.J.’s new life. God, who was he trying to kid? He lived for these calls.

  THE COBER RANCH buzzed with excitement. A victory barbecue for Rob Townsend was in full swing. People spilled from the house onto the patio, lawn and around the pool and garden.

  C.J. stood with the Townsends, shaking hands and smiling until she thought her face would crack. Being part of such a prominent family was hard to get used to, but she was trying, and she had to admit the Townsends were, too—especially Rob. The family tragedy had had a profound effect on him. His whole personality seemed to have changed. The reckless philanderer had turned into a devoted father and loving husband. Francine was positively glowing by his side.