The other yacht was perhaps fifty yards away, but even from that distance, the man facing Penelope seemed familiar somehow. Without thinking, she lifted the binoculars to have a closer look.
She recognized him immediately. It was Tonio Vargas, and from the expression on his handsome face, Penelope decided that the conversation with his companion must have been far from friendly.
The second man had his back to Penelope, but something he said caused Vargas’s features to contort in rage. When Vargas tried to step away, the other man grabbed him, and for one split second, something gleamed in his right hand.
Then Vargas’s focus moved over the man’s shoulder, and when he saw Penelope watching them through the binoculars, he went dead still. He nodded in her direction, and the other man turned slowly to follow his gaze.
Penelope wanted to lower the binoculars, but she couldn’t.
She wanted to step away from the railing, but she was suddenly paralyzed.
For the longest moment, she stood staring at the man on the yacht as the blood rushed from her face and her heart started to pound in excitement.
The man staring back at her was Simon.
Chapter Eight
It was over in a matter of seconds. The yachts glided past each other, the music faded, and the two men were soon lost to Penelope’s view.
But she stood staring after the boat for a very long time.
The second man wasn’t Simon, of course. Simon was in Dallas, still in a coma. There was no way he could have suddenly “awakened” and somehow been magically transported to Mexico, apparently no worse for wear.
There had to be a logical explanation for what Penelope had witnessed. Simon had been on her mind so much lately that she was seeing things. Her eyes had deceived her, that’s all.
Or…maybe she’d seen Simon’s double. A man who looked enough like Simon to be his twin and who just happened to be in the exact same location as Penelope, having a conversation with a man she, herself, had spoken to only a few hours earlier.
The coincidence seemed a bit much, she had to admit, but then, she could have been mistaken about Vargas, too. Maybe her imagination had conjured up both men, Penelope kept telling herself, even as a little voice in the back of her mind argued, What if it really was Simon?
There was only one thing to do. Somehow she had to find out for sure. Penelope knew herself too well. She would worry herself silly until she could conclude without a shadow of doubt that the man she’d seen wasn’t Simon.
As soon as she and Mateo returned to the villa, she went straight to her room and called the Fairhaven Rehabilitation Center in Dallas.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she nervously gnawed the end of her thumbnail until the front desk finally picked up.
“Fairhaven. How may I help you?”
“Uh…yes, this is Penelope Moon. I’m calling to inquire about a patient.”
“What’s the patient’s name?” the woman asked briskly.
“Simon Decker.”
“Hold, please.”
The recorded music was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Penelope as she waited for the woman to return. It seemed to be taking forever—
“Ms. Moon?”
Penelope jumped. “Yes. I’m still here.”
“I’m afraid there’s been no change in Mr. Decker’s condition.”
Penelope wasn’t sure if the emotion that stabbed through her heart was relief or bitter disappointment. She closed her eyes for a moment. “How do you know?”
The woman paused. “I beg your pardon?”
“How do you know there’s been no change in Simon’s condition? Did you speak to his doctor? Did you look in on him yourself?”
“I’m…not sure I understand what you’re asking. I’m simply relaying the information that I’ve been authorized to release,” the woman said defensively.
“I understand, but authorized by whom?” Maybe her imagination was still working overtime, but Penelope could have sworn the woman was being deliberately vague. Then again, she was probably just following procedure.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Moon, but if you have questions about Mr. Decker’s condition, you’ll have to speak with his doctor.”
“I’d love to,” Penelope said quickly. “Is he there?”
“No, I’m afraid not. You need to call back during regular business hours.”
“What about Yvette Dickerson?” Penelope persisted. “Is she there?”
“Who?”
“Yvette Dickerson. She’s a nurse. Tall, blond, gorgeous—”
“I’m sorry. If you need additional information, you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Goodbye.”
Penelope hung up slowly, not exactly certain what to make of the conversation or her reaction to it. The woman had told her exactly what she’d expected to hear. There’d been no change in Simon’s condition. So that should be the end of it, right?
But the uneasiness persisted. Penelope couldn’t get rid of that nagging feeling that information was being deliberately withheld from her. She’d experienced the same feeling when she visited Fairhaven in person. Something about the place always made her paranoid.
She’d never given it much thought before, but now she wondered why Allen Decker had picked that particular facility. Fairhaven was located several miles from the city, in a rather remote area. Penelope had gotten hopelessly lost the first time she’d driven out there, so obviously convenience had not been a consideration.
If given a choice, she would have kept Simon in Houston so that she could be near him, but his father hadn’t given her that option. Nor had Allen Decker asked for her opinion on rehabilitation facilities. By all indications, he seemed determined to cut Penelope out of Simon’s life, but she had no idea why. His animosity remained a complete mystery.
Surely he realized by now that she wasn’t responsible for Simon’s condition. He had to know how much she cared for his son, how deeply committed she still was to Simon. Didn’t that mean anything to him?
But in spite of his enmity, Penelope respected his devotion to his son. He’d spent hours on end at Simon’s bedside, and if there had been any change in Simon’s condition, Allen Decker would know about it.
As luck would have it, Penelope had his home phone number with her. Early on, when Simon had still been at St. Mary’s, Allen had given her both his home and work numbers in case of emergency. She’d stored the information in her cell-phone directory, and, though she didn’t particularly relish a conversation with the man, she quickly pressed in his home phone number before she lost her nerve.
He answered on the first ring, and his voice sounded so much like Simon’s that Penelope couldn’t speak for a moment.
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” he demanded impatiently.
Penelope cleared her throat. “Mr. Decker, this is Penelope Moon. Simon’s…fiancée.”
He hesitated for a long, telling moment. “I know who you are,” he said with a sigh. “Why are you calling?”
Penelope moistened her lips. His irritated tone made her even more nervous. “This may sound a little strange, but I’m in Mexico and I thought…I thought I saw Simon,” she blurted.
“You what?”
“I know you must think I’m crazy,” she said in a rush. “I know it couldn’t have been Simon, but this man…looked exactly like Simon. He could have been his double.”
“That’s ridiculous. It couldn’t have been Simon.” But instead of the scorn Penelope had expected to hear, the man’s voice was edged with something she couldn’t quite define.
“I know it wasn’t him,” she agreed. “But it was such a shock, and now I can’t stop thinking about him. I had to call to make sure…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes closed. Honestly, what had she hoped to accomplish by involving Simon’s father in her delusions? “Have you seen him today?”
“Of course I’ve seen him,” Allen snapped. Now that the first shock of her words had worn off, his contempt had apparently rebounded.
“I left him not more than two hours ago. I spent the whole afternoon reading to him.”
That was that, then. Penelope had to battle the same mixture of emotions she’d experienced after her call to Fairhaven. Relief, disappointment, and an odd sense of foreboding.
“Where did you say you’re calling from?” he asked suddenly.
“Manzanillo. It’s on the Pacific coast.”
He paused. “What are you doing down there?”
“I’m here on business.” She pushed back her hair with a trembling hand. “Look, Mr. Decker, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to…check on Simon.”
Both of them fell silent for a long, tense moment, as if not quite sure how to end the conversation. Then Allen Decker said abruptly, “Let’s get one thing straight before you hang up. I don’t know who you saw on that yacht, but it wasn’t my son. Do you understand? It wasn’t Simon. If I were you, I wouldn’t go around blabbing about it. People might start thinking you’ve gone over the edge.”
Penelope almost gasped. His attitude toward her was nothing unusual, but the warning took her by surprise. “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone else. I just had to know for sure—”
She wasn’t certain what she’d been about to say, but it didn’t matter because the line was already dead. Simon’s father had hung up on her.
THE CONVERSATION with Allen Decker crowned an already trying day. Penelope was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but she didn’t bother going to bed, because she was too restless to sleep. Too certain now that there was something that both the Fairhaven Rehabilitation Center and Allen Decker had kept from her. She had no idea what that something was, but as soon as she returned home, Penelope was determined to find out.
In the meantime, there was nothing she could do but let it go. Dwelling on the possibilities was only going to drive her crazy and distract her from her job—namely, making sure that Manuel Vargas didn’t renege on his agreement with the Morehart. But there was nothing she could do about that situation until morning, so what she needed now was something to take her mind off all her problems.
She couldn’t find a phone book in her room, so she went in search of Elena. She found her in the kitchen having a glass of wine.
Elena jumped when she saw Penelope in the doorway, then mumbled something under her breath as her hand flew to her heart.
“Sorry,” Penelope murmured. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Elena gave a shaky laugh. “That’s quite all right. I didn’t know you were back. I didn’t…hear the car.” She paused for a moment, her hand creeping to her neck. “How was the cruise?”
Well, for starters, I thought I saw my comatose fiancé only…he wasn’t so comatose. Aloud, Penelope said, “The Diosa del mar is certainly a magnificent yacht.”
“Yes, it is a beautiful boat, isn’t it? So you enjoyed yourself?”
“Dinner was lovely.”
“I’m glad you had a pleasant time.” Elena rose. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’m looking for a phone directory,” Penelope said. “I couldn’t find one in my room. Is there one around here I can use?”
“A phone directory?” Elena frowned. “Yes, of course, but…nothing is wrong, I hope. You’re not ill?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s nothing like that. I just need the number of a cab company,” Penelope explained. “When Mateo and I drove through town earlier, we saw some sort of celebration near the square. I’m a little too wired to sleep, so I thought I might check it out.”
Elena’s expression relaxed. “Ah, yes. La Celebración de las Dos Lunas. There’ll be music and dancing until all hours, and later on, a fireworks display over the sea. It’s really quite beautiful. You shouldn’t miss it, but there’s no need to call a cab. Mateo can drive you.”
“I don’t want to disturb him. I feel as if I’ve already imposed too much as it is. Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll be, and I’d hate for him to have to wait or come back later to pick me up.”
“Then why don’t you take one of Alex’s cars?” Elena suggested.
“I don’t know,” Penelope said doubtfully, not relishing the idea of driving someone else’s vehicle. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“Of course. Alex keeps one here especially for his guests. He’d be upset if you used a cab when the car is so handy. I’ll have Mateo bring it around to the front.”
A few minutes later, Penelope was on her way. It took her a little while to get the feel of the vehicle, but she had no trouble following Elena’s directions into town. As Penelope carefully navigated the narrow streets, a parking spot miraculously opened up near the square, and she grabbed it, hoping the stroke of luck was a good sign.
The parade was over by now, but the streets remained congested with both locals and tourists who were still in a party mood. Penelope, mindful of Elena’s warning not to stray too far from the square, strolled along Av. Mexico, telling herself that she had come into town to get a closer look at the masks and costumes—not to search for Simon’s double.
And the masks were fascinating. They seemed to be everywhere, not just worn by the revelers in the street, but staring from shop windows and heaped carelessly on top of one another at open-air stalls.
Penelope was amazed by the variety of materials used to create them and the extraordinary imagination that went into making them. It was evident that even the papier-mâché creations that could be purchased on any street corner weren’t simply souvenirs, but a vital, living part of the Mexican heritage.
She’d become so lost in her musings that she failed to notice the man who had fallen into step beside her until he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward a darkened doorway. Penelope tried to fight him off and would have screamed had she not recognized him so quickly.
“What are you doing?” she said on a breath.
“Please,” Tonio Vargas said urgently. “I have to speak with you. Don’t make a scene. We don’t want to draw attention.”
The first thought that flitted through Penelope’s mind was that he’d changed his mind about the collection, so she allowed him to draw her into the darkened doorway. Once they were secluded from the street, he turned to stare down at her, his expression dark and desperate.
Penelope’s heart began to knock against her chest. Seeing his face, the fear in his eyes, she no longer believed this was about his father’s masks.
“What is it?” she asked in alarm.
His grasp tightened on her arms. “Listen to me. You’re in danger. We both are.”
She caught her breath. “What are you talking about? What kind of danger?”
“I don’t have time to explain. I can’t risk being seen with you.” He removed a linen handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead with a trembling hand. He was sweating profusely and his breathing was ragged, as if he’d been running a great distance.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Penelope asked incredulously.
“I’ve told you all you need to know. Just do as I say, and we both might get out of this alive.” Stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket, Tonio glanced toward the street, then stiffened, as if spotting something—or someone—that frightened him. He whipped back to Penelope, his expression sending tremors of fear up her spine. “You must get out of Mexico as quickly as possible. Tonight if you can. You have no idea what you’ve landed in the middle of here.”
“Then tell me—”
“I’ve warned you,” he said, in that same urgent tone. “The rest is up to you.” He spun away from her and began walking quickly toward the street.
“Wait!” Penelope hurried to catch up with him, but he deliberately darted into the crowd to lose her.
Penelope stood frozen, so stunned by his warning that, for a moment, she could do nothing but stare at the spot where he’d vanished.
And then she saw him.
The crowd had momentarily parted, and she caught a glimpse of him on the other side of the street.
>
Not Tonio Vargas.
But the man who looked exactly like Simon.
If Penelope’s heart had been racing before, it pounded now, so painfully she had to struggle for breath. Almost against her will, she started across the street, but the crowd was too dense. Someone grabbed her arm and tried to pull her into the massive human chain that was now winding its way around the square.
Tearing herself free of the stranger’s grasp, Penelope fought her way through the throng. But when she finally surfaced on the other side of the street, Simon’s double had also vanished.
She turned, frantically scanning the street in both directions. And then she saw him again. Her pulse quickened, and her mouth went dry with fear, although she didn’t know why. He’d done nothing to warrant the premonition of terror that gripped the back of her neck and sent icy shivers down her spine. He’d done nothing…except look exactly like Simon.
He stood perhaps twenty yards away in front of a wrought-iron entry that led back into a narrow alley. His focus lingered on Penelope for a moment, then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Penelope hurried after him, but when she came to the gated entry, she told herself she would be crazy to pursue him. She would be asking for trouble if she followed any stranger down a darkened alley, but especially while in a foreign country. Especially after she’d just been warned that her life was in danger.
“Looking for me?”
He spoke from the darkness, and Penelope had to grab onto the iron gate as her knees threatened to fold. That voice! She knew it intimately.
“I thought you must have seen me earlier,” he said in resignation.
Clutching the spiked rods of the gate, Penelope peered into the darkness. She could hear him clearly, but she couldn’t see him at all. Where was he? Where was he—
“Over here, Penny.”
She gave a little cry as her hands tightened on the gate. No one but Simon had ever called her Penny.
“Simon?” She barely recognized the sound of her own voice. It was whispery soft, almost pleading.
Unauthorised Passion/Intimate Knowledge Page 23