THE HUSBAND SHE COULDN'T REMEMBER

by Maggie Shayne

  "And if you can, Garrett, do it without telling them you think I'm completely insane, would you?" There was a pause. "No, I don't know when I'll be home. I can't…" The big man had to clear his throat then. "I can't bring myself to leave El Paso, knowing she's here somewhere, Garrett." Another pause. "I'm not indulging in wishful thinking, dammit, it was her. It was Penny, and I'm not giving up until I find her again." He slammed the receiver down, then leaned forward, head lowered and pressed to the glass side of the booth. She thought she saw a tear glimmering on his lashes. Then he turned and hurried off again—in search of some woman who didn't even exist anymore. A woman she might have been once—Penny.

  A woman who was supposed to be dead and buried.

  She felt cold inside and out.

  Ben had his little sister take care of canceling his afternoon classes for him, and spent the day searching El Paso. Not that he had any luck. It wasn't long before Garrett and Adam showed up, as well, but he could tell their hearts weren't in it.

  Garrett's big pickup pulled up beside Ben, and his two brothers got out. They searched his face, probably for signs of insanity.

  "You didn't have to come."

  "The hell we didn't," Garrett said. "You've got me scared, Ben."

  Ben sighed in exasperation. "I saw her. If you came to help me look, fine. If not, you may as well go on back to the ranch."

  "We came to help," Adam said. "Don't get all defensive, Ben. You can't blame us for worrying. Hell, you'd worry, too, if one of us were acting the way you've been lately."

  Ben sighed, lowering his head. Adam had a point. "I've been everywhere."

  "No luck?" Garrett asked.

  "No. Did you bring the picture, Garrett?"

  Garrett nodded, yanking open the pickup door and snatching a framed photo off the seat. "I brought it."

  Ben took it, but when he looked down at his wife's beautiful face and twinkling, mischievous brown eyes, his vision blurred. He blinked and averted his face, handing it back to Garrett. "Let's go talk to the police, then."

  "Ben, you're going to ask them to look for a dead woman. They aren't gonna take this very seriously."

  "So I shouldn't bother?"

  "Of course you should." Adam clasped Ben's shoulder and squeezed. "Garrett just wants you to be prepared, is all."

  "Hell, I don't think anyone could be prepared for something like this," Ben muttered. He got into the pickup and slid over to make room for Adam.

  Garrett just shook his head and walked to the driver's side. It was a short ride to the Texas Rangers' El Paso office, and they didn't have to wait when they got there. Garrett knew most of these guys, worked with them on occasion, and walked right up to the desk of one of them, a tall slender fellow with dark hair going silver at the edges.

  The Ranger got to his feet the second he saw Garrett and extended a hand. "Garrett, good to see you!"

  "Matt," Garrett said. "These are my brothers, Adam and Ben."

  Matt nodded to each of them in turn. "You guys look about as cheerful as pallbearers. I take it this isn't a social call?"

  "Afraid not," Garrett said, and he handed the photo to the man. "We're looking for—"

  "Where did you get this?" Matt asked, looking up from the picture with surprise in his eyes. "Do you know this woman?"

  Garrett opened his mouth, but Ben spoke first. "Why, Matt? Do you?"

  Matt looked from Ben to Garrett. Garrett sighed. "Trust me on this, will you? If you've seen her … just give us what you know. I'll fill you in later, once we figure out what's going on."

  "If you know who she is, Garrett—"

  "It's personal, Matt."

  Matt met Garrett's eyes, then slid his gaze to Ben's again. "Okay. Yeah, you might say I've seen her. Look, why don't you guys sit down, pull up some chairs. You want coffee?"

  Ben closed his eyes and sought patience. "Please, just tell us." His voice came out strained and hoarse.

  Matt cleared his throat. "Had a call yesterday from a hotel not far from here. Some woman had checked in using a stolen credit card. While we were there, checking it out, she showed up." He pointed to the picture. "But she ran to her car before we could grab her. Turns out the car was stolen, too."

  Garrett's eyes were as wide as saucers. "You're sure it was her? This woman in the photo?"

  "Couldn't have been her," Ben said. "She'd sooner dig ditches than take something that wasn't hers." He felt disappointment clear to his toes. But he knew Penny. Knew this couldn't be her.

  "I looked right at her through the car window, closer than you and I are right now, and tried to get her to unlock the danged door and get out."

  Garrett frowned. "If you were that close, how'd she get away?"

  He smiled a little and shook his head. "Damned spitfire didn't give me much choice, Garrett. She took off, and … well, hell, I wasn't gonna shoot at her. I … I don't know, I kinda liked her. She had spunk."

  Ben felt a knife slide into his heart, but managed to speak again, through the pain. "Did she say anything? Give you any clue where she might be going or … or…" He shook his head, his voice trailing off.

  "She said she'd done us a favor by stealing the junk car before the dealer could sell it to somebody for twice what it was worth. Said she intended to return it and pay for using it when she could. And then she cracked the window a little and handed me that hot credit card, and said she'd pay that back, as well." Matt shook his head. "It was the damnedest thing," he said. "I asked her name, and she said she didn't know. And I'll tell you something, boys. I believed her."

  Adam and Garrett exchanged alarmed glances. Ben stood there feeling as if he'd been hit in the belly with a two-by-four. He turned and wandered to the nearest window, staring out. Wondering where she was, what had happened, how she could be alive at all. Maybe she wasn't. Didn't they say everyone had a twin somewhere? Maybe this was just a look-alike.

  He heard Garrett talking. "Chances are pretty slim your suspect is the woman we know," he said.

  "Yeah, well, people change."

  Ben closed his eyes. People change. Maybe, but from dead to alive?

  "I can tell you this much, if it is her, she's no criminal, Matt. I don't know what's going on, but the woman we're thinkin' of is as honest as the day is long. And maybe not in the best of health right now."

  "A bit of an understatement, don't you think?" Adam muttered.

  "I'll make sure the boys know," Matt said. "If we find her, Garrett, we'll treat her with kid gloves, you got my word on that."

  "I'm obliged to you, Matt."

  They talked some more, but Adam sidled away and came to stand beside Ben.

  "She's out there somewhere," Ben said slowly. "It's gonna be dark soon. Dammit, she's got no money, or she damned well wouldn't be stealing. Could be cold. Hungry—"

  "We'll find her, Ben. And listen … I mean, I don't want to be the hard-ass here, but you have to remember, this might not be Penny at all. Maybe it's just someone with a striking resemblance, even a relative of hers."

  Ben shook his head. "I know. I keep telling myself that. But dammit, Adam, I looked into her eyes."

  "Ben, she was dying. No, I know you don't want to hear this, but you have to. Even if it hadn't been for the accident, Penny would have been gone by now. You know that."

  Ben shook his head, staring out at the streets again. People passing, everyone looking like Penny to his longing eyes until they got close enough so he could see that they weren't. "She looked so scared, Adam." His heart was breaking all over again. And he wasn't ashamed when a teardrop squeezed loose and rolled down his face.

  Rangers came and went, and phones were ringing. Everything seemed to be going on just as if the whole world hadn't suddenly turned upside down.

  Garrett came up behind him and slapped his shoulder. "Let's go. I'm gonna put in a call to Judge Reynolds. With this new information, he'll put that exhumation order right through. Then we'd best head home, prepare the family, just in case."

&nb
sp; Ben shook his head. "I can't leave. I can't."

  Garrett sighed. Adam said, "Ben, you saw her in Quinn. And last night, right out at the ranch. She obviously knows where to find us. And if it is Penny, Ben, she'll come home. You know she will."

  "Do I?" he asked. "It's been over two years, boys. Don't you think if my wife wanted to come home she'd have done it by now?"

  Adam looked at Garrett. Garrett just sighed. "You'll need to sign papers, Ben, in order for the body to be exhumed. You might as well get that done, get some rest. You can always come back."

  Adam nodded hard in agreement. "You'll feel better once you know for sure who's buried in that grave, Ben. You know you will."

  Ben swallowed hard, but knew they were right. Besides, he'd already searched El Paso all day long. And he knew Penny well enough to know that if she didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. She'd read enough detective novels to know how to hide. But he also knew she'd come back to him. Sooner or later. Especially if she was in trouble. Because she always had. Best he be where she'd expect to find him, in case she did.

  Getting back to Quinn, Texas, proved to be a whole lot easier than she'd expected. That big ol' pickup truck those fellows had arrived in had a tarp in the back. And Penny—she was starting to get used to thinking of herself by that name—gathered her stubby little dog in her arms and made a dash for it as soon as the three men had gone into the police station. She curled up underneath the tarp and waited. Ollie seemed content with this new situation. She turned around a few times and snuggled down beside her. A few minutes later the runt was snoring so loudly that Penny was half-afraid they'd hear her when they came out.

  A short while after that, she heard the door slamming closed and the engine starting up. Then the truck pulled into motion, and Penny's heart pounded harder than the tires over the potholes. They'd be heading back to that beautiful, sprawling ranch, she figured.

  What the hell was going to happen to her when she got there?

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  « ^ »

  The truck stopped only minutes after it started, and Penny carefully lifted one corner of the tarp to see what was going on. The blond cowboy—the one she was starting to think of as her Brand—got out, and walked within inches of her. She froze as he passed, knowing if she moved, even to duck, he'd spot her there. So she just went still, and watched him.

  He was tall. Taller than she'd realized when she'd watched him from a distance. There was well over six feet of man under the crown of that hat he wore. And he was big—but he moved easily, his step light, like a much smaller person might move. She'd noticed that grace about him before, and it still impressed her. Such a contradiction.

  He looked weary. Tiny lines seemed permanently etched at the comers of his eyes, and his wide shoulders could have been wider if they hadn't been bowed slightly, as if they bore a heavy load.

  As he passed, she caught his scent. Leather and spice. Familiar…

  A piercing pain knifed through her head, and she almost cried out at the suddenness and severity of it. Gritting her teeth, closing her eyes tight, she managed to keep quiet. He finally passed, and the scent faded along with the sound of his footsteps. The pain ebbed a little, at least enough so she could open her eyes again.

  He was getting into another pickup. Of course, she should have known. He'd been here alone earlier, so he'd have driven his own vehicle. He started it up, and the headlights flashed on, and this time she did duck and pull the tarp down to cover her.

  The vehicle she was in began moving again, and the one behind followed closely. Oh, hell, if she moved or the tarp blew up, he'd see her for sure!

  She had to lie very still. She told Olive this was necessary, but she didn't seem to have a problem with it. As long as Penny lay beside her, she seemed perfectly content to stay still. The trip back to the ranch was far shorter in the newish pickup truck than it had been in that smoke-belching car she'd used. Almost pleasant, even, in spite of the fact that the bed was hard and she was aching from lying so still. The area beneath the tarp smelled faintly of fresh hay and molasses. And the aromas were soothing, somehow. Sooner than she could believe, she felt the rumble beneath the tires that told her they'd turned off the paved roads and onto the dirt one that led to the ranch. She relaxed just a little, though she should have been more nervous than ever.

  She must not have been as uncomfortable as she'd thought, curled on the bed of that truck, because she never felt it come to a stop. She fell asleep waiting to arrive, and wondering what she should do when they did.

  When she woke again, it was morning. Sunlight slanted beneath folds in the tarp and bathed her face, and she heard people moving around outside. Walking back and forth past the pickup where she hid. She peered out and saw the Brands—God, but there were a lot of them!—walking into the stables nearby, riding out again on horseback and heading into the fields. The blond one wasn't among them. It was several long moments before she heard his voice, and the creak of a screen door.

  "I have to be there, Chelsea," he was saying. "You can understand that, can't you?"

  "Of course I can," a woman answered. "I just can't believe they're doing it so soon."

  "Your husband can pull strings with the best of them," he replied. "Judge Reynolds owed Garrett a favor."

  "Everybody owes Garrett a favor," she said. Then, her voice softer, she went on, "You go ahead, Ben. I'll get a sitter for little Ethan, and we'll all come to the cemetery as soon as chores are done."

  There was a pause. Then the blond Brand said, "I think I want to be alone for this."

  The woman sighed. "I doubt wild horses can keep your brothers away, Ben. But I'll do my best."

  "Thanks," he told her. Then there were heavy steps on the porch. "Tell Garrett I appreciate the pickup. I'll take a look at mine this afternoon. Probably just a loose belt."

  "You sure you can't eat a little something before you go?"

  "Not even if I wanted to," he said. And then the pickup moved with his weight, and Penny was off for another ride.

  One she was certain she didn't want to take. Because she was pretty sure she was headed to her own grave, and that was something she was afraid she couldn't bear to see. She held her dog closer and prayed she was wrong.

  Ben stood in the familiar spot, looking down at the rose granite headstone he'd had made for his wife and the flowers he replaced every week, and he tried hard not to bawl like a newborn calf when he heard the backhoe rumbling near. But it was damned hard.

  They likely wouldn't start digging until Garrett arrived. He figured as sheriff, Garrett would have to be present at the exhumation, whether Ben wanted him here or not. He crouched down to gently gather up the flowers. Then he straightened, clutching them in his hands.

  "Narcissus," he muttered. "You always loved the smell." Then he brought the perfect white petals to his nose and inhaled, and as he did he could picture her doing the same.

  For the first time he thought he could feel Penny's presence here. All this time he'd come here looking for that feeling, and never found it. Ironic that today of all days, he sensed her close to him. Felt it so strongly that he almost regretted making this decision. She was here. It was no stranger lying in this grave; it was his wife. Maybe he'd only imagined seeing her. Maybe it was therapy he needed, not an exhumation.

  Who was he kidding? No therapy was going to fix what was wrong with him. Nothing ever would. But maybe if he could just know for sure…

  "Don't let them dig it up," a trembling voice whispered from right behind him.

  Ben went stiff, lifting his head away from the flowers with their red-rimmed centers and heady fragrance. And he felt his fist clench reflexively around the tender stems.

  A breeze riffled his hair and the lush green grass at his feet.

  "Please," she said, "I don't want to see this."

  Very slowly Ben turned around.

  Penny stood not two feet from him. She wasn't looking at him, but past him a
t that pink-hued granite marker with wide, frightened eyes that brimmed with tears. His wife stood in front of him, staring at her own grave.

  Ben's hands moved slowly, reaching out, touching her shoulders, very nearly jerking away again when he found warm, solid flesh instead of some ghostly mist. She was real. And he closed his hands on her instead. "Penny?" And finally her eyes met his. "Jesus, Penny, is it really you?"

  Her lower lip trembled, but she quickly blinked away the tears that tried to pool in her eyes. "You aren't going to believe this, but … I don't know," she told him in a soft voice. "Is it?"

  Ben let his eyes feast on her face, probe hers, and there was no question. This was not a look-alike, and not some distant relative who bore a marked resemblance. This was Penny. And he couldn't talk because his heart had jumped up into his throat and its beat was trying to choke him. His eyes blurred with moisture, and his chest heaved spasmodically. And it was like a reflex action when Ben wrapped her up tight in his arms and held her, and he knew. This was Penny. This was his wife. He didn't know how or why, but he knew the way she felt in his arms. Like heaven. He crushed her tight to him, kissed her hair, her face, her neck.

  "Cut it out," she muttered.

  "It's okay, Penny. I've got you now, and everything's gonna be okay." He buried his fingers in her soft, dark curls, holding her head to his chest. He was shaking all over, and his knees were weak. God, how had this happened? Why? It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that she was here, back in his arms where she belonged, and he was never going to let her go again. Not ever!

  "Let go of me!"

  His hand in her hair stilled, and he realized she was struggling in his arms, not hugging him back. It was like the bubbling cauldron in his belly just got flash frozen. He felt the chill, the sudden foreboding. She wasn't acting like the Penny he knew.

  Slowly he eased his grip, changed it. But he didn't let her go, half-afraid she'd run away again. Half-afraid that if he stopped touching her, she'd vanish, and he'd realize she'd been no more than an illusion. Stepping back slightly, he searched her face. Wide eyes, as frightened as a trapped animal's but hiding that fear beneath a furious glare, stared back at him. The branches overhead swayed in the stiffening wind, and the morning sun cast lively shadows over her face.