Ben noted the cut telephone cord. The bastard wasn't making it easy on Penny, either. But she was trying. Damn, but she was trying. He walked into the bathroom, and Adam pointed at the mirror. Ben read Penny's plea for help written in soap on the glass.
"She's something else, that wife of yours," Adam said. Then he glanced at the bit of glass Ben clutched in his hand. "What's that?"
"Drug vials. Tranquilizer, I think. He doesn't have the Senitrate, Adam, but he's keeping her sedated."
"That would explain the handwriting. It's shaky."
Ben closed his eyes. "Shaky or not, she managed to leave a note. Smashed his cache of dope to bits, and put up a flag to let us know where she was. Left her ring in the hall…" Ben drew a shuddering breath.
"And she'll keep on doing it, Ben. We're going to find her."
There were footsteps in the hall. "Just what do you gentlemen think you're doing?"
Ben turned to see a man in a suit, probably the manager, looking aghast at the trashed room. "My brother will explain," he said. "Where's the parking lot?"
"But—you … you don't think I'm going to let you walk away from this mess, surely? Someone is going to have to pay for all the—"
Ben gripped the man's shirtfront and lifted him off his feet. "I don't think you heard me. I asked, where is the parking lot?"
"In the b-back! And there's a garage—below."
Ben released the fellow, tipped his hat. "Thank you kindly." Then he left, while Adam blurted explanations.
Again Ben took the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. All the way down his steps echoed in the empty stairwell. Halfway down, he kicked something that skittered down a few more steps. Frowning, he picked up the matchbook, flipped open the cover.
The letter P had been hastily, sloppily scrawled on the inside.
"Well I'll be…" He stuffed the matches into his pocket and ran the rest of the way down, pushed the bar on the door and flung it open, then stepped into the cavernous underbelly of the hotel. Shiny cars lined the place, colorless in the darkness. Ben didn't know which way to turn, where to look. Until he spotted another matchbook off to the right. "Good girl, Penny," he whispered. "Lead the way, honey, I'm coming for you."
He walked, skimming the rows of cars, scanning the floor for another clue. And he found it. A matchbook, resting in an empty parking space. For a moment his heart fell. Dammit, they'd already got out of here. But then he heard a voice, and turned. A parking attendant stood in a small booth near the exit sign, holding a telephone to his ear. Ben glanced at the vacant spot again. Level 1, slot 14. He ran toward the little booth, gripping the sides of it with both hands. "I need your help. What car was parked in slot 14, over there?"
The young man had an earring in his nose, and he rubbed it, frowning. "What? Why you wanna know that? Look, I'm not supposed to—"
"A woman's been kidnapped, dammit. And she was in that car! Now tell me."
The boy's eyes widened, but then he lowered his head. "Sorry, man. We don't keep track of what car's in what spot. Only check to see if they're registered or not."
Ben gritted his teeth in frustration.
"Was the woman sick or something?" the kid asked.
Ben's head came up fast. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, it's just that a guy did leave here with a woman just a few minutes ago. I wouldn't have noticed, except she looked sick. Sort of leaning on the door, kinda limp and—I'd have thought she was drunk, you know, but it's sorta early in the day."
"Not drunk, drugged. What do you remember about the car?"
The kid grinned. "Black, '96 Chevy Corsica." Ben frowned, instantly suspicious. The kid shrugged. "My dad bought one just like it last year."
For the first time Ben felt hope. "Thanks, kid. You've been a big help."
"Oh, heck, I can do better. If you know what room they were in, I can get you the plate number."
Ben gaped, gave his head a shake. "Room 410. And if you'll let me use that phone, I might just name my firstborn after you."
The kid handed Ben the phone, and flipped open his logbook. While Ben dialed Garrett's mobile number, the boy wrote the plate number on a piece of scrap paper and pushed it into Ben's hand. Ben glanced down. Under the number it said, "Reginald Kenneth."
Ben frowned at the kid.
"My name, for your firstborn."
"Reginald?"
The boy nodded. "Mom was a big Elton John fan." Garrett answered his phone.
The hotel room was swarming with cops and forensics teams. Reginald was ensconced with one officer, and looked to be feeling pretty pleased with himself as he answered the man's endless questions.
Ben paced.
"Easy. We're going to find her," Garrett told him, slapping his shoulder.
"I want to be out there, looking, not in here answering questions."
"Look, we've got roadblocks, we've got choppers, we've got the damned plate number and a description of the car. They're not going to get far. And as soon as we spot them, I'll take you to her myself. You got my word on that."
Ben shook his head. "Suppose Barlow turns this into a high-speed chase? They could crash. She could end up dead." He closed his eyes, thinking how ironic it would be to lose Penny in exactly the same manner he thought he'd lost her two long years ago.
"We're not going to risk Penny's life, Ben."
"Suppose he pulls a gun, uses her as a hostage, demands we let him leave with her?"
"Will you quit thinking the worst?" Garrett shook his head, and pressed a handful of sheets taken from a hotel notepad into Ben's hand. "Here, read this, it'll take your mind off things."
Frowning, Ben took the sheets and glanced down to see a wobbly semblance of Penny's handwriting slanting across the page. "What is this?"
"Looks like she knew what he was planning. She wanted to write things down, things she wanted to remember. She must have done it when he wasn't watching too close. We found these sheets stuffed under the mattress."
Ben's breath escaped him in a rush, and he glanced down at the notes.
To whoever finds this note: it belongs to Penny Brand. She might not be around anymore, but she'll be back. Please, make sure she gets this. It might be her only link to the life that was taken away from her … again.
Below that there was a line or two about every member of his family. He read them all. How Chelsea had been kinder to her than a sister, and how Jessi had taken to her dog.
And that's another thing. The dog, don't forget about her. Olive. She loves me so much, and she'll love me even if I can't remember her. I know she will. She's my best friend. She doesn't care what stupid mistakes I've made.
If only Ben could love me like that.
Ben paused, blinked a hot moisture from his eyes, and read on.
I mustn't forget Ben. There's so much about him that I want to remember. The way his eyes light up when he works with the little kids at his gym. The way he moves like a dancer when he works out at dawn. I watched him once, and I was swept away. I think I knew, right then, that he was the one—the only one—but I knew it in my heart, not my mind. I have to remember to trust those kinds of things. My heart will remember him, even if my mind can't. I know it will. But mostly I have to remember that he's my husband. And I love him. I loved him before, and parts of that are coming back to me now. But even if I never remembered the past, I would have fallen in love with him all over again. And if I forget again, I know it won't matter. My heart will never forget him. And in my heart, in that deep place that never truly forgets anything, I know he's the only man I could ever love. Dr. Barlow and his drugs can take away my memory, my life, my past. But nothing can ever take that love away from me.
I hurt Ben, though. Deceived him and caused him a lot of pain. That's something I need to remember. Because no matter what happens, I'm going to find my way back to him. And when I do, I'll have to fight to win him back. I'm going to make him love me again. If I don't, my life won't be complete. Not ever. Not without h
im.
Ben's hands were shaking when he finished. Garrett gently took the pad from him. "I have to keep it for now. Evidence, you know. But I thought you ought to see it first."
Nodding, Ben swallowed the lump in his throat. "I've been a complete idiot."
Garrett pursed his lips, nodded. "That you have, little brother."
"She thinks I don't love her anymore." He covered his face with his hand. How could he have let her think that, even for a moment, even in anger?
"You'll just have to tell her otherwise, then. When you see her."
A radio crackled to life, and one of the police officers replied, then rushed over to Garrett. "They've spotted the car."
Ben's heart pounded harder. "Where?" Garrett demanded.
"Chopper pilot said it looks like they're heading for the Mexican border," the officer replied. "But they're not far from here."
Garrett turned toward the door.
"Sheriff Brand, we have cars en route, and they'll make it there long before you can."
"Don't be so sure about that," Garrett said.
Ben thought he could beat them on foot at this point.
* * *
Chapter 14
« ^ »
Her head was clearing more and more now that Dr. Barlow had no drugs to force on her. And as it cleared, Penny was thinking of ways to escape. Grab the wheel? He was only holding it with one hand, after all.
But that was because he still held the gun in the other, and he kept it pointing toward her all the while. It scared her, that looming, dark barrel.
If she yanked the wheel, they could crash into a tree. She'd probably be killed, as fast as he was driving. But if worse came to worst, she'd do it. Better to take the chance than to risk returning to being a woman without a life, without a past.
Without Ben.
She reached to the side to take hold of her seat belt, and pulled it forward. "What are you doing!"
She jumped, startled at his shout. He was nervous. And that made her nervous, as well. "Just fastening my seat belt. Your driving scares me."
Then she paused. Maybe wrenching the door open and jumping from the car would be a better option. In which case the seat belt would be a detriment. Of course, he was driving too fast to make that a viable solution, either, but he might slow down for a curve or something. If she was very lucky.
She could bash him on the head, she supposed. But he was still holding that damned gun on her. He'd probably panic and pull the trigger.
Damn. What would Nancy Drew have done in a case like this? Mentally she recalled the plots of every Nancy Drew mystery she'd read as a child. Surely Nancy had escaped from a moving vehicle and a gun-toting madman at least once in her long crime-fighting career.
Then she blinked … and realized that she remembered reading those stories. Every last one of them.
She closed her eyes, searched her mind … my God, she remembered her parents. Her throat swelled shut, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She remembered her wedding day. How bittersweet it had been, because by then she and Ben had both known she was dying.
But he'd loved her anyway. He'd looked into her eyes with so much love it had made her cry, and softly vowed to be with her to the end, to take care of her no matter what.
And she'd denied him the chance to live up to those vows, even knowing how much they had meant to him.
"My God," she whispered. "My God, I remember…"
But she'd completely forgotten, for just a moment, about the man at her side. His head turned sharply toward her. "Enjoy it while you can, Penny. You'll forget all of it soon, I promise you that."
It was more than anger that surged in her this time. It was pure, undiluted fury. She had it back! All of it … he wasn't going to take it away from her again.
"The hell I will!" She gripped the steering wheel and jerked it toward her with all her might. The gun exploded; the car reeled crazily and crashed. Glass shattered and metal crunched as the vehicle came to a sudden, immediate stop in a cloud of dust, and she was hurled forward only to smash into something hard and be flung back into her seat again. Her head screamed with pain.
When Penny blinked her eyes open, she couldn't see for the blood streaming into them.
Garrett drove. Ben was glad of it, because the way his hands were shaking, he'd have likely killed them all before they caught up to Barlow's car. And he couldn't have driven any faster than his brother was doing. Garrett pushed the pickup's oversize engine to the max, and more than once he'd taken a curve on two wheels instead of four. Adam held on for dear life while Ben prayed in silence.
Then the radio crackled to life.
"Shots fired! Shots fired! Suspect car just veered off the road, Sheriff! It looks bad."
Garrett grabbed the handset. "How far?"
"Two miles from your position. I've already called for an ambulance. We're closing in."
"So are we," Garrett muttered, and replaced the small handset. He pressed down harder on the gas, and the pickup's nose lifted like a jet getting ready for takeoff. Garrett undid the snap on his holster.
In a little over a minute the truck screeched to a sideways halt in the middle of the road, and Ben leaped out practically before it came to a stop. Officers surrounded the black Chevy, moving in carefully, and way too slowly in Ben's opinion. They shouted things like "Exit the vehicle with your hands up," but they were getting no response from Barlow.
The car embraced a telephone pole, its nose crumpled, windshield shattered. Steam boiled from under the hood, hissing in the cool rain.
Penny was in that car!
Ben shoved the pair of cops nearest him aside, and ran forward.
"Dammit, Brand, get away from there!" someone shouted, but he ignored the order, ran to the car and wrenched the passenger door open.
Penny lay with her head resting on the dashboard. So still. His heart skipped a beat as he reached for her, but he paused when the man beside her moved, lifting his hand—and Ben only had a second to realize that hand held a gun.
"Drop it!"
Garrett's firm voice came from the driver's side as that door was yanked open and his own gun appeared, barrel pressed to Barlow's head. "Now."
The doctor's face was cut and bleeding. He didn't look too steady. Barlow's hand shook, but he let the gun fall to the seat, and lowered his head. "I'm a doctor," he muttered. "I can save lives, don't you understand? My work can't be stopped—it's too important…"
Garrett pulled the man from the car, and several others closed in around him. Ben heard sirens. The ambulances, he hoped. Gently he touched Penny's hair, but his hand came away bloody. "Penny," he whispered. "Honey, hold on. For God's sake, hold on."
"Ben?"
Slowly she lifted her head, looked up into his eyes. "I love you, Ben," she whispered. And then she lay down again, unconscious.
God, he hoped she was only unconscious.
The sirens screamed closer, and in seconds Ben found himself pushed aside by paramedics with heavy cases and caring eyes. He didn't go far. His brothers surrounded him. All of them. The entire family had been in El Paso awaiting news, and they'd flocked to the scene the moment they'd heard what was happening. Jessi wrapped her arms around him and held him hard. All of them kept muttering that Penny would be all right, but he wasn't so sure. Maybe he was being punished for failing to appreciate the gift he'd been given. Maybe she'd die now because he'd thrown his miracle away.
No. She couldn't die. She had to be all right. She had to be.
He couldn't see her, with the white-coated guys leaning over her. Minutes ticked by like hours. But finally they stepped aside, one gently holding her arms, and Penny stepped out of the car, wobbly, but standing. Ben rushed forward even as they eased her down onto a stretcher.
"Penny?"
"Relax," one of the medics told him with a smile. "All that blood is from a cut on her forehead. She'll need a few stitches, might have a concussion, but other than that, I think she's fine."
&n
bsp; "Fine hell," Penny muttered. "My neck hurts."
The medic laughed. "Whiplash," he told her. "Hell, you oughtta sue the guy."
Penny frowned up at him. "Since when are stitches, concussions and whiplash funny to you people?"
"Since we thought you'd been shot," Ben said softly. He knelt down beside the stretcher, clasped Penny's hand in his. "You're gonna be okay."
She nodded, then grimaced and rubbed her neck. The medic bent over her from the other side, washing the blood from her face and putting a temporary bandage over the cut in her head. "Yeah," she told him. "I'm going to be more than okay. And there's something else, too, Ben. My memory…"
"It doesn't matter." Leaning closer, he gently kissed her lips. "If you never remember, Penny, it doesn't matter. I've been a fool."
"But, Ben, I—"
"No, listen. Please, honey. I've done nothing but think of all the things I should have told you … worrying that I'd never have the chance. But I have the chance now, so let me tell you. Please." Ben looked at her, so glad to see her alive and in one piece he could barely think straight.
She nodded, eyes wide and searching.
"I was wrong," he whispered. "Feeling sorry for myself, and blaming you for all the pain. When I should have been thanking my lucky stars you'd come back to me … that I'd been given another chance with you." He swallowed hard, clasping both her hands in his. "Penny, you did what you did for me. I've been wondering if I might not have done the same thing if I'd been the one sick. Dying. I know I would have wanted to spare you the pain of watching me waste away slowly. You did it out of love. All that pain I've been in since I lost you—you're the one who took it away. You brought me back, honey. I swear, since you've been gone, I've been as dead inside as I thought you were."
He drew her hands to his mouth and kissed them.
"I've waited … wished to hear these things for so long, Ben," she whispered.
"I know. I should have told you. I've been so blind. Penny, you have to believe there's never been anything but friendship between Kirsten and me. I haven't so much as touched another woman since you left."
THE HUSBAND SHE COULDN'T REMEMBER Page 20