She nodded numbly. It was going to work out, it was going to work out, it had to work out!
Andrew hung up the phone and handed Lee a piece of scrap paper.
Lee accepted the paper, glancing at it, then stuffing it into the pocket of his knit shirt. He nodded to Andrew. Bryn thought that the two men exchanged a strange glance, but she was too distracted to really know or care.
“I’m going,” Bryn murmured.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.
“What?”
“The pictures,” he said quietly, handing her the packet that he had set on the counter. She paled. She hadn’t even remembered to bring them from his house; he had been the one to do so.
“Thanks,” she said swallowing nervously.
“Bryn, I mean it. Calm down or you’ll get into an accident before you get there.” His soft tone negated the tension between them and the anger that had sparked. It gave her a sense of security, of his caring, of his strength.
“I’ll be calm,” she promised.
He touched her lips with a light kiss. It was warm and giving and reassuring. Again, it was as if he filtered his own strength into her with his touch, with his subtle male scent. More than ever she wanted to cry, but she also felt as if now she could go on with her mission competently. “See you soon,” she murmured and stepped out the door.
It didn’t seem to take twenty minutes to reach the lush new Mountain View Resort Hotel; it seemed to take twenty years. And as she fumed at the traffic, Bryn worried herself into a state of nausea as one refrain kept going through her mind. What if something went wrong? What would happen to Adam if something went wrong? What if—what would happen to Adam—if something went wrong?
Her teeth were chattering as she drove up to the impressive portico of the Mountain View. A cordial valet stepped up to open her door, and she tripped climbing out of the van. He steadied her; she thanked him in a confusion of monosyllables, and started to leave him before taking her ticket. He called her back, and she could see in his eyes that he thought she was a crazy tourist as she thanked him again for the ticket.
There must have been half a dozen conventions going on in the hotel. People were everywhere. Bryn hurried to the large red couch that was set attractively before the forty-foot glass windows that looked out on a panaroma of greenery and fountains. She saw the phone booth; it was an elegant, paneled nook in the wall, not ten feet from the red couch. She stared back toward the reception desk at the large clock on the wall. She had ten minutes to wait.
Bryn took a seat at the end of the couch. She could see the phone booth, and by slightly twisting her head, she could keep an eye on the clock.
Tiny beads of perspiration were breaking out all over her body. Nervously she fumbled around in her purse for a tissue and dabbed at her forehead, then tried to dry her palms. She gazed at the clock again. Only two minutes had passed.
Her eyes began to follow people through the grandiose lobby. Businessmen, their attach;aae cases in their hands, walked to the elevators, alone and in groups. In a group of chairs near the couch, a threesome of affluent matrons sat discussing their husbands’ golf games. A lone man in a dark trench coat paced behind the chairs. Bryn studied him. He had the stiffest black hair she had ever seen, and an absurdly curled mustache.
She heard footsteps behind her and almost jumped in a panic. They passed her by. She turned, ostensibly to stare at the clock, but in truth to see who was behind her. Another man, in a nondescript, very average dark suit. But the man wasn’t average. He was taller even than Lee, about six foot six or seven. Bryn felt her limbs begin to stiffen in fear. He turned, walking the length of the couch once more.
She bit her lip and gazed at the clock. Six minutes to go. She heard the creak of a door and snapped her head back toward the phone booth. One of the affluent matrons had sat down in the elegantly paneled little booth and was making a call.
No! Oh, please, no! she thought desperately. She gazed about the lobby wildly. Businessmen were still milling about, the matrons were still chattering, the tall man in the suit and the trench-coated man with the strange dark hair were still pacing.
Her nails cut into her palms, creating deep crescents. An insane scream started to rise in her throat as she looked into the little phone booth and saw the woman still talking. Bryn stood, clutching her purse and the package of film. She started toward the phone booth and leaned against it, pointedly staring at the woman inside. It was very rude, but…
She managed to fluster the woman who said something, then clicked down the receiver. She rose and slammed the door open. “There are other phones in the hotel!” she snapped to Bryn.
Bryn couldn’t seem to swallow so she could murmur out an answer. She glanced at the clock as she slid into the booth. Three minutes to go.
The extremely tall man started walking toward the phone booth. Was he one of the kidnappers, she wondered wildly. Or was he just a businessman about to demand that she use the phone or leave it free for others? She smiled at him and picked up the receiver. As soon as he turned around to start pacing again, she turned her back to the window of the paneled booth, using it as a shield for the hand she placed over the hang-up switch in place of the receiver. Pretend to talk! She warned herself. Lee…pretend it’s Lee. “What the hell was the matter with you this morning? Keeping your music in a linen closet is ridiculous to begin with. And to jump down my throat over a set of lyrics when you’re a musician is absolutely crazy. You’re giving and good, but only to a point. There’s a part of you that is dark and frightening and I’m half crazy that you’ll leave me, half crazy to see you go….”
She bit her lip, turning to stare at the clock again. It was two minutes past the limit. Three minutes past ten. Oh, dear God, Adam! Where are you? God, if you just give him back to me, I promise I’ll be the best parent in the world….
Four minutes past. The tall man in the business suit was coming toward the phone booth again.
“Lee, you rotten son of a bitch! You had no right to snap at me that way, and a simple ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t good enough. Lee, I want to know you. I want to know what happened in your past. I want to know what your favorite flavor of ice cream is; I want to watch you shave and have you yell at me for stealing your razor for my legs. I want to know what kind of movies you like, and I’d love to see into your past and understand how you can sometimes be so gracious, and sometimes so encased in rock that I don’t know you at all and I become frightened. Frightened, but always attracted. I want Adam to be with you, Lee. I want to see Adam. I want to—”
The phone began to ring. Bryn briefly noted that the tall businessman was looking at her as if she were crazy. She remembered that she already had the receiver in one hand; all that she had to do to answer the phone was to lift her other hand….
She almost shrieked, “Hello!”
It was Lee. Now, she was really and truly talking to Lee. Well, she was listening to him.
“Bryn, Adam is here. Drop the pictures. Calmly. Get away from the phone. Drop the pictures on the couch—and get out. Do you hear me? Don’t look back; don’t do anything. Just get out.”
“Adam is there? Oh, Lee, let me talk to him—”
“Bryn! Drop the pictures and come home!”
The phone clicked on her. She could barely stand, her knees were trembling so hard. She managed to stand and walk out of the booth. She walked by the couch, dropping the packet of pictures. And she continued on, straight for the revolving doors that led to the portico.
She gave the valet her ticket and extravagantly overtipped him. The van rolled beneath the portico and as the man held her door open, she crawled in. Her hands were damp against the wheel, but she gripped it firmly.
By happenstance she gazed into her rearview mirror. The man with the strange dark hair and the trench coat was staring after her. She started to shiver as if the temperature had suddenly dipped well below zero, but she forced herself to look forward and keep her
eyes on the road.
Home, home, home. She was going home, and Adam was going to be there. Time seemed to crawl.
The roads were ridiculously busy. Bryn glanced in her rearview mirror to try and change lanes to make an exit off the highway. She swore softly in exasperation. There was some kind of a dark sedan right on her tail. She put her blinker on. The sedan backed off. She eased over a lane, but left her blinker on. Her exit road was coming up.
Adam. I’m going to see Adam. She thought about his chubby little cheeks and his wide green eyes. She was going to hug and kiss him so hard that he’d be ready to leave home again.
Bryn started to exit. Suddenly she felt a heaving jolt wrench through her; she heard the shattering of glass and the screech of metal against metal.
The last thing she consciously realized was that someone had sideswiped her, riding up her tail.
Her head cracked hard against the steering wheel. The van started to spin. Or was it only her mind that was spinning? She never knew. Her world dimmed and then faded entirely into darkness.
* * *
Adam’s return to the household had resultled in pure chaos. The little boy entered into a new kind of danger, that of being smothered to death by the love of his brothers, Barbara—and himself, Lee admitted.
He had run in crying for his Aunt Bryn; Lee had done his best to assure Adam that Bryn would be right back. Brian and Keith started demanding to know everything that had happened. Lee tried to calm the older boys down and speak quietly to Adam.
“Do you know where you were, Adam?”
“In a house.”
“What kind of a house?” Lee asked.
“I don’t know. A house.”
“Who took care of you, Adam?”
The little boy looked perplexed for a minute, but then he answered. “Mary took care of me. She tried to be nice, but she was always fighting with the man.”
“What man, Adam?”
“The man who wore the black mask.”
“Okay, Adam. Do you remember what Mary looked like?”
“She was a girl.”
“An old girl? A young girl? Did she have dark hair or light hair? Was she thin, or was she fat?”
“She was skinny,” Adam sniffed. He thought a minute. “And her hair was dark. I don’t want to answer any more questions. I want to see Aunt Bryn!”
Lee sighed. He wanted to see Bryn, too. He wanted her to call the police. The minute she walked in, he was going to insist.
“Okay, Adam,” Lee hugged him, tousled his hair, and released him. “Want some ice cream or something!”
“We have chocolate chip!” Keith exclaimed.
Barbara, who had refused to set Adam down for the first five minutes of his return, was still standing nearby. “Come on, Adam, let’s get you some ice cream.” She glanced at Lee with a worried frown, indicating the kitchen clock.
Bryn should have been back by now. Lee wandered back to the front porch. He glanced at his wristwatch. He had called her at the Mountain View over thirty minutes ago. But there was no sign of the van.
What the hell was taking so long?
The phone began to ring, and he hurried back into the house, diving for the receiver before Barbara could get it. He stared at her as he said a quick, “Hello?”
“Your girlfriend has had a little accident, Condor. Don’t go getting excited—it was only a little accident. But I figured you might be getting ideas about calling the police now. Don’t. She can’t watch those kids all the time, and you can’t watch her all the time. You hear me, Condor?”
Accident… Accident…what was the son of a bitch talking about? Lee wondered. His temper flared and snapped. “So help me God, if she’s been hurt, I’ll find you. Scalp you, skin you alive, and tear you apart—”
“I’d hang up, red skin. Someone may be trying to call you.”
The phone went dead in Lee’s hand. Panic rose in Barbara’s voice as she confronted him.
“What’s happened? Lee? What’s happened?”
He shook his head at her vehemently, with his features forming into a warning scowl as he indicated the children who, as yet, were still chattering away madly over their ice cream. Adam had become a cherished celebrity to his older brothers and, thankfully, he was taking it all in stride.
Barbara lowered her voice. “What is it, Lee?”
“I don’t know. That joker just told me that there had been an accident—”
“An accident! Oh, my God!”
“Stop it, Barbara! Stop it. You’re shrieking. And you’ve got to stay calm! I’m going to go on out and trace Bryn’s route. I’ll call you the second that—”
He broke off, and they both froze as the phone began to ring again. Then Lee almost ripped the receiver from its cradle.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Lee Condor?”
“Yes?” the voice was not that of the whisperer. It was a male voice, calm and polite.
“Please, don’t panic. I’m Sergeant McCloskey with the Nevada Highway Patrol. Mr. Andrew McCabe said I could reach you here. There’s been an accident….”
* * *
The world was very fuzzy when she opened her eyes. Bryn had to keep blinking to try and clear them.
She became aware of movement. There were arms about her, and she was being carried.
She took a good look at one of the arms. It was covered in light beige fabric. The man was wearing a trench coat. Dread slipped into her heart even before she raised her eyes to the man’s face.
It was him! The man with the strange dark hair and mustache who had been pacing the lobby at the Mountain View….
She started to scream.
He gazed down at her startled, and then began to talk. “Bryn! Hush! It’s just me—Andrew! I had to get you out of the van—you were hit near the gas tank. Hush! It’s me. Pull the hair; it will come right off. See?”
She shut up, reflexively and incredulously doing as she had been told. No wonder the dark hair had looked so ridiculous. It was a wig. She started to smile. Lee had made Andrew dress up in costume to be near her. She reached for the mustache. It ripped away with more resistance than she had expected.
“Ouch!” Andrew gasped, falling to the embankment with her, his eyes reproachful. “I didn’t tell you to rip the bloody mustache off!”
She laughed, but the sound was distant and far away. As distant as the sound of sirens. The world was fading in and out once more, and her eyelids were too heavy to hold open.
* * *
She knew she was in a hospital the second time she opened her eyes. She saw the neat sterility of her sheets, the white purity of the wall. She felt the soft, fresh embrace of a comfortable bed.
Adam! Adam was all right. He was home with Lee. It hurt a little bit to move her eyes, but she did so. She was definitely in a hospital. There was a small yellow chest beside the bed, a TV suspended on the far wall and a rolling tray parked near the bed. And there was a chair at her side. A young woman was sitting in it, a blonde who had her head dipped low over a magazine.
Bryn frowned. The woman wasn’t a nurse; she was dressed in a light mauve sweater and an attractive plaid skirt. As Bryn stared at her dazedly, the woman looked up and offered her a warm smile. She was very pretty with that smile, Bryn thought vaguely. She seemed full of vibrance and natural warmth.
“How wonderful to see you with us again!” the woman exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I’ve got to run out and get the doctor—”
“Wait!” Bryn pleaded, discovering belatedly that when she shouted, her head began to pound. The woman paused, and Bryn said quickly, “Who are you?”
The woman laughed. “Oh, Bryn! I’m so sorry. I’m Gayle Spencer.”
“Gayle Spencer?” Bryn repeated.
“Lee asked me to sit with you.”
Great. Her head was breaking, she must look like death warmed over and Lee had sent a lovely blonde to watch her.
As if reading her thoughts, the blonde smiled. “I’m Lee
’s sister.” Bryn’s eyes must have widened with amazement, and the pretty girl continued with a grimace, as if she were accustomed to a startled reaction. “No, neither of us was adopted! Lee looks like my dad, and I resemble mother. And I’m married; that’s why our names are different.”
Bryn laughed. Gayle Spencer had spoken with such a nice sense of humor. Then she found that laughing hurt, and she sobered. “Where’s Lee?” she asked softly.
Gayle grimaced again. “Flirting with a nurse, but for a good cause. They keep telling him that your nephews can’t come in, and Lee is determined that you’ll get to see Adam!”
“Adam!” Bryn cried out, forgetting about her head. “I have to see him!”
“Oh, don’t worry. Lee usually gets his way! Now let me get that doctor, before I get myself fired!”
Bryn closed her eyes again when Gayle smiled reassuringly, then ducked outside the room. What had happened, she asked herself. She could remember the horrible jolt and the crunching sound, and then Andrew…Andrew with that ridiculous wig….
She’d had an accident with the van, but apparently it wasn’t that bad. Her head hurt because she had cracked it against the steering wheel. She’d had an accident….
Because a dark sedan had purposely run into her….
“Ah, Miss Keller!” A doctor walked into the room. He was a gray-haired man with warm blue eyes that instantly inspired trust. He walked with the quick efficiency that belonged to a doctor, too, Bryn thought with a slight smile.
“Good, good,” he said, reaching for her hand and patting it feeling for her pulse. “Let me just take a look deep into your eyes now….”
She flinched reflexively as he sent the ray from a pencil-thin flashlight beaming first into her right eye, and then into her left. “Good!” he said again, switching off the light. “I’m Doctor Kelten,” he informed her, sliding a chilly stethoscope against her chest and smiling once more, satisfied with the results. “How do you feel?”
Night Moves (60th Anniversary) Page 21