A glance inside revealed I’d been wrong about Hope keeping her entire wardrobe strewn over the sofa. She also had piles of clothes covering her bed, and an overstuffed closet had vomited even more onto the floor in front of its open door.
When we entered the room, a black cat emerged from under the bed, focusing on me with sparkling blue eyes.
Kitty? Was it possible? He hopped over a pile of jeans and drew his sleek back across my leg.
Hope was surprised enough to forget her accent. “Hey, he seems to already know you.”
I crouched to pet him. “It’s amazing. You won’t believe this, but I could swear this is the same cat I met in Dalton a couple days ago.”
“Really? This one attached himself to me while I was out shopping the day after Christmas.” She kicked aside random discards as she made her way toward the closet pile. “He managed to get inside the apartment and haven’t had the heart to chase him off.”
“The resemblance is amazing, that’s for sure.”
“He’s really sweet, and I don’t know … things just seem to be different around here since he showed up.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I remembered Mrs. Wilton’s comment about the cat being the hand of God.
“He seems to like it here, so I decided to name him Carlisle. What do you think?”
“Carlisle.” I scratched behind his ears. “It’s a respectable name. I like it.”
Hope began to claw through the pile in front of the closet door. “I have an idea in mind. Give me a minute to find some things…”
Much later, after numerous wardrobe changes, I sat on a chair beside the bed in my “new” outfit, fanning my hands in order to dry the glittery turquoise nail polish Hope had applied. She, meanwhile, collected make-up from the adjoining bathroom. Carlisle nestled on a bed pillow monitoring our progress. The polish wasn’t a shade I would have chosen, but Hope had insisted on it, mostly because she had some matching lipstick, if only she could locate it. She had been searching the cabinets for a couple minutes.
“Found it!” She appeared at the door holding up the tube, triumphant. “This is perfect. He’ll never, ever recognize you.”
I had to agree. Together with the goth-inspired “costume” she had assembled for me to wear and the jet-black, rock-star wig I hadn’t yet had the courage to try on, I doubted I would even recognize myself.
Hope held out the bluish-green lipstick. “It’s a great color as long as you don’t get it on your teeth.” I took it carefully, guarding my nails, and she shooed me to stand. “Go on. Have you even seen yourself yet?”
I walked over to the full-length mirror, and tried not to laugh. “I definitely don’t look like me, that’s for sure.” I fingered the brass studded choker at my neck. “But what if this whole getup draws too much attention? Wouldn’t it be better to wear something that would make me sort of ‘invisible?’ Someone not worth noticing?”
Hope’s shoulders dropped. “You’re right. You are so right.” She resumed pacing again.
“Besides that, I have to travel on the bus in this—with other people. Maybe I could just be an ordinary person.”
“Ordinary clothes… Hmmm. I might have some of those.” She scanned the floor in front of the open closet again.
I twirled a stray curl at the nape of my neck, and an idea sprang to mind. “Or maybe an ordinary pregnant woman.”
Hope’s eyes flashed wide. “Oooo, I think I see where you’re going with this.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard guys ignore pregnant women. Brock might even look away.”
More of the afternoon passed with a new round of Hope’s ingenuity. At last, I stood before the mirror again wearing the black wig, newly unstyled, and layers of what Hope dubbed “Third Trimester Drab.”
I had to admit, it looked pretty convincing.
“Okay, enough gawking.” Hope lifted the wig off my head and placed it aside. “It’s time for me to get dressed, so I can go get your ticket.”
I changed out of the costume and into my own clothes. While she put the costume on and finished her makeup to match mine, I knelt on the sofa to watch out the window for any sign of Brock.
The sky had turned dark gray with the fading daylight. The temperature had dropped enough to crust the snow so it crunched under the passing cars below. With any luck, the deteriorating weather had encouraged Brock to leave town. I hated the thought of abandoning my stuff in his car, but we hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to retrieve it. It was something I’d have to sort out after all the craziness settled down.
Hope came out of the bedroom. “Well, what do you think? Is the wig straight?”
She really looked pregnant. I stared, my mouth agape, as the reality of our plan sunk in. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this.”
“Why not?”
“I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a plan, let alone have the means to accomplish it. Not without your help. If the tables were turned, and you’d been the one coming to me—”
“You would have done whatever you could.”
“I don’t even have money to repay you for buying my ticket.”
“You’ll repay me when you can. It’s fine.” She stepped forward, her eyes deflecting my concerns. “Don’t worry, Penny. This is going to be fun. I’m an actress, remember?”
“But you might run into Brock. What will you do then?”
“So what? It’s not like he’s searching for me. Besides, if he gets a good gander now, he’ll be even less likely to pay attention when he sees you in this get-up later.”
“Good point.” Once again I made an internal resolution not to worry.
We wrapped her coat the best we could around her pillow-enhanced body, and soon she was out the door.
I paced the apartment, while Carlisle monitored my zigzags from the back of the sofa. When I finally sat, he hopped to the cushion beside me, and I drew him to my lap.
I closed my eyes. “Please, please God.” I whispered the words without thinking, and then shook my head when I caught myself. Don’t be silly. Prayer is like talking to the wind. Setting Carlisle aside, I stood and circled the perimeter of the living room, rubbing the nervous tension from my arms. “I just want to be home.”
If Mom were there, she’d open the door, and her eyes would widen with surprise, crinkling at the corners. She’d throw her arms around me with repeated squeezes while speaking my name against my neck. She’d draw me inside to the warmth of the front room, where she often kept a fire during winter months.
But why torture myself with such thoughts? Mom wouldn’t be there.
In my mind’s eye, I stared at the front door, waiting for it to open. What would Dad do? The door didn’t move. I couldn’t visualize it without Mom on the other side.
Tears sprang to my eyes again, threatening to ruin my makeup. I wanted to see her so much, but instead, Dad was on the other side.
I shook the negativity from my shoulders. What was I thinking? Dad was a caring man too. People always spoke well of him. “Dad, will you be there for me?” The words came without prompting. “I really need you.”
“Penny?”
What was that? A faint voice, distant but clear.
“Penny, I hope you can hear me.” It was Dad’s voice coming to me from far away. Was he standing out on the street?
I rushed to the window and scanned the snow-crusted sidewalk below. “Dad?” I wiped my eyes, smearing mascara on the back of my hand.
“Penny.” His voice seemed to waver in the air like the gently swirling snowfall. Distant, yet tender, even plaintive.
“Daddy?”
“Hold on sweetie. Everything will be okay.”
Lance was overcome with emotion as he leaned over the still form on the bed. His only child had returned, yet still she remained so far away. Why hadn’t he tried harder to draw her back home at Christmas? He blinked and a tear fell to her swollen, purple cheek.
“Penny?” His voice was barely above a whi
sper. “Penny, can you hear me?”
No sign of response.
“Penny, I’m here. It’s Dad.” He took hold of her hand. So cool to the touch. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, but I’m here now. Hold on, sweetie. Everything will be all right.”
He sensed Doctor Matheson draw near. She lay her hand gently on his shoulder. “We’ve been easing back on the meds today in order to begin weaning her from the ventilator. She’ll gradually get closer to consciousness and become more aware of voices. I’m glad you’re here to help guide her back.”
“I should have been here sooner.”
“You’re here now. That’s what’s important.” She maneuvered through the equipment toward the door. “Stay as long as you like. I need to finish my rounds, but I’ll be back in the morning. If you need anything at all, just let the charge nurse know.”
“I won’t be going anywhere.”
Soon after she left, however, Lance remembered Sergeant Clemens. He needed to go back to the waiting area. Reluctantly, he laid Penny’s hand on the blanket and left her room.
As Lance walked up the he hall, he noticed Clemens paging idly through a magazine in the waiting area. In a seat nearby, a young man with dark hair seemed to be studying the officer. Clemens caught Lance’s approach and stood, causing the other fellow’s gaze to flash upward. His face seemed to register recognition before quickly shifting away to study the phone on his lap.
Who was this guy?
Clemens drew his attention with a questioning look. “You took some time in there. Is she—?”
Lance coughed and nodded discretely in the young man’s direction. “Could you come with me, please?”
Clemens caught the signal. “Of course.”
Lance led the way to an area behind the elevators. “Maybe I’m letting my imagine get away from me, but that young man seemed keenly interested in our conversation.”
“Hmm, I hadn’t noticed.” He patted Lance’s back. “Don’t worry too much about it. Curiosity is pretty typical.”
Lance rubbed his brow. “I suppose you’re right. I keep thinking about Penny’s possible connection to the missing college student. It’s got me on edge.”
“That’s understandable. What about the Jane Doe?”
“I would have wagered against it, but your instincts were right. My daughter is in that room.” Lance paused a moment when his voice cracked with emotion. “She’s hardly recognizable.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, doctor, but glad we both know where she is. Will she be okay?”
Lance nodded. “Fortunately, her condition’s stable. The doctor believes she’s ready to wean off the ventilator.”
“That’s good. And now you can be here when she wakes. I’ll contact Maricopa County and let them know we’ve located her. They’ll probably send someone up to interview her.”
“I doubt she’ll be doing any interviews soon. There are plenty of questions, though. Like why she boarded that bus under a false name.”
“And why the station manager identified her as someone he knows.”
Lance drew his hand across the back of his neck. “I guess we’ll know more when Penny revives. Thanks for your efforts, sergeant.”
Clemens checked his wristwatch. “I need to leave, but I’ll pass along the info about your daughter’s situation and see how they decide to proceed.” He paused to look Lance in the eye. “Are you doing okay?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t entirely true. “What I mean is, I’m better knowing where Penny is, but this whole situation with the murdered girl…” He rubbed a hand along his clenched jaw.
The worry lines on Clemens brow softened. “Let me handle that while you take care of your daughter.”
“You’re right.” At the moment, what else could he do?
After Clemens left, Lance phoned his pastor. “Mark? I’ve found Penny.”
“That’s good news. Thank you, Lord.”
“Yes, good—and not so good. She’s at Sierra Memorial. She was on that bus, Mark. The one that rolled over up on the pass.”
“What?”
“Remember when I mentioned they had a Jane Doe patient here?”
After explaining the details to Mark, Lance called his office to let them know he would stay at Penny’s bedside overnight. Another call updated Dr. Farthing and the staff at the surgical ICU.
He tucked his phone away, and noticed darkness outside the window at the end of the hall. Winter’s brief daylight hours were already gone. Perhaps he’d get a bite to eat before returning to Penny’s room.
He headed back to the elevators. Rounding the corner, the dark-haired young man sitting in the waiting room looked up. “Sir?” He rose from his seat, his expression earnest. “May I speak with you?”
He was tall, six-one or two, by Lance’s estimation. Around Penny’s age, perhaps. “Have we met?”
“No, sir, but I know your daughter. You’re Dr. Doyle, right?”
Lance’s inner senses prickled. “Yes.”
“I thought so. Penny showed me a photo of the two of you taken at her graduation.”
“You from around here?”
“No sir. Penny and I met at Hillman Oaks. I drove up in hopes of seeing her.”
From the college? Five hundred miles away? Lance shifted his stance. “How did you learn she was here?”
“I, uh, heard from her while she was traveling and…” He bit his lip, eyes darting aside. “When I figured out she was on the bus that crashed, I came as soon as I got the news.”
Lance crossed his arms. Her identity hadn’t been known until now. Why was this guy lying? “Look, what did you say your name was?”
“Brock Harper.” He straightened and offered a handshake. “Perhaps your daughter has mentioned me? We’ve been dating since about Thanksgiving.”
“Brock.” Lance gave Brock’s hand a single definitive shake. “I’m heading down to the cafeteria for something to eat. Perhaps you’d let me buy you some supper. That way, we could talk a bit. Get acquainted.”
Brock glanced down the hall toward Penny’s room, then back. “Umm, sure. That’d be great. Thanks.”
Lance punched the call button for the elevator, while considering the young man. From what he remembered of Penny’s high school beaus, this guy would fit her idea of handsome, but those chiseled features and air of respectfulness hid something bothersome. Something further aggravated by the knowledge he had lied.
Brock swiped a hand over his hair, perhaps to smooth some nervous tension. “I’m glad I ran into you.” The elevator opened and they got on. “I’ve been eager to see Penny, to make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m afraid she’s not in a condition to have visitors yet.” Lance punched the button for the mezzanine level.
Brock nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t want to disturb her. Just sit there, you know. Let her know I’m here.”
Lance nodded. “Have you spoken to her roommate?”
Brock stuck his hands in his pockets. “Cheri? No. Not yet. I suppose I should do that.”
“If you have her number handy, I would like to give her a call too.”
“Sure.” His words were agreeable, but he made no move to deliver on the request.
The elevator stopped and they stepped out to find the cafeteria across the hall. After getting in line, they each selected a dinner entree and found seats at an unoccupied corner table.
Brock took a bite from his hamburger immediately, while Lance smoothed a napkin over his lap and bowed his head for a momentary grace. When he finished, Brock seemed to have paused mid-chew to watch.
Lance ignored the stare. “Tell me, Brock, I’m curious about how you and Penny met.”
Brock finished chewing and swallowed. “Umm. There’s not much to tell, really. I’m a wide receiver with the Hillman Panthers, and Penny’s roommate is a cousin of one of the linebackers. She introduced us after the division game the weekend before Thanksgiving.”
“So, you’ve only known each other a
few weeks?”
“Yeah, but she’s a terrific girl.” He took a swig from his drink. “I can see us being together a long time.”
Lance nodded. “Did Penny tell you why she decided to come home?”
Brock took a big breath while wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Homesick, I guess. It’s a shame about the bus accident. She’ll recover though, right?”
“It’s going to take time. Probably some physical therapy. She may not be back at school for a while.” Lance took a bite of pot roast while pondering how to get more information. Then again, maybe that wasn’t possible, since Brock liked to play loose with the facts.
Brock salted his fries. “She have any broken bones?”
Lance sliced a chunk of potato on his plate. “A few. Her head injury has been the main concern, but the doctors have been keeping close watch on her.”
“So, you’re not her doctor? Penny said you were a surgeon, so I assumed…”
“She’s in capable hands. I’m happy to just be her dad right now.” He lifted the napkin to wipe his mouth.
Brock chewed awhile, apparently deep in thought. “Head injuries are tough, man. She could have, like, memory issues or something, right?”
For some reason, the question seemed loaded with hidden meaning. What was this guy getting at? “That’s possible, but many patients experience no long term difficulties if their recovery is well-managed. That’s why we’re hopeful.” Lance lifted a forkful of salad. Time to get the subject back on Brock. “So, tell me more about yourself, Brock. Where are you from?”
Brock kept his eyes on his plate. “California, originally.”
“Your family still there?”
“Yeah.”
“You like it at Hillman?”
He glanced up and nodded. “It’s been all right. I went for the football program.”
“I seem to recall the Panthers came out as division champions.”
Brock pulled his shoulders back and smiled. “So, you’ve heard about my man, Tyler Williams, then?” He wagged his head in admiration. “That guy’s a phenom’ on the field. I’ve been his wide-receiver all through school. We’re known as the Dynamic Duo.”
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