“No, and according to Ben there isn’t any real resemblance, just an impression … mainly the expression.” He zeroed in again. “You’re not answering me, Venable.”
“No, I’m not. I told you, I made a promise.”
“Ben could have died,” he said harshly. He tried to rein in his temper. “Screw your promise.” His pace increased as he headed across the parking lot toward his car. “Your time is running out. After that, I’ll ram that promise down your throat and make you choke on it.”
CHAPTER
8
“BUT BEN IS GOING TO be all right?” Jane’s hand tightened on her cell phone. “He didn’t kill him, Joe. He dropped him near that clinic. At least that’s one good thing to come out of this nightmare. I was afraid that he would be—” She stopped to steady her voice. “It’s a good sign, isn’t it? Maybe the man who took Eve isn’t—Perhaps we can reason with him.”
“Providing we can find him,” he added bluntly. “And don’t be too encouraged. He dropped Ben in the woods a good half mile from the clinic. If Ben hadn’t roused and begun to crawl toward it, he might not have been found.”
That was true, but Jane had been trying desperately to cling to anything that would give her hope. “You said Venable might know something?”
“I think Venable knows a hell of a lot,” he said grimly. “And soon I’ll know everything he knows. One way or the other.”
“Fine,” she said bitterly. “All we need is for the CIA to find a way to make you disappear. Then I’d have to find you, too.” She drew a shaky breath. “Venable likes Eve. I don’t believe he’d use her as a pawn in one of his games. There must be some reason why he’s stonewalling. We have to get him to work with us.”
“I gave him his chance.”
His tone was totally relentless, Jane thought. She wasn’t going to be able to persuade him.
At least, not long-distance.
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
“We’re on our way to see a farmer near the lake cottage who reported a truck stolen. After I hang up from you, I’m going to call headquarters and see when they can send out a sketch artist to see Ben in the hospital.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’ll go see Ben. I can do the sketch.”
“The hell you will.”
“Yes, the hell I will. You know I’ve worked with the police as a sketch artist when I was in college. I can do this.”
“Maybe when you’re not recovering from a bullet in San Juan. I need someone out here right away.”
“You’ll have someone right away. I’m a lot stronger than I was yesterday.” But still damnably shaky. Forget it. She could rest whenever she got an opportunity. “And stop cursing. I’m going to do it, Joe.”
“I’ll tell the hospital staff not to let you in his room.”
“No, you won’t. I’m probably a lot better than your sketch artist. You need the best for Eve.” She added, “We need the best.”
Silence. “God help me, I’m going to let you do it.”
“Let? You have no choice. Now let me get off the phone and call Caleb. I’ll need some help getting out of here.” She hung up.
She sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed.
Dizzy …
Ignore it.
Her shoulder was throbbing painfully.
Ignore it.
Call Caleb.
She dialed the number.
“Jane?”
“Come and get me. I need to be in Georgia in the next few hours.”
Silence. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Am I going to have to bust you out of there?”
“Probably.”
“Interesting.” He hung up.
Clothes. She had to get to the closet across the room.
She waited a moment, bracing herself. Then she slipped off the bed and grabbed the bed rail.
Weakness. Her knees felt like Jell-O.
But they were getting stronger the longer she stood there.
A moment later, she took a step, then another.
And then another.
Just stay within reach of that bed rail in case she folded.
She opened the closet door. Her duffel was on the floor. Devon or Caleb must have brought it. A few clothes items were on hangers. No time to be picky. Just grab something, anything.
White button-down blouse.
Dark twill pants.
Underwear.
She might skip the latter for the time being. The prospect of getting dressed was looking increasingly formidable. She might need help, and she didn’t want to ask anything that intimate of Caleb. She was never sure how he would react.
Sit down. Rest. Then start to dress after she recovered a little.
She threw the clothes on the bed and carefully sat down in the chair beside it.
Just a few minutes …
She leaned back and closed her eyes.
“Jane.”
A deep voice, soft and yet strong.
She stiffened in shock.
Caleb?
Not Caleb.
She didn’t even have to open her eyes.
She knew that voice so well. She had heard it in the darkest nights, thick with passion. She had listened to him laugh a thousand times. And how many times had she tensed when she had heard the anger sting like a whip?
“Open your eyes, Jane. I’m not going away just because you don’t want me here. Not this time.”
She slowly opened her eyes.
He was standing in the doorway smiling at her. It had been a few years, but he looked the same as the first time she’d seen him, when she was only seventeen. He was dressed in jeans and a blue-and-white-striped shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Short, curly, dark hair framed that incredibly good-looking face. Eve had always said he looked like a movie star, and she’d been afraid Jane would be swept away by that charm and charisma. She had been swept away, but not by his appearance. She had always had the strange feeling that somehow they were meant to be together.
And, Lord help her, she had that feeling right now.
In spite of everything that had happened between them, she could only remember the incredible passion and that sense that they belonged to each other.
Mark Trevor, her first love, perhaps her only love.
She cleared her throat, but it still felt tight. “What are you doing here?”
“Where else would I be?” He crossed the room and squatted beside her chair. “You’re hurt. You’re in trouble. You should have expected me.”
“No, how did you get here? How did you know I was here?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t keep an eye on you? Didn’t I tell you I’d always be there for you? You can’t get rid of me.”
That wonderful smile that always wrapped her in intimacy. She couldn’t look away from him.
Of course she could. She wasn’t that besotted teenager she’d been when she’d first known him, nor the college kid who had taken him as her lover. She glanced away. “I didn’t expect you. It’s over. We don’t want the same things. We parted ways, Trevor.”
“You parted ways. I’ve been on the sidelines, biding my time.” He leaned forward, kissed the tip of her nose, and said softly, “It had to end. All the time-outs are over for both of us, Jane.”
Rio Grande Forest, Colorado
SHE WAS COLD.
Eve reached out to draw a blanket over her.
There was no blanket.
Or maybe it had fallen off the bed to the floor.
She opened her eyes.
Not the cottage. Not a bed. She was lying on a couch in a room she’d never seen before.
A large room. Rough pine walls. High ceilings. Exposed pipes.
A loft? Or factory?
Why would she be—
Then she remembered. She froze, her muscles contracting, ready to launch herself from the couch, her gaze darting wildly about the room.
Until it landed on the object on the chair only a few feet from the couch.