California Moon. Catherine Lanigan

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      He pushed her toward the bridge sign. Scraping the ground with his foot, John cleared away the snow from around the base of the creosote-coated signpost. “Damn. They found it.”

      “Found what?”

      Growling, he grabbed her arm, pinching the fleshy underside. She noticed that he used her for balance while at the same time keeping her within striking distance. She didn’t have to imagine what that gun butt across the back of her head would feel like.

      He kept scouring the ground.

      Shannon looked for a way out.

      He kicked small rocks aside, cursing with each failure. “Where the hell are you?” he asked.

      “If you told me what you’re looking for, I could help,” she said, trying to break free and go in the opposite direction.

      He drew up short, dropped her arm and held the gun to her face with both hands. “I don’t think so. Just keep pace with me where I can see you. Okay?”

      She nodded, pressing her lips together. Turning, he stubbed his toe and nearly fell. The moon glinted off the rock.

      “Goddamn bloody rock,” he muttered.

      Shannon held her breath. Then she saw a shiny object poking out from the rock and tall grasses.

      He leaned down. “Is this my lucky day or what?”

      John was so intent on his discovery that he didn’t see Shannon take a step backward. Then two. Just one more step and she’d make a run for the car.

      She didn’t know what he was slipping into his pocket, but his face was lit up like a carnival clown’s. Whatever it was, she supposed he had a right to be happy about it—he’d nearly died for the damn thing.

      Without even turning his head around, he raised his arm, slowly pointing the gun at her.

      “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      “What?”

      “Cut the crap! Okay? I can feel you moving behind me. You’ve taken two steps and are ready for the third.” He turned. His eyes were blazing.

      “I…I…” Her knees were shaking.

      He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head to ease his tension. “Forget it. Let’s get the hell out of here.” He walked toward her. “I hate this place!”

      They walked in silence as he pushed her toward the car.

      When they reached the car, Shannon’s curiosity had gotten the better of her. “What did you find?”

      “Nothing,” he said morosely.

      “Okay,” Shannon replied unsteadily, afraid to get him riled.

      “I thought it was here, but it’s not. Just some damn smashed beer can,” he explained.

      Shannon was terrified of provoking him, but her curiosity and quick mind flew ahead of her. “What were you looking for?”

      “Frankly, I don’t remember.”

      “You were badly beaten. It’s understandable.”

      A flash of gratitude crossed his eyes. Shannon saw it.

      “There’s a lot I don’t remember. Not who, or why or what they wanted. There were two of them. That’s about all I know.”

      “And whatever it was you left here…” she ventured with a great deal of trepidation.

      “Maybe they came back and found it.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “God! I hate losing part of my life like this. C’mon. Get in.”

      Shannon closed the car door. Her hands were shaking as she tried to insert the key in the ignition. “Damn. Get in there!”

      It wasn’t her words that jogged his memory so much as the exasperation in her voice. It reminded him of his own feelings of powerlessness just before blacking out that night.

      He’d thought they would kill him and his only revenge was to keep the disk from them at all costs. Now he remembered he’d been sharp enough to slip the disk into the torn lining of his windbreaker, behind the Bulls’ basketball-embroidered emblem.

      He slapped his chest, feeling for it. “Hell!”

      “What?” she asked, her shoulders jumping away from his anger.

      “I put it in my jacket. I know I did.” He paused, then looked at her. “It was you!”

      “Me?”

      “You said you had my jacket dry-cleaned.”

      “I did.”

      “Where? What cleaners?”

      “My usual one in Shreveport.”

      “Where in Shreveport?

      “A block from my house.”

      He motioned at the ignition with the gun. “Let’s go.”

      “Back to town?” She couldn’t believe her good luck.

      He nodded. “That idiot stole my disk.”

      “Okay,” she said, smiling inwardly.

      How lucky could she get? John was going back where she knew she’d find a way to break away. At the very least, every police officer in the city would be looking for her car. Her nightmare was nearly over.

      9

      Ben licked the bloody spot where Chelsea had removed his skin along with the surgical tape. “How long have I been out?” He rubbed his sore jaw.

      “I don’t know,” she replied, untying his hands. “What happened?”

      “Obviously, John Doe has been released,” he said derisively, yanking at the gauze and tape around his ankles.

      “That’s impossible!”

      “I mean, he escaped!”

      “I don’t understand. I would have seen him, heard something. Shannon would have told me…”

      Their eyes met.

      “Damn!” Ben jumped to his feet. “When was the last time you saw her?”

      “Hours ago. Oh my God! Do you think he took her?”

      “Where did you see her?”

      “In the meds room. She didn’t act like anything was wrong.”

      “How СКАЧАТЬ