Читать книгу Deliverance at Cardwell Ranch - B.J. Daniels, B.J. Daniels - Страница 11

Chapter Six

When he reached the hospital, Austin was told at the nurses’ station that Mrs. Stewart had checked out already. His heart began to pound harder at the news, all his instincts telling him he had been right to come back here.

“I thought the doctor wasn’t going to release her until tomorrow?”

“Her husband talked to him and asked if she was well enough to be released. He was anxious to get her home before Christmas.”

Austin just bet he was. “He was planning to take her straight home from the hospital?” he asked and quickly added, “I have her purse.” He’d forgotten all about putting it into his duffel bag last night as the highway patrolman helped the woman down to his waiting patrol car.

“Oh, you must be the man who found her after the accident,” the nurse said, instantly warming toward him. “Let me see. I know her husband stayed at a local motel last night. I believe they were going to go there first so she could rest for a while before they left for Helena.”

“Her husband got in last night?” Austin asked in surprise. Helena was three hours away on Interstate 90.

“He arrived in the wee hours of the morning. When he came by the hospital to see his wife, he thought he’d be able to take her home then.” She smiled at how anxious the husband had apparently been. “He left the name of the motel where he would stay if there was any change in her condition,” the nurse said. “Here it is. The Pine Rest. I can call and see if they are still there.”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll run by the motel.” He realized Rebecca Stewart wouldn’t have been allowed to walk out of the hospital. One of the nurses would have taken her down to the car by wheelchair. “You don’t happen to know what Mr. Stewart was driving, do you?” She remembered the large black Suburban because it had looked brand-new.

The Pine Rest Motel sat on the east end of town on a hill. Austin spotted Marc Stewart’s Suburban at once. Austin had to wonder why Marc’s “wife” had been driving an older model car.

That didn’t surprise him as much as the lack of a baby car seat in the back of the Suburban. Marc had had the vehicle for almost a month according to the sticker in the back window. The lack of a car seat was just another one of those questions that nagged at him. Like the fact that Marc Stewart had gotten his wife out of the hospital early just to bring her to a motel in town. That made no sense unless he’d brought her there to threaten her. That Austin could believe.

The black Suburban was parked in front of motel unit number seven—the last unit at the small motel.

Austin didn’t go anywhere without his weapon. But he knew better than to go into the motel armed—let alone without a plan. He tended to wing things, following his instincts. It had gotten him this far. But it had also nearly gotten him killed last summer. He had both the physical and mental scars to prove it.

Glancing at the purse lying on the seat next to him, he wondered if all this wasn’t an overreaction on his part. Maybe it had only been an argument between husband and wife that had gotten out of control. Maybe once Rebecca Stewart’s memory returned, she wouldn’t be afraid of her husband.

Maybe.

He picked up the purse. It was imitation leather, a knockoff of a famous designer’s. He pulled out the wallet and went through it again, this time noticing the discount coupons for diapers and groceries.

He studied the woman in the photo a second time. It wasn’t a great snapshot of her, but then most driver’s license mug shots weren’t. Montana only required a driver to get a license every eight years so this photo was almost seven years old.

If it hadn’t been for the slight resemblance... He put everything back into the purse, opened the car door and stepped out into the falling snow.

Every cop knew not to get in the middle of a domestic dispute. This wasn’t like him, he thought as he walked through the storm to the door of unit number seven and knocked.

At his knock, Austin heard a scurrying sound. He knocked again. A few moments later, Marc Stewart opened the door a crack.

He frowned when he saw Austin. “Yes?”

“I’m Austin Cardwell—”

“I know who you are.” Behind the man, Austin heard a sound.

“I forgot to give Rebecca her purse,” he said.

Marc reached for it.

All his training told him to just hand the man the damned purse and walk away. It wasn’t like him to butt into someone else’s business—let alone a married couple’s, even if they had some obvious problems—when he wasn’t asked.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to give it to her myself,” he heard himself say. Behind the man, Austin caught a rustling sound.

“Look,” Marc Stewart said from between gritted teeth. “I appreciate that you found...my wife and kept her safe until I could get here, but your job is done, cowboy. So you need to back the hell off.”

Rebecca suddenly appeared at the man’s side. “Excuse my husband. He’s just upset.” She met Austin’s gaze. He tried to read it, afraid she was desperately trying to tell him something. “But Marc’s right. We’re fine now. It was very thoughtful of you to bring my purse, though.”

“Yes, thoughtful,” Marc said sarcastically and shot his wife a warning look. “You shouldn’t be up,” he snapped.

She was pale and a little unsteady on her feet, but she had a determined look on her face. Behind her, he saw her open suitcase—the same one he’d found in the overturned car’s trunk. The scene looked like any other married couple’s motel room.

Even before Marc spoke, Austin realized they were about to pack up and leave.

“We were just heading out,” Marc said.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Austin said, still holding the purse. Rebecca Stewart looked weak as she leaned into the door frame. He feared her husband had gotten her out of the hospital too soon. But that, too, was none of his business. “I didn’t want you leaving without your purse.”

“Great,” Marc said and turned to close her suitcase. “We have a long drive ahead of us, so if you’ll excuse us...” Austin stepped aside to let him pass with the suitcase. “You should tell him our good news,” he called over his shoulder.

“Good news?” Austin asked, studying the woman in the doorway. He realized that even though her suitcase had been open, she was still wearing the same clothing she’d had on last night. That realization gave him a start since there was a spot of blood on her sweater from her head injury the night before.

“We’re pregnant again,” Marc called from the side of the Suburban, where he was loading the suitcase.

Austin was watching her face. She suddenly went paler. He thought for a moment that she might faint.

“Marc, don’t—” The words came out like a plea.

“Andrew Marc, our son, is going to have a baby sister,” Marc said as if he hadn’t heard her or was ignoring her. “Isn’t that right, Rebecca? I think we’ll call her Becky.”

Austin met her gaze. “Congratulations.” He couldn’t have felt more like a fool as he handed her the purse.

She took it with trembling fingers, her eyes filling with tears. “Thank you for bringing my purse all this way.” Her fingers kneaded the cheap fabric of the bag. He saw she was again wearing the wedding band that her husband had put on her finger at the hospital. That alone should have told him how things were.

“No problem. Good luck.” He meant it since he knew in his heart she was going to need it. He started to step away when she suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Wait, I think this must be your coat,” she said and turned back into the room.

“That’s okay, you should keep it,” he said.

She returned a few moments later with the coat.

“Seriously, keep it. You need it more than I do.”

“Take the damned coat,” Marc called to him before slamming the Suburban door.

Austin shook his head at her. “Keep it. Please,” he said quietly.

Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you.” She quickly reached for his hand and pressed what felt like a scrap of paper into his palm. “For everything.” She then quickly pulled down her shirtsleeve, which had ridden up. He only got a glimpse of the fresh red mark around her wrist.

Austin sensed Marc behind him as he helped her into his coat. It swallowed her, but the December day was cold, another snowstorm threatening.

“Well, if we’ve all wished each other enough luck, it’s time to hit the road,” Marc said, joining them. “Hormones.” He sounded disgusted as he looked at his wife. “The woman is in tears half the time.” He put one arm around her roughly and reached into his pocket with the other. “Forgive my manners,” he said, pulling out a crinkled twenty. “Here, this is for your trouble.”

Austin stared down at the twenty.

Marc thrust the money at him. “Take it.” There was an underlying threatening sound in his voice. The man’s blue eyes were ice-cold.

“Please,” Rebecca said. Austin still couldn’t think of her as this man’s wife. There was pleading in her voice, in her gaze.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the money. “You really didn’t have to, though.”

Marc chuckled at that.

“Have a nice trip, then. Drive carefully.” Austin turned and walked toward his rental SUV.

Behind him, he heard Marc say, “Get in the car.”

When he turned back, she was pulling herself up into the large rig. He climbed into his own vehicle, but waited until the Suburban drove away. He caught only a glimpse of her wan face in the side window as they left. Her brown eyes were wide with more than tears. The woman seemed even more terrified.

His heart was already pounding like a war drum. That red mark around her right wrist. All his instincts told him that this was more than a bossy husband.

He tossed down the twenty and, reaching in his pocket, took out the scrap of paper she’d pressed into his palm. It appeared to be a corner of a page torn from a motel Bible. There were only four words, written in a hurried scrawl with an eyeliner pencil: “Help me. No law.”