Читать книгу California Moon - Catherine Lanigan - Страница 15

Holidays were special for most people, but not for Shannon. Though the other nurses made a fuss over the gifts they exchanged, Shannon wrapped small boxes of chocolates in simple brown paper, tied them with string and wrote each staff member’s name in crayon on the top, the donor’s name anonymous. When no one was around, she slipped her gifts under the tree the others had decorated.

She knew they would know the gifts were from her, but this way she didn’t have to suffer their thanks, which tended to lead to invitations to their homes. Then to questions and more questions. She could take a lot of things, but not grilling.

Approaching John’s room, Shannon realized she’d been effective in her effort to ignore Ben’s gun and think of him as a person.

Somehow on Ben the gun had taken on a new aspect and she wasn’t quite as frightened. Nevertheless, a gun was a gun. It could turn against her. Ben could turn against her. Especially if he knew the truth.

“Hello, Ben,” Shannon said, trying to clip off her words to keep him disinterested.

His eyes lit up instantly. Her ploy wasn’t working in the least.

“Hi, Shannon.” He smiled. “Merry Christmas.” He got up from his uncomfortable metal chair. “How are you today? Pretty as ever, I see.”

“Ben,” she said warningly, going into John’s room.

Ben followed her inside. He said nothing, only watched her.

She felt the silence, awkward and heavy, slowing her movements. She cuffed John’s arm, took his blood pressure, then his temperature and marked them on the chart.

“Any change?” Ben asked, crossing the room and looming over John’s face.

“None.”

Ben smiled charmingly. “Would you tell me if there was?”

“Yes,” she said, as she took out sheets to change the linens. She put her hand on her hip and glared at him. “What do you want, Ben?”

Glancing at his feet sheepishly, he replied, “I wanted us to have a meaningful conversation about our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship.”

“Okay. We work together, then. Does that make you more comfortable?”

“Nothing about this makes me comfortable,” she replied hastily, putting new cases on pillows and exchanging the old pillows behind John’s head for clean ones.

Ben rubbed the back of his neck, and tried another tack. “Would you agree we’re more than that?”

She sighed. “Ben, be honest. You said it before. You’re lonely. You just don’t want to be alone at Christmas. Whether it’s with me or not isn’t really the point.”

“That’s not true at all. Damn it, you know that. Why are you being so tough?”

She shrugged. “I’m not tough.”

He rubbed his jaw as if she’d hit him. “It doesn’t look like that to me.”

“Please don’t do this to yourself, Ben. I’ve tried to be nice about this. I’m just not interested in you…like that.”

“I just don’t get you, Shannon. I feel there’s a connection between us. There is something going on, but you won’t let it happen. You said there was no one else, but you act like there is. I went so far as to ask Chelsea and she said you had absolutely no man in your life. So that can’t be it.”

Grinding her jaw angrily, she answered, “Chelsea doesn’t know flip about me or my life. I do have someone.” She glanced at John.

“Aw, hell. Why did you lie then?”

“It’s very new. Just came up, I guess you could say. And Ben, it’s really none of your business.”

Holding both palms in the air, he backed toward the door. “I get the picture.”

“Ben…” She started toward him.

“No, really,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s my fault. Just hardheaded.”

She could see the pain in his eyes and felt wretched. She hadn’t wanted it to be like this. She wanted to consider Ben a friend, and if her life had been different, maybe she might have taken a chance on him.

As the door shut behind him, Shannon couldn’t help thinking it seemed so final. And suddenly she realized she’d lost something valuable.

She went back to removing John’s open-backed hospital gown—a tedious task given his size and dead weight. She dipped a washcloth in warm, sudsy water and washed his back, then his chest, his arms.

She remembered the dream she’d had and how John had kissed her. Stretching her arm across his chest to dip the cloth in the water again, her breast brushed against him. She felt an immediate heat rise inside her.

“Sorry,” she said to the comatose man.

She washed his legs, moving from the thighs to the feet and then back up again. She rinsed him with a cloth dipped in clean water.

“I feel sorry for Ben, wanting to see me. But I just can’t.” She smiled to herself, wringing out the cloth for a last swipe of rinse water across his abdomen. “You’ll always be my special guy.” Her voice grew wistful. “More than special. I suppose I can tell you the truth now. I claimed you for myself that first night. I don’t know how to explain it. It was as if…” She remembered Ben’s words. “I felt a connection between us. As if I knew you somehow. Of course, that’s impossible. We’ve never met. But you’re special. That I know.”

Just like I know this is crazy. I’m crazy.

She looked out the window at the Christmas lights glittering through the haze.

“I promised you we’d be together tonight and I’m not a welsher.” She smoothed John’s hair away from his face, fighting a profound sentimentality she thought she’d lost long ago.

Don’t do this to yourself, Shannon. It’s too dangerous.

She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, but stopped herself from going farther. Instead, she resoaped the cloth and began on his hands.

She stopped abruptly. “Why hasn’t anyone come for you, John?”

Discarding the cloth, she wove her fingers between his, soaping them, massaging them. “Can you hear me? I like your hands. Manicured. It’s been a long time since I’ve known a man who had manicures. Let’s face it, it’s been a long time since I’ve known a man, period.”

His fingers closed around hers and she smiled. “You’re warm…” Suddenly, his fingers tightened.

“God!” She jumped back. “You moved!”

He bolted upright, his eyes clearly focused, his movements swift. He dug his fingers into her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back. A metallic object flashed in his hand.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He choked off her words with a twist of her arm. “Shut up!”

Pain shot through her arm and up her neck. “Ahhhh!”

His face was so close she could feel his breath. His eyes were compelling in their frightening glint. “Don’t say a word!”

“What…” Her tongue was tied, her eyes wild.

“One sound and I shoot this hypo into your jugular. You know what an air bubble to the brain can do?”

Her eyes shot to the hypodermic needle already piercing her throat. Terror made her numb, she couldn’t speak. Time stood still. She couldn’t talk.

“Did you hear me?” he demanded.

She couldn’t swallow, her tongue was like lead. Only by sheer determination did she manage to say, “Just don’t hurt me.” She held her breath.

He pricked her skin with the needle. “That’s up to you. Do as I say and it’s a bargain.”

Her lips were so dry from fear they stuck together. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her response. “Okay.”

“Unhook this catheter and get this IV out of my hand.”

Shannon nodded as he eased his hold on her, but only slightly.

John kept the hypodermic imbedded just beneath the skin, dangerously close to her jugular.

“Easy! Easy! Can’t you be more careful?” he groaned as she urgently removed the catheter. “That hurts.”

“S-sorry.” Her hands were shaking so much that she didn’t doubt she’d hurt him.

He kept the needle to her throat while he painfully eased himself out of bed. He was shaky, his muscles weak from atrophy. Shannon noticed he leaned on her a great deal.

“Now, shut the door so we don’t wake Sleeping Beauty.”

Shannon’s eyes darted to the hall. For the first time while on duty Ben had nodded off. Shannon tried to will him awake. She wondered how it was that Ben, who was sensitive to so many things about her, couldn’t smell her fear.

John pushed her toward the door. As she closed it, the needle sank deeper.

“Please,” she pleaded, tears filling her eyes.

Clamping a huge hand over her mouth, John said, “One more word and it’ll be your last. You got me?”

Terrified, Shannon nodded carefully.

“Where are my clothes?”

“In the closet. I had them cleaned.”

“Get them.”

Shannon handed him the dry-cleaned pants and nylon windbreaker. The glass-matted shirt was torn and completely unwearable so he tossed it in the plastic waste can.

He dressed awkwardly with one arm, still weak from the coma, still keeping the hypodermic plunged in her neck.

“Careful!” she said when he lost his balance and depressed the plunger slightly. The air bubble had moved to the bottom of the syringe.

She had to get away from him as fast as possible. The longer she let this nightmare go on, the more power he gained. Time was crucial. “I’m not going to cause any trouble. I swear. I won’t tell anyone where you go when you leave. You’ll have plenty of time to get away….”

“I’m not leaving you here. You’re going to keep me alive, lady. You got that?”

Ice-cold fear surfaced in a thin veil of perspiration across her forehead and upper lip. If he saw it, he would know she was totally in his power. It was too soon to tip her hand. She didn’t want him to think he had all the advantages. “What do you mean?”

He carefully turned her around and held her in a hammerlock while pushing her toward the door. The look in his eyes was so coldly brittle she almost didn’t want to hear his answer. “I’m going to need painkillers, antibiotics and whatever else you’ve been giving me. A two-week supply ought to do it.”

“But they’re locked up in the pharmaceuticals room.”

“Where’s the key?”

She considered lying, a habit she’d turned into an art form over the past few years, but then she thought better of it. Her terror was showing too much. To lie effectively, she needed to be more in control. She would have to find another way to talk him out of his impossible scheme.

“At the nurses’ station,” she replied flatly.

“Then that’s where we’re going.”

He opened the door quietly. Shannon didn’t believe for a second his plan would work. He was insane. He had to be. Didn’t he realize the coma had zapped his strength? All she had to do was wake Ben and he would rescue her. Even a man in top condition would have a difficult time fending off Ben’s obviously well-conditioned body. John was in no condition to fight anyone—not even herself. If she could just get the damn hypodermic out of her neck…

If. What if? What if Ben doesn’t save me? John’s energy is depleted. He won’t last the hour. Or will he? If only I hadn’t let my emotions and imagination run wild. I wanted John to be Prince Charming.

They slipped out the door and in two strides John had crossed to the sleeping Ben and delivered a solid punch to his jaw.

She gasped. “Ben.”

“I can’t take any chances.” He looked at Ben. “He won’t be coming around for a while, maybe hours,” John said.

The needle stung as he jerked it out of her neck. Shannon winced, but didn’t take her eyes off the gun he pointed at her.

John took the gun out of Ben’s shoulder holster, then searched Ben’s pockets for extra clips and put them in his jacket. Cocking back the trigger, he stuck the gun barrel into Shannon’s spine. “Do your job. Save his life.”

“How?”

“Drag him into my room and tie him up with that adhesive tape in there.”

Taking Ben’s legs, she managed to drag him into the room. Following John’s explicit instructions, she tied Ben to the bed legs using gauze and adhesive tape from her metal supply trolley. As she taped his mouth shut, tears filled her eyes.

If only…I’d gone with you tonight, Ben, none of this would be happening. I’m sorry, Ben. Honest to God. Really sorry.

When she was finished, John cocked the gun again. “You so much as breathe wrong and I’ll shoot.”

Shannon swallowed hard. “Okay.”

“Let’s get the meds.”

They went to the door and his hold on her weakened.

“That the nurses’ station up ahead?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes.”

“How did you get to work today?” He jabbed her with the gun barrel. “Did you take the bus or what?”

“Yeah, the bus.”

“Liar.” He spat the word like a curse and pressed the gun into her back so hard it hurt.

“Okay! I drove my car.”

“That’s more like it. Where are the keys?”

“In my purse,” she answered. Before he even bothered to ask the next question, she said, “It’s in the drawer to the right of the computer.”

“Get it. Then how far down this hall to the medicine?”

“The door next to the stairway exit,” she replied, pointing to the lighted red Exit sign.

“Just keep your cool.”

Nodding, Shannon noticed that no one was at the nurses’ station. They’d been severely shorthanded that afternoon and tonight was worse. As the only other RN still in good health, Chelsea had been forced to take on another shift. John was safer than he knew.

“Make it quick,” he demanded as they reached the station.

Shannon grabbed her purse, then withdrew the pharmaceuticals-room key from Nancy’s personal drawer.

He snatched the purse from her.

“What?” She stared at him.

He rifled quickly through the bag. “Just checking.”

“For what?”

“Mace. Pepper spray.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have any.”

“Let’s go.”

They hurried down the hall, but just as they reached the pharmaceuticals-room door, Shannon heard Chelsea’s voice coming from next door. “I’ll get you some cranberry juice, Mrs. Raymond.”

Shannon fumbled with the key.

Hissing, John warned, “Don’t try to be a hero.” He pressed the gun solidly into her back for emphasis.

Shannon’s mouth had never been so dry. She didn’t realize she was crying until a tear fell onto her shaking hand as she finally inserted the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

Just as Chelsea turned into the hall, Shannon and John slipped quietly into the pharmaceuticals room. Hearing Chelsea’s rubber-soled shoes slap against the linoleum as she walked past, Shannon finally expelled a sigh of relief.

“Get plenty of painkillers.”

“Okay,” she said, stuffing the bottles into her purse. When she finished, she nodded at him.

There’s still hope we’ll be seen. If I can just get away from that gun so that if he did fire, the bullet would miss me, I could make a run for it.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggled. Then there was a knock. “Shannon? Are you in there?” Chelsea asked.

“Yeah, I am.”

“I thought I saw you disappear in there. What are you doing? You’re not authorized to dispense medication.”

Stepping quickly behind the door, John kept the gun pointed at Shannon. Whispering, he said, “Get rid of her. Now.”

Nodding, Shannon choked back her fear, put on a plastic smile and opened the door.

Chelsea was clearly upset with the breach in protocol, and she liked throwing her weight around whenever possible. With Nancy gone, Chelsea was totally responsible for the floor. “What are you doing, Shannon?”

“We’ve only got a skeleton crew tonight so I thought I’d help you out by preparing the cart.”

Chelsea took two steps forward, obviously hoping to push her way past Shannon, but Shannon kept her hand on the open door and barred Chelsea from going any farther.

John glared at Shannon and cocked the gun. She saw the hard glint in his eyes. Though she’d never cared for Chelsea, she realized she could never live with herself if anything happened to her.

“You don’t even have a cart.” Chelsea tried to glance around her and into the room.

“Yes, I do.” Shannon turned her body, indicating the two-tiered metal cart behind her.

John’s hiss was a deadly whisper. “Get rid of her.”

“You better take care of Mrs. Raymond, Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for your help, Shannon. But don’t you dare ever let it slip I allowed this. My ass would be in a sling for sure.”

“And I’d be in that sling with you.”

Chelsea’s eyebrow arched suspiciously over Shannon’s uncharacteristic camaraderie. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks.”

Shannon sensed John’s finger squeezing the trigger. She shivered, thinking how close Chelsea had come to death.

When she closed the door, her knees were trembling so hard, she thought they’d give out.

John darted behind Shannon and took up his arm-hold on her. He pushed her toward the door. “Is the hallway clear?”

Cautiously, Shannon eased the door open. “Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

They raced around the corner and through the door to the stairwell. Shannon prayed no one was on the stairs while they made their escape down the five flights to the basement tunnel that led to the parking garage. Assuming the other floors were as quiet as the fifth, Shannon believed they’d be safe.

But just as they reached the first floor, they heard voices, both male and female, coming from the underground-tunnel stairway directly below them. John froze. Shannon listened to the conversation and realized the couple was having an argument.

John pulled Shannon back against the wall so the couple could not look up through the metal stairs to the landing where they were standing. His impatience over the couple’s loitering was clearly growing as his finger squeezed back on the trigger.

Suddenly Shannon slammed her foot down on the metal step. The thudding sound echoed down the stairwell. The noise startled the couple and they quickly left the stairwell through the tunnel door to the parking garage where the elevator was located.

Shannon and John quickly put the last flight behind them. Checking to make certain the couple was out of sight, John pushed Shannon ahead of him as they emerged into the parking garage.

“Where’s your car?”

“Up a half level. A15.”

“Let’s go.”

John followed Shannon as she walked up the incline, taking her keys out of her purse without missing a step. She walked up to the LeBaron and unlocked the door.

John slowly eased himself into the passenger’s seat. Wincing in pain, he ordered Shannon to start the car and head out.

“Which way?”

“West. Just head out 79,” John groaned, holding his sore ribs.

“To where they found you?” she asked too quickly and suddenly felt the cold gun barrel against her temple.

“You ask too many questions.”

“Sorry,” she breathed anxiously.

John slumped back in the seat and allowed his eyes to close.

Shannon drove up St. Vincent Street past Schumper Medical Center near the LSU campus, and turned west on I-20 doing just as John told her. As they passed the 220 beltway, John kept his eyes glued to the side rearview mirror. Shannon knew he was checking to see if they were being followed. She drove the speed limit but didn’t push the car any faster. She just kept her eyes on the road and drove.

“Slow down,” John ordered as they neared the Sabine River Bridge. “It’s so dark and I was so…” He looked around. “Drive to the other side, then park the car on this side of the road. Edge off a bit toward the embankment so no one can see us.”

Terror had exhausted her and the silence between them was more frightening than anything she’d known.

She drove the car just as he ordered. “Is this good?”

“Yeah.”

“No one will see us,” she pointed out as she turned off the engine.

“Give me the keys,” he said abruptly.

Does he have to think of everything? She shoved the keys into his hand.

“Now, get out and come with me.”

“I can wait here.”

He stuck the gun to her head. “I’d rather you didn’t.” He got out of the car, wincing in pain as he did. He kept the gun aimed at Shannon as his eyes scoured the area.

She couldn’t fathom what he was looking for. “They took the car away a long time ago, Ben said,” she offered.

“I’m not looking for the car.” He paused. “It was so foggy that night. I was out of it. And there wasn’t any snow,” he said, which told her he was looking for something on the ground.

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.