Penelope winced as visions of the Mexican prisons she’d seen on television and in movies mingled with her kidnapping images. She wanted to believe that Alex had her best interests at heart, but everything was happening too fast. All the decisions had been taken from her, and she suddenly felt as if her life was spiraling out of control. She’d never been the adventuresome sort, so why was this happening to her?
“What about my clothes? My suitcase? I left everything at your villa,” she reminded Alex.
“I’ve asked Elena to pack up your things and meet us at the airport.”
An answer for everything, Penelope thought. Why couldn’t she just relax and let him handle things? Why did she have this gnawing premonition that the worst was yet to come?
By the time they arrived at the airport, Penelope had worried herself into such a state that it was all she could do not to run away screaming from Alex the moment he stopped the car. But she managed to keep her calm as he helped her out of the car and then, taking her arm, ushered her quickly into the terminal where Elena already waited for them.
She greeted Penelope then, pulling Alex aside, whispered something urgently in his ear. As she spoke, Alex placed his hand on her back and leaned into her. Penelope couldn’t help noticing that their body language suggested an intimacy that far exceeded a platonic friendship.
Their conversation concluded, Alex picked up Penelope’s suitcase and motioned for her to follow him. He negotiated the exchange of her ticket, expertly guided her through customs, and then suggested that she check her bag straight through to Houston in order to facilitate the searches at the security checkpoints in Mexico City, where she would change planes.
The whole procedure went far more smoothly than Penelope had anticipated, and by the time she boarded the plane for home, she was once again indebted to Alex. She turned to wave, but he’d already disappeared in the crowd.
Taking her seat, Penelope let out a breath of relief, but she wasn’t able to fully relax until her plane touched down a few hours later at Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston.
As she strode down the jetway, Penelope felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. But the feeling was only momentary, because as one worry vanished, another replaced it. Coming home had put into play a whole new set of problems. The long flight had provided ample opportunity to sort out the extraordinary events of the past few days, and there were certain things—coincidences—that Penelope couldn’t dismiss, no matter how hard she tried.
First, Avery had broken his leg, requiring her to fly to Mexico in his place. Then Helen had shown up at her apartment that same night with an unexpected invitation to stay at Alex’s villa. The next day, Tonio Vargas had all but pulled the plug on the exhibit after expressing doubts about Avery’s character. And later, Penelope had seen Tonio on board a yacht, arguing with a man who looked very much like Simon.
That same night, Tonio had warned her that she was in danger.
And the next morning, he’d been found murdered in a courtyard. A courtyard where Penelope and Simon—
But her assignation with Simon had only been a dream. Don’t confuse fact with fantasy, she chided herself.
Besides, even if Simon had somehow made a miraculous recovery and ended up on board that yacht—or even in that courtyard—he couldn’t have been responsible for Tonio Vargas’s death. Simon was the gentlest, sweetest person Penelope had ever known. He simply wasn’t wired for violence. He didn’t even like confrontations. In all the time Penelope had known him, they hadn’t had a single argument. Not one.
So, no, Simon wasn’t responsible for Tonio Vargas’s death any more than Penelope was. And the man she’d seen aboard the yacht couldn’t have been Simon. She knew that.
But no matter how hard she tried, Penelope couldn’t get the images of Simon kissing her in the courtyard out of her head. Because it was starting to seem more like a memory than a dream.
What if it had been real? What if Simon really had followed her to Mexico?
Get a grip, Penelope told herself grimly. She could play the “what if” game forever, but it still wasn’t going to give her the answers she needed. Detouring into the ladies’ room to wash her face, she emerged a few minutes later with her mind made up. She knew what she had to do. She had to see Simon.
The fact that both the receptionist at Fairhaven and Simon’s own father had assured her that there’d been no change in his condition didn’t seem to matter. Penelope knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she saw him for herself.
Instead of following the trail of passengers to the baggage-claim area, Penelope went straight to the ticket counter and booked herself a seat on the first available flight to Dallas. It left within the hour, from another terminal, and considering the lengthy lines at the security checkpoints, Penelope didn’t dare take the time to collect her suitcase. She didn’t really need it anyway. She could claim it later when she returned from Dallas. As it was, she barely had time to take the shuttle over to Terminal C, go through security and find her gate.
The plane was already boarding by the time she arrived. Penelope hated being the last one on board, but it couldn’t be helped. Settling into her seat, she closed her eyes, expecting to be on pins and needles for the entire flight, but instead, she drifted off and didn’t wake up until they were descending. Less than an hour after takeoff, the plane was on the ground at DFW Airport.
Penelope remained calm all through the rental-car process, but the moment she hit the road, she grew nervous and edgy, wondering what she would discover when she finally arrived at Fairhaven.
Did she want to find Simon there?
It seemed strange that she would even have to ask herself that question, but setting aside the improbability of such a scenario, Penelope honestly couldn’t say how she would feel if she found out that Simon had recovered without her knowledge. She wanted him well. She wanted that more than anything in the world. Even if he woke up and no longer felt the same way about her, she wanted only the best for him. She loved him that much.
But to be deceived…duped…
She concentrated fiercely on the road. It was ridiculous to even contemplate such a situation.
The drive out to Fairhaven took nearly as long as her flight from Houston. With mounting trepidation, Penelope pulled into her usual spot, got out of the car and headed across the parking lot to the entrance. This time, instead of stopping to check in at the front desk, she sailed past the receptionist and headed straight for the hallway.
The woman had smiled in recognition when she saw Penelope come in, but now she called out in alarm, “Ms. Moon? I’m sorry but you have to check in. Ms. Moon!”
Penelope hurried down the corridor toward Simon’s room. At any moment, she expected to hear running footsteps behind her, but she reached Simon’s room before anyone could stop her. Opening the door, she stepped quickly inside.
And froze.
Chapter Eleven
Simon was in his bed, eyes closed, his face in peaceful repose. He might only have been sleeping…except Penelope knew that he wasn’t. He was still in a coma.
A knot clogged her throat as tears stung behind her lids. She’d been wondering what her reaction would be on finding Simon here, and now she knew. Her heart twisted in pain.
Simon hadn’t been on the yacht or in the courtyard last night because he’d been here. He was still in a coma. There’d been no change in his condition, and it hit Penelope anew that he might never come back to her. She might never again feel his arms around her…hear his whispers in her ear…
She put a hand to her mouth, choking on a sob as she stumbled back against the wall. She would have broken down completely if she hadn’t realized suddenly that Simon wasn’t alone.
Allen Decker sat at his son’s bedside, a book spread open on his lap, glasses perched on his nose. The same glasses Penelope had found lying on the floor a few days ago. He took them off now and placed them with the book on the bedside table, t
hen rose.
In the split second before he spoke, Penelope could have sworn she saw something that might have been sympathy flash in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual disapproval. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Mexico.”
“I just got back and I came straight here. I had to see Simon—”
The harried receptionist burst into the room then, dragging along a security guard. “There she is!” She pointed an accusing finger at Penelope. “I’ll have you know, you’re trespassing on private property. You’ll either have to sign in at the front desk or vacate the premises immediately.” She spun to face Allen Decker. “Mr. Decker, I’m so sorry for all the confusion, but this woman…Ms. Moon…she refused to sign in and I couldn’t stop her.”
The security guard brushed by the receptionist and grabbed Penelope’s arm. She tried to shake him off, but his grasp tightened as he tried to haul her toward the door.
Simon’s father put up a hand. “Wait. Let her go.”
The man reluctantly released Penelope, but he remained nearby, ready to nab her again if she made a wrong move.
Penelope’s eyes shifted from the guard to Simon’s father, stunned that he had come to her defense. She lifted her hands in supplication. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I have to see Simon. Please. It’s important.”
The receptionist sniffed at all the drama. “All you had to do was sign in at the front desk if you wanted to see him so badly.”
“Please, Mr. Decker,” Penelope pleaded. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I suppose since you’ve gone to all this trouble, I can’t very well say no. But the next time you come, I expect you to adhere to the rules and regulations of this facility.”
Penelope nodded gratefully. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”
He paused at the door and glanced back. “You’ll have to make it a short visit,” he warned. “It’s almost time for his physical therapy session.”
“I won’t be long,” Penelope promised.
She waited until the door closed between them, then she turned back to Simon. Drawing a deep breath, she walked over to his bed and stood staring down at him, taking in the features she’d come to know so well. The tiny scars. The strong line of his jaw. The curve of his lips…
And she remembered in vivid detail the way those lips had kissed her…gently persuasive and yet tentative at the same time.
That was the Simon she knew. Tender and restrained.
The Simon she’d dreamed about last night didn’t exist. And the menacing man she’d glimpsed aboard the yacht…she didn’t know who he was, either, but he obviously wasn’t Simon.
She brushed her knuckles down his face. Lifted his hand to her lips.
No response.
Not so much as the flicker of an eyelid.
Well, what did you expect?
What had she expected? An empty bed? A miraculous recovery?
She’d known Simon would be here like this. She’d known there’d been no change in his condition. She’d known the man she’d seen in Mexico couldn’t possibly be Simon. And yet, in the far recesses of her mind, a tiny hope had been ignited.
And if that man had been Simon? the voice in her head demanded. If he had been arguing with Tonio Vargas just hours before Vargas had been murdered…before Vargas had warned her that they were both in danger—
Penelope went dead still.
Something was different about Simon. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
She studied him. The scars were the same. The line of his jaw, his lips…
Yes, everything was the same except…something was different…
And then she had it. His coloring had changed. Even though she’d always marveled at his healthy glow, today he looked as if he had a…tan. As if he’d just come from a beach in Mexico.
Penelope’s heart started to pound as she stared down at him. She had to be imaging things again.
But she wasn’t. Simon had a suntan.
Which begged the question of how he’d gotten it. While in the hospital, in a coma.
Had someone taken him outside? Perhaps they’d moved him into the garden for a bit so that he could get some fresh air. That would explain the color.
Yes, that had to be it, Penelope told herself as she dug around in her purse. Finding the tiny sewing kit she always carried for emergencies, she removed a needle.
Taking Simon’s limp hand in her own, she began to talk to him in a soothing voice. “I have so much to tell you. I just got back from Mexico, and I have to say, I had quite an adventure. I even thought I saw you there.” Quick as lightning, Penelope pricked the tip of Simon’s index finger with the needle. She never took her eyes off his face, but she didn’t see any reaction whatsoever. Still not even a flicker.
Guilt washed over her. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Simon, but I had to be sure—”
The door opened, and Yvette Dickerson stormed through, her mouth set in a tight, angry line. Penelope closed her hand around the needle as she simultaneously swiped away the bead of blood on the end of Simon’s finger.
“What’s going on in here?” Yvette demanded. “You weren’t scheduled for a visit.”
“I know,” Penelope said contritely. “I showed up unexpectedly—”
“I gave her permission to see Simon,” Allen Decker said from the doorway.
Yvette whirled. “You gave her permission? You should have cleared it with me first.”
Allen’s face went dark with anger. “I beg to differ. I still have some say in who can and can’t see my son.”
The hostility between Simon’s father and Yvette Dickerson took Penelope completely by surprise. She’d always assumed he reserved his animosity just for her, but apparently Yvette rubbed him the wrong way, also. For some strange reason, that made Penelope feel closer to him.
“Look, it’s all right,” she said with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. I just wanted to see Simon for a few minutes. I’ve had my visit, and now I’ll go. And I promise that the next time I come, I’ll call first, and I’ll sign in at the front desk. I’ll follow hospital procedure to the letter.”
“I would highly advise you do just that,” Yvette said as she glanced at Allen. “We all have Simon’s best interests at heart here.”
Penelope turned back to Simon, tucking the hand she’d pricked with the needle under his cover. Smoothing back his hair, she bent and kissed his cheek, then straightened and quickly walked away from his bed.
As she moved toward the door, she glanced at Simon’s father. “Thank you.”
He shrugged and looked away, but not before Penelope saw something in his eyes she’d never seen before. Softness. Perhaps even a glimmer of affection.
What had made him change his opinion of her? Penelope wondered. Or was that, too, her imagination?
A few minutes later, the receptionist tracked Penelope with open suspicion as she strode across the lobby and, even outside in the parking lot, Penelope could still feel the woman’s eyes on her. But she resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. Unlocking the rental car, she got behind the wheel and then pretended to look for something in the seat as she covertly studied the building. Satisfied that she had the layout memorized, she started the engine and left.
Instead of heading back to the airport, she exited the freeway on the outskirts of Dallas and checked into the nearest motel. After locating her room, she went back out to do some shopping. An hour later, she returned with her arms full of packages and a hamburger she’d picked up at a fast-food place.
She ate sitting cross-legged on the bed watching TV, and then afterward she took a long, hot shower. The water relaxed her so much that she fell asleep the minute she crawled into bed.
When she awakened, the room was dark. She shot up in bed, panicked that she might have overslept. But it was just after ten. Plenty of time to dress and drive back out to Fairhaven for
the shift change at eleven.
Penelope hardly dared think about what she had planned. Or why. She wasn’t a risky sort of person. In fact, she was the most conventional member of her family. Slipping into a hospital dressed as a nurse was something Ariadne or Cassandra might do. Or even Helen, as long as she looked good doing it.
But Penelope wasn’t the undercover type. She hadn’t even cheated on her high-school exams, and she never so much as lied about her weight or ran traffic lights or stole office supplies at work. She had never done anything remotely clandestine, and as she rose to dress, her heart thudded against her chest.
Glancing in the mirror, she gave herself a final ap praisal. The dark blue scrubs she’d purchased at a nearby discount store looked almost identical to the ones she’d seen on the staff at Fairhaven. She looked the part. Question was—did she have the nerve to pull it off?
AS IT TURNED OUT, getting inside Fairhaven undetected wasn’t nearly as difficult as Penelope had anticipated. She pulled her rental car around back to the staff parking lot and simply waited until the personnel assigned to the late shift began showing up just before eleven.
The first worker arrived several minutes early. Penelope sank down in her seat and watched the woman get out of her car, cross the parking lot and insert her ID card into the security slot. A moment later, the lock released, and the woman pulled back the door and disappeared inside.
The next two employees arrived together. Still slumped in her seat, Penelope could hear them talking and laughing as they passed near her car. She let them get a lead, and then she got out and hurried after them. As they waited for the lock to release, Penelope opened her purse and pretended to search for her card.
They were still talking and laughing as they entered the building and neither seemed to notice Penelope when she slipped in behind them.
The door opened into a long corridor, and Penelope paused to get her bearings. She could hear locker doors banging in the room to her right as the staff stored their personal belongings and got ready for the long shift ahead of them. In a moment, they’d come back out, so Penelope had to decide quickly what to do.
Intimate Knowledge Page 9
