Fair Warning
Page 23
She didn’t know this section of road well, except there was a lot of forest on both sides. She could see the ridge that they had driven on a few minutes ago. Was Graham following? Had he even received her call? If not, she was totally at the mercy of this madman.
She leaned her head back, constantly aware of the position of Rick’s hands and the syringe. At last, as she had feared for two years, her nightmare truly had followed her into her waking hours.
Rick was now forced to focus totally on the curves. Were she able to open the door, she could jump out when he slowed for one of the tightest curves.
But he had been keeping close guard on the lock. If she went for the door, he’d grab his lock mechanism again and keep her from switching it. Or he’d grab the syringe.
After all the brave, positive talking she’d done with Preston about God’s relentless love, she’d neglected to tell him that there were times in a person’s life when God seemed to step back and watch.
And yet, she had not lost her faith. As she stared at the forest racing past her window in flashes of green, she knew that even if her life ended today, in truth it would only be the beginning.
Life here on earth would always have pain and hardship, but as Travis had once loved to remind her, this life was a testing ground. She wanted to face her test today with grace. If she didn’t live to see tomorrow, then she would see Jesus—and Travis and her baby—that much sooner.
That thought reminded her that she wasn’t truly alone, even now, locked in this speeding car with a killer.
Again she looked at the syringe that he had placed in a slotted holder in the dashboard. She couldn’t allow fear to paralyze her now.
She waited until he entered a sharp hairpin curve to the left, then grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it toward her.
He jerked it back easily, but with his concentration broken, he didn’t see the eighteen-wheeler come speeding around the tight curve, breaking past the center line. The front bumper of the truck came within inches of the driver’s-side window.
Rick swerved. The tires left the pavement. As he fought to regain control, the syringe rolled from the dash to the floor beneath his feet.
Seizing her chance, Willow flung off her seat belt, reached for the lock of her door with her left hand and grabbed the handle with her other. Centrifugal force flung the door open as she unlatched it.
“No!” Rick grabbed her by her jacket.
She tried to wrench free, but he jerked the steering wheel, sending the car lurching. In his panicked effort to hold her, he lost control. The vehicle left the road, took a nosedive off the steep hillside and rammed a tree. An air bag caught Willow in the face. Her vision went out of focus.
A sharp jab in her forearm shot a jolt through her body. She screamed and jerked away, striking out blindly at Rick. He grunted as the syringe flipped from his grasp.
She shoved the door open again. This time when he grabbed her jacket she slipped out of it and stumbled into the brush, dizzy with terror.
“Help me!” she screamed, praying someone had seen them from the road above.
She heard Rick’s footsteps behind her and ran blindly back toward the road. The footsteps drew closer. She heard his heavy breathing.
He caught her just before she reached the road. She pivoted, striking out at him wildly again, scratching his face with her nails, still screaming for help, kicking up with her knee.
He threw her to the ground and fell on top of her, but just as his weight pressed her cruelly into the jagged rocks beneath her, he grunted and fell free.
She rolled over to see Graham wrestling Rick to the ground and three uniformed guards scrambling down the hillside toward them.
It was the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Graham carried a bouquet of books in a basket down the corridor toward Willow’s hospital room on Tuesday morning. He had planned to bring flowers, but he knew how much she loved to read. Books would last longer and give her more enjoyment.
He entered the room to find that someone else—actually, three someone elses—had thought of the flowers. He also saw that she wasn’t in the room. Had they already released her? It was possible.
It hadn’t taken long to discover she was as impatient a patient as her brother. Though she had taken a substantial hit of dopamine from Rick Fenrow’s syringe—shooting her blood pressure skyward for a frightening ride to the hospital—she had recovered well enough to want to go home last night.
Graham knew that if the full amount of the syringe had been injected directly into a vein, Willow would be dead now. Fortunately, Rick had hit muscle, so even though the effects had lasted much longer than they ordinarily would have, they had not been as deadly.
Yesterday afternoon and evening had been torture for Graham. Of course, they hadn’t exactly been a picnic for Willow, either.
The dopamine had, indeed, triggered periods of schizophrenia. They didn’t last long, and though Preston worried about future episodes, Graham very much doubted that would happen. If it did, they would deal with it. He planned to be there for her.
He set the basket on her tray table between two bouquets.
As Preston had warned him last night, his sister could be the death of both of them. Graham doubted that would happen, either, though he couldn’t be sure.
Graham had never believed in love at first sight, and he didn’t believe in whirlwind romances. Physical attraction was heady and exhilarating, but it didn’t necessarily lead to a lasting relationship.
All that aside, however, he knew that within three and a half weeks he had fallen head over heels in love with Willow Traynor. He still wouldn’t rush into anything. For her sake as well as his own, he would take this slowly, giving them both time to get to know one another. He knew what he wanted, though. Someday he wanted to marry her.
Someone grabbed him from behind, wrapping long, strong arms around his midsection. He heard soft, feminine laughter, and turned to find Willow looking up at him with a broad grin. She was dressed in jeans and an electric-blue knit top that emphasized the color in her blue-gray eyes.
“So the knight in shining armor not only tracks down killers and rescues damsels in distress, but he knows exactly what the damsel wants on her tray table the next morning.” She released him and pulled a book from the basket. “How did you reach us so quickly after we went off the road?”
“I wasn’t that far behind you. Security guards had seen you from the tower and came running. Have they released you?”
“Not yet,” she said, thumbing through the book as she sat on the bed. “But they will soon. I can’t let Preston beat me out of here, and he’s due to be released today.”
“You’re staying with us, of course,” he said. “At least until both of you are stronger.”
“No need. I feel strong as an ox, and Preston’s swelling is gone, he’s eating well and ready to get back to work. Besides, I love that condo with the deer in the woods and the fireplace.”
Graham felt a sting of disappointment. As of this morning, he had learned that he and Ginger would be granted temporary custody of Lucy and Brittany. He had been looking forward to a houseful of people—or at least these particular people.
“Larry called me this morning,” Willow said. “He explained the dates in April.”
Graham pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down. “I know April first was the day Rick’s father spilled the information about his crimes. What about the others?”
“April fifth, when the girls were taken, coincided with the day the police arrested Sperryville with enough evidence to convict him. On April fourteenth, the press found out and started harassing the family. That was one of the things Rick blamed me for—the loss of privacy. On April twenty-second his father had his first symptoms of Parkinson’s, though they didn’t know what it was for almost two more years. Rick blamed me for that, as well.”
“Rick is a very unhappy man right n
ow. He’s facing some life-and-death decisions in the next few months, and they won’t be his decisions to make.”
“I feel sorry for him, Graham.”
“Why? Because he’s frustrated not to have killed you?”
“Because I doubt anyone ever told him God loved him. We fail people so often by neglecting to tell them there’s another way to live, a more satisfying way.”
“We can only tell them so many times. Some day they have to start listening, Willow. We can’t take the responsibility for that decision.”
“No, but we can make sure they are aware of the choices.”
He studied her face. Gone were the lines of worry that had drawn her down for so long. She looked like a woman set free from prison. There were still shadows in her expression, from memories that would be with her for years. But Willow was strong enough to weather those memories and still find joy in living.
“Carl Mackey came in this morning,” she said. “That poor man, he’s really been through it, hasn’t he?”
“How’s that?”
“He was concerned that I had gotten the wrong impression yesterday. He’d been a little upset when he found out I’d researched his past, particularly in Kansas City. He had moved with his wife to Kansas City to come to a warmer climate and it turned out to be the worst decision of his life.”
“Why?”
“His wife died soon after they settled in Overland Park and, in his grief, he made a mistake on a medication that cost a patient his life. Carl moved to Branson to put it all behind him and reminisce about better days, when he and Marty had come down to enjoy the shows. He never wants to think about that time again. When I mentioned it, he wasn’t happy. I have to admit, there were a few moments I suspected him yesterday.”
“So did I.”
Graham watched her for a moment. She had the face of a young girl, but her eyes held the wisdom one gains from experience, by learning from failure and loss.
“Willow Traynor, I think you’re the most beautiful, fascinating woman I have ever met and I would most definitely like to get to know you better.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow. That’s a great way to ask a girl on a date.”
“You like that? Okay, how about this. When you get out of this hospital, would you consider going hiking with me? And then maybe we could visit Hideaway, take a float trip down Flat Creek to the lake, eat at Bertie’s for lunch and then pack a picnic for dinner. If that doesn’t work, we could attend a marathon of country music shows in Branson and go sightseeing. You haven’t been exposed to the wild side of Branson until you’ve ridden the ducks.”
“The ducks?”
“That’s right. Are you willing to live on the wild side with me?”
She considered him in silence for a moment. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”
She slid from the bed and reached for him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she smiled at him. “Believe it or not, I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.” And she kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his in a promise of more to come in their lives.
As Preston had warned, she could be the death of him. But she could also be the life of him. He didn’t plan to pass up the opportunity.
He kissed her again, because he loved the feel of their lips together. He loved the feel of her face against his. He never wanted to let her go.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2589-7
FAIR WARNING
Copyright © 2006 by Hannah Alexander
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Steeple Hill Books.
® and TM are trademarks of Steeple Hill Books, used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.SteepleHill.com
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels
*Hideaway novels