Silent Memories

by Pat White

  Sean lunged at the bastard, but Hatch’s man whacked him across the shoulders, sending him facedown to the floor.

  “But then her lack of beauty never stopped you from enjoying her company before,” Hatch taunted.

  Sean held his breath. Not like this. She couldn’t find out the truth from a bastard who would twist everything, making it ugly and obscene.

  “You see, Annie,” Hatch continued, stroking her hair, “you fell in love with this man and he used your feelings for a little personal recreation. Isn’t that right, Mr. MacNeil?”

  He didn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She searched his eyes as if needing reassurance that he wasn’t like the rest, that he hadn’t used her and spit her out.

  “She was a sex toy to you, nothing more,” Hatch said.

  “Don’t,” is all he could say.

  “You didn’t care about her, did you, MacNeil?” He nodded at the thug, who kicked Sean in the ribs for encouragement. He bit down hard to prevent any sound from escaping his mouth.

  Don’t give him the satisfaction. His childhood mantra for whenever Eddy came home drunk, looking for a fight.

  “You never cared,” Hatch said. “Admit it.”

  His associate delivered another kick. Sean struggled to breathe against the pain of bruised ribs.

  “Say it!”

  “I never cared.” He glanced at Annie and her pained expression tore him apart.

  But he had to buy time, had to get his advantage back. Hell, if these jerks figured out he was FBI, they’d put a bullet in his head without a second thought. Good thing he’d left his badge in the car.

  “She must be a good lay for you to risk your job as her bodyguard.” Hatch touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes in disgust.

  Sean’s heart pounded against his chest.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her. We’ll make sure she gets back where she belongs.”

  Sean leaned against the bed and glanced up into Hatch’s eyes. He wouldn’t be intimidated by this jerk even if the last thing he saw was the bastard’s mocking grin.

  “The boss doesn’t know what to make of you,” Hatch said. “Why would you keep her locked up in a hospital when everyone thought she was dead? I hate to imagine what you did to her, acting as her husband.”

  He opened and closed his fist, ready to lay one right between the jerk’s eyes.

  “I think it’s time we found out exactly what you’re after, other than Annie’s virtue.”

  Something cracked against his skull and pain exploded behind his eyes. The room tilted sideways as he was dragged onto the bed. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, trying to shake off the static crackling in his brain.

  “Just relax, Mr. MacNeil. It will be over soon.” Hatch’s voice grated across his nerve endings. Sean glanced at Annie, so fragile and helpless. She actually looked worried about what they were going to do to him.

  They wouldn’t do it in front of her, would they? Enjoy their ruthless game of torture to show her how cruel they could be?

  They couldn’t. Not in front of innocent Annie. He tried to sit up, but pressure against his chest pinned him to the mattress.

  “Where’s the needle?” Hatch said.

  “I don’t have it.”

  “Then pour this down his throat.”

  Someone yanked his hair, tipping his head back. He tried to pull away.

  “Keep still.” A hand clamped hard against his throat. Cutting off air. Cutting off thoughts. Blackness coming, pushing him down.

  “Hold his nose,” Hatch said.

  The hand released his throat and he gasped for breath. Then something plugged his nose and liquid clogged his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He started to cough. His eyes watered. A hand slammed his jaw shut and the liquid crept down the back of his throat, burning its way to his chest.

  “Find out what he’s after. Then kill him. We can’t afford any loose ends,” Hatch said. “I’ll take her back.”

  Back? Back where? To the hospital where Zinkerman would administer mind-altering drugs to terrorize information out of her?

  No. He struggled to focus. Shadows danced across the dimly lit ceiling. Hatch…taking Annie away. His mind whirled. Losing control. He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t help anyone. Not Mom…not his sister, Sarah…not Annie. A failure again.

  “Annie,” he moaned and rolled onto his side. He had to get up, protect her.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” Something knifed across his wrists, pinning them above his head. He couldn’t move his arms. Could barely breathe. Could barely think.

  “Problem?” Hatch said, sounding far away.

  “He should be out by now.”

  “Give him more. Make it an overdose. But get what you can before he dies.”

  He heard Annie squeal as she was dragged away. He’d die and she’d think he was like the rest, that he’d used her for personal pleasure.

  That wasn’t it. There had been something more, something beyond the assignment, beyond physical attraction. Something he didn’t deserve.

  The door slammed shut, sending a cold shudder through his chest. They had her. His fault. Never very smart. Eddy always said so. With a strap and a growl, he’d remind Sean where he came from, what he was destined for.

  Sean had nearly forgotten. He thought getting the bad guys absolved him, released him from the in credible shame.

  Shame that tore apart his insides. He’d failed. Annie would pay. Only this time, with more than her heart.

  ANNIE STUDIED her abductor. She focused on the man’s foot pressing the pedal, and then watched his black-gloved hands hold the wheel of the car as they sailed down the farm road. She’d have to know how to do this if she was to escape.

  Where would she go? Couldn’t think about that. She had to get away from this monster even though he claimed he wanted to help her. She glanced at her still-bound wrists. He wanted to help her like he wanted a root canal.

  She saw what he had done to Sean: bound and drugged him, left him to die.

  Regret tore through her. It shouldn’t. Sean was the enemy, too. Yet she saw something else in his eyes, something…

  Stop thinking about him. Focus on your escape and getting to safety.

  Hatch hummed a strange tune, as if he couldn’t be happier. He was self-serving, like Sean who’d used her…for sexual recreation? The thought should repulse her. It didn’t. She had developed an attachment to him, to a man who had used her. God, she hated that feeling.

  She glanced at Hatch. He considered her a nuisance. So did Sean. So had…

  Dad. She clenched her fists and fought back the wave of shame. All she wanted was for someone to…

  …love her?

  “You put up quite a fight back there,” Hatch said. “You have to believe me. We’re on the same side.”

  Sure, and she was the Easter Bunny.

  “The man who hired me is very concerned about your health, about all those formulas you’ve got locked inside that pretty little head of yours.”

  Right. Now she was pretty.

  Staring out the passenger window, she planned her next move. They kept her alive because of her brains. What would this monster do if she admitted she’d lost her mind?

  She wasn’t about to find out. She’d finally awakened to the wonder of consciousness and no one was going to take it away. If she had to lie, cheat, hurt another human being, she’d do it if it meant staying alive.

  “How do you feel?” he asked with mock concern.

  “I’m a little fuzzy.”

  “Fuzzy?”

  “Confused. That man kidnapped and threatened me. He was so…so…”

  Her mind filled with images of a broad-shouldered, muscular Sean whispering to her in the dark, telling her what television programs she watched, what kinds of food she ate. He knew so much about her, so many intimate things.

  “Go on. He was what?” Hatch pressed.

  “Mean.”

  He chuckled, a slight cu
rl to his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  She closed her eyes and pretended to be somewhere else, any place but beside this man. He had no intention of protecting her any more than Sean did. She was done relying on others. They always let her down. Somewhere, deep down, she knew this to be true.

  “Where are we going?” she said.

  “Appleton. There was a mix-up with Dr. Zinkerman. We’ve cleared it up. Everything will be fine.”

  Sure it will. Hatch and the doctor would exact whatever information they needed from her brain and dump her like an old sofa. Or worse, they’d send her back to la-la land, courtesy of hallucinogenic drugs. Not happening.

  She stared at his right leg. Right pedal—faster. Left pedal—slower. The left foot didn’t do anything.

  “Annie, did Mr. MacNeil tell you why he kid napped you?”

  “No.”

  “Did he call anyone?”

  “No.” She didn’t know why she lied. She didn’t owe Sean anything.

  “Do you remember the car accident that put you in the hospital?”

  “Car accident?”

  “I should probably tell you…” he shot her a sympathetic look.

  She wanted to slap him.

  “Not only did Sean MacNeil seduce you, but he was hired to kill you, as well.”

  Anger welled up inside. This man was trying to manipulate her. She could feel it. She also felt a thread of truth to his words.

  What was Sean to her and why couldn’t she remember? She closed her eyes and struggled with flashes of memory. An older man handing her an elegant gown, showing her how to walk, how to speak. A pair of purple lace socks…under her gown…showing them to Sean in the corner of a grand ballroom. He’d smiled at her socks, his eyes lighting up and his left cheek dimpling. Her chest warmed at the memory. His smile was a rare event.

  Yet he was doing his job as an FBI agent. Gain her trust, secure her love. Why? At the motel, he’d told her he wanted information about her guardian, Raymond. Did he suspect her of wrongdoing, as well?

  It didn’t matter. It was time to find her family, the people who really loved her. She’d do it on her own. She’d do everything on her own from this point on. She sensed she’d let others take care of her in the past, others who didn’t love her, but wanted something in return. No more.

  Mom would make things right. She had to get to Mom.

  “Hatch, I need to, um, go to the bathroom,” she said.

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. I think it’s the medication they had me on.”

  “You’ll have to go in the bushes,” he said with a disapproving tone.

  He pulled the car to the side of the road and shoved it into Park. “Hurry up.”

  “Can you undo my hands?” She stretched her wrists out in front of her.

  He impatiently untied the leather cord. “Make it quick.”

  Jumping from the car, she headed for a thick mass of trees, big trees sure to have shed massive branches. She fumbled through the brush until she was no longer visible to her abductor. Picking up a hefty branch, she crouched down and hid. She squeezed her weapon, the bark pinching the soft flesh of her fingers.

  She might be confused, but she knew damn well Hatch was no ally. And neither was Sean. He admitted he’d never cared for her, that he’d used her.

  Now it was her turn. She’d get away from Hatch and go back to Sean. She wouldn’t save him because she cared about him. She’d make that clear. She didn’t care one milligram what happened to him as long as he led her to Mom.

  Weapon in hand, she struggled to calm her breathing. Sean wouldn’t be leading her anywhere if she didn’t get to him in time. She steadied the branch across her right shoulder, ready to swing.

  A terrible thought gripped her. What if Sean was already dead? Wasn’t that the plan? For the brutal man to discover his secrets, then kill him?

  Panic bubbled up inside. Sean dead. It shouldn’t matter. He didn’t care about her, didn’t love her. He had used her like all the rest. No, something was different about him. He couldn’t die. Not until she found out the truth about her mother…about him.

  “Hatch!” she cried to speed things up.

  “Annie?” he said. “Where are you?”

  The beeping of the open car door gave her hope. The keys were still in the car. All she had to do was knock him out and make a run for it. And figure out how to drive.

  Yet she had bigger issues at hand. She wasn’t a violent person by nature. Could she really club the guy?

  “What are you doing back there?” he growled over her shoulder. She jumped to her feet and swung the branch, catching him on the side of his head.

  He went down in slow motion, his eyes registering shock, then nothing. She dropped the weapon and hobbled to the car, stumbling on weakened legs.

  She climbed into the car, her hands trembling as they gripped the steering wheel. The key was in the ignition, but the engine wasn’t running.

  “Think, think.” She closed her eyes and remembered how Hatch turned on the car. She twisted the keys and put her foot on the right pedal. The engine roared and she jumped in fright. The car didn’t move.

  “Calm down. How did he do it?”

  She took her foot off the right pedal and pulled on the metal bar until the pin read D. The car lurched forward and she shrieked. She slammed her foot on the left pedal.

  Taking her foot off the left pedal, the car started to roll. She tapped the right pedal, getting the feel of the car’s movement. She could do this.

  Pressing down on the pedal, she gripped the wheel and glanced at the needle as it slowly crept to thirty. Good enough.

  Sweat from her fingers made the steering wheel slippery. Would Sean still be alive when she reached the motel, conscious enough to tell her where to find Mom? What about her pursuers? Who would protect Annie from them?

  “Stop thinking so much,” she muttered, her eyes burning with concentration.

  The rain had stopped. Thank goodness she didn’t have to contend with that. But she would have to contend with a bigger threat when she got back to the motel—the man ordered to kill Sean. Cripes. She’d surely awakened without an ounce of common sense. Here she was, driving along a winding farm road with little or no driving experience, planning to save a man from a killer.

  Who do you think you are? Little Orphan Annie?

  She’s a bookworm!

  A freak!

  A weakling, freakling!

  Children’s voices pummeled her thoughts.

  “I am not a freak,” she ground out.

  Is that why she lived with a guardian? Because she was considered a freak by most people’s standards? Her family probably sent her away because they didn’t want her around.

  A memory flashed: very young…asking questions in the kitchen…pineapple wallpaper. Too many questions. Driving him crazy. Driving him away—

  “No!” she cried, almost missing a sharp curve in the road. She had to focus on driving and shove back the pain that welled in her chest whenever she thought about her father.

  Instead, she thought about Mom and two other girls, her sisters. There was laughter, a sense of belonging.

  Glancing at the speed indicator, she realized she was going thirty-seven miles an hour. She’d get there before it was too late, before Hatch’s man had stripped Sean of his mind.

  She sighed, grateful that she’d come out of her stupor. Things were slowly starting to surface: some thing about a microscope…a rabbit…getting better, hopping around in its cage.

  Mending a sick animal. Always mending. Bruised ribs. Sean’s ribs. Annie taping them, touching his lightly haired chest, the pads of her fingers on fire, tracing across his rib cage, fingering the hardened nipple.

  “God, what did he do to me?” He really had her under his spell. How else could she explain her elevated pulse when she thought of touching his bare chest?

  “Where’s the motel?” she muttered, squinting into the distance
.

  Truth be told, she sensed she wasn’t an expert navigator. She remembered something about a paper bag and getting lost. Now how was that possible? Her mind clicked off possibilities. She felt the onset of a headache.

  The glow of a neon sign reflected off the wet road ahead. Slowing down, she eyed room number seven. It was dark.

  Steering the car behind a secluded spot of trees, she considered her options. She might have knocked out Hatch, but she surely couldn’t wrestle a six-foot male to the ground.

  The motel room door opened and Hatch’s partner sauntered out, a satisfied look on his face. She ducked, watching him get into a black car.

  Loss coiled through her chest. He’d killed Sean. And with him went any chance of finding her mother.

  The man drove off. She took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car, the crisp fall air taking her breath away.

  Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she shuffled across the street to the motel. The jerk hadn’t bothered to shut the door. Why should he? It wasn’t as if a dead man could get up and walk away.

  She stepped inside the room and closed the door. Her pulse raced. One dull light glowed by the bedside, illuminating Sean’s broad shoulders as he lay on his side. She inched toward the bed and touched his shoulder. He flopped onto his back, eyes wide and lifeless. Green eyes dulled by death.

  She stumbled backward into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor with a crash. Bile churned, creeping its way up her throat. She sprinted into the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

  Sean was dead. Gone. No one to help her find her mother. No one to protect her.

  No one to love her.

  She retched again and moaned into the porcelain bowl.

  Had he loved her?

  Forget about it. The bad men wouldn’t give up until they found her. But that wasn’t the only thing that paralyzed her.

  Her hands started to shake. Sean. Sean was dead.

  Dizziness pulled her down. She had to fight it off, grab hold of her senses and analyze a way out of this mess.

  Standing, she ran a washcloth under cold water, squeezed it out and pressed it to her cheek.