Bannon Brothers

by Janet Dailey

  “One shot?” Linc said. Bannon nodded. “Thought so. Good work. She all right?”

  Erin croaked an almost inaudible answer and burrowed into Bannon’s arms. He held her tight. “Yeah,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Okay,” Linc said. “The locals can get Cutt bagged and tagged.”

  “You do the talking.”

  “No problem.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Erin was still inside an ER examination room when a nurse came out. “You can go in now,” she said to Bannon, who stood waiting, his bandaged hands clasped in front of him. “Nurse Hartley is helping her with the release paperwork.”

  Erin was sitting up in an adjustable bed with the sides raised to a diagonal and talking in a low voice to an older nurse with a clipboard. The cruel marks of Cutt’s bonds were hidden by the gauze wrapped around her wrists, but the residue of the gag showed—there were red streaks on either side of her mouth. The forlorn expression on Erin’s face just about broke his heart, but she brightened when she saw him, reaching out instantly. “Come here,” she whispered.

  He obeyed, maneuvering around the medical equipment and leaning into her awkward embrace. “Careful. Everything hurts. The adrenaline wore off.”

  “Same here. But you got the worst of it, Bannon.”

  The embrace somehow turned into something more, despite the nurse’s presence. He pressed his lips into her hair, and murmured joyful, incoherent words. They had survived. They had each other.

  “Break it up, you two.” The nurse smiled and unclipped a piece of paper, which she folded and set on the bed.

  Bannon straightened but it cost him. He groaned under his breath.

  “Miss Randall, the doctor reviewed your wound care with you, and here it is in writing for your reference. It’ll come in handy later. You’re going to feel punchy for a few days. Maybe longer.” She gave Bannon a swift, professional once-over. “I assume you got something similar, officer.”

  “It’s in my pocket. How did you know I was a cop?” he asked.

  “Erin told me. And because you’re a cop, I assume you haven’t read it.”

  He grinned ruefully. She was right.

  “Please do. And take care of yourself. Now, at the bottom of the sheet,” the nurse went on, talking to Erin again, “you’ll see contact information for counseling and other free services for victims of violent crimes. There can be delayed reactions—emotional, physical—of various types. You don’t have to tough it out and it’s best not to go it alone.”

  “Thank you,” Erin murmured. She hung on tightly to Bannon’s hand.

  The nurse prepared to go, turning with a few last words. “Your primary care physicians can take over from here. But call if you need to. The hospital number’s on the sheet too.” She left the room to drop off the clipboard in her hand.

  Erin nodded. He winced when her arms went around him again. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry,” she breathed.

  “Do it again. It’s worth the pain—worth everything. I love you, Erin.” Saying it right out loud gave him an incredible rush. He didn’t know if it was too soon or not advisable under the circumstances or whatever, and he didn’t care. “I really do.”

  “Oh, Bannon,” she murmured, not caring who was looking. “I love you. But what am I going to do now?”

  “We’ll figure it out soon enough.” He pressed a tender kiss to her pale forehead and bent his head down to look at the raw marks on either side of her mouth. “They give you something for that?”

  “Antibiotic salve. Same stuff for my wrists. Other than that—you’re the one who nearly was killed.”

  He brushed off her concern. “Nothing wrong with me that won’t heal fast.” His eyes glimmered suspiciously. “I had some really good reasons to win the fight. You being the most important one.”

  “Let’s go home,” she whispered.

  Bannon helped her out of the bed. Her movements were slow and gingerly, but she managed to land on her feet by herself. She took the bent arm he offered to spare his hand and interlaced her elbow with his.

  Briskly efficient, the ER staff and nurses parted to let them pass, already concerned with other cases. Then a code on the PA system spurred them to a run as someone on an ambulance stretcher was brought in, yelling and pulling at the binding straps.

  They walked down a corridor, away from the commotion. Near the sliding glass doors that led to the parking lot, Bannon halted.

  “What’s the matter?” Erin asked anxiously. “Do you want to sit down?”

  He glanced into the room where visitors and family were supposed to wait. “Just seeing if—yeah, he’s still here.”

  “Who?”

  He gestured to the doorway of the waiting room so she could see for herself.

  Erin’s eyes opened wide when she saw the tall old man sitting in a wood-framed armchair, not facing them, leafing through a magazine without reading it. She pulled Bannon back so they were out of earshot.

  “I had to call Montgomery.” Bannon gave her an apologetic look.

  She swallowed hard. “What’s done is done. I’m not going to ask why you did. Not after what all of us have been through. But—how much does he understand?” she asked in an agitated whisper.

  “A lot. He definitely knows who you are—to him, I mean.”

  “How?”

  “I didn’t tell him. He said you were his daughter the second I got done briefing him on what happened out at Cutt’s. I don’t know how he knows. But, Erin, he cares, believe me.”

  Reluctantly, she looked into the room again. After a moment, she spoke. But not to Bannon.

  “Mr. Montgomery—hello.”

  The old man turned at the sound of her shaky voice and rose. The motion was swift but without sureness. “There you are. Thank God.” He steadied himself with a hand on the chair’s flat arm.

  “Did you come alone?” Erin asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Vernette just went for coffee.” He paused, searching her face, a haggard look on his.

  “I appreciate your coming,” she said hesitantly. “How are you?”

  The older man was momentarily at a loss for words. “That doesn’t matter. Look at you. You’re hurt.” He swayed a little.

  “Sir, I think you should sit down,” Bannon said.

  “Yes, yes.” Montgomery found his balance and eased himself back down with an effort. “This was a shock, of course. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do? Money is no object—every penny of the bill for treatment will be covered. It’s the least I can do—”

  Erin shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “My driver and car are waiting outside. Whatever both of you might need, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Thank you, but no.” She seemed to understand that they couldn’t possibly leave him alone and took a seat across from him. Bannon stayed standing.

  “I told Bannon something very important,” the old man blurted out. He stared at her.

  “I know,” she responded hesitantly. “And I know that you think I’m your—your daughter.”

  “Yes. I truly believe that you are. Dear God, what a place for a conversation like this.”

  The rows of somewhat beat-up chairs and tables scattered with out-of-date magazines lent a strange impersonality to the moment. But Bannon knew that ordinary waiting rooms had a way of framing the extraordinary events of people’s lives. Birth, death, and everything in between—hospitals were where it all happened.

  “Erin, when you came to see me in the solarium, I didn’t remember who you were—until you had left. I wanted to call you but something stopped me. Then this happened. And here we are,” Montgomery muttered. “We could go somewhere else.”

  Erin and Bannon exchanged a concerned look. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. The older man didn’t see.

  “No—no, I can’t, not without Vernette,” Montgomery said distractedly. “Where is she?”

  His hand fluttered against the arm
of his chair, an involuntary motion at first. He clenched his teeth and turned it into a nervous drumming.

  “I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Erin soothed. “Did she drive you here?”

  “Yes. Not Caroline. She left yesterday. Bag and baggage. Good riddance.”

  Bannon raised an eyebrow for Erin’s benefit.

  “My house is yours if you want to stay with me while you recuperate, Erin.”

  She pressed her lips together, fighting back tears. “N-no. I don’t think so. I’m going to Bannon’s apartment. I’ve been there for a few days. There’s so much—I mean, I have a lot to think about. Let’s give it time. That’s best.”

  Montgomery studied her face. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He spoke again after a pause. “But there must be some way I can help you now—just tell me. Please.”

  Erin shook her head mutely.

  “Forgive me,” he said, contrite. “I’m upsetting you, and that is the last thing I want to do. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Don’t blame him.” Montgomery gestured to Bannon. “He conveyed information, and that was all. Not an invitation.”

  “I understand. It’s all right, Mr. Montgomery.”

  He shifted in his chair, grasping the arms of it with gnarled hands. “How strange to be called that, now that we both know—but I suppose it has to be that way.”

  Her eyes filled with tears that she blinked back. “Not forever. Just not yet.”

  The old man’s careworn face brightened. “I understand. If there is anything else I can do—anything you might need—let me be your father—again.”

  The last few words tripped him up. But the tone of his voice was so genuine and so heartfelt that something changed in Erin’s expression. “I’ll be all right. But thank you—for wanting to be my dad.” Once the word was out, the awkwardness melted away between the two of them. “Oh my. You are my dad. It feels amazing to say it out loud.”

  “And to hear it,” he said with feeling. “I remember you singing out to me when you were a tiny girl—Daddy, Daddy—you were so happy about the littlest things. I gave up believing I would hear your precious voice again. Or see you.”

  His gnarled hand reached out again and this time she caught it and pressed it to her cheek. “I’m here,” she said quietly. “I’m really here.”

  The connection between them seemed to vibrate in the air of the plain room, not to be broken ever again. She let go of Montgomery’s hand and Bannon put an arm around her shoulders as a huge sigh shuddered through her. Erin didn’t speak for several more moments. Bannon had the feeling that she was summoning up her courage. Against what? Montgomery seemed like a broken man to him.

  “Now I have a right and an obligation to give you whatever you might want or need,” Montgomery said, not quite teasing. “Don’t deny me.”

  “There is one thing. Just one.” Erin shrugged off Bannon’s arm and leaned forward, clasping her hands together so tightly the knuckles showed white.

  Both men kept quiet, looking at her with surprise, staying where they were.

  “I want to see my mother,” she blurted out. “Your—your first wife.”

  “My only wife.” Montgomery was overcome by emotion and said nothing more. Several long seconds passed by.

  “Is she even alive?” Erin asked desperately.

  CHAPTER 24

  Montgomery seemed at a loss for words. “I had no idea that you didn’t know—but then, how would you?”

  He cast a look at Bannon, who gave only a slight shake of his head in response.

  “Tell me,” Erin whispered. “Just tell me the truth.”

  “My dear, your mother is alive, very much so. I—I called her a few nights ago and again today, as soon as I heard from Bannon. Luanne is waiting to talk to you.”

  “At your house?”

  “No. She lives in South Carolina. She wasn’t sure if you were—if she should—” He broke down, unable to continue, then composed himself.

  “I know how much she wants to meet you. But you have to think of yourself first.” He studied her, seeming to notice the red marks on her cheeks for the first time. Anger flashed in his eyes as he stretched out a shaky hand toward her face, dropping it when Erin flinched.

  “A good thing that bastard died,” Montgomery said fiercely, turning to the younger man, “I owe you an apology, Mr. Bannon. I owe you everything. I might have lost my daughter forever, if not for you.”

  His aristocratic features could have been carved from stone, except for the tears that rolled down them. He stood there like a statue, proud and alone, until Erin took his hand.

  “Thank you. Both of you,” he said quietly.

  A few days later, Erin entered the study just ahead of Montgomery, who was walking with unobtrusive assistance from Vernette. The nurse helped him into his chair and gave a friendly nod to his daughter.

  “Okay, the butler brought up your water carafe.” She filled a glass for him and took an amber plastic vial out of her pocket, placing it within easy reach. “And here’s your blasted pills.” She winked at Erin. “That’s what he calls them.”

  “Damn right,” Montgomery growled. “But I’m taking them.”

  Vernette nodded with approval. “You’re all set,” she said to her patient. “I’ll leave you two alone.” She exited quietly.

  Erin was looking around the luxuriously decorated room with interest. Her father folded his hands on the desk and drank in the sight of her. His intent gaze made itself felt—she turned to him.

  “Well—here I am,” she said, striving for a light tone. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

  He managed to smile. “I had it all planned. I was going to start with your baby book.”

  Erin’s eyes got misty. “Oh. I never had one—at least that’s what I thought. The Randalls said . . . never mind.” She fell silent.

  Montgomery spoke quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Besides, I realized last night that your mother has the baby book—she always cherished it. I suppose I could make do with family photo albums, but—”

  “Let’s just talk,” she said softly.

  Montgomery seemed taken aback. “If you wish.” He reached for the glass and took a sip of water. “I don’t know where to start. You must have so many questions. I hope I can answer them. My memory still fails me sometimes.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect. You were there. You’re my father.”

  Hearing her say the word seemed to please him very much. “Yes. Twice in a lifetime. I’m not sure I deserve that.”

  She took a deep breath. “Here goes. I’ll start with the usual. What was I like when I was little?”

  He leaned forward, intent on answering her. “You were a treasure. Shy and sweet. The three years Luanne and I had with you were the happiest of our lives. We never knew how much it meant until you were taken from us.” A bitterness tightened his features. Montgomery clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking.

  “How did it happen?”

  “No one really knew. You and your mother were alone in your part of the house. I was away on business—something for which I have never forgiven myself.”

  “How could you know?” she asked softly.

  He rubbed his forehead. “No one could, I suppose. But the if-onlys never leave you. The police and the people from the FBI did seem to think your kidnapping had been planned in advance. Someone watched and waited for an unguarded moment—the fire gave them that.”

  “What fire?” she asked curiously. “That’s the first I’ve heard of it. In the house?”

  He shook his head. “No, no. Far away. In the Blue Ridge. An afternoon thunderstorm had hit—hail, high winds, lightning, you name it. By evening the ridge was on fire. I was told when the sun went down you could see a scarlet ribbon of flame that stretched for miles. A bad omen, I suppose.”

  “I don’t remember it at all. I don’t remember anything before the Randalls.”

  Hearing that name forced him to stop an
d compose himself.

  “Your mother never would have let you see something so frightening, even from a distance. She called me to ask if she should drive to a friend’s house in the next town, but we decided it was best if you stayed with her in the house. Most of our men left to fight it. Later, another storm came through, a tremendous downpour. There were flash floods all over the mountains, but it put out the fire on the ridge.”

  “Oh.” Erin tried to imagine it. Her face was pensive.

  “You were never scared of storms—you slept more soundly, if anything. Like your mother. She was a country girl.” A thin, sad smile lifted his mouth. “The damned rain washed away what traces there were of you and whoever took you—the bloodhounds and trackers lost the trail within yards of the house once they were outside. Apparently you were carried out through a side door that had been left unlocked. It wasn’t far from your little room.” He looked at her. “I know you’ve been inside the house.”

  “Yes, briefly. I felt so uneasy there.” She paused, collecting her thoughts.

  Montgomery settled wearily in his chair, grasping the arms with gnarled hands. “I can understand why.”

  Erin hesitated. “You look tired. Do you want to talk about this some other time?”

  “My dear, I would be happy if I never talked about it again, especially now that you’re back in my life. But you need to know.”

  She nodded in acquiescence.

  “I was half-crazy when I heard that someone had taken you in the night while I was gone,” he continued. “I felt entirely responsible, as I said. Your mother was beside herself. I was afraid for her—I pretended to be the strong one.”

  “Go on,” Erin said quietly.

  “No one had seen or heard a thing. There was just your empty little bed when she went into your room the next morning. No sign of a struggle. It was as if someone had lifted you in your sleep and simply walked out. God only knows where you woke up.” His eyes flashed with anger.

  “Tell me more. If you can.”

  “Your mother helped with the investigation—she remembered every little detail about you. I felt ashamed that I didn’t, but that was how it was back then. She was the one who noticed that bear you loved so much was gone too.”