In the Dead of the Night

by Spear, Terry

  “Thanks.” The way Allan put it—have lunch, then get married—sounded cold and uninviting. She’d certainly hoped the first time she got married she would have a more enthusiastic groom. But she had to remind herself he was only doing a job. The question was did he do it for A.T.A.? Or for Wilson?

  He shut the door on his way out. Jenny ran to it and locked it. It wouldn’t give her much time, but she would do what she could in the short time available to her.

  Jerking Allan’s suitcase open, she pulled out a black T-shirt. Hopefully his clothes weren’t bugged. When she pulled it on, it looked baggy on her, but it didn’t matter. None of his shorts or trousers would fit. She threw a pair of her denim shorts on and slipped into a pair of sneakers.

  After rummaging through the pockets of his suitcase, she found five hundred dollars in cash and a small field pack. Inside was a medical kit, water pouch, some packages of freeze-dried food, and a gun. Her heart lurched at the sight of the gun. Something disturbing flickered vaguely across her mind, but flitted away so fast she couldn’t catch the image.

  In her suitcase, she found her purse. She pulled her wallet out and crammed it into the pack. Then she put everything else back in place so they wouldn’t know for a while what she might have taken.

  She rushed to the bathroom window to see how Randy had escaped. Beneath the window hung a wooden trellis covered in tropical flowers. If it held Randy’s weight, it could hold hers.

  With an attempt at calming her rapid breath, she stretched her muscles, then climbed out the window. Her foot slipped on some of the leaves as she tried to gain a foothold, and she gasped, quieting the scream that nearly escaped her lips. A secret agent woman, she was not.

  The sound of men’s voices from the condo drifted to her, filling her with panic as her heart thumped hard. She couldn’t get caught. Not by Allan and his men, or by Randy. She had no one to turn to, no memory of who she really was, or where she could find a safe place to hide. All she knew was she had to get off South Padre Island and fast.

  Jenny jogged at a good fast pace all the way to where she saw a tourist information bureau. It was about a mile from the condo in a strip mall. She figured here, she would find some information about where she would have to go to get off the island. Plus, it had a wealth of information as to what was located in the surrounding area.

  A quarter of a mile past that she found a car rental agency. If she used a credit card, A.T.A. would undoubtedly be alerted. But would Wilson also know? She had to chance it. She probably wouldn’t make it off the island on foot. She would ditch the rental vehicle as soon as she could and…

  She spied an A.T.M. machine. She smiled. More cash. After getting the maximum of $500, she walked into the rental car agency. Half out of breath, she leaned against the counter. “I’d like to rent a compact car.”

  “You’ll have to have a major credit card to rent one, miss.”

  Great. She’d hoped she had enough cash to cover her trail. With shaking fingers, she pulled out her credit card. She envisioned the place being surrounded immediately by agents or people posing as agents of the A.T.A.

  The woman ran the card over one of those old-fashioned machines with the carbon copy receipts and didn’t bother calling it in. Jenny let the stale air out of her lungs, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

  Before long, she was on her way in a black Neon with a map of Texas and brochures for the surrounding area. All she knew was she had to get out of Texas and fast.

  After crossing the only bridge to the mainland from the island, she headed north. In the first town she came to, she looked for a shop to pick up some new clothes. Anything to make sure she wasn’t wearing clothes that were bugged.

  An Army/Navy Surplus store caught her eye. She hurried inside and bought a set of Army fatigues, boots…the works. Nobody would recognize her as an Army private. She wore the uniform out of the shop, carrying her bundle of clothes and Allan’s T-shirt. She dropped them into the back of a dusty, beat-up, pickup truck. Considering how close they were to the border, she hoped the driver would go to Mexico. The only thing she regretted was not having her bra and panties, something the Army/Navy Surplus didn’t sell.

  The hour was nearly up. Fifteen more minutes and lunch would be ready. Allan would be pounding on the bedroom door, but there wouldn’t be an answer. A pang of remorse gripped her. But then she thought about her situation as it was now.

  She still had to ditch the car before they discovered she had used her credit card to rent it. She had to get a new ride, too, but for now she felt secure having a set of wheels and freedom to move on her own.

  ***

  Allan’s face heated in annoyance that Jenny would lock the bedroom door. But then he calmed down figuring she had wanted some privacy when she changed. Hell, he had walked in on her when she was just wearing the bath towel. And it was his fault he hadn’t explained the rules to her. No locked doors.

  He paced in front of the door, assuming she was still sound asleep. Then he returned to the kitchen and found a paperclip in one of the drawers.

  “What’s up?” Dale asked, as he looked up from the newspaper.

  “She locked the bedroom door and seems to be asleep.”

  Dale joined him in an instant.

  Allan straightened out the paperclip, then crossed the floor to the bedroom. With some maneuvering, he finally managed to hit the button inside the lock. It clicked, and he twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

  His heart stopped when he saw the bed empty. But when he noticed the bathroom door was closed, he attempted to still his rapid pulse. He knocked on the bathroom door. When there was no answer, he called out, “Jenny?”

  Dale’s phone rang and he lifted it from his belt. “Yeah?” His red freckles melded together as his face grew flushed. “Damn.” He turned to Allan. “Her credit card’s been used.”

  “Shit.” Allan couldn’t quell the mix of worry and anger that washed over him all at once. Her credit card was stolen, that’s what he told himself. She was in the bathroom. But he knew she wasn’t as much as he wanted her to be. He jammed the point of the paperclip into the doorknob and jiggled it until he unlocked it. He threw the door open and stared for a second at the open window. “What was credit card used for?” He headed for their bags.

  “Rental car.”

  “Damn. Description the rental clerk gave?”

  “Yeah.” Dale’s long face seemed to grow even longer. “It was Jenny.”

  “Guy’s ready to go?”

  “Packed up. Waiting for us.”

  Allan grabbed the bags. “There’s no indication of a struggle, so Wilson’s men can’t have gotten to her.” He turned to Dale. “We’ll have to find out what she took from the bags.”

  “Her credit card.”

  “What the hell was she thinking?”

  They hurried out of the condo and jumped into a waiting sedan. Cameron was driving. Samuel sat up front. Allan and Dale slid into the backseat.

  Allan sifted through her bag. “Her purse is still here, but she’s taken her wallet.” He sorted through his bag next. “Damn, she’s taken my field pack.”

  “Had a spare gun in it?” Cameron asked.

  “Yeah. Anything on the tracker?”

  “Lantham’s following a lead headed for Mexico already,” Samuel said.

  “Has she used the card anywhere else?” Allan asked.

  Dale’s phone rang. “Yeah? A.T.M. machine. Thanks.” He closed up his phone. “She used a card at the A.T.M. near the car rental place.”

  Allan ran his hands through his hair. “Police alerted about the rental car?”

  “Yep,” Samuel said. “And border patrol. There are more of those guys around here then cops.”

  They had barely cleared the bridge leading off the island when Dale’s phone rang. “Yeah, border patrol. Where had the driver of the pickup been? Ask him what businesses he’d gone to for the last hour or so.” He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll have another ag
ent pick up her clothes. All right. Thanks.” Dale punched in buttons on his phone. “Lantham, border patrol has the clothes she wore that had the tracking device. Pick them up and head back up here, will you?” He gave him directions to where the border patrol stopped the pickup, then where the driver had last been. He ended the conversation with Lantham, then said to Cameron, “Okay, we need to go to the grocery store, a feed store, and an Army/Navy Surplus on Main Street.”

  “Skip the others,” Allan countermanded. “Head straight for the surplus store.”

  “How in the hell did she know about the bugs?” Dale asked.

  Allan shook his head. “Maybe she watches too many spy movies. But what I don’t understand is what spooked her. Why would she run away from us?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t think we can protect her,” Samuel offered.

  “Or some of her memories are coming back, only they’re confused in her mind, and she now thinks we’re the bad guys,” Cameron said. “Did she see the man who hit her?”

  “No. The room was dark when I arrived. She’d already been hit and was lying unconscious on the floor.”

  Cameron tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Well, maybe she heard your voice, the memories came back, and she thinks you’re the one who hit her.”

  “Damn.” Allan rubbed his chin, his heart beating out of control. How could he protect her if she was going to pull a stunt like this? He was torn between feeling guilty over losing her, angry that she ran, and concerned that she was afraid of him. He had to put his feelings aside and concentrate on getting her back safely.

  When they arrived at the surplus store, Allan hurried inside with Dale. He showed her picture to the clerk.

  “Yeah, she bought a set of Army fatigues and wore them out of the store.”

  “Did she say anything about where she was headed?”

  “Fort Hood.”

  “Yeah, right, thanks.” Allan slapped Dale on the shoulder. “Either she’s beginning to remember things or she’s researched the area somehow.”

  Dale got on the phone as they headed out of the store. “Boss. No, we don’t have her yet. She’s wearing an Army fatigue uniform.” He raised his brows. “She was in the Army? When the hell did that happen?”

  Allan took a deep breath. There was certainly more to the woman than they even knew.

  “Yes, sir. Fort Hood. That’s where she told the clerk at the surplus store she was headed. Okay.”

  Dale hung up the phone and shook his head. “She was in the Army for less than a year. Had to get an honorable hardship discharge to take care of her terminally ill aunt.”

  Allan yanked his car door open. “The one with all the money?”

  “Yep.”

  They climbed into the car and slammed their doors shut.

  “Then that’s how she knew how to use a gun,” Allan said.

  “How’s that?” Cameron asked.

  “She was in the Army.”

  “Expert marksman with both the M16 rifle and the .45 caliber semiautomatic pistol, Garcia informed me.” Dale waggled his brows, a slight smile twitching on his lips.

  “Damn, and she’s got my gun.” Allan leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. “No wonder Wilson stole her gun from her bedside table.”

  ***

  Thurman glared at the dead woman in the motel room bed. “No more Internet women,” he grumbled under his breath. He pulled his pants up. “At least twenty pounds heavier than her scanned photo and ten years older.” Then a smile crept across his face. “Teach her to lie to me.”

  After he dressed, he walked outside and nodded to Caruso, leaning against a metal pillar, cigarette hanging from his mouth as usual.

  “She’s done,” Thurman said, his voice weary.

  “Sorry, boss. Didn’t have anyone else to take her place after I saw she wouldn’t appeal.”

  Thurman shrugged. “She served her purpose. Any word from Angel?”

  “No, deathly quiet. Figure something’s gone wrong.”

  Nodding, Thurman grunted his disapproval. “Everything to do with Jenny seems to end up twisted. What about that Roxie Adams?”

  Caruso crushed the cigarette under his boot on the cement walk. “No sign of her. Apparently, they’re not letting the agents in charge of Jenny know anything about Roxie’s whereabouts.”

  Thurman wasn’t used to losing, and the whole situation was giving him pains. Twice he’d even thought he was suffering from a heart attack. At forty-five, he couldn’t allow it.

  Jenny was unraveling him, one stitch at a time. He’d make her pay for it.

  Chapter 10

  Jenny nearly panicked when she spotted a police cruiser parked at a restaurant. Her pulse quickened and her hands grew clammy. Then she realized he had to be inside eating. But now she had to ditch the rental car before she got caught.

  She pulled into a quick lube oil change place and handed her keys to the attendant. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Do you want a full car wash?”

  “Sure.” That would give her even more time. The car would be hidden inside the building for longer.

  She did a double-time down one of the side streets, not sure what she would do next. Could she hitch a ride?

  A beauty parlor caught her eye. She twisted her hair around her finger. Maybe a darker shade would help hide her identity?

  She stepped into the cool air conditioned beauty parlor. No one would ever think to look for her there. She should have her hair all cut off in something ridiculously short, but as she studied the curls dangling over her shoulders, she couldn’t do it. “I want to have my hair dyed black,” she said to the hair stylist.

  “Do you want it trimmed?” the hair stylist asked.

  “No. Just dyed. And afterward, I need it put up in some kind of a do, to keep it off my collar. Army regulations, you know.” She seemed to be getting glimpses of her life back in tiny puzzle-sized pieces, except they didn’t fit together at all.

  For one thing, wearing the uniform seemed like something she had done before. Flashes of images of shooting a weapon on a firing range and crawling in the dirt under barbed wire, appeared in her memories briefly. But how could she have done such a thing as a tax accountant? Allan hadn’t mentioned a thing about her having been in the Army. Unless, he hadn’t learned about that part of her life. Had she done something bad and been kicked out?

  Maybe learning about her past wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Are you from around here?” the older woman asked, her own black curly hair cut short in a cute style.

  “South Padre Island.” Except for that place and Grand Cayman Islands, she couldn’t remember any other.

  “But you’re in the Army. No military bases around here.”

  Posts, she wanted to correct her. Army posts, Air Force bases. My God. She was remembering. Or at least she was kind of remembering. Her stomach tightened as she grew lightheaded. “Fort Hood. I’m stationed there.” She still couldn’t remember the details, only that she’d dressed just like she was now.

  Maybe she could make her way there and blend in with the rest of the military population. Wouldn’t it be safer on a military installation? She sat up straighter. They could protect her. She could tell the military police what had happened to her. And they would contact the right authorities, and she would be safe.

  For the first time since her escape, she felt a sense of relief.

  Then in the next instant, the relief crashed like the stock market during the Great Depression when she thought of the woman’s words. What if in wearing a uniform in this small town, she drew suspicion? She must have stood out like a puff of cloud on a sunshiny day. Then again, would the agents suspect that she would wear something so unusual?

  She rubbed her forehead. The tension built in her temple. Yeah, until they discovered the rental car and the attendant told them she was wearing Army fatigues.

  Jeez, she really wasn’t cut out for this espionage stuff.

  An hour la
ter, her hair was black and secured in a bun. But now she had to find another store and quickly change clothes again. She found a thrift store down the street and hurried inside.

  After selecting a baggy blue T-shirt and a pair of matching blue running pants, she figured she would looked frumpy enough not to get any notice. She picked out a sun hat, too, not only to cover her features a little more, but to provide protection from the sun that had already started to beat down in the hot Texas early afternoon. No refreshing ocean breeze here to cool a body off.

  Sunglasses at a drugstore helped a little, too. Now to find a place to change her clothes where no one would take notice. She entered the restaurant where the police car had been, but was now gone. After slipping into the restroom, she changed into the clothes, then stuffed the Army uniform back in the bag. Might come in handy later.

  Returning to the hostess stand, she told the woman she wanted a seat for two. No sense in advertising she was alone. If anyone came looking for her, they’d ask for a single woman.

  She was really getting good at this.

  ***

  Allan tapped his fingers on the car seat. “No more word for what, an hour and a half? The longer we lose her, the more likely the trail will grow so cold—”

  Dale’s phone rang, and he lifted it to his ear. “Good show. Be there in a minute.” He smiled at Allan. “They found the rental car at an oil lube place. She’s still wearing the fatigues.”

  “Call in the rest of the team. Have every business in the area combed for a woman wearing Army fatigues.”

  Allan’s heart soared. She couldn’t be that hard to find, unless Wilson’s men got hold of her, or someone else did. If she hitched a ride and the wrong sort…

  He took a ragged breath. He wanted to shake her and make her understand how dangerous she was making life for herself. On the other hand, he wanted to hold her tight and never let go.

  Police, A.T.A. agents, and members of the border patrol gathered at the oil lube business, all ready to find the woman with amnesia whose life was in danger of being terminated by a serial killer.