"Who is Mrs. Tremble?" he asked.
She looked up, startled. "I told you—"
"No, I mean, the name had significance for you. How did you know—" He paused to look around, but no one was close to their table. Before he could explain, she answered his question.
"A doll Emily played with. It was the only toy she brought with her when she arrived at my aunt and uncle's house."
"They adopted her?"
"Yes, when she was two. Aunt Meredith and Uncle Joe made no difference in treatment between their real children and the others they took in. Theirs was a wonderful house."
He heard the regret and loss in her voice. "You wish you could live there now? Instead of being on tour?"
"No," she said softly, slowly shaking her head. "I may not—That is, things have changed."
The waiter returned to the table with glasses of water and took their order. Liza ordered a chicken Caesar salad. Nick persuaded her to have a cup of soup before her salad, to make sure she had enough to eat. After all, she'd missed lunch.
Then he ordered a steak with a salad and baked potato. He found her staring at him. "Don't tell me you're against steak?"
"No. In fact, I used to enjoy it. But Mother—she generally decides what I eat."
"Why do you let her do that?"
The sadness in her gaze twisted his heart again. What was this woman doing to him?
"I hate to admit it. It makes me sound like a huge wimp."
"Tell me."
"I gave up. It's easier to eat whatever she orders than it is to fight her. I don't really care what I eat anyway."
"She makes a big stink?"
She nodded and took a sip of water.
"But you have the talent. She can't manage without you."
She looked away. "I know, but I don't really have an alternative. I love music. I even enjoy singing. Or I did. Even now, the time on stage is…magical. But the rest of it, the press, the traveling, the pressure. It's getting me down. I thought if I cooperated, my mother would loosen the reins. I was only sixteen when it started. And I'd needed—Aunt Meredith had—I wanted to get away."
Her explanation raised more questions than it answered. Nick had seen her stubborn streak. Why hadn't she shown it to her mother? True, the woman was difficult, but why had Liza given in so easily? Why had she wanted to get away?
He was about to ask that all-important question, when the waiter returned with his salad and Liza's potato soup.
She seemed eager for the soup, and he decided questions could wait. She needed to build her strength.
But he was the only one with that consideration.
She'd only taken a few bites when an older woman stopped at their table, staring at her.
"Are you Liza Colton? You are, aren't you?" she gushed, reaching out to touch Liza.
Nick wanted to stop the woman from touching her, as if such an intrusion would harm her, but Liza smiled and took the woman's hand to give it a gentle shake before withdrawing. "Yes, I am."
"Oh, my dear, I heard you sing the other night. My husband took me for our anniversary. Oh, I just cried, your voice is so beautiful."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Liza said quietly.
"Oh, my, you sound like you have a cold. What a shame! Can you sing?"
Nick had had all he could stand, even if Liza still had patience. "Ms. Colton is trying to enjoy her dinner. Thank you for stopping by, but she really needs—"
"Oh, of course!" the woman said and Nick breathed a sigh of relief.
Instead of moving on, however, the woman began digging in her large handbag. "Ah! Here's a pen and paper. If I could just get your autograph!" She beamed at Liza, sure her request would be granted.
Not if Nick had anything to say about it. But Liza stopped him with a look just as he started to rise. She quickly signed the paper and smiled again at the lady.
When the woman finally left them, he heaved a sigh of relief. "You were too patient."
She smiled a small smile. "I know. But she didn't mean any harm."
"You need to eat while your soup is still warm."
Without argument, she picked up her spoon and took a bite, leaving Nick to wonder if she was comparing his orders to her mother's. He didn't like that thought. But someone had to take care of her!
They ate in silence, until he couldn't stand it. "Did I sound like your mother? I didn't mean to railroad you, really, but I want you to get your strength back."
"I know."
She hadn't answered his question. "Well?"
Looking up, she smiled at him. "No, you didn't sound like my mother. And the soup is good, so I didn't mind."
The waiter interrupted them. "Ms. Colton, you have a call." He handed her a portable phone and walked away.
Nick could tell she tensed as she put the phone to her ear.
"Hello?"
The squawking noise from the phone told Nick at once who had called Liza. He wanted to take the phone from her hand and throw it across the room.
"No, Mother, I'm not well yet. The doctor has insisted on two weeks rest."
More noise.
"No, I'm going to my apartment in New York City, but I'm not going to answer the phone or the door. If it's something important, leave a message. Otherwise, don't call."
Her mother's protest was long and difficult, but Liza listened, not interrupting. Then she said, "Sorry, Mother, but those are the doctor's orders and I'm not going to take a chance with my voice."
More protest.
Then Liza said, "I have to go now, Mother. I'll talk to you in two weeks." She disconnected the phone and waved to the waiter, standing nearby. He came and took the phone away.
She looked at Nick. "Thank you for your excellent orders."
"They really are necessary, Liza. Your voice is sensitive. It needs rest."
"I know," she agreed with a smile. "But I think I sound like Lauren Bacall tonight. Don't you?"
He loved that smile, and her lighthearted response. About to actually flirt with her, much to his surprise, he was interrupted again by the waiter.
"Ms. Colton, you have another call."
If it was her mother again, he was definitely going to throw that phone across the restaurant. But from the look on Liza's face, she wasn't the caller.
Five
Emily Blair Colton almost sobbed with relief when she heard her cousin's voice.
"Liza! It's me!"
"Em, where are you? What's going on? Are you all right?"
Emily blinked back tears. It felt so good to hear the concern, the love, in Liza's voice. "I'm okay. It's been—I'm in Keyhole but don't tell anyone."
Liza gasped. "I'm so relieved!"
"I don't think I've been followed," Emily hurriedly said. Then, after a pause, she added softly, even now feeling like she was betraying someone, "I couldn't go back."
With a sigh, Liza said, "No, of course not, but I'm worried about you."
"It's better here than going back and not knowing. I wouldn't even be able to sleep. Meredith scares me. You know it has to be her." She'd gone over the events time and time again. They didn't make sense—unless one person was behind them—her mother, Meredith Colton.
"You're right," Liza said with a sigh.
"I want you to be careful." Emily took a deep breath. "Don't tell anyone what I told you I suspect. I don't want them coming after you, too."
"Surely they wouldn't—Em, can you describe the man?"
A shudder ran through Emily. Of course she could. She'd seen him in her nightmares for the past three nights. "Yes. He was about forty, skinny except for a potbelly. He has the most ridiculous ponytail, because he's going bald on top. And he has a little beard and a fu-manchu mustache.
"It wasn't him."
"What are you talking about?"
"A man came looking for you…with a knife."
"Oh, Liza, you've got to hide! You mustn't—"
"I'm going to. I was only waiting for your call. But he didn't know
where you are. He wanted to know if I'd seen you. The police are looking for him now."
"I'd hoped once they paid the ransom, it would all be over." Emily stifled a sob. "But that's happened, and now this guy shows up. I think you should hide too. At least for a while."
"I am. I have a number where you can reach me."
Emily had the paper on which she'd written the hotel's number. Liza always left her tour schedule with Emily. Thanks to Aunt Cynthia's organizational skills, it hadn't been difficult to find her cousin. "Okay. I'm ready."
After giving her the number, Liza said, "What do you need? Can you come here?"
"That wouldn't be wise if the man knows how close we are," Emily muttered. She'd already thought about going to Liza, but she was sure Cynthia would throw a fit of she interfered with Liza's singing. She knew Liza wouldn't let her down, though. When something mattered, she'd fight her mother tooth and nail.
But Cynthia would alert the family at once.
"I want to send you money," Liza said. "How are you managing?"
Emily didn't want to remember that bizarre, frightening night that started it all. But thank God for Charley Roberts, the trucker who picked her up, fed her and gave her some money. "I'll be all right," she finally said.
"Give me an address and I'll send you plenty of money."
"I can get a job."
"Don't be ridiculous. Just a minute." Emily then heard her voice muffled as she asked for pen and paper.
"Liza? Who's there? You mustn't—"
"Don't worry. He's my doctor. He won't tell anyone."
"Your doctor? Are you sick?" She couldn't bear it if she lost Liza.
"Just a throat problem. I'm almost well. Now, where can I send you money?"
Reluctantly, Emily gave her cousin the post office address of the small Wyoming town of Keyhole where she was hiding.
"I'll wire the money tomorrow, Em. Are you sure you don't want to come here?"
"No. I'm afraid to move. I'm going to get a job here, blend in. I'll be fine."
"Will you call me? Please?"
"Of course. Today's Saturday. I'll call again on Wednesday, about this time, okay?"
"That long? Can't you—Sorry, I know it's difficult. I'll be waiting for your call. Take care of yourself, Emily. I love you."
Emily had never had difficulty with those words, thanks to growing up with Joe and Meredith Colton. They'd shown her what real love, family love, was all about. "I love you too, Liza. Take care of yourself, too. Bye."
Emily collapsed against the side of the telephone booth, tears streaming down her face. Liza was the one person in the world she could count on. Because Liza knew the truth. She couldn't tell Dad. How could she say the woman who'd taken her in, loved her, wasn't the woman bearing her name? No one would believe her.
And she couldn't go back to her beloved home. The woman she was forced to call Meredith would only try again to get rid of her.
So she was going to hide. With Liza's help.
* * *
Nick had watched the powerful emotions on Liza's face as she talked with her cousin. He took the portable phone from her hand and waved the waiter over. "Thanks," he said as Liza surreptitiously wiped her eyes.
When their waiter arrived with their meals, it was a welcome distraction. Nick waited several minutes before he asked, "Is she all right?"
She nodded, but she didn't look at him.
"Liza?"
She lifted her green-eyed gaze and said softly, "She's in hiding. It's dangerous."
He'd recognized her uncle's name, realizing a hefty ransom could be gained from a kidnapping. "Does she think the kidnappers are still after her? After the ransom has been paid?"
Liza dropped her gaze. "Um…yes."
"I think you should—"
"Good evening, Ms. Colton," Detective Ramsey said, stopping beside their table. "Dr. Hathaway," he added with a nod. "May I sit for a moment?"
Nick was afraid Liza would give herself away. Panic was written on her face. "Of course, Detective. May I order you something to drink or eat?"
His question drew the man's attention away from Liza. "I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee," he agreed with a smile.
Nick waved for the waiter as the policeman sat down.
Once the order had been given and the waiter retreated to the kitchen, Nick, after a covert glance at Liza to see she'd composed herself, asked, "Have you found out anything about that man?"
"He bribed the operator here at the hotel. I hope she got a lot because she lost her job."
"Oh, dear!" Liza exclaimed.
Nick had suspected his patient had a soft heart. Her concern for a woman who'd betrayed a trust was evidence of it.
"Don't be concerned for her, Ms. Colton. She knew she shouldn't pass on information," Ramsey said. "But we haven't found anyone who saw him after that, except you two. You haven't seen any sign of him around here?"
"No, we haven't," Nick responded. "But we stayed in Liza's suite all afternoon. She slept."
"You look like you're feeling better," the detective said, looking at Liza.
"Yes, thank you. The sleep helped."
"I understand you had a couple of calls," Ramsey continued, in that easy, nonthreatening style.
Nick tried to keep from tensing, hoping Liza was prepared for the question. While he thought she should tell the police about Emily, he understood her reasoning.
"Yes. My mother called again, and I finally talked to Mrs. Tremble."
"The housekeeper?"
"Yes. She wanted to be sure I was all right."
"And your mother?"
Nick had been watching Liza, admiring her control. But the question about her mother seemed to leave her speechless.
"Her mother wanted to know when Liza would be returning to New York. We were just discussing the possibilities." Nick paused and looked at Liza, before he added, "She's trying to convince me to let her leave this evening."
Liza picked up on his suggestion at once. "I could be in my own bed by nine o'clock. I always sleep better there. And I told my mother I'm going to take a complete rest for two weeks. Not even answer my phone or the door."
"But how would you know if we found out something about your cousin?" Ramsey asked with a frown.
"Anyone with information would leave a message. I could pick up. But I get a lot of calls about my singing career. I don't want to worry about that right now. I need to rest."
"What do you say, Doc?" Ramsey asked, but his gaze was still fixed on Liza.
"I'm considering it. Rest is the most important key to her recovery. If she'll do as she says, I think she might be better off in New York City."
"You know, there's something else I can't figure," Ramsey said, seeming to switch gears.
"What?" Liza asked sharply.
The waiter's arrival with the promised cup of coffee delayed Ramsey's answer.
After taking a sip of the coffee, the detective looked at Liza. "How'd that guy know where to find you?"
"My schedule isn't a secret. My mother's office has the information. All the family, or most of them, have it, also." She frowned. "In fact, he could probably get it off the Internet."
Nick added, "Once he had the city, it wouldn't take many calls to find the right hotel. He'd know that Liza would stay in one of the top hotels."
The detective nodded. "Okay. You want us to notify the NYPD about this suspect so they can keep an eye on you?"
Liza blinked, then smiled that warm smile that lit up her face. "Thank you, Detective, but I don't think so. The FBI will handle the investigation. I'll tell Uncle Joe how helpful you've been, though. I appreciate it."
"Yes, ma'am. Good luck to you." He looked at Nick as he stood. "Thanks for the coffee."
Nick muttered "You're welcome" and watched the man leave the dining room.
"You handled that well," he said softly as he turned back to look at Liza.
"Thank you. And thank you for adding the bit about going back to New
York tonight. Do you think he believed me?"
"Yeah. As soon as you finish eating, we'll go check you out and ask them to forward all calls to your apartment. Since you're riding in my car, supposedly to the airport, they won't even be able to trace your movement through a taxi."
She frowned. "Maybe I should take a taxi."
Before he could protest, she added, "That would keep you from being involved when they discover I didn't board the plane. And you could pick me up."
He didn't like the idea. He didn't want her out of his sight, but he could see the value of her plan. "You're pretty good at this hiding thing."
"Thanks, I think," she said with a smile. Then she frowned again. "But I don't know how to do something else."
"What?"
"I need to send Emily money without anyone knowing."
"That's easy. I'll get my accountant to wire the money and you can give me a check that I'll hold until it's safe to deposit it."
Anxiously she leaned forward. "But I wanted to send her five thousand dollars. Can you manage—"
Usually women looked at him as a money ticket to their future. Liza doubted his ability to finance her cousin temporarily. He grinned wryly. "Yeah, I can handle it."
"First thing in the morning?"
"Yeah, first thing," he promised.
She beamed at him. "Nick, thank you so much. I don't know what I'd do without your assistance."
He smiled back but he was taking a better measure of his patient. "Somehow, I think you'd manage."
"Thank you," she replied, her smile broadening.
"So what I don't understand is why you tolerate your mother." Okay, so it was none of his business. But he'd thought his patient was browbeaten. But with food and rest, she was showing a different side. A strong side. He didn't understand the situation.
If she'd told him his nosiness was rude, or he had no right to ask such a question, he wouldn't have been surprised. But she did neither.
Instead, she ducked her head and murmured, "It's my fault."
"Your fault? Don't be ridiculous. You—"
She looked up and interrupted him. "My mother isn't an easy woman to deal with, but I've encouraged her to be dictatorial."
The Doctor Delivers Page 5
