Going Gone (5 page)

Cameron had his arms wrapped around her so tightly that she couldn’t move, her head tucked beneath his chin. He kept his voice low, but the urgent cadence in his voice was obvious.

“Laura, listen to my voice. We’re not going to crash. The plane is safe. You’re safe. Open your eyes. Look at where you are.”

She couldn’t hear him.

“No, no, the wolves will come. Watch out for the wolves.”

Cameron grabbed her face and made her look at him.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me. There are no wolves here. They’re gone.”

Laura blinked, saw her own reflection in Cameron’s eyes and then hid her face against his chest. She was shaking so hard she could barely breathe, but Cameron had arrested her free fall, and the scream in the back of her throat dwindled to a moan.

The flight attendant was beside them now, frowning, but Cameron couldn’t have cared less.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but she can’t sit in your lap. You have—”

Cameron interrupted. “Either you find a belt extender and buckle us up together, or she has an emotional meltdown and starts screaming. It’s not going to help in this rough weather for everyone on this plane to hear a bloodcurdling scream and you know it.”

The flight attendant spun and dashed toward the galley. She came back moments later with two belt extenders, fastened them together and then belted both of them in.

Cameron nodded. “Thank you. If I can have some water, I’ll get her to take some more meds. As soon as she’s calm, I’ll buckle her back into her own seat. I promise.”

Once again the attendant headed back to the galley while Cameron managed to slip his hand into his pants pocket. Laura had wrapped her arms around his neck so tightly it was hard to breathe, but he wouldn’t have pushed her away, even if it meant giving up his last breath. The moment he got the pill bottle out of his pocket, it slipped out of his hand and rolled backward down the aisle and into coach seating.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“I’ve got it,” he heard someone say, and moments later footsteps came up behind him. “Here you go.”

Cameron looked up into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen set in a face wreathed with wrinkles and framed with short curly hair in flyaway gray.

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” the little woman said, then patted Laura on the shoulder. “Sugar, the only thing you have to fear sitting in this pretty man’s lap is that he might put you down. If I was thirty years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

Cameron chuckled, and Laura felt the rumble beneath her ear. That was a happy sound. No one would be happy if they were going to crash.

Cameron shook two pills out into his hand just as the attendant came back with the water, and set it in the cup holder near his elbow.

“Please, get her back in her seat as soon as possible,” the attendant said.

Cameron understood she was doing her job, but so, by God, was he.

“Laura, honey...look at me. You need to take your pills.”

Laura shuddered, so afraid that, if she opened her eyes, she would wake up back in that plane in her nest and hear wolves digging outside in the snow.

“Are you sure the wolves aren’t here?” she whispered.

Cameron sighed. “No, honey. No wolves.”

The woman across the aisle from them was purposefully staring at the magazine in her lap, but it was obvious from the tears rolling down her cheeks that she was locked in to their ongoing drama.

The man in the seat in front of them turned around and gave Cameron a quick sympathetic look. Even the flight attendant came back with a different attitude as she put a blanket across Laura’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as she tucked it around her and then moved down the aisle, checking to make sure the other passengers had fastened their seat belts.

It was the warmth of the blanket and Cameron’s reassuring voice that finally pulled Laura back into reality.

“I did it, didn’t I? I freaked. Oh, my God, I am so sorry.”

Cameron shook his head. “No apology needed, darlin’. Just take these pills for me, okay?”

She put them in her mouth and took a big drink before leaning back in his arms. She didn’t talk. There wasn’t anything she could say that would make this choking horror go away.

He pulled the blanket closer around her and then rested his chin on the top of her head, waiting for the moment when the tension left her body. By the time her panic had disappeared, the flight had also smoothed out.

He gave her a quick hug. “You ready to get back in your seat?”

“After I go to the washroom,” she whispered.

“Absolutely,” he said, and undid the seat belt.

She slid off his lap, then stepped over his legs and limped up the aisle with her head down, too embarrassed to look up.

Cameron tucked the belt extenders into the seat pocket in front of him and waited for her to come back.

The door to the bathroom opened, and when Laura emerged he could tell she’d been crying and was heartsick for how hard this was for her.

But then something happened as she started up the aisle.

The woman across the aisle began to clap her hands.

“Bravo to you, honey,” she said.

Then the man in front of them joined in, and then the couple behind them, and by the time Laura got back to her seat the whole front of the plane had joined in the applause.

Cameron stood up and then slipped into the aisle to give her room to get in. Instead, she walked into his arms and hugged him.

“Once again you came to my rescue when I needed you most. Thank you forever,” she said.

He hugged her back and then scooted her in.

“Buckle up before we both get in trouble all over again,” he said.

“We got in trouble?”

He grinned. “It’s a long story best told over a bottle of wine.”

“And in front of a fire, please. I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.”

Cameron leaned over and kissed Laura squarely on the lips.

“You are the best,” he whispered.

“My mouth feels weird. I could barely feel that kiss,” she said.

He cupped her cheek. “It’s the pills. Go to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up when we land.”

She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, reclined her seat and passed out.

The next thing she knew they were landing.

Five

T
he sun was only an hour or so from setting when their plane landed, and it was almost dark by the time the cab finally reached Laura’s house. The tires made crunching noises as they rolled through the crust on the snow-packed driveway.

The driver jumped out and quickly carried the suitcases to the porch while Cameron carried Laura through the snow. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes and a slight muscle tic near her left eye. The journey had exhausted her, both physically and mentally.

“Easy does it, honey,” he said as he set her down on the covered porch.

She smiled. “I’m okay.”

But he could see she wasn’t. Cameron turned to pay the driver as Laura unlocked the door and then held it open as he carried the suitcases into the house.

The cab driver backed out of the drive and took off down the street as Laura closed the door behind them. Her voice was shaking as she reached for Cameron’s hand.

“I didn’t think I would ever see this again.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I have no words for what you’ve endured. I’m just so grateful that you’re here. Welcome home, honey. Welcome home.”

Laura closed her eyes for the kiss, waiting for the wave of love to wash through her, and it did.

Cameron smiled as he let go, but his gaze was focused on her pallor.

“I’m going to take the suitcases into the bedroom,” he said.

She nodded absently as she absorbed the familiar surroundings of the home in which she’d grown up. Her sister had been careful to leave the heat on so that pipes wouldn’t freeze in their absence, but it smelled a little stuffy. Still, she was at peace. This was her refuge.

Her leg was hurting, probably from too much sitting, and she needed something to flush the drugged feeling out of her system. She limped her way into the kitchen, taking joy in the simple act of being able to make a pot of coffee. She measured out hazelnut crème, which was her favorite grind, but noticed her hands were shaking as she poured the water into the reservoir. She had just turned on the machine when she heard Cameron’s footsteps. From the look on his face, he was worried about her, so she pushed past the exhaustion and made herself smile.

“I thought some coffee might help me shake the effects of those pills. I don’t know what was in them, but once they kicked in, I was gone.”

“I’m seriously glad we had them,” he said.

“I can only imagine what a scene I made. I’m grateful I only remember bits and pieces of that.”

He smiled. “On a good note, I just got a text from Tate and Nola asking if we were home. I told them we’d just arrived. They sent their love and a heads-up that they ordered take-out dinner for us. We should expect a delivery of Chinese food within the hour.”

Her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the cabinet.

“Oh, wow. I just love them. That’s the best gift they could have sent, considering there’s nothing in the refrigerator and a good two feet of snow on the ground.”

The thought of gifts made him remember the engagement ring back in his apartment. He reached for her, pulling her close.

“I’m so glad you’re safe. If I had my way, I would never let you out of my sight again.”

“I feel just the same,” she said, and closed her eyes, anchored by the warmth of his embrace.

At his urging, Laura settled down in the living room under an afghan until the house warmed up a bit more. By the time dinner arrived, she was so tired she could barely eat. She picked at it for a few minutes, then finally gave up.

“The food is good, but I’m too tired to enjoy it,” she said as she stirred her fork through a helping of fried rice.

Cameron saw the dark shadows under her eyes and frowned.

“I’ll clean up. Why don’t you get in bed?”

She laid the fork on her plate.

“I think I’m going to have to. I feel like I’m about to drop.”

“I’ll be there shortly. You’re not too shaky to do this on your own, are you?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” she said, and got up from the table and left the room.

He began putting away leftovers, then put their dishes and cups in the dishwasher. He emptied the coffeepot, then cleaned it and got it ready for tomorrow, stopping a few moments longer to send a message to Tate and his wife, Nola.

Food delicious. Laura exhausted. Going to help her get ready for bed.

He hit Send, then made the rounds through the house, making sure everything was locked up, the security system was set and the lights were turned off before going to check on her.

Laura was just getting out of the shower when he walked into the bedroom. She was so out of it she hadn’t even bothered to close the bathroom door. He quickly turned back the bed, found a nightgown in the dresser and took it to her.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“It’s fine,” she said, then dropped the towel and held out her arms.

He pulled the nightgown over her head. When she reached for a hairbrush, he took it from her hand and gently smoothed the tangles out of her hair.

She brushed her teeth as Cameron began digging through his suitcase for some of his things, and when he turned around, she was headed for the bed.

He caught her just as she stumbled, and then carried her the rest of the way. Her eyes were closed before her head hit the pillow, and by the time he came out of the shower she was fast asleep.

It wasn’t the first time they’d slept together, but it
was
the first time they’d slept together in her house. As soon as he turned out the last light and crawled into bed, the unfamiliarity was gone. It wouldn’t matter where they were, because as long as Laura was in his arms, he would always be home.

* * *

As night fell on the East Coast of the United States, the social butterflies of the retirement community at Lake Chapala, Mexico, were getting ready for a birthday party.

Hershel had quickly learned after he moved in that it didn’t take much of an excuse for someone to throw a party here. Considering the ages of the residents, it could just as likely have been a wake, though, so birthdays were even better. There was a no-gift rule. The food was always cake and punch, and the entertainment was the movie of the night, chosen by the birthday honoree, and shown in the private screening room at the complex. The room seated fifty, and the comfy leather recliners meant someone was always falling asleep before the movie was over.

Some of the residents had been decorating since morning, hanging paper lanterns, arranging floral decorations for the tables, and someone was just now hanging an oversize piñata above the arched entrance.

Hershel was walking home after an early dinner when he saw the group of ladies through an open doorway.

One of them, a lady named Barb Wentworth, saw him and called out.

“Hey, Paul...Paul Leibowitz! Don’t forget Patsy’s party tonight. It’s at 7:00 p.m.”

“At seven,” he echoed, and waved.

Sometimes Hershel went. Sometimes he didn’t. But now that they’d seen him and issued a concrete invitation, he wouldn’t ignore it. Part of his cover was living the lifestyle of a retired businessman with a healthy outlook on social activities.

The birthday girl, eighty-eight-year-old Patsy Lincoln, had a reputation as something of a matchmaker. She made Hershel nervous, always trying to pair up the singles in the neighboring condos, which made him a prime target of interest. He didn’t want another woman and had managed to evade her suggestions. He wondered absently what it would be like to be eighty-eight years old, then shrugged it off. Without Louise, it didn’t really matter anymore. He was here until he was not.

By the time he reached his condo, he was uncomfortably warm. The air-conditioning was a welcome relief as he locked the door behind him, then turned on the television before going to wash up.

Once inside the bathroom, he paused, eyeing himself in the mirror, and then leaned toward it for a closer look. His mustache was in need of a trim and a fresh dye job, and he needed to run the electric razor over his head. Opting for completely bald had been part of the new look, and he didn’t regret it.

He felt his face to check for whiskers. It needed a bit of a shave as well, but that wouldn’t take long. Even though the plastic surgeon had done wonders at minimizing the burn scars on his face from the boat explosion in Louisiana two years earlier and the other scars left from the injuries he’d suffered in the Missouri tornado last year, only a portion of his face grew whiskers. The need for revenge that had turned him into a killer had also done a number on his appearance. Once he’d used disguises to hide his identity; now he hardly recognized himself. But the need for killing was in the past. He had purposefully avenged his wife’s death in brutal fashion. The authorities who’d ignored him and Louise before would, by God, not forget them again.

He backtracked into his bedroom, took off his sweaty clothes and then went to shave and shower. He would tend to the dye job tomorrow.

He emerged a short while later in search of something appropriate to wear. After a quick scan of the closet, he opted for a short-sleeve, button-up shirt with a straight tail. Wearing untucked shirts was common here, and he liked it. He chose a pair of cotton slacks in cinnamon-brown, which coordinated nicely with the pale yellow color of his shirt, and opted for a pair of brown loafers, always striving for lightweight. After the burns he’d suffered, he could no longer tolerate heat, and even though the winter temperatures in this area stayed in the high seventies to low eighties, it didn’t take much for him to feel uncomfortable.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed his keys and headed for the community center. The security lights at every corner marked the distance as he walked, and since the sun was down, the night was already cooler, which was a relief. He could hear the celebration in full swing even before he saw the building, and when he arrived, both doors were wide-open.

He walked in unobserved, grabbed a glass of punch and a piece of cake and then found an empty chair at the far end of one table. One of the residents saw him, waved a hello and then resumed his conversation with the people beside him.

Hershel smiled and nodded, then took a bite of cake. He always thought of Louise when he came to the events. She would have loved every minute of the social life here, right down to the birthday cake. She would have cheated a little on her diabetic regimen just to have the sweets and added more insulin later. Louise always had been one to push a boundary. He took a second bite of cake, washed it down with a sip of punch and made himself quit thinking about Louise. She’d been Hershel’s wife—not Paul’s.

Within a few minutes he got caught up in the party to the point that he went looking for the birthday girl. He wished her a happy eighty-eight years and eighty-eight more, which made her giggle.

When it came time to break the piñata, everyone laughed at her feeble attempts. Finally she handed the stick off to one of the men, who broke it for her. The goodies inside were always something of a joke. This time they’d added individually wrapped condoms along with the pieces of candy, and when they hit the floor, the partygoers erupted in laughter.

A few minutes later they began heading toward the screening room to watch the film. Hershel thought about skipping out but had waited too late to decide. Instead, he got caught up in the moving crowd and soon found himself seated between two couples. He knew them well enough to settle comfortably and leaned back, absently gauging the distance to the screen.

“What’s the movie we’re going to see?” he asked.

One of the ladies leaned forward. “I heard it was
Titanic
. Patsy always wants to watch it because she claims she had a relative who survived the real
Titanic.
”

Hershel flinched. The skin crawled on the back of his neck as the food in his belly rolled a warning. He’d never seen that movie, but he knew how it ended and had no desire to watch people drown. He stood abruptly, trying to keep a calm expression on his face.

“I’m afraid I’m going to beg off, then. I had a family member drown. Not a story I want to see repeated,” he said. “Have a nice night, and I’ll see you around.”

He got up while they were all making sympathetic noises, and kept smiling and nodding as he made his way up the aisle and out the door. His stomach was still gurgling, and his legs were shaking as he walked back through the room where the party had been held. He made it all the way to the courtyard just outside his front door before he got sick and threw up.

When the nausea finally passed, he staggered to his condo, relieved to finally be inside. He went straight to the refrigerator for a bottle of beer, popped the top and took a big drink.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he staggered back into the living room and dropped into his favorite chair.

He emptied the beer, went back for another and proceeded to drink himself to sleep.

In his dreams he was standing in a funeral parlor, looking across the room at an open casket. He couldn’t see who was in it and moved closer, then closer still, until he realized the casket was empty. He turned around, and to his horror, someone had filled the room behind him with caskets, all of them empty. When he realized he was trapped, he panicked.

Help! Help! I can’t get out.

In the dream, a woman came to the door.
The only way out of this room is in one of those,
she said, pointing to the caskets.

He woke up with a gasp. The sun was just coming over the horizon. He had dried vomit on his shoes, a headache of massive proportions and he needed to pee.

* * *

Cameron woke just before daylight to find Laura curled up behind him, molded to the shape of his body like one puzzle piece fitted into another. Her arm was around his waist, and he knew her nose was buried against his back because he could feel the soft warmth of her breath against his spine.

God, what an amazing way to wake up.

And if he had anything to say about it, he was going to wake up that way every morning from now on.

On the heels of that thought there came another. Before this day was over, he would be engaged to Laura Doyle.