Catherine Coulter - The Cove

If he hadn't hurt so badly, Quinlan would have yelled. Instead, he just lay there, trying to figure things out, trying to think. For the moment, it was beyond him.

Sally was gone. That was all that was real to him. Gone, not found dead. Gone. But where?

He heard children's voices. Surely that couldn't be right. He heard David say, "Deirdre, come here and sit on my lap. You've got to keep very quiet, okay? Mr. Quinlan isn't feeling well, and we don't want to make him feel worse."

He heard a little girl whisper, but he couldn't make it out. Deirdre meant sorrow. He slept.

He awoke to see a young woman with a pale complexion and very dark red hair looking at him. She had the sweetest face he'd ever seen. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jane, David's wife. You just lie still, Mr. Quinlan." He felt her cool palm on his forehead. "I've got some nice hot chicken soup for you. Doctor Grafft said to keep it light until tomorrow. You just open your mouth and I'll feed you. That's right."

He ate the entire bowl and began to feel human. "Thank you," he said, and slowly, her hand under his elbow, he sat up.

"Your head ache?"

''It's just a dull thud now. What time is it? Rather, what day is it?"

"You were hurt early this afternoon. It's eight o'clock in the evening now. I hope the girls didn't disturb you."

"No, not at all. Thank you for taking me in."

"Let me get David. He's tucking the girls into bed. He should be just about through with the bedtime story."

Quinlan sat there, his head back against the cushions of the sofa, a nice comfortable sofa. The headache was gone now. He could get out of here soon. He could find Sally. He realized he was scared to his socks. What had happened to her?

Her father had come for her just as he'd promised he would. No, that was ridiculous. Amory St. John was long dead.

"You want some brandy in hot tea?"

"Nan, my pecker doesn't need optimism." Quinlan opened his eyes and smiled at David Mountebank.

"Your wife fed me. Great soup. I appreciate you taking me in, David."

"I couldn't leave you with Thelma Nettro, now, could I? I wouldn't leave my worst enemy there. That old lady gives me the willies. It's the weirdest thing. She always has that diary of hers with her and that Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

fountain pen in her hand. The tip of her tongue is practically tattooed from the pen tip."

"Tell me about Sally."

"Every man I could round up is talking to everybody in The Cove and looking for her. I've got an APB

out on her-''

"No APB," James said, sitting up straight now, his face paling. "No, David, cancel it now. It's critical."

"I won't buy any more of this national security shit, Quinlan. Tell me why or I won't do it."

"You're not being cooperative, David."

"Tell me and let me help you."

"She's Sally St. John Brainerd."

David just stared at him. "She's Amory St. John's daughter? The daughter who's nuts and who ran away from that sanitarium? The woman whose husband is frantic about her safety? I knew she looked familiar.

Damn, I'm slipping fast. I should have made the connection. Ah, that's the reason for the black wig. Then she just forgot to put it on, didn't she?"

"Yeah, that and I told her to relax, that you would never connect her to Susan Brainerd, at least I prayed you wouldn't."

"I wish I could say I would have, but hell, I probably never would have unless I saw her in person and then saw her again on TV. What were you doing with her, Quin-lan?"

Quinlan sighed. "She doesn't know I'm FBI. She bought that story about me being a PI and looking for those old folks who disappeared around here three years ago. I came here because I had this feeling she would run here, to her aunt. I was just going to take her back."

"But why is the FBI involved in a homicide?"

"It's not just a homicide at all. That's only part of it. We're in it for other reasons."

"I know. You're not going to tell me the rest of it."

"I'd prefer not to just yet. As I was saying, I was going to take her back, but then-"

"Then what?"

"Her father phoned her twice. Then she saw his face at her window in the middle of the night."

"And you found her father's footprints on the ground the next morning. Her father's dead, murdered.

Jesus, Quinlan, what's going on here?"

"I don't know. But I've got to find her. Someone was trying to scare the hell out of her-make her believe she was crazy-and that aunt of hers didn't help a bit, kept telling her in an understanding, tender voice that she'd be hearing things and seeing things too if she'd been through all that Sally had, and she had been in that sanitarium for so long, and that would make her think differently, wouldn't it?

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Then the two murders. I've got to find her. Everything else is nuts, but not Sally."

"When you feel well enough, you and I will go see her aunt. I already spoke to her, but she just said that she hadn't seen Sally, that she was staying with you at Thelma's Bed and Breakfast. We searched your tower bedroom. Her duffel bag was gone and all her clothes, her blow dryer, everything. It's like she was never there. Look, Quinlan, maybe when she saw you unconscious, she got really scared and ran."

"No," James said, looking David straight in the eye. "I know she wouldn't leave me, not if I were lying there unconscious. She just wouldn't."

"It's like that, is it?"

"God only knows, but she has a thick streak of honor and she cares about me. She wouldn't have left."

"Then we've got to find her. Another thing-I'm an officer of the law. Now that I know who she is, it's my duty to report her."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd wait, David. There's more at stake here than just Amory St. John's murder, lots more. Trust me on this."

David looked at him for a long time. Finally, he said, "All right. Tell me what I can do to help."

"Let's go see Aunt Amabel Perdy."

Dr. Alfred Beadermeyer was enjoying himself. Sally didn't know the small new mirror in her room was two-way. No one knew, at least he didn't think so. He watched her sit up slowly, obviously trying to coordinate her arms and legs. Since her brain was fuzzy, it was difficult for her, but she just kept trying.

He admired that in her, and at the same time he wanted to destroy it. It seemed to take her several moments to realize she was naked.

Then, very slowly, as if she were an old woman, she rose and walked to the small closet. She pulled out a nightgown she'd left here when she escaped before. She didn't know it, but he had bought it for her.

She slipped it over her head, teetering a bit but managing finally. Then she walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. She held her head in her hands.

He was getting bored. Wouldn't she do anything? Wouldn't she start yelling? Something? He had nearly turned to go when at last she raised her head and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.

This was better. Soon she would be ready to listen to him. Soon now. He would hold off on another shot for an hour or so. He turned away and unlocked the door of the tiny room.

Sally knew she was crying. She could feel the wet on her face, taste the salt when it trickled into her mouth. Why was she crying? James. She remembered James, how he lay there, blood streaming from the wound over his left ear. He'd been so still, so very still. Beadermeyer had promised he wasn't dead. How could she believe that devil?

He had to be all right. She looked at the soft silk gown that slithered against her skin. It was a lovely peach color with wide silk straps over her shoulders. Unfortunately it bagged on her now. She looked at the needle marks in her arm. There were five pinpricks. He'd drugged her five times. She felt her head begin to clear, slowly, so very slowly. More things, memories, began to filter through, take shape and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html