Liability, page 22
"It will do just fine.” Ray's arm wrapped around her shoulders, and he clamped a rag snugly on her face.
She took a deep breath to scream.
Ahh, Ken thought, that was your second mistake, Maggie. The first was being suckered into helping a couple of sleezeballs.
Maggie tried to struggle, but the grip Ray had on her was solid. Jugger moved in to assist him as Maggie went limp against Ray.
"Put that blanket over her, Jugger, I'll hold her up. She don't weigh much, it should be easy. Watch it! You're not suppose to put it over me, you idiot, just the lady."
"Now what, Ray?"
"You grab her feet, and we'll put her on the floor behind the seats."
Bending over, Jugger grabbed her ankles, then straightened while lifting her legs. He slipped and almost fell.
Ray's voice was a low grumble. “Dammit, can't you do anything without botching it up?"
"Ahh, ca'mon, Ray, lighten up. Good thing this ol’ truck has space back there or we'd be sittin’ on'er.” Jugger was puffing for breath. “You said she was gonna be easy cause she was so small. That Johnson never said she was carryin’ a child. We ought'a get more money for this."
"Hurry up. I seen her talking to a nurse just before she came down that walk, and I want to get out of here.” Ray was breathing hard, too, as they put her down. “Come on—let's go,” he rasped, climbing into the driver's seat.
Jugger had a wide grin on his face. “Damn, Ray, I think we done it."
"We've just started,” Ray said, slamming his foot on the gas and spinning the tires as they roared out of the parking lot.
Ken watched the nurse on the patio rise from the bench and push something into a trash receptacle. She was watching the pickup as it headed away from the hospital.
That nurse hadn't witnessed anything; if she had, she would have been screaming her head off by now.
He waited until she walked away before he sat up and switched on the engine.
Chapter 19
"Hey, Jugger, not that it'll matter any in the end, but do you suppose you used too much chloroform? There ain't been one movement from under that blanket, and we've been driving more than an hour."
"Nah, I was real careful when I dipped the rag, Ray. We'll stop here pretty soon and check."
Ray reached over and snatched the wine bottle from Jugger. “It's my turn. You've been hogging the stuff."
Maggie hadn't the slightest inkling how long she'd been unconscious, but she wasn't about to move. She'd been prudently watching and listening to her two captors battling over the bottle for a while now. They weren't providing her with enough information to understand the seriousness of her predicament. Their conversation consistently stayed on their bottle and their desire to sleep. She wanted to know what the hell they planned to do with her; not to mention why they grabbed her in the first place. What on earth could they want with her? Would they kill her? People who did things like this, were usually terribly desperate and didn't want to leave any witnesses.
She could see them through a small hole in the worn wool blanket, but the smell of the filthy thing felt as if it scorched her nose while her stomach performed a pirouette. She wouldn't be able to withstand it much longer.
Ray yawned. “I sure wish we didn't have so damn far to go to do this. We should have made Johnson meet us some place closer, too."
Johnson? Who the heck was Johnson? And, ‘do this’ what?
Jugger shrugged his shoulders. “We're gonna pull off for a nap when it gets dark. If we ain't there exactly on time, it'll be tough. He'll wait. He sure wants this lit'le lady done with bad,” Jugger said, glancing at the lump of blanket. “Johnson'll pay, cause we're gonna prove we done the job with her. He'll hand over the reward. I'm gonna call it a reward, cause we sure as hell earned one."
Pay for the job? Who for Pete's sake? There had to be some horrible mistake.
This was the ending, finis, finale, before a new beginning even had a chance. She would never see Ben again; never be able to declare her feelings; never again feel the tenderness of his strong hands or see the luminous blackness of his eyes.
Get a hold of yourself, Maggie told herself roughly. They don't look dangerous. They might smell horrible, but they don't look like killers.
Ray laughed, taking a swig from the bottle. “It's just about your turn to drive.” Maggie saw a sign whiz past the window. They'd reached a small town, and he swung the truck off the road onto the dirt. “Check on her while I get us a snack from that station across the street. Make sure you don't let her sit up until I'm back and we get down the road."
"Right,” Jugger answered. “We only got about fifteen minutes'a daylight left. I could sure use that nap."
Jugger turned around and yanked back the heavy cover on Maggie. The sudden movement made Maggie flinch involuntarily. “Well, well, lit'le lady, so yer all right after all. Ya sure been quiet back there."
Now that he knew she was awake, Maggie could barely control the panic which washed over her.
"Now, now, ya don't have ta go and look like that. We got no intention'a touchin’ ya ... long as ya behave yerself."
"D—Do you suppose I could have a drink of water?” Maggie rasped, her dry throat feeling shriveled. Glory, was she ever glad he removed that blanket. About one more minute and she would have died from asphyxiation.
"Why sure. Maybe ya'd like ta have a nip'a my bottle?” Jugger wiggled the paper bag that held the wine bottle in the air.
Maggie shook her head and prayed he had some water. She wanted to ask several questions, but she could barely talk. It would depend on the answers whether or not she should give in to her panic at this situation. Except for the fact that they could have killed her with the chloroform, they had to be the most unlikely looking set of kidnappers the world had ever known.
Jugger's arm came over the seat with a dirty, red thermo cup filled with water clutched in his hand, and Maggie grabbed at it. She gulped it down so fast that drops of liquid overflowed and ran down her chin.
"I guess ya was pretty thirsty, huh? Kinda hot back there under the cover I suppose.” The man's olfactory nerve had to be dead. The heat was bearable. The stench was not.
Ray returned and opened the door. It provided Maggie with such a sweet surge of cool air that she breathed in deeply. “See you're awake. Now you just stay down like a good girl till we get on the road.” After Ray sat down and slammed the door shut, he turned and tossed a chocolate bar on her lap, reminding her of the candy still nestled in her robe pocket.
"She was guzzlin’ some water. Didn't want none'a my wine.” Jugger snickered. “She just don't know what's good for'er that's all."
Maggie felt the tires spin as Ray yanked the wheel and sent the truck back onto the road. “You ... ah ... you wouldn't like to tell me just why I've been chloroformed and stuck back here—would you?"
Ray laughed sarcastically. “Sure. You've been kidnapped."
Jugger joined in, his laughter sounding like a whining child. “Why don't ya tell'er more, Ray?"
"I'll wait till she asks, dummy.” Ray grumbled, and whacked Jugger in the arm.
"Dammit, Ray, yer always hittin’ on me."
"Well,” Maggie began, “I'm a poor person, no money, and I don't have a relative in the world. So, I'm having a little trouble figuring out why me—unless maybe you took the wrong person?"
"Oh, ya ain't the wrong person,” Jugger clarified seriously. He shoved his fingers into the ripped pocket of his shirt, then tossed some photographs on her lap.
Maggie picked them up and stared at them. Glory to heaven, the only place they could have gotten these was from Ken. She remembered him clicking away with his camera at the last convention she attended with Josh.
She gave Jugger the hardest look she could produce. “Where did you get these?"
Ray chuckled. “I see you recognize them with no problem. Go ahead, Jugger, tell her where we got them."
"From Mr. Johnson. I guess he wants shuck'a ya mighty bad for somethin'. He didn't bother ta tell us what for.” He handed her another drink from the grungy cup.
Shuck of her? Maggie accepted the drink and sat back against the filthy cab as she glanced around. The floor was greasy, and Cheryl's pretty robe was black from lying in it.
Almost absently, she unwrapped a portion of the candy bar. She might as well eat the thing; it could possibly be the only food they would give to her, and it looked as if she would require all the energy she could generate. There had to be some way of escaping this mess, and she would need to be alert to every mistake these two jug-heads made.
The only person “Mr. Johnson” could possibly be, was Ken. She shivered; the Arctic chill that his name, or his presence, brought on, surrounded her. He hadn't been happy that she refused to travel with him, but she'd told him she was going back to California. Why would he be so desperate that he would hire these characters to kidnap her?
Ten minutes later the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, and it was so dark in the truck she could hardly distinguish the cup in her hand. But she had watched the sun. They had traveled west, then north, then west again. What the hell was she going to do?
Maybe these men were delivering her to him. Maybe they were taking her back to California. How did Ken think he would actually get away with something as ludicrous as this? Could he somehow be foolish enough to believe she wouldn't scream to the first cop she could find?
Ken was a dangerous man. He would never put himself in a position to go to jail, and kidnapping was serious stuff. Would he threaten to dispose of her if she told anyone? Glory. Tell anyone—that was a laugh. The entire staff of the hospital would wonder where she disappeared to—unless he somehow figured out a way to cover that little detail. Then it hit her. Looks could be deceiving and the cover didn't reveal the contents of the book. How could she be so slow? There wouldn't be any cop to scream at; there wouldn't be anyone to tell. These men planned to make certain she wasn't around anymore to do either.
* * * *
Ben yawned as he walked toward the nursing station. His head may have stopped pounding, but the mirror said he supported bags under his eyes the size of lunch sacks. Cheryl looked up as he approached, and her brows came together in a dour frown. “Okay. What's going on? When you look like that something's not going properly on the planet earth,” Ben said, keeping his voice serious. He didn't even consider acting lighthearted; when Cheryl scowled like that, you talked with considerable care whether you were the boss or not.
"I found a note in Maggie's room, Ben. She has left the hospital.” Cheryl withdrew a folded piece of yellow legal-sized paper from her pocket, and shoved it toward Ben.
His heart pounded hard against his chest. After opening the paper quickly, he read the contents out loud. “I'm sorry to leave with such short notice, but I have important business that must be taken care of immediately. Thank you for the special care. Maggie Rand.” That was it.
James approached the desk as Ben read the note, and looked over Ben's shoulder. “That's not Maggie's signature, Ben."
"What the bloody hell do you mean that's not her signature?” Ben blared, his temper and nervous system shifting into high.
"Simple. She signed some paperwork for me a few days ago, and that is not Maggie's signature,” James repeated, a worried frown pulled his brows together. “Who would leave something like that in Maggie's room?"
Cheryl moved closer to the counter. “But all her things are gone. I mean, what little she had in the room is gone, except for this,” she pulled the photo of Josh and the boys out from under the counter, “and this.” Cheryl handed Ben the stuffed mouse he'd given Maggie.
"Something not very pleasant is happening here. We all know Maggie would never leave without that photo,” Ben said huskily as an equally unpleasant shiver ran through him. She wouldn't leave without her dogs either; he had a big idea as to what could be going-down, and it scared hell out of him. Neil had called him earlier. And from all the information he'd gathered, Mr. Remley could just be desperate enough to do something to Maggie.
"Okay,” Ben said. “We split-up and ask every staff member if they've seen her, and if they have, bring them back here to the desk. We need to get to the bottom of this quickly."
James and Cheryl nodded.
Fifteen minutes later Ben watched as Cheryl walked quickly up the corridor with Carole in tow.
"Carole saw Maggie taking her usual walk at about seven this evening,” Cheryl said excitedly.
"What did you see, Carole? Please, try to remember every little detail.” Ben asked quietly, keeping his emotions in check. If he upset her, she might not remember anything.
"Maggie came out for her walk, and we talked for about two minutes. Then she walked on toward the parking lot. She was wearing a rose-colored robe and slippers, Ben. Certainly not dressed for leaving the hospital, and she wasn't carrying anything. She also told me she would be waiting to see me later because I planned to stop and visit her before I left for home this evening."
"Did you see anything out of the ordinary anywhere around?” Ben prompted. The fear in his heart wouldn't go away.
"Just a couple of dirty men working on a truck. Come to think of it, one of them did speak to Maggie. I don't know what he said because they were too far away, but he was swinging a flashlight in his hand. I didn't pay anymore attention until the truck pulled out, and only then because it was spinning its wheels and throwing dirt all over the place.” Carole looked thoughtful. “I can describe the truck a little. I'm sorry, Ben, I just wasn't paying that much attention."
"That's okay, Carole, just give us the best description you can, then we'll call the sheriff with what we have."
"It was really ramshackled, but it wasn't that old because it had a club-cab type of style. Anyway, the front door on the right side was green, and the rest of the truck was a dirty, pale yellow with gray patches here and there."
"How about the men? Can you remember anything about the men?” James asked, reaching for paper and pencil under the counter.
"I only saw the one who spoke to Maggie. The other one had most of his body under the hood of the truck.” Carole lifted a hand to her forehead nervously. “He was wearing a mangy brown hat. He was skinny, wore a beard, and looked like a bum. That's all I can remember.” Carole looked at Ben. “Is Maggie in any danger, Ben?"
"The possibilities are something I don't even care to think about.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “But we are going to find her and have the danger removed—permanently."
Carole turned to leave. “You'll tell us when you find her?"
"I'll let everyone know when we find her."
Carole nodded and headed back down the hall as Cheryl grabbed her stethoscope from the desk and looped it around her neck. “We'll be waiting to hear.” She swept down the hall after Carole.
Ben nudged James. “He sounds like one of the two wine guzzlers we've had in the emergency room.” The two were difficult to forget; their rank smell had stayed in emergency for hours after their visits.
"Yeah, you're right,” James agreed. “I'll get on the phone to the sheriff and give him what information we have."
"Good,” Ben said firmly. “I'm going to call the ranches with helicopters. Then I'll check with you and head for mine. I want to get up in the air as soon as possible. We can only guess she's been gone since seven.” Ben checked his watch. “It's a little after ten. We'd better find her, and she'd better be all right,” he growled under his breath.
"James, be sure you make the sheriff understand that they would probably be heading in the direction of California. That's where Remley wanted her to be.” Remley needed Maggie to be in California—unless he'd decided he didn't require her at all. “I'd like nothing better than to have the sonofabitch in my hands right now—"
James grabbed Ben's shoulder. “Take it easy, Ben. Save the wrath for later, especially if you're going searching in that windmill of yours,” he warned.
Ben let out a deep breath, striving to control the intensity of his anger. “Yeah, you're right. Let's get moving.” Ben entered his office, walked quickly to the phone, and snatched up the receiver.
* * * *
Every bone in her body ached. Maggie tried to adjust her position, but the floor was hard, she felt every bump the truck hit, and her stomach whirled like an electric mixer.
"Hey, Ray, let's pull off for a while. I gotta have a nap cause I can't keep my eyes open,” Jugger sniveled loudly. He took another swig from the bottle in the sack. “Ya promised ta stop mor'en an hour ago."
His voice was so slurred, Maggie wondered if his partner, who acted equally drunk, understood him. She hoped so; her revolving stomach had just about had it.
"Sure, good bud,” Ray mumbled and yanked the steering wheel so hard the truck leaned heavily and bounced off the road onto the rough ground.
"Dammit, Ray, ya almost spilled my stuff.” Jugger tipped the bottle again as the truck jerked and skipped away from the road.
After a few minutes, Maggie was ready to scream and did. “If you don't want to deliver a baby on top of kidnapping, you'd better stop this damn truck,” Maggie hollered, hoping to get through their drunken fog.
"Do ya hear that, Ray? We ought ta be far enough inta nowhere ta stop and sleep."
Ray slammed on the brakes, bringing the truck to a jerking halt, knocking Jugger against the side window and Maggie against the solid surface of the cab.
"If I had the strength, ya bastard, I'd fightcha,” Jugger moaned, shoving himself back onto the seat.
Maggie straightened up and leaned back. She rubbed her forehead, feeling something warm, wet and sticky against her fingers.
"Les tie up the lady, Jugger, so's we can sleep,” Ray slurred.
Jugger opened the door and fell out. He staggered to his feet and wobbled toward the rear of the truck. When he returned, he had a length of rope in his hand.
"Should we make her sleep outside, or lay her on the front seat?” Ray moaned, holding his head with both hands.
