The Hunted

55

It was noon when Lauren returned to her motel room. She grabbed her suitcase and began gathering her clothing, fighting back tears and struggling to keep her composure. She stopped, a pair of jeans in her hand, and looked down at the garbage can near her foot. She kicked it and sent it careening across the room into a wall. The jeans went flying after it, and as if that weren’t enough, she shoved everything off the desktop with the swipe of her hand.

“Are you done yet?” Bradley asked, standing safely a few feet behind her.

She grabbed the phone and heaved it at the door. It ripped from the wall and smashed to the floor.

“I understand you’re upset, frustrated. Angry.”

She suddenly stopped, turned, and faced Bradley. “Upset? You think I’m upset?” she screamed.

“Lauren, please, calm down.” He took both her hands in his, but she twisted away from him.

“I don’t want to calm down!” She grabbed the end of the suitcase and yanked it off the bed, then seized a glass off the nightstand. As she brought her arm back to throw it, he reached out and stopped her.

“Enough!”

She wrestled her arm away and swung at him. He ducked and the follow-through spun her around. He threw his arms around her torso, capturing her arms and pinning them against her body. She continued to writhe and jump, pushing them both backward onto the bed.

They landed face up, Lauren atop him, still squirming. He tightened his grip, then rolled them both over, burying her face into the covers. They remained prone for a moment, her body finally relaxing into submission.

But he felt her chest heaving and realized she was sobbing. He pulled his arms out from beneath her and sat up. “I’m glad you got that out of your system,” he said gently. He waited for her to respond, but she did not move. “Lauren, think about what you’ve been through this past week. Your husband’s missing, you’ve been followed, kidnapped, tortured… and as if that’s not enough, you killed someone in self-defense. If a patient came to you with that recent history, you’d probably admit him to the hospital for round-the-clock counseling.”

A few seconds passed before she pushed up onto her elbows and wiped some fingers across her moist eyes. “I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m a damn Ph.D. and I don’t, I mean, I can’t… I don’t know what to do to help myself.”

“Doctors make the worst patients. My brother was a doctor, and he always got sicker than he needed to because he was so stubborn. If he’d treated himself the way he treated his patients, he would’ve been a lot better off.”

“You talk like he’s dead.”

“Might as well be. Haven’t talked to him in years.” Bradley sat there staring down at the bed for a moment, then stood up. “Point is, Lauren, you’ve been through a hell of a lot and I think you’ve done an incredible job of handling whatever’s been thrown at you.”

“Speaking of throwing,” she said, sitting up on the edge of the bed, “sorry about the mess.”

Bradley waved a hand and bent over to lift the suitcase off the floor. “I hope you’re not still thinking of leaving.”

Lauren knelt beside him to help clean up. “I don’t know what to think, Nick. We’ve been here four days and we’ve got nothing to show for it. We’re no closer to finding Michael than we were before we got on the plane. How long should we stay here running into dead ends? A week, two weeks? Three weeks?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes. He’s here, in this town, Lauren. Do you really want to fly three thousand miles away from him?”

She looked away. “No. Of course not.”

“Then let’s do something constructive.” Bradley picked up the handheld PC from the nightstand and handed it to her. “You’ve got a direct link to Michael. Let’s use it.”

Lauren started the computer and opened her browser. She selected RETRIEVE AND READ MAIL and began tapping her fingers on the table while waiting for her little computer to download any messages she had received. Although she knew she should hope there would be one from Michael, her emotions were spent. She was numb. To her, it was a clear sign that, deep down, she had given up. She walked over to the window, leaned against the wall, and stared out at the parking lot.

Bradley sat down on the bed and hunched over the tiny computer screen. “Don’t you want to read your messages?”

Lauren kept her gaze on the landscape. “Please, Nick, I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Her head whipped over in his direction. “What?”

He nodded at the small device. “Come look.”

Lauren hurried over to the desk and saw the YOU HAVE 1 NEW MESSAGE prompt. She clicked OK and saw the “lost_in_virginia” moniker in her inbox. “Michael. We’ve got something from Michael!”

With Bradley leaning over her shoulder, she opened the message and began reading. “Thank God,” she said under her breath. Tears glazing her eyes, she glanced up at Bradley. “I don’t understand. The FBI was looking for him, right? So he could testify against Scarponi. They need him. Why would he be a fugitive?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to cooperate.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he want to testify and put this guy back in jail?”

Bradley turned away and did not answer her.

Lauren sat there for a second, then shook her head. “Something’s very wrong.” She found the small gold key around her neck and squeezed it in her hand, then sank down onto the edge of the bed.

Bradley sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, drew her body close to his. “I wish I could tell you this all makes sense. But I can’t, because it doesn’t. Right now, I think we need to keep focused on meeting up with him tomorrow. We can’t worry about what other people are doing. Let’s take things a day at a time. Hell, even an hour at a time. Okay?”

She sat there for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve become such a great friend, Nick. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He handed her a tissue and gently rubbed her back. “I’m here for you, for as long as you need me to be. I promise.”

“You’re more than a friend, Nick. You’re kind of like the big brother I never had. I can tell you anything, whatever’s on my mind. I’ve never had that feeling about anyone ever, not even my therapist. Just Michael… and you.”

Bradley creased a corner of his mouth into a smile. “I’m honored.”

She could feel the tension leaving her muscles. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Not a problem. But I’m worried about your health. With all you’ve been through, with all the stress you’ve been under, I think it’s important for you to get some sleep.”

“Now you’re acting like my doctor.”

Bradley laughed. “I’ve learned that in my line of work you’ve got to be a little of everything. Least of all what people expect you to be.” He brushed the hair back off her face, then stood up. “Get some rest.”

“But it’s the middle of the day; I can’t just go to sleep—”

“You can and you will. Meantime, I’ll snoop around and see if I can find out what Michael did to land himself on the FBI’s fugitive list. It might affect the way we handle your meeting with him tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes and he covered her with the blanket. “Think good thoughts about seeing Michael again. Before you know it, it’ll be five-thirty and you’ll be in his arms.”

“This whole thing will be over, right?”

“It sure will,” Bradley said with a smile. “It’ll all finally be over.”