Witness (44 page)

 

T
HE RINGING TELEPHONE
awoke them before dawn. Within minutes, Manton knocked softly on Jeannie's bedroom door.

“Something's wrong.” Jeannie sat upright, the pastel floral sheet sliding off her naked breasts to rest at her waist. “We've received a fax from the mainland.”

Sam slipped into his shorts and stepped out into the hallway. Manton handed him the faxed communication. Scanning the message quickly, Sam groaned. His stomach muscles tightened. Hell! He wished he didn't have to tell Jeannie. There would be no way to keep her on the island once she knew what had happened.

“I'll tell her.” Sam looked directly at Manton so that the big man could read his lips.

Manton nodded, then signed to Sam. In the three weeks they'd been on the island, Sam had tried to learn a few basic words in sign. The best he could make out, Manton was saying he'd prepare some coffee and would bring it to them.

Jeannie pulled her pastel yellow gown over her head, lifting her body to ease the silky material down her hips. Swinging her legs off the side of the bed, she looked up at Sam when he returned with the fax message in his hand.

“It's Julian. What's happened? Did Maynard Reeves—? Oh, no, it's Julian's heart.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, Sam took her hands in his. “Julian's had a heart attack. He's in intensive care. The fax is from Marta. She's with him.”

“I've got to get to Biloxi.” She squeezed Sam's hands. “Julian needs me. No one else can help him the way I can.”

“Maynard Reeves still poses as much of a threat to you as he ever did. If you return to Biloxi, you'll be in danger.”

“I know that.” She bowed her head, praying silently.

“The doctors will take care of Julian. If they can't save his life, then there's nothing you can do.”

She snapped her head up, glaring at Sam. “I'm going back to Biloxi. If Julian dies, I want to be there with him. And if he lives, I can help.”

Sam wondered why he had even tried to reason with Jeannie. Why couldn't he just accept the fact that her compassionate heart would always win any battle against logic? For there was no logic to Jeannie's powers, no reasonable explanation. Somehow she had been blessed, or perhaps she'd been cursed, with the ability to truly bestow loving kindness on others. He, of all people, knew what it meant to be the recipient of her tender mercy.

Sam nodded. Jeannie's glare softened to a gentle stare.
“I'll take care of Julian,” she said. “And you will take care of me.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “I'll take good care of you.” Standing, he helped her to her feet and into her silk robe, then handed her a cane. “Manton's fixing coffee.”

“I'm sorry our days in paradise have to come to an end,” Jeannie said, looking at him lovingly.

“Anywhere I am with you is paradise. Don't you know that?”

Manton knocked on the door, then came in carrying a tray, which he placed on Jeannie's desk, an antique of white-painted wood, with a sailing ship surrounded by a circle of roses stenciled on the back. He poured Jeannie a cup, placing cream and sugar in the coffee, then handed it to her. He poured another cup and handed the black liquid to Sam.

Immediately he signed to Sam, looking to Jeannie to translate whatever wasn't immediately understood.

“He wants you to keep me safe,” Jeannie said. “He senses danger for both of us. He doesn't want us to leave the island, but he understands that we must.”

Jeannie patted Manton's enormous hand, then lifted it to her lips and kissed it. “We'll come back to Le Bijou Bleu as soon as Julian is well.” She glanced over at Sam. “Won't we?”

Sam nodded agreement, but he wasn't sure he'd ever return to this island. Once they were back in Biloxi, he would have to deal with Maynard Reeves. After three weeks of searching for any type of evidence that would warrant Reeves's arrest, the local and federal authorities still had nothing concrete. Reeves was still a free man, waiting for Jeannie Alverson to come out of hiding.

 

M
ARTA
M
C
C
ORKLE KISSED
Julian's pale cheek, then thanked the young nurse who stood by his bedside. She walked out of the ICU unit and right past the man who stood with his back to her. Maynard Reeves had been told of Julian's heart attack by a
Righteous Light disciple, a hospital janitor who'd been working when the medics rushed Julian into the emergency room.

Maynard had been waiting patiently for Marta McCorkle to leave the ICU. All he needed was a few moments alone with Julian Howell. For twenty days, he had tried by every method possible to discover Jeannie Alverson's whereabouts. Dundee had taken her away, was hiding her, keeping her safe. Maynard knew his only hope of finding Jeannie was to get the information from the one person who would know where she was. Julian Howell. But he hadn't been able to get anywhere near Dr. Howell, and making a psychic link with someone he couldn't touch was beyond his capabilities.

No one, except Jeannie and his old friend Wayland Krenshaw, knew he was psychic. Wayland was his right-hand man, a trusted deacon in the church they had founded together. But Jeannie was his enemy. She had refused to join his great cause, to use her talent, as he used his, in the service of the Lord.

He deeply regretted that his psychic abilities were so limited. He knew God had meant for his powers to be greater, but his stupid parents had stifled the natural growth of his powers. If only Jeannie Alverson had joined him, there would have been no limit to the heights he could have reached. Together, they could have been the most powerful force for good in the world.

But Jeannie had shown her true colors. She dared not use her powers in the Lord's service, when her real master was the devil. The woman was a witch, not a saint, as he had hoped. She and her guardian, Dundee, would annihilate him if they could. Satan had given her enormous power, power far greater than those Maynard himself had been blessed with. He had no choice but to destroy her, before she destroyed him.

“May I help you, Father?” the nurse asked.

“Yes, my child. I've come to see Julian Howell.” Reeves stood tall and straight in his priest's disguise, one he knew might gain him an audience with Dr. Howell.

“Are you his priest?”

“My parish is near New Orleans,” Reeves lied. “I'm a family friend who has been called in for special prayers.”

“Dr. Howell's daughter hasn't arrived yet,” the nurse said. “And Ms. McCorkle has gone to make a few phone calls. I really need the family's permission before I allow you to visit Dr. Howell.”

“My dear child, I am here at the family's request.” He lifted the white Bible he held in his hand. “They know I will be a comfort to Julian.”

“Well, I don't suppose there would be anything wrong with letting you come in for a few minutes.”

Maynard flashed her his most charming smile, the smile he had used often to persuade ladies to donate large sums of money to the Righteous Light Church. “I need only a few minutes.”

Maynard found Julian Howell resting comfortably, his every bodily function monitored. The young nurse stayed with him, still a bit uneasy about allowing someone other than immediate family to visit an ICU patient.

Placing his hand over Julian's, Maynard closed his eyes and began mumbling something he hoped would sound like a prayer. He lowered his voice, allowing it to drift off into silence. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on Julian. Hazy, sleepy, surreal thoughts and images clouded Julian's mind. Maynard probed deeper.

Jeannie is safe,
Maynard said telepathically.
Far away from Biloxi and any danger. Think about where she is and how safe she is.

Visions of blue sky and water formed in Maynard's mind, then an island, lush and green, a big raised French cottage resting high on a hill.

Dundee had taken her to an island. But where?

When Maynard tried to delve deeper into Julian's
subconscious mind, he realized Jeannie's foster father was fighting him, trying to keep him out before he acquired the much-needed information.

Julian thrashed about in the bed. The nurse rushed to his side. “I'm afraid you'll have to leave. Something's wrong. Dr. Howell is becoming quite agitated.”

Maynard forced his way past the barrier in Julian's mind. Le Bijou Bleu. The distance from Biloxi and the location of the island flashed through Julian's thoughts, and then his mind closed.

“Father, please leave,” the nurse repeated her request.

Opening his eyes, Maynard smiled. “Yes, of course. I'll return later, when he's awake and calm.”

When Maynard opened the door to exit the ICU unit, Lieutenant Painter met him. How had that idiot found him? He'd been certain he'd ditched the policeman following him.

“Changed religious affiliations, Reverend Reeves?” Painter asked. “Or should I call you Father Reeves now?

“Reverend Reeves will do. What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

“Visiting the sick, of course.”

“I'm sure I could hold you in jail overnight, Reverend. Impersonating a priest might not stick in court, but I could drum up some other charges to go with it so we could haul your butt in for questioning.”

“The clothing I choose to wear in my role as a minster of the gospel is my business, and the fact that a young nurse mistook me for a priest is not my fault.” Maynard wasn't afraid of the police. He had outsmarted them time and again. No, he didn't have anything to fear from the likes of Rufus Painter.

“What the hell is he doing here?” A deep voice roared from the doorway leading into the waiting room.

Maynard jerked around, his eyes widening with surprise.
Sam Dundee. And, at his side, Jeannie Alverson. Maynard smiled. So, he would not have to go in search of the witch after all. She had returned. No doubt to cast a spell to cure her foster father.

Jeannie clung to her protector's arm. She was so sure he could guard her from the inevitable. Well, she was wrong. Sam Dundee was indeed a formidable opponent, but all Maynard needed was a little time to figure out how to bring the big man down.

“I thought y'all were watching him,” Jeannie said. “How did he get in here to see Julian?”

“He's leaving right now,” Painter said. “I'm driving him to the station, where he can call his lawyer before answering a few questions for us.”

“This is all a waste of time,” Maynard told them. “You cannot condemn an innocent man. And you have no evidence that I've committed any crime.”

“Lieutenant, would you mind going with Jeannie to see Dr. Howell?” Sam asked. “Reeves is right. Taking him in would be a waste of time. Yours and his.”

“How wise of you to understand,” Maynard said.

“Please, Lieutenant, go with Jeannie. She's anxious to see her father.”

“Sam?” Jeannie said, questioning his intentions.

“Go on. See about Julian.”

Lieutenant Painter escorted a reluctant Jeannie into the private ICU cubicle, leaving Maynard alone in the waiting area with Sam.

“Watch her day and night, Dundee.” Maynard laughed, the sound robust and confident. “You know not the hour or the day I will strike.”

Sam grabbed Maynard by the neck, dragging his face up to his. My God, what did the man intend to do? Kill him on the spot? Maynard lifted his trembling hands, desperately trying to dislodge himself from Dundee's choking hold. Maynard gasped,
then struggled for air when Sam tightened the pressure on his windpipe.

“Know this, Reeves—if any harm comes to Jeannie, you will die. And a soul as black as yours will surely rot in hell forever.”

J
EANNIE SAT AT
Julian's bedside, his hand clasped in hers. She had stayed with him since her return to Biloxi, thirty-six hours earlier. Sam had done everything short of knocking her out and throwing her over his shoulder to get her to leave for a short rest, but she had refused. The doctors had told them Julian was out of any immediate danger, but with a heart-attack victim, nothing could be certain.

Jeannie had been given special permission to stay with Julian in ICU, but Sam had been banished to the waiting area, except for regularly scheduled visits. The past thirty-six hours had been an exercise in torture for him. Keeping guard at a distance was not Sam's style of protection.

The ICU door opened and Jeannie walked out, a wide smile on her face. “They're moving Julian to a private room. He's improving quickly. The doctors are astonished.”

Sam dropped the newspaper he'd been scanning, stood and walked over to Jeannie. “They don't realize Julian's had a little extra help in his recovery.” He slipped his arm around her; she leaned her body against his.

“Julian loves roses. While they're moving him, I want to order some flowers for him. Two or three dozen roses. And you can run by the house…no, not by the house, by the cottage, and pick up some pajamas and a robe for Julian, and—”

Sam kissed her into silence, then released her quickly. “I'm not going anywhere. Call Ollie and have her bring over Julian's things.”

“Julian gave Ollie a much-needed vacation to visit her sister
in Tupelo, while the repairs are being done on our house. Don't you remember my telling you?”

“Then have Marta pick up Julian's stuff.” With his arm around her shoulders, he turned her toward the outer waiting room door. “And you can order flowers after you've eaten something. You haven't left Julian's side, except to use the bathroom and drink a few cups of coffee. You haven't eaten anything except a doughnut one of the nurses brought you.” He brushed away an errant strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “And as soon as you check on Julian, after he's in a private room, I'm taking you to the cottage for some rest.”

“I'll eat soon. I promise. And I'll rest as soon as I'm sure Julian will be all right without me.” She knew Sam was right. She needed food and rest. She was thankful Sam had been forced to remain in the waiting area. If he'd seen her faint twice, he would have taken her away from Julian, despite her protests. And if he knew about her condition—that she was carrying his child—he wouldn't allow her to give Julian the peace of mind and pain-free rest he so desperately needed.

“Dammit, Jeannie, you can't go on this way. Not eating. Not sleeping. Julian wouldn't want you to endanger your health to help him.”

“The choice is mine. Not Julian's. And not yours.” But there was more to consider than her own health; she had to think about her child. “Please, Sam. I'll order the flowers, then call Marta. And I'll eat something in Julian's room. You choose my menu, and I'll eat every bite. But I must stay with Julian until I'm certain he doesn't need me anymore.”

How could she make Sam understand how much she owed Julian? He had been the surgeon who saved her life after the car wreck, when she was thirteen. Later, he and Miriam had taken her into their home, helped her through years of therapy and made her the daughter they'd never had. The Howells had given Jeannie the beautiful, peaceful existence that had been hers before the truth about her past had been revealed. There
was nothing she wouldn't do for Julian or for Manton, just as there had been nothing she wouldn't do for Miriam.

“You're going home tonight.” His statement left no room for argument. Regardless of her protests, Sam was determined to save her from her own stubbornness.

Jeannie reached up, caressed his cheek and looked into his eyes. “When I love someone, I love them completely, with no reservations, no limitations. Like you, Sam, I haven't given my love often. I love Julian and Manton the way you love Elizabeth and her little Jimmy.”

“I know how you feel,” Sam said. “But understand this—I'm taking you home tonight, if I have to drag you out of this hospital kicking and screaming.”

She smiled, stretched on tiptoe to drag his face down to hers, then kissed him. “See if the cafeteria is serving spaghetti. With lots of Parmesan cheese.”

Sam swatted her behind. She giggled. God, how he loved the sound of her happy giggles.

 

J
EANNIE DEVOURED THE
plate of spaghetti Sam had had delivered from a restaurant, along with chocolate cheesecake and ice tea.

“I don't think I can eat another bite.” She shoved the plate aside. “I'll save the cheesecake for later.”

“You'll take it home with you,” Julian told her, then looked at Sam. “You should have made her leave long before now. She's exhausted. See those dark circles under her eyes? She's done too much for me already.”

“You know Jeannie. She wouldn't leave willingly,” Sam said. “But she's going home tonight, willing or not.”

Julian chuckled. “I'm so sorry this happened. My heart attack brought her right back to Biloxi, and put her within Maynard Reeves's grasp.”

“Sam will protect me from the good reverend.” Jeannie
finished off the tall glass of ice tea, wiped her mouth with a paper napkin and shoved back her chair. “And as soon as the doctors say it's all right, we'll all go to Le Bijou Bleu.”

Julian pointed to the television, which he'd set to the weather channel. “If that tropical depression off the coast of Africa moves in our direction, we might be in for a hurricane, or at the least a bad storm. You might be stuck here in Biloxi.”

Jeannie turned her attention to the weatherman's forecast. “Or it could die out before it gets here, or move north or farther south and miss us completely.”

“Nevertheless, you'll want to warn Manton to keep an eye on the weather,” Julian said. “Is the storm shelter on the island in good repair?”

“Stop worrying. Everything on Le Bijou Bleu is in tip-top shape.” Jeannie had been in the storm shelter only once, when she was ten and a tropical storm hit the Gulf Coast. She'd heard Julian talk about what devastation Hurricane Camille had caused back in 1969 and thanked God that Manton had survived in the storm shelter, located in the basement of the cottage.

“I don't like your being back here in Biloxi,” Julian said. “It's too dangerous for you as long as Maynard Reeves walks around a free man.”

“You musn't worry about me. You let Sam do that. I want you to concentrate on getting well.”

“I know about Reeves's visit.” Julian glanced from Jeannie to Sam. “Don't go looking for someone to blame. I overheard a conversation about the reverend passing himself off as a priest.”

“I didn't want you to know,” Jeannie said. “At least not until after you were fully recovered.”

“I don't remember seeing him,” Julian said. “I have no idea what his reason for coming to the hospital might have been.”

“You were his only connection to me.” Jeannie walked over
and sat down in a chair beside Julian's bed. “Perhaps he thought he could threaten you into revealing where Sam had taken me.”

“I can't believe the police haven't come up with something that can put that man away.” Lifting himself into a sitting position, Julian clutched the bed's rails. His cheeks flushed. Beads of sweat broke out on his face. “There has to be something they can do!”

“Julian, please don't upset yourself.” Jeannie grabbed his hand, instantly feeling the surge of anger shooting through him, the rise in his blood pressure, his accelerated heartbeat.

“I'll be…all…right. Don't…don't…” Julian gripped her hand when the first sharp pain struck him.

Clasping his hand tightly, Jeannie cried out as the pain entered her. She trembled from the force of his suffering.

Sam flew across the room, halting behind Jeannie's chair as he placed his big hands over her shoulders, cupping her upper arms. What the hell had happened? “Jeannie?” She didn't respond. “Dammit, don't do this. You're too weak.”

Shivering, she closed her eyes and absorbed all Julian's pain, stopping the onset of another heart attack. His anger and fear trickled into her mind, leaving him at peace. Jeannie cried out; tears streamed down her face. Sam ripped Julian's hand out of Jeannie's, jerked her chair around and fell to his knees in front of her.

The anguish on her face told him all he needed to know. She was hurting, hurting badly, and all he could do was watch her suffer. If only he could give her some of his strength. If only he could absorb her pain, the way she had absorbed Julian's. He took her hands in his. She felt ice-cold. Rubbing her hands, he concentrated on mentally connecting with her. Just as he sensed the link beginning to form, a nurse rushed into Julian's room, quickly followed by an entourage prepared to administer lifesaving techniques. The moment the nurse shouted orders for Sam to move, the fragile link to Jeannie's mind shattered.

Sam pulled Jeannie up into his arms and kicked the chair aside. She lay there like a rag doll; Sam realized that she had fainted. The group of technicians hovered around Julian's bed.

“I don't understand,” the nurse said. “His heart monitor showed signs of another attack.”

“Machines make mistakes.” Sam glanced at the nurse with cold gray eyes.

“Damnedest thing I've ever seen,” a male nurse said. “Dr. Howell is fine. He's sleeping peaceful. All his vital signs are normal.”

“Arrange for a private-duty nurse for Dr. Howell,” Sam said. “I'm taking Ms. Alverson home. You have the number of Dr. Howell's rental house, don't you? If his condition changes, contact me.”

 

S
AM UNDRESSED
J
EANNIE
and laid her, naked and exhausted, in the bed. She had regained consciousness briefly on the drive to the cottage, but once Sam assured her that Julian was fine, she'd drifted off to sleep, unable to fight the total depletion of her strength.

Both beds in the two-bedroom cottage were doubles, neither really long enough or large enough to accommodate Sam's height and size. He'd chosen the room on the back of the house, the quieter, more secluded one, the one that would be sheltered from the morning sun. He didn't want anything disturbing Jeannie's rest.

He'd found some expensive brandy in the kitchen, obviously belonging to Julian. Sam poured himself a shot, downed it in one swallow, then put the liquor away. He didn't want anything dulling his senses, putting him at any disadvantage if he had to confront Reeves. After making a ham sandwich, he devoured it quickly and returned to the bedroom. Jeannie had thrown off the covers and lay in the middle of the bed, her small, sleek, naked body tossing back and forth.

She moaned as she squirmed about in the bed. “Sam…Sam…”

Leaning over the bed, he brushed the hair out of her face, then kissed her forehead. “I'm here, angel. I'm here.”

Sighing, she turned toward him, cuddling into a ball. Sam placed his Ruger on the bedside table, then removed his clothes. His body throbbed with desire. Straightening the covers, he folded them at the foot of the bed, lay down beside Jeannie and drew her into his arms.

He didn't fall asleep until nearly dawn, awakening only when the phone rang at ten-fifteen. Jeannie moaned and cuddled closer to his back, but didn't awaken. When he reached for the telephone, his hand grasped his Ruger. He shoved it aside and picked up the receiver.

“Dundee here.”

“Mr. Dundee, this is Marta McCorkle. I'm at the hospital with Julian. He's fine, but he's concerned about Jeannie.”

Sam glanced at the sleeping beauty curled against him. “She's all right, but still sleeping.”

“Would it be all right if I stop by to see her after I leave the hospital?” Marta asked. “I know she'll be eager for an update on Julian, and a report on the Howell School children.”

“If she's awake, you can see her,” Sam said. “I won't wake her. She needs her rest.”

“Of course. I'll stop by sometime after noon. When she wakes, give her Julian's love. And mine.”

“I'll do that.” Sam hung up the phone.

Sam's stomach growled. He was hungry as a bear. He'd eaten twice in the past forty-eight hours. Easing away from Jeannie so that he wouldn't disturb her, he got out of bed, pulled the cover up to her shoulders, and picked up his wrinkled slacks. Dressing hurriedly, he went into the kitchen. Within minutes he'd set the coffee machine, put bacon on to fry and cracked six eggs into a skillet.

Jeannie found him cooking breakfast in his bare feet,
wearing rumpled trousers and an unbuttoned shirt that hung open, showing the center of his broad, hairy chest.

“Are you fixing enough for two?” she asked from where she stood in the doorway.

He continued scrambling the eggs. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked, knowing precisely the moment she'd walked out of the bedroom three minutes ago.

Jeannie tightened the belt on her silk robe. “I can't imagine a more charming sight than a man busy at his domestic duties.”

Sam guffawed as a wide grin spread across his face. He glanced up from his cooking, and his heart stopped for one breath-robbing moment. Jeannie stood in the doorway, her long hair falling down her back and over her left shoulder. Leaning on her cane, she put one foot in front of the other, exposing her right thigh between the open folds of her robe. Her round, full breasts pressed against the silk material, her nipples plainly outlined.

His body tightened. His heartbeat drummed in his ears. He wanted to forget breakfast, forget everything, and take Jeannie back to bed and make slow, sweet love to her all day.

“Come on in and take a seat,” he said, trying to control his baser instincts. “I think I can spare a few bites for you.”