She crossed to the bed and removed the thermometer. Her heart sank at the reading.
That bad? he asked.
A hundred and two. She shook down the thermometer.
So give me some aspirin.
She shook her head. Thats not going to be enough. She put the thermometer back in its case and set it on the bedside table. You need antibiotics.
He pushed himself up in the bed, trying to hide a grimace of pain. Maybe I just need to eat something. Whered you put our stash of supplies?
In the kitchen. She put her hand on his shoulder as he started to get up. He was scalding hot to the touch. In a minute. Let me take a look at your wound. Unbutton your shirt.
He unfastened the buttons, his gaze locked with hers. Ill have to add nursing to your list of known skills.
I have a list of known skills?
One corner of his mouth notched upward. Youre a kick-ass poker player.
Well, that might come in handy when we run out of money, she murmured, helping him shrug the shirt off. She gestured for him to turn his injured side to her. Gingerly, she removed the tape holding the sanitary napkin in place. The pad was heavy with blood, but the bleeding had stopped for now.
Im going to have to clean it a bit, but it shouldnt hurt as much as it did last night.
Easy for you to say.
She ignored the wry comeback and went to the bathroom for a clean washcloth and some antibacterial soap. She returned with the cloth and another sanitary napkin. There were only a couple left in the package. Shed need to find a store nearby and do some shopping sometime today.
She cleaned the dried blood away from the bullet wound, wincing at his soft gasps of pain. Sorrysorry.
Wheres the whiskey? he gritted through clenched teeth. But as she reached for the bottle shed left on the bedside table, he caught her wrist. Just joking. Im okay. Just get it done.
He let go of her wrist and she resumed her cleaning job. She didnt like the angry red color of the flesh around the torn skin. I think its getting infected.
So put some ointment on it.
She was already pulling the small tube from the first-aid kit, but she shook her head as she dabbed a liberal dollop of the ointment into the open wound. I dont think its going to be enough. You need antibiotics.
That takes a prescription.
We need to find a doctor, then.
He shook his head. They have to report gunshot wounds to the cops, and I dont yet know which cops around here I can trust. Im pretty sure weve already been betrayed once.
She placed the clean sanitary napkin over the wound and taped it in place. This isnt the kind of thing you can ignore, Joe.
We can talk about it over breakfast. He shrugged his shirt on again and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed.
No, you stay here. She stilled him with a touch. Ill get the food. We have some bread and peanut butter-how about a sandwich? Not much of a breakfast, but-
Thats fine, he gritted, easing back against the headboard. Dont suppose this place has a coffeemaker?
I dont think you need to drink anything hot, anyway. She released his shoulder. Might raise your temperature more.
He caught her arm as she started to go, his calloused thumb moving lightly over the soft flesh of her inner wrist. She turned to look at him and was surprised to see a hint of vulnerability in his gray eyes. I appreciate your worrying about me. I do. But Im tough. Ill be okay. Ill take some aspirin or something after we eat and the fever will go right down. Youll see.
She didnt bother arguing. She could tell he already had his mind made up. Talk wouldnt make him budge. But she didnt think aspirin or ibuprofen was going to be enough to get his fever down. It had come on too quickly to be anything easily fixed.
Shed just have to take matters into her own hands.
Chapter Six
The River Lodge Diners lunch crowd had been brisk, but by one, the bustle of activity had begun to wind down. Only a handful of locals remained at the diner counter, nursing cups of coffee and chatting.
On his stool at the end of the counter, Clint had a ringside seat for the hick-town follies, taking in the latest gossip, from fisticuffs at the local churches to salacious speculation about the new high school football coach and the head majorette.
The pay phone on the wall near the bathrooms rang. The older waitress, Doris, finished filling his cup, set down the coffeepot and went to answer.
Clint could make out only a few words of her end of the conversation-doctor and prescription-but not much else. However, the furrow in Doriss brow deepened as she talked to whoever was on the other end of the line, piquing his curiosity. He was tempted to feign a trip to the bathroom to get close enough to hear more, but she hung up before he could make a move and returned to the counter to check on the younger waitresss progress.
Boyd Jameson returned from the cashiers desk and glanced up and down the lunch counter, looking for any errors in the waitresses work. Doris came back to the counter and poured coffee for a pair of big-rig drivers at the end of the counter.
Jameson made a grumbling noise but the bell over the front door distracted him. Customers, he barked.
Doris was already untying her apron. Sorry, Boyd. My shift ended at one. Let Alice get it. Shes good with the customers. Heres my ticket pad. Doris handed him the order book and disappeared into the back of the diner, leaving Boyd to bark a terse order at a nervous young waitress, who scurried off to seat the new arrivals.
Boyd looked Clints way, his scowl disappearing and his game face appearing. More coffee, sir?
Im good, Clint said, his mind still on Doris and the mysterious phone call. You know, I was hoping Id find that dark-haired girl working here today-curly brown hair, freckles, kind of thin-
Thats Jane. She doesnt work here anymore.
Clint looked at the restaurant manager, contemplating his options. If he was going to find her anytime soon, he needed to start making alliances.
He pulled out his business card and handed it to Jameson. The restaurant managers eyebrows arched upward.
Clint Holbrook, he said to Jameson. Call me Clint. Im looking for the woman you call Jane Doe. Shes wanted for murder in Wyoming and other crimes back East. And I think your friend Doris might know where she is.
Gone to get more supplies. Dont worry-Ill be back.
JOE STARED at Janes neatly penned note and cursed. He should have handcuffed her to the bed spindles when the thought had first occurred to him.
At least this time shed left his gun behind, safely tucked into its holster on the bedside table.
He pushed himself to his feet, struggling with a wave of dizziness and nausea. He waited for it to pass before he went to the bathroom.
After relieving himself, he moved to the narrow sink and turned on the tap. He splashed cold water on his hot face and looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His face was ashen, dark circles purpling the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes. He looked as bad as he felt, and that was saying something.
He touched the bandage on his side, wincing as the cloth pulled against the ragged wound. How had he managed to get himself into such a helpless state, forced to depend on the whims of a woman he didnt trust with his dog, much less his life?
He wandered around the bedroom, gritting his teeth against the pain. Pain he could handle. But he couldnt afford weakness. And if he kept lying around here, giving in to the injury, he wouldnt be prepared to deal with whatever danger Jane Doe was about to bring into his life with her latest stunt.
He knew all too well that where Jane went, trouble followed.
JANE SLUMPED in the front seat of the Silverado outside the Fill-Mor gas station on Route Five, trying not to draw attention. She had a long wait; the station was at least an hour from Trinity, and it would take a little while for Doris to get her doctor to call in the antibiotics prescription.
Shed already passed the time by using some of her dwindling cash reserves to stock up on food and first-aid supplies, but after a while, shed realized she could loiter inside the food mart only so long before people started to notice her.
She didnt like being away from Joe this long. It wasnt likely that hed sleep the whole time. And while shed left him a note, shed been deliberately vague about where she was going. She knew that would worry him. But knowing exactly what she was doing would worry him more.
She closed her eyes a moment and took a couple of deep breaths through her nose to calm her rattled nerves. The scent of leather mingled with another scent-dark, rich, masculine. The smell stirred a memory, the feel of Joes hands on her face, the touch of his lips on hers, tender yet demanding.
Theyd known each other before Idaho, back in a place called Canyon Creek, Wyoming. That kiss the night before had proved that their relationship had been far more complex than shed previously believed.
But did she really want to know just how complex?
She rubbed her gritty eyes, regretting the sleepless night. Whether she liked it or not, she and Joe were being hunted by a man whod already proven he was capable of cold-blooded murder. And she suspected he had a big advantage over them.
He knew who she really was.
She closed her eyes against the glare of sunlight reflecting off the plate-glass windows at the front of the food mart, and tried to settle her chaotic mind. For five months, shed lived second to second, afraid to be still for fear that shed finally start remembering something. Angie had always found that sentiment strange-not wanting to remember? But Angie didnt live with the bone-deep certainty that her past was something she wanted to escape, not uncover.
Nothing that had happened to her over the past few days had done anything to change her mind about that.
But she couldnt run away anymore. Her past was the danger now. She had to figure out a way to unlock the door to where her memories lay, or she and Joe might not get out of this mess alive.
An image flashed through her mind without warning. A mans face. Not the blue-eyed man shed seen in her apartment but someone a little older, with thick black hair streaked at the temples with silver. He was handsome, but his dark eyes were shifty and restless, moving constantly.