In the Heart of the Wind Book 1 in the WindTorn Trilogy (35 page)

“Your brother is fine,” Lassiter spoke into the scrambler. “He’s sleeping.”

“Something’s wrong or you wouldn’t be calling,” Patrick snapped. The slight hesitation on the other end of the line made him furious. “Tell me!”

“Are you aware your sister is having him moved this weekend?”

The chair in which Patrick had been sitting crashed against the wall of his office with enough force to dent the sheetrock and knock a painting from the side wall.

“Who told you that?” he shouted.

“Your brother called me yesterday. I take it you have not been informed.”

“I certainly was not.”

Bruce Lassiter let out a long breath. “You seem to bear a stronger attachment to your brother than either Dr. Casey or Mr. Tremayne. I thought perhaps you might be able to help me make a decision here, Doctor. A decision I think might best serve James’ interests.”

Fury such as Patrick had never known was gripping him like the talons of a ravaging beast. He was aware of his heart thudding in his chest, of the way his breath was coming in hard, shallow gasps, of the way his hand was gripping the phone.

“What kind of decision?” he managed to ask through the constriction of his grinding teeth.

Again there was a slight hesitation before the psychiatrist spoke.

“There are certain—shall we say considerations?—that might need to be rethought. Do you understand me?”

Patrick’s brows drew together in a deep frown. “No, I don’t think I—”

“Your brother has just recently formed a strong attachment to a new patient. The gentleman hails from Georgia, but he has such a heavy twang you’d swear he was from out west somewhere.”

“A midwestern twang, would you say?” Patrick asked, his heart skipping a beat.

“That would be my guess.”

Patrick closed his eyes. “And you think this new patient might be able to help my brother?”

“It would be a shame to separate them, don’t you think? Especially now Jamie has found himself a friend. A friend who might be able to take Jamie away from his problems.”

Patrick gripped the phone even harder. “Are you aware of the position this puts you in, Doctor?”

Bruce Lassiter sighed. “I am, but for once in my life, Dr. Tremayne, I believe I’m doing what is best for my patient.” He cleared his throat. “I like your brother, Dr. Tremayne. I think he’s been dealt a rather cruel hand. A hand he doesn’t deserve.” Another eloquent pause sizzled on the telephone wire. “Am I correct in that assumption, Dr. Tremayne?”

“You sure as hell are.” Only a fragment of worry crossed Patrick’s mind as he wondered if the doctor in Louisiana was setting him up. Any man who crossed Liam Tremayne was either very stupid or very shrewd. Or his conscious had gotten the best of him.

He hoped for Jamie’s sake it was the latter.

“What do we do to see my brother is helped, Dr. Lassiter?”

“Can you see the considerations are rethought then?”

“I don’t see how I can. If I hire someone to go down there, my family will know about it almost immediately. I don’t know how to contact those who are there or even know how many are involved. If I call out west, I can’t be assured the message will reach them in time. Isn’t there someone there you can speak to?”

Lassiter let out another long, edgy breath. “I can try, Dr. Tremayne.”

“You will let me know when things are back to normal?”

The psychiatrist’s voice wavered. “If I am able to, yes.” He hung up.

Patrick Tremayne slowly replaced the receiver and did something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. He knelt on the floor of his office and began to pray.

Mel Vanderwoode
shifted his semi into gear and the big rig rolled up the westbound ramp and onto the interstate. He glanced at Jake, smiled, and slid his eyes back to the road.

“I ain’t been this antsy since I asked Nora to marry me,” Jake confessed. He put his thumbnail in his mouth and began to chew.

“I ain’t been this excited since I beat Van Wyck’s outta that government contract,” Mel said and chuckled. He began to whistle the University of Northern Iowa fight song.

Jake looked out the window at the bleak Alabama landscape. He would never get used to the monotony of the scrub oaks and overgrown bushes along the roadways. There was nothing scenic along Interstate 10. Nothing worth looking at. It was the dullest, most bland sight he could ever remember having to endure. It made him even more nervous.

“Don’t they get bored driving out here?” he asked.

Mel shrugged. “They’re boring people.”

He patted the map on the seat between them. “Tell me what exit that rest area is near where we’re supposed to meet up with Dick and Jenny.”

Jake picked up the map and unfolded it. Lifting up his glasses, he peered down at the map. “Looks like we’ll be coming up on it right soon.” He looked up, glancing briefly at the road sign they were passing. “Yep. Next one will do it.”

“What you wanna bet Dick’s gonna be late getting here?” Mel groused. “You ever play golf with that man? I can have four drinks at The Oak Room before he even pulls in the parking lot!”

“What you bet he won’t?” Jake queried.

Mel looked over at Jake. “Ten’ll get you twenty.”

“Twenty’ll get you thirty!” Jake shot back.

“I’ll cover that,” Mel said with a laugh. He smoothly shifted the big rig, his foot coming off the clutch with professional ease.

Jake nodded. “Don’t you pay attention to the traffic around you, Mel?”

“When I need to.”

“Well, I suggest you pay closer attention. That inattention just cost you thirty dollars!” Jake pointed to the vehicle that moved past them in the passing lane.

Mel groaned as Jenny Warrington waved up at him. He waved back, flashed his lights twice to let Dick know he could safely pull into the lane ahead of him and turned his grimace to Jake.

“That wasn’t fair, Jacob Mueller.”

“Life ain’t fair, Melvin Vanderwoode,” Jake replied.

Jamie curled up
in his bed that evening and let the drug carry him away. He didn’t even try to fight it. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt content. Not even Beecher’s angry stare as he’d poked his head in to check on Jamie could dispel the warmth that had settled around Jamie Tremayne. Not even the funny looks he kept getting from Dr. Lassiter could shake the firm foundation of sanity that Jamie was beginning to rebuild under his shaky legs. Turning his face into his pillow, he hid the satisfied smile that knowing he had people who cared about him brought to his lips.

“You’re going to be all right,” he whispered. “All right.”

“Just what is it you think those people are going to be able to do for you?”

Jamie jerked, his head coming up from the pillow, his face blanching of color. Jimmy, the hard-eyed, flint-tough persona who had shown up to protect James from Gabe was standing at the foot of his bed. The pale brown of the apparition’s eyes were cold as ice and filled with contempt.

“What...what do you mean?” Jamie asked, sitting up.

Jimmy propped his foot on the foot board of the hospital bed and leaned his arms over the bottom railing. He cocked his head to one side.

“So they’re here,” Jimmy said. “They’ve found you. What do you think they can do about it?”

A shiver of dread began at the base of Jamie’s neck and crawled down his spine, lodging like a burrowing insect in his gut. “They can get me out of here,” Jamie replied. He flinched at the snort of derision from his alter-ego.

“And what then, Jamie? What’s your family gonna be doing while these do-gooders whisk you back to Iowa?” A lethal smile began to pull at Jimmy’s hard mouth. “Think about it, Jamie. Just think about it.”

“I’ll hide. I’ll take Annie and go where they can’t find me.”

Jimmy shook his head. “They found you once. They’ll find you again.” He lowered his foot and stepped back from the bed.

“I’ll go where they can’t find me,” Jamie cried. His eyes shifted back and forth, searching for a way, looking for the opening that would see him to safety.

Jimmy turned his back and walked to the door. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. The smile on his face slowly slid off.

“You just might be able to find a place they won’t think to look, but what about the people who came here to help you?” His eyes turned a piercing sapphire brown. “Where are
they
gonna hide, Jamie?”

Jamie’s warmth began to fade away.

Thais Dupree and
Galen Whitney briefed the two law enforcement officers who would be riding shotgun. Speaking in low whispers, their eyes taking in those who were also stopped at the rest area just across the Alabama-Florida line, the men finalized their part in the coming plan.

“You know where the exit is?” Thais asked and the Florida patrolman nodded. He turned his head to the other law officer and the woman smiled at him, her mouth a tight grin of sarcasm. “Are you sure?”

“Get bent, Dupree,” the Alabama policewoman sneered. She hitched up her low-riding jeans. “I’ll meet you men right where I’m supposed to. I’ll do what I need to do for Jamie Tremayne.” Flinging her long braid behind her, she stalked off, her hips snug in the clutch of her jeans.

“She’s something,” the Florida patrolman said. There was a wistful expression on his broad, ruddy face.

Thais and Galen exchanged a look. There would be more than a combined agency endeavor where those two were concerned.

“Keep your mind on business, Williams. We don’t want no mistakes,” Galen reminded the Florida patrolman.

“There won’t be none,” the Florida officer replied. He watched the Alabama woman until her car merged onto the interstate.

“I hope not,” Thais answered. “We sure as hell can’t afford to let anything go wrong.”

The Florida lawman turned his eyes back to Thais. “Jamie Tremayne saved my life.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’d let anything interfere with my job in helping get him back where he belongs?”

Galen shook his head. “No more than any of us would.”

Ellen Vittetoe signed
the car rental ticket, giving her false name and handing over the Louisiana license The Badger had supplied. She took the keys from the counter girl and smiled.

“Y’all have a nice trip, you hear?” the girl said in a breezy voice.

“We will,” Ellen answered.

Once she was inside the silver car, Ellen unfolded the sheet of instructions, glanced up to get her bearings, and refolded the sheet. She put the key in the ignition and drove out of the lot. She had fifty miles of driving before she could rendezvous with the others.

Kyle was so
nervous waiting for Edna Mae to come back, he couldn’t sleep. Glancing down at his watch, he grunted with spite when he saw it was close to three in the morning. It might be another day before she showed up again and he didn’t think he could wait that long to find out if Jamie Sinclair was really Gabe James. He couldn’t very well go up to the man and ask him. Obviously Jamie could see that. As a matter of fact, Jamie had not been out of his room since Edna Mae left. There had been no contact with him at all.

Turning onto his side, Kyle viciously punched his pillow, punched it again, still again, then sat up running his hand over his sweaty face. Throwing the covers aside, he got up, stalked to the barred window and looked down at the moonlit gardens.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Edna Mae,” he snarled. “I can’t take this not knowing.”

But what if Jamie was Gabe? he thought. The knowledge that he very well could be sent shivers of pain through Kyle Vittetoe. He’d seen how Jamie Sinclair was treated; how he
wasn’t
treated; how horribly insecure the man was. He’d seen the outbursts of irrationality that brought swift retaliation from the staff.

In the weeks he had been here, he had witnessed Beecher’s cruelties that had seemed harmless enough until he thought about them. That those cruelties might have been practiced on his best friend set Kyle’s teeth on edge. He jammed his fist into his palm and wished it was Beecher’s beefy face.

“Oh, God, Gabe,” Kyle whispered, leaning his forehead against the window sill. “I’ll make them wish they’d never found you!”

The dark night was as bleak as the pain inside Kyle Vittetoe’s heart.

It was going to be a long time ‘til morning.

Annie James couldn’t
sleep.

She’d tried reading, but the words all blurred together.

She’d tried hot milk and gotten heartburn.

She’d tried counting sheep. Gabe’s face kept intruding, glowing out of the darkness at her with hope lighting his beautiful brown eyes.

Finally, she had risen, put on a pot of coffee and resigned herself to another sleepless night among many.

Since Edna Mae’s call, Annie had not been able to sleep. Or eat. Or concentrate. She had not been able to sit still. Or lie still. Or rest. She could not answer the daily phone calls of friends checking up on her, she’d had all her calls forwarded to Nora’s.