11
It was past eleven.
Bailey should have been home.
Mark paced the kitchen, worried frown on his face, glancing occasionally at the phone. She'd left a note, saying she was meeting that ME, and she'd take her cell. Mark had called her at least a dozen times with no result. It went straight to voice mail every time.
The phone trilled. Mark jumped and almost fell over himself to reach it. "Yeah? Bailey?"
"Uh…" It was a woman. A vaguely familiar voice too. "Is this Mr. Calaway?"
"Yeah? Who is this?"
"This is Carolyn, the ME?" The woman said. She sounded as worried as Mark felt. "Bailey was supposed to meet me earlier tonight. My meeting ran late. When I finally got out there, the road was flooded, I couldn't get in. I wanted to see if she made it home all right."
Mark closed his eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm down. "She's not here. She hasn't been here at all tonight. I can't get her on her phone, either." He said tersely, not bothering to hide his distress. "You think she's maybe stuck out there?" He had hope of that. It was pouring rain, and if she was stuck in the mud, all he'd have to do was go pick her up.
"In that Jeep?" Carolyn sighed. "She's got four wheel drive, hon. I don't think I have to tell ya that she's a good driver. She wouldn't get stuck."
"Jesus." Mark felt his spirits fade. Worry returned in spades. "I gotta get out there. Where the hell did she go?"
"To the pond where we found our DB. I'll give ya directions, and I'll get porter up outta bed."
Mark jotted down the directions and hung up without bothering to listen to Carolyn's assurances. He dialed Austin's number and got permission to drop Caleb off without going into detail. He could explain everything when he got there.
Her head hurt.
That was the first thing that registered.
The second thing was that something heavy was covering her. And she was hot.
The third…it was raining. Not just raining. Pouring. As if she were in a tin-roofed shack under a waterfall.
She blinked and forced her eyes to open. The room was dim. The only source of light came from a lantern in one corner. She had a strange sense of déjà vu as she pushed against the uncomfortable surface beneath her into a sitting position.
The heavy thing was a very thick quilt. She was hot because the lantern turned out to be a tiny fireplace in the corner. The heat came from it in waves, making her feel dizzy.
"Hey, no…just relax. Head must be poundin' right about now." A drawling voice came from her right. She looked in that direction and picked out a shadow that was vaguely man-shaped.
She let herself relax once more against the hard surface. Some kind of table. She felt rough would under her palms when she reached out to explore.
"Where…" Her voice was weak, shaky. She cleared her throat. "Where…am I?" She finally managed to choke out.
The man stepped forward. She had a fleeting moment when her heart wanted to leap from her chest. Fear sent a shudder down her spine. Then it was gone. She frowned at the feeling, wondering why she'd be afraid of this perfect stranger. He pulled a stool close to her side and sat down so she could get a good look at him. He was tall, she'd seen that, and completely bald. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue. He wore a faded blue-jean jacket and a black t-shirt. He looked very comfortable.
"You're at my huntin' cabin, darlin'. Found ya layin' in the field out there." He pointed toward one wall.
"Lying in the field?" She asked, her frown deepening.
"Yeah. 'Bout tripped over ya, you were layin' in the deep grass." The man leaned forward, peering at her. "You don't remember how ya got there?"
She met his eyes and couldn't look away. She tried to remember. The last thing that came to mind was telling…someone…Ken…to be careful with boxes. But the memory was fuzzy. She couldn't ever remember her own damn name. She reached up and rubbing her forehead with one hand.
"Are…are you Ken?" She asked in a whisper.
The man shook his head. "Nah. Name's Steve. Steve Williams. I own land I found ya layin' on. Freaked me out, on account of them findin' that other woman out there last week."
"Other…woman?" She asked softly.
"Yeah. Godawful mess that was."
She didn't know why, but hearing the man's drawl, listening to his low tone, set her at ease. "I don't…I can't remember anything."
Steve propped his chin up on one hand, leaning the elbow against the table she was lying on. "How 'bout your name, darlin'?"
She frowned again. "I dunno. Barbara? Brady?" Neither sounded right, but she was sure it started with a B.
"Hmm." Steve made a noise. "You don't look like a Barbie to me."
"Doesn't sound right to me either…" She muttered. "Bailey!"
Steve jumped, not expecting her to shout. "Damn, darlin'. Easy now."
"It's Bailey…Bailey…something. Shit." Bailey reached back and rubbed at her head. A large lump had formed there, and her fingertips came away sticky with blood. "Did I fall?"
"I don't know, darlin'. There were rocks, but none big enough to do that damage." Steve sounded impressed. "Bailey, huh? Got a last name? Might help figuring out where you belong."
Bailey was frowning again. "I don't know. Why can't I remember?"
Steve shrugged. "You took a good knock to the head. It'll come back to ya. Sometimes it happens."
Bailey sat up again, this time slower. Steve gave her a hand, holding on until she was in a sitting position. "Ok. Why not take me to a hospital and dump me off?"
Steve smiled. "You hear that?" He pointed to the roof. Bailey looked up. Her tin reference was dead on.
"It's raining?"
"Pouring. This place is on a hill, so it's dry. The pond is flooded. The road is about two feet of mud. My truck got stuck tryin' to get outta here."
"I have…a…uh…" Bailey squinted, trying to think. "A…Jeep?"
Steve cocked an eyebrow. "Where, darlin'?"
"I have no idea." She admitted.
"Wasn't a car where you were. Not a Jeep either." He said softly. "I saw a light comin' from the pond, and walked over there. It started rainin'. Like I said, I about tripped over ya on the way. Light turned out to be a mostly dead flashlight. I got ya, carried you back to my truck, piled ya in. Got about halfway to the road when the damn thing bogged down. Forecast didn't call for this rain, and I didn't expect to be leavin' for a week or two, so I'm not drivin' my all wheel. Didn't know what else to do, so I brought ya back here. Let me look at that head of yours."
Bailey leaned forward obediently and winced and hissed her breath as he gently checked her wound. "Lost a bit'a blood, but I think you'll live, darlin'. I got a barrel of rainwater. Why don't ya try washin' that blood outta your hair?" Steve pointed to the corner near the fire. A waist high wooden barrel stood there. Bailey got shakily to her feet, leaning on him for support, as she went that way.
"I don't wanna get blood in your water."
"You hear that rain?" Steve said with a chuckle. "Won't take but five minutes to refill it. You go on now, see if you can lean over. Grab the edge, it'll help."
Bailey slowly moved, tilting forward so her hair dangled into the water. A wave of dizziness washed over her, momentarily clouding her vision. Steve held her still, not letting her sink down.
"Fight out of it darlin'." He murmured, stroking her back. Bailey managed to shake off most of the dizziness in a minute, and carefully dunked her head under the water. The rainwater had been slightly warmed by the fire, but it was still cool enough against her scalp to make her gasp. It felt nice against the wound, numbing it a bit. Steve did something behind her, rummaged, and poured something onto her hair.
"Don't get used to this, darlin'. I don't usually do hair." He said with another chuckle. He began rubbing her hair gently, and she smelled something citrus. Shampoo. He was bald and carried shampoo. She would probably find that funny later, but right now he was rubbing that lump and it was making her want to cry.
Steve rinsed her off and gave her a towel. Bailey carefully wrapped it around her head, and stood up straight, ready to fight off another wave of dizziness. When it didn't come, Steve helped her into a chair. "You hungry?"
She was surprised by the question. She knew she needed to get out of there, but had no idea whyshe needed to get out of there. Everything was still foggy. Except for Ken. She remembered him, remembered he was her friend, and somehow her partner in something. She just didn't remember what.
"I don't know if I can eat." She finally answered, leaning back and shivering. She was hot but she was shivering. Weird.
"I'll heat up some soup. See if ya can hold it down. Then we can go for lobster and caviar." Bailey smiled weakly and closed her eyes as Steve set about warming a can of soup. She knew she should be uneasy, but didn't know why. And she knew she had to get out of there and figure out what the hell had happened to her as soon as possible.