For a second it seemed that she was going to stir. Stone froze in his seat, not sure what he would do if she started to wake up. He supposed he would have to duck out of the room before she realized he was there. But she didn’t open her eyes and if she seemed more restless than before, it was only noticeable to him because he was watching her so closely.
“Mr. Ward?”
He glanced up and saw the nurse standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“You’ve got about two more minutes, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
He nodded, then turned his attention back to Cathy. “They want me to go so you can rest. I’ll be back tomorrow. It would be great if you were awake for that.” Actually he didn’t know how he would handle the situation if she was, but he would deal with that problem when it occurred.
He released her hand, then rose to his feet. He moved to the small closet by the door to the bathroom. Inside were a pair of worn jeans and a large, faded T-shirt. A purse rested on a shelf. He pulled it down and stared at the smoky handprints clearly visible on the cheap vinyl. She’d obviously been clutching her purse when they’d rescued her.
After making sure the nurse had returned to her station, he opened the bag and pulled out Cathy’s wallet. He made a note of her home address on her driver’s license, then checked the remaining contents. She had one credit card and fourteen dollars to her name. He replaced the wallet and returned to the bed.
“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. She didn’t stir. On his way out, he stopped and told the nurse he wanted Cathy moved to a private room. He would pay the difference.
Twenty minutes later, he eased the BMW off the freeway and into the silent suburban community of North Hollywood. Despite the name, there was a range of foothills between this city and the tourist and movie mecca of Hollywood proper. Parts of North Hollywood had been renovated in recent years. He checked street names against the map in his car, then, after making a few wrong turns, he found himself on Cathy’s street.
He parked in front of the small dark house. It had been built in the fifties, along with most of the other homes on the street. There were mature trees, small lots, older cars. There was nothing wrong with the house—except that she’d told him she lived in a nice condo by the pass.
“Cathy Eldridge, you are a fraud,” he murmured in the quiet of the night.
Why had she done it? Why had she lied to him? Even as he asked the questions, he knew the answers could be found in the conversations he had with Cathy. She knew just enough about him to assume he lived an extravagant life-style. His company, Ward International, was well-known. Cathy probably thought she had to create an exciting existence to keep his attention. She probably thought he wouldn’t be interested in someone living in ordinary circumstances. Just like Evelyn.
Evelyn. He closed his eyes and willed that memory away. He didn’t want to think about her. Not now, not this night.
So Cathy had created a world that existed somewhere between truth and lies. Were the friends real? Any of the travel? Her dog? He stared at the small house and shook his head. If only she’d realized that what drew him to her wasn’t where she went or what she did. It was the sound of her voice, her laughter, the sharp wit and obvious intelligence.
He started the car and drove toward the freeway. He supposed he should be angry with her, but he wasn’t. Despite the stories, she was still Cathy. He still cared about her, and were she to disappear from his world, he would miss her more than she would ever guess.
* * *
Stone watched the first fingers of sunlight creep across the floor of the private hospital room. He stood and stretched, trying to ease the crick in his neck and the dull throbbing in the small of his back. He’d spent most of the previous two nights at Cathy’s bedside, holding her hand, talking to her, enjoying her quiet company.
There had been a few times of lucidity, when she’d stirred, opened her eyes and even spoken. He was careful to stay in the shadows then, waiting until she dozed off again before moving close.
He glanced at his watch. Mary, the night nurse, would be by shortly to take vital signs and draw blood. Stone knew that he should be leaving. As it was, he was going to be driving home in daylight. Not to worry, he told himself. Commuters were much too interested in getting to work on time for them to notice him.
He returned to Cathy’s side and took her hand. In the past two nights, he’d become intimately familiar with her hand and her fingers. He knew every bump, every curve, every line. He’d traced the shape of her nails, discovered the hollow of her palm. Now his hand curled around hers with a comfortable familiarity.
“Hey, kid, I’m going to have to go soon,” he said quietly. “But I’ll be back tonight. I know, I know, you’re getting sick of my company, but I don’t have anything planned so you’re stuck with me.”
He knew eventually he was going to have to step out of the shadows and let her know he was there. Tonight, he promised himself. When he returned.
He looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her chest barely moving as she drew in each breath. He inhaled deeply, matching his rhythm with hers. As he did, he caught the scent of the flowers that filled every available surface of her room. He’d had them delivered the first day. Not knowing what she liked, he’d had the florist bring some of everything. Sweet smells formed a heady perfume that would always remind him of her.
He’d wondered if any other flowers would join his. Her employer had sent a plant, but no one else seemed to care that Cathy was in the hospital. Stone was no longer surprised.
Curiosity and concern had won over guilt, and he’d asked one of his people to investigate her. Knowing her place of employment, her home address and driver’s license number had made the search simple.
Cathy Eldridge, age twenty-eight. An only child. Her father had run off before she started grade school, and her mother had been an alcoholic who had died when Cathy was twenty-one. No siblings, no relatives, no friends. Not even a dog.
At times he thought he should be angry with her for lying to him and for assuming that he would require her to make up an exciting life as a prerequisite for a friendship. At other times the thought of her solitary existence was an all too familiar reflection of his own empty world. She had too little, he had too much and they were both alone. Perhaps that was what had drawn them together.
“Mr. Ward?”
He glanced up and saw Mary hovering in the doorway.
“Ms. Eldridge’s doctor is making his rounds. Would you like to speak to him?”
