15 Minutes to Live by Phoef Sutton

Author:Phoef Sutton [Sutton, Phoef]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Adventure, Thriller, action, Amnesia - Fiction, Television Producers and Directors - Fiction, Television Producers and Directors, Romantic Suspense Novels, Amnesia
ISBN: 9780399143175
Google: DeNH-9lCQYEC
Amazon: 0399143173
Publisher: Putnam Adult
Published: 1998-05-04T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Carl knocked on the loading dock doors, hearing them echo, knowing no one would answer.

When he had seen his car, silver and stately in the afternoon light, he had run to it as if it was an old friend. He half expected to see her curled up in the backseat, asleep. But she wasn’t there, and no unlikely clue as to her whereabouts was produced by his unreasonably hopeful search of the interior.

The car had been his only link to her, and now that she was separated from it, she seemed more lost to him than ever. He walked with Frank to the school and went from door to door, finding no one, Frank averting his eyes from Carl’s face.

They were turning from the loading dock door now, and Frank was about to say something, when the door opened. A short, stocky man with curly red hair and a neatly trimmed beard looked out at them.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Hello. I was wondering if you saw a woman here yesterday. In her thirties, a white dress, long sandy-colored hair?”

“Here?” He shrugged. His face was expressive in a European way and his eyes frank and blue and easy to trust. “Just the kids and the teachers. Is something wrong?”

“No, but . . .” Hell, was there really any reason not to tell him? Carl found an old business card the studio had printed for him in his wallet and handed it over—it was the first time he could remember giving one out. “Here’s my name and number. If you see her, give me a call. You see, she’s a little disoriented.” He tapped his forehead with two fingers.

Frank was next to him now, smiling and cutting him off. “But I think we’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you.”

The man was still reading the scrap of paper. He looked up and smiled happily. “I’ll call if I see anything,” he said, and Carl’s heart sank a little as he went back in and shut the door on them.

Carl turned to Frank in irritation. “How am I supposed to find something out if you don’t let me talk?”

Carl was amazed at how clearly the hurt registered on Frank’s face. “I’m sorry, Carl.”

Carl sat down on the edge of the loading dock, letting his legs dangle despondently. Frank stood next to him and cleared his throat in embarrassment. “This is true, isn’t it, Carl?”

There was no humor in his question this time, but no anger either. For the first time Carl realized how crazy it was. Not the story, not Jesse’s reappearance, but how easily Frank had believed him. A stranger comes to him with this tale and no proof, and off he goes looking for her. He must love her very much, Carl thought with an acute feeling of uneasiness. He reached into his pocket for some bit of proof to offer as comfort to this rival. He pulled out the car keys he’d found in the greenhouse. “Here are her keys.”

Frank took them from Carl’s hand, glanced over them, and tossed them back to Carl.

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