Page 38 of Deception

He squeezed her hand and quickly walked through the same ICU doors the doctor had exited. Clayton was much later than he’d told Rebecca he would be and hoped she was still around. He relaxed when she was at the desk and looked up as he approached.

“Good. You’re here,” Rebecca said.

“Took a few minutes longer than I thought it would, and then I stopped by the waiting room to speak with Judge Anderson’s granddaughter.”

The nurse nodded her understanding. “If you spoke to Madison, I’m sure you know it’s still touch and go with him. As for your Jane Doe, she’s very weak and slipping in and out of consciousness.”

Clayton followed Rebecca into the room where the patient lay with her eyes closed. In his mind, he’d taken to calling her Jane.

“Good morning again,” the nurse said softly.

Jane turned her head toward them and blinked her eyes open. They were as blue as Madison’s, and after spending several hours with the ISB agent last night and just leaving her now, it was surreal to see another person with the same features.

While the charge nurse checked Jane Doe’s IVs, the patient moved restlessly in the bed. It was evident she was struggling to stay awake, but after a few seconds, she closed her eyes and slipped back into sleep. He studied her face, looking for a difference in features, and even with the vent tube pulling on her mouth, the resemblance to Madison was strong. It would help if she were here for him to compare the two.

Almost as if he’d conjured her up, there was a knock at the door and Madison walked in. Rebecca hurried to her and whispered something, and the two walked out into the hallway. Clayton followed them.

“Since you weren’t aware of this person’s existence, I’m not sure our Jane Doe is aware of you, either. It might be quite a shock for her to see you,” Rebecca said. “I’d like to prepare her first.”

“I totally understand,” Madison replied. “Can she talk at all?”

“No, but like I told Clayton, we’re weaning her off the vent. If all goes well, she should be able to speak later today. In the meantime, she has a pad and pen and can write and does seem to comprehend what I say to her.”

Another nurse approached them and requested Rebecca’s help. “Be right back,” she said and walked away.

“How’s your grandfather?” he asked.

“He’s extremely critical. He’s around the corner in room 211.” Madison’s phone buzzed. “It’s Hugh.”

Clayton nodded and returned to the room to give her privacy. He looked for a chair to move closer to the bed so that if Jane Doe roused, he wouldn’t be standing over her. He winced when he bumped the bed with the chair.

She turned her head toward him and opened her eyes again. They were much clearer this time. She lifted a notepad that was on the bed, scribbled on it, and pushed it toward him.“Who are you?”

“Clayton Bradshaw,” he replied. “I’m a law enforcement ranger on the Natchez Trace. That’s where you were found. What’s your name?”

Her brows lowered, and she hesitated. Clayton thought she was drifting off to sleep again, but then she scratched out letters on the notepad. When she finished, the pen relaxed in her hand. Clayton waited a second before he tore the sheet from the notepad.

Lindsey Tremont.She roused again, and he smiled. “It’s good to have a name—I’ve been calling you Jane Doe.”

A frown shadowed her face, and she wrote,“Why? Purse. ID.”

“Unfortunately, both are missing, as well as your car and the young woman you were with.”

She groaned and shook her head.

He patted her arm. “Don’t try to talk, it’ll only frustrate you.”

The frown deepened as she tried to open her eyes, but sleep won out, and her face relaxed again into a deep sleep. At least he had a name now. Lindsey Tremont. Clayton stood and strode to the door. A background check should give him answers. And a certain ISB agent could probably get a more thorough report than he could. And quicker.

23

Madison gripped her phone. The call from Hugh quickly became a conference call with the FBI agent and Evan McCall, the district law enforcement ranger at Ridgeland, and David Sowell, her ISB superintendent in Hot Springs. Their suggestion that she take the next few days off hadn’t been one she wanted to hear.

“I need to be busy,” she said. “Sitting at the hospital all day won’t help my grandfather. Besides, the US Marshal posted outside his door promised if there’s any change, he’ll call immediately.”

“Okay,” McCall said. “Since you want to be busy, I’d like for you to assist Clayton in the shooting at Coles Creek.”

“What?” Surely she’d misunderstood him. He knew she didn’t do violent crimes. “Clayton can handle the investigation by himself.”

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