Page 6 of Rawhide and Ransom

“Do I ever!” Maggie gave a sympathetic chuckle. “Tell you what. If you agree to stick around for a few hours and help out, I promise to share my chocolate stash with you.” She nimbly hopped inside the truck to push the harder-to-reach items closer to the cart.

Annalee’s stomach growled at the mention of food, making her grimace. “Sorry,” she muttered. “They called me in at the last minute, so I didn’t have time to grab breakfast.” Wow! She wasn’t half bad at making stuff up.

“You poor thing,” Maggie clucked, hopping back to the ground to finish the task. “Maybe you should dig into my chocolate stash sooner rather than later.”

Annalee’s heart leaped with hope. “Maybe we should,” she gushed.

When they were finished unloading the truck, Maggie pulled down the roll-top door and slapped the side of the truck to notify the driver he was free to leave.

“Alright, chocolate time,” Maggie announced.

“Sounds good to me!” Annalee’s stomach growled again as they pushed the cart toward the entrance of the dry cleaner. Fortunately, the double front doors were already propped open.

Once inside the store, she absorbed her new surroundings, looking for anything that would help her pinpoint her current location. While Maggie ducked behind the front counter and did some rummaging around, Annalee’s gaze landed on a set of business cards on the counter. The address of the building she was standing in was in Clarendon, Texas.

Clarendon?She quelled a shiver, realizing she was only about forty miles from home. Forty miles from the scene of her accident. Forty miles away from her only child who was probably frantic with worry about her.

The laundry truck rumbled to life outside the store windows and rolled away.

“Cold?” Maggie straightened and gave Annalee a worried look as she slid a pair of chocolate chip granola bars across the counter toward her.

“Not really. Just…you know…crampy.” Annalee gratefully accepted the granola bars, unable to remember the last time she’d eaten anything solid. While in a coma, she would’ve been fed a liquid diet through a feeding tube. It had to be why she felt so famished.

Maggie plopped a bottle of water on the counter in front of Annalee. “There’s a coffee shop about a block away if you’d rather have something hot to wash down the granola bars.” She made a face. “They’re too cheap to keep our coffee maker going here in the middle of June.”

June.Annalee mentally pounced on the word as Maggie supplied yet another detail about her current existence. That certainly would explain the warmth and the sunshine. She tore open one of the granola bars while pocketing the other. It was an odd feeling not to be in possession of a wallet, cell phone, or the lip balm she normally carried. However, it was comforting to remember something so simple.

Maybe her memories leading up to the collision would return soon, as well. Right now, the most important thing was getting in touch with her daughter. She needed to know that Miley was okay.

It was a burning thought Annalee couldn’t shake. She hungrily downed half of the first granola bar and chugged down most of the water.

Maggie eyed her progress with approval. “Gotta stay hydrated when you’re on your feet all day like we are.” She produced a second bottle of water and slid it Annalee’s way. “Fortunately, the company keeps us stocked with water. It’s not fancy, but it does the trick.”

“Thank you!” Annalee decided that now was as good a time as any to press her luck. “Can I ask another favor?”

“Sure! Whatcha need?” Despite all of Maggie’s earlier crabbing about her employer, she seemed anxious to please the “help” Annalee had made her believe they’d sent her way.

“To make a phone call, please.” Annalee pulled the lining of her pockets inside out for emphasis. “My cell phone must’ve fallen out of my pocket in my friend’s car when he dropped me off. Either that, or?—”

“Just make it quick.” Maggie pulled out her personal cell phone and slapped it on the counter. “All of these hospital linens aren’t gonna wash themselves.”

“I hear you.” Annalee’s fingers trembled as she picked up the phone and dialed her daughter. While it rang, she spun around and walked outside through the double doors that were still propped open.

Come on, Miley. Pick up, hon!

The line connected and a woman asked irritably, “Who’s this?”

It definitely wasn’t Miley’s voice. Annalee’s insides swirled with dread. “I’m trying to reach Miley.” What she really wanted to ask was,Who are you, and why are you answering my daughter’s phone?

There was a pregnant pause, followed by an ugly laugh. “Aren’t we all?”

A burst of anger turned Annalee’s insides to burning embers. “Put my daughter on the line,” she snapped. “Now! Before I go to the police.”

The woman’s laugh died. “You aren’t in any position to be making demands.”

“What are you talking about?” The dread inside Annalee grew. “Who are you?”

“Annalee Gilbert, of course. Miley’s mother.”

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