Remember Me (10 page)

Matt sighed. “I’m sorry, Jim. I know this is tough on you. I’m not going to be able to wait too much longer before I notify Brandon Barrett’s family. This isn’t like some run-of-the-mill Joe. The guy’s the COO of one of the biggest media companies in the United States. And I have to warn you, once this gets out, this place will be swamped.”

“Then let’s hope we find them in short order. Tom’s a fine pilot, Matt. You know that. If they ran into trouble, he could land that little Cessna almost anywhere.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

After hanging up with Jim, Matt stared out the window of his office. He and Bran had been through a lot together over the years. When Matt had torn himself up skiing, Bran had been there for him. In fact, without his friend’s support, Matt had wondered sometimes if he wouldn’t have ended up a cripple. Brandon had been the one to bully, badger and bolster him through the surgeries and rehab. He’d been the one there to pick up the pieces when Matt had returned to the World Cup circuit and faced the knowledge his comeback wasn’t quite enough. His dreams of reigning at the top of the competitive ski world were over, so Bran had given him the backing to get Falcon’s Summit where it needed to be to become a world-class resort.

He owed Brandon’s family. He couldn’t keep this a secret any longer. With a reluctance born not only of what he would have to say, but also to whom he would have to say it, Matt picked up the phone. He had Bran’s parents’ phone number from way back, and he doubted it had changed. They didn’t live in a house…they inhabited a kingdom. The phone was answered on the third ring by a supercilious-sounding British voice no doubt belonging to a butler. He was informed Mr. and Mrs. Barlow-Barrett were entertaining.

“I don’t care if their guest list includes the president and the pope. This is an emergency regarding their son Brandon. I need Mr. Barlow-Barrett on the phone right now.”

That appeared to get the man’s attention. Matt drummed his fingers while he waited for the phone to be picked up.

“This is Alexander Barlow-Barrett. What is the meaning of this?”

Cold and imperious, just as Matt remembered him from the few–thank God–brushes he’d had with Bran’s old man. “This is Matt Petersohn from Falcon’s Summit in Colorado. There’s no easy way to tell you this, sir. Your son is among three people missing aboard a charter flight out here.”

Dead silence greeted him.

Chapter 7

For most of her adult life, Lucy had pushed herself to her physical and mental limits. And just how funny was that coming from a stripper? But it was true. She had demanded a lot of her mind through college, and of her body by keeping fit enough to have a long career as an exotic dancer. While other girls came and went like fans rushing through a turnstile at a rock concert, Lucy had been at Flamingo Road since she was old enough to dance.

Right now, she began to think she’d reached her limit. She trudged back to the cabin carrying a duffel bag filled with her booty from the other fishing cabin and wondered how much longer she could last before she collapsed. But collapsing was not an option. She had to take care of Brandon, had to stay alert in case anyone flew over tonight searching for them. She had found a flare, but didn’t want to waste it, since the burn time wouldn’t be long.

She opened the door to find him curled on his side toward the fire. What wouldn’t she give at that moment to be able to stretch out next to him, to feel his arms wrap around her, his voice tell her everything would be all right? She shook the image from her mind. Practicality. That’s what was needed now.

Lucy spooned coffee into the smaller of the two pots she’d found, put snow in with it and set it at the edge of the fire. She added more snow to the second pot and set it on the other side. Once that water was hot, she would stir in the beef stew. In the meantime, she could tend to Brandon’s head. The other cabin had sported pots and pans, but it had also boasted a couple blankets and a first aid kit. Nothing elaborate, but enough to clean and disinfect his head injury.

He woke with a hiss when she cleaned the cut. “Damn! That hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Brandon, but I need to get this cleaned some.” While she worked, he watched her. She placed a butterfly bandage on the cut, thinking it needed stitching, and gave him a small smile. “There. That’s the best I can do right now. I have coffee on and once the water is hot, it shouldn’t take long to get the beef stew ready.”

“Where are we?”

“At one of the fishing cabins at Haven Lake.”

He looked confused. “I’m not familiar with Haven Lake.”

A trickle of unease slid along her spine. “It’s a lake in Colorado not too far from Falcon’s Head.”

His gaze shifted around the cabin. “You said we were in a crash. What kind?”

Lucy packed the first aid gear before answering. He didn’t remember, but that wasn’t any big deal. A lot of people had blurry memories of traumatic events. “A plane crash, coming back from Coyote Creek.” She paused. “Do you know who you are?”

His gaze shifted to her. “Brandon Barlow-Barrett.” She sagged in relief until his next words destroyed her world. “Who are you?”

Lucy had always wondered if she would be able to smile in the face of disaster. Now she knew. The answer was yes. She kept a small smile curving her lips, faced the man she loved, the man who had no idea who she was, and introduced herself. “I’m Lucy Cameron.”

He hesitated. “Do we know each other?”

“We met a couple of days ago,” she responded, keeping her tone casual, and turned to the fire to check the coffee and the stew, as if their meeting were no more important than what time of day it might be. No way was she burdening him with the intimacies of their relationship. Not on top of everything else. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He rubbed the uninjured side of his head near his temple. “Arguing with my father during a breakfast meeting at Barrett Newspapers headquarters over the future of
National News
.”

Amazing. Her hand was steady as she poured some coffee.
National News
. His family’s newspaper. Brandon hadn’t been honest with her either. Saying his family was in communications was like saying Bill Gates worked on computers. She held the mug out to him. “Here. Be careful with this. It’s hot.”

She felt his eyes on her while she stirred the stew.

“How long have we been here?”

“A few hours. You and the pilot tried the radio when the engine started acting up, but you didn’t have any luck.” She saw him reach for his phone. He could remember what pocket he kept his phone in, but not the woman he’d made love to two nights in a row. Wow. That was a real ego adjustment. “Your phone’s broken.”

His gaze went to the window next to the door. “The plane’s emergency transponder should have activated. Someone will be looking by first light, if they aren’t already.” He rubbed his head. “Where’s the pilot?”

Lucy swallowed and shook her head. “Dead.”

He looked around. “You got me here on your own?”

“Yes. It had to be done.” Lucy scooted nearer the beef stew and dished some into a bowl. She didn’t want to talk about this. She wanted them to eat and go to sleep, so she could lick her wounds in private. “Here. Eat.”

“What about you?”

“There’s one bowl. I’ll eat when you’re through.” She stood and turned her back to him. “I’m going to bring in some more wood.”

Anything to get outside, away from the man who’d forgotten her and everything they’d shared. She threw her coat on and walked out of the cabin. After stacking plenty of wood next to the fireplace and next to the door, she looked at the pile behind the cabin, and an idea came to her. Lucy toted armful upon armful of wood to the edge of the lake, well away from the cabin and in an area where the wind had blown away much of the snow cover. With meticulous care, she laid out the letters SOS along the lakeshore. She hoped it was big enough for someone to read from the air.

The cold whipped her cheeks as she looked over her work. It had to be enough. They had to be rescued soon because she just didn’t know how much longer she could keep her pain and exhaustion under wraps. Even out here, she was afraid to let go. If she did, there was no telling if she could get herself under control again.

* * * *

Alexander Barlow-Barrett had always prided himself on being stoic. His wife, Patricia, was cut from the same cloth. Over the years, they’d worked well together because they both understood a good marriage was seldom founded on the heat of passion. It was built over time with care. They had paid attention to their relationship and their children, always felt they knew what was best for their progeny. In recent years, that had been called into question. First with Preston, who had been a constant trial, and then with Seth, whose rebellion he didn’t quite understand. Still, Alex lived in hope Seth would be coaxed back into the fold. In the meantime, his younger brother had been doing an excellent job of running the company.

Brandon had surprised him. Prior to Seth’s defection, Brandon had seemed far too flippant and carefree to be taken seriously when it came to running Barrett, but in the last few months, Alex had seen a whole new side to his middle son, a side he could respect even if he didn’t always agree with the sometimes radical ideas Brandon set forth.

Now, for the first time since Preston had run away from her boarding school, fear gnawed at Alex. Following the phone call from Brandon’s ski bum friend, he had broken the news to Tricia. With the calm that had always epitomized them, they had seen their guests out the door and instructed the servants to begin packing. Breaking from her usual after dinner sherry, Tricia had asked for a scotch on the rocks, just like Alex’s.

He reached over across the armrest of the private jet seat and took her hand in his. “We will find him. He will be fine.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why he had to come out here. We have such beautiful places to ski in the East. And what is wrong with the house in Stowe? This could have been prevented.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed as he glanced out the window. They would arrive in Denver before dawn. The authorities had discouraged them from trying to fly into Falcon’s Head during the dark, but had promised they would get them in at first light. Of course, taking the Barrett jet was out of the question since the runway in Falcon’s Head wasn’t long enough. Alex chafed at the inconvenience. Once they found Brandon, he wanted to be able to get him to the best medical facilities without delay.

He reviewed what he’d learned. Because no emergency beacon had activated, authorities were already looking at maintenance records for the aircraft, and what they were uncovering was disturbing. While Tom and Jim Hanson had been in business for more than twenty years with an impeccable safety record, the maintenance logs for the missing C-182 showed the mechanic they’d hired a few months ago hadn’t checked everything he was supposed to during the plane’s last routine service. One of the things he’d failed to check was the batteries for the emergency transponder. It made Alex wonder what else had been overlooked or lied about.

They would get to the bottom of it, and someone would be held accountable, but first and foremost, they would find his son and he would bring Brandon home. Alex cleared his throat and kept his eyes averted from his wife. Seth had always been her favorite of their three boys, but Alex had found his eldest son wearing most of the time. Perhaps because they were both too stiff-necked and opinionated. Brandon was the most easygoing of the three, but still had a mind and a business sense that were flawless. And right now, Alex would admit it to himself, if no one else, Brandon had always been his favorite. He was a born negotiator who nevertheless stood up for what he believed in and charmed most people into agreeing with him.

If there was any way for anyone to survive an airplane crash, Brandon was the one to do it. Alex had to keep reassuring himself.

* * * *

Lucy let herself into the cabin. Brandon had set his cup and his mug to the side and was stretched out once more. When she saw he was sleeping, she let him be. There would be time enough later to get him to move from the floor to the cot nearby. In the meantime, she would get coffee and stew.

Her muscles were beginning to let her know in no uncertain terms that her body had gone through a trauma, and she had been pushing herself to the limit ever since then. Brandon had to outweigh her by at least seventy-five pounds, and she had managed to move him around a half-mile or more. The last thing she needed right now was to worry about what she ate. She needed calories to restore what she’d lost. Then she needed rest. The emotional disaster her life had become would have to wait until later, until after they were rescued.

In the back of her mind was the thought maybe Brandon would remember. She had read somewhere amnesia was most often a temporary thing. But she didn’t want to try to live on hope that was true. Since he had suffered a head injury, he probably had a concussion in addition to the broken ankle. The best thing would be to keep him as quiet as possible.

Retreating to the small wooden table near the window, Lucy sipped her coffee while she waited for the stew to cool enough for her to eat. It wasn’t the best meal she’d eaten, but thinking back to her teenage years, she’d also eaten meals a whole lot worse. This one warmed her and filled her. For now, that was enough.