by Diana Palmer
“Right.” She turned off the phone and closed her eyes. She’d remember to tell her father in the morning, but the last threat about her father had never materialized, nor had any threat against herself. She was beginning to think that it was a campaign of terror. If so, it wasn’t going to work. She refused to live her life afraid.
But she did say an extra prayer at church the next day. Just to be on the safe side.
* * *
HER FATHER WASN’T at the breakfast table Monday morning. She had a cup of coffee and two pieces of toast and paused to check the truck over before she started it. She wasn’t afraid, but caution wasn’t too high a price to pay for safety.
She got into the office, put her coat away and shoved her purse under the desk. She pushed her hair back. It was a damp morning, so her naturally wavy hair was curling like crazy because of the humidity.
She turned the mail out of its bag onto the desk. She’d stopped by the post office, as she did every morning on her way to work. There was a lot of it to go through before the chief came in. She made coffee and shared it with one of the patrolmen. He went out, leaving the office empty.
She sat down at her desk and picked up a letter opener. She’d just started on the first letter when the door opened and a cold wind came in.
Carson was furious. His black eyes were snapping like flames. He stopped in front of the desk.
“What the hell did you say to Lanette Saturday night?” he demanded.
She blinked. “I didn’t—”
“She was so upset she couldn’t even talk,” he said angrily. “She cried all the way home. Then she phoned me this morning, still in tears, and said she was having to go to the doctor for anxiety meds because of the upset.”
“I didn’t say anything to her,” she repeated.
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t get ideas.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was only two dances,” he said in a mocking tone. “Not a marriage proposal. I’ve told you before, you’re not the sort of woman who appeals to me. In any way.”
She stood up. “Thank God.”
He just stared at her. He didn’t speak.
“Your girlfriend was showing more skin than a bikini model,” she pointed out. “Obviously that’s the sort of woman you like, one who advertises everything she’s got in the front window, right? You know why you like her? Because she’s temporary. She’s a throwaway. She’s not the sort of woman who’d want anything to do with a permanent relationship or children...”
His face went hard. His black eyes glittered. “That’s enough.”
She bit her lip. “You’re right, it’s none of my business. But just for the record,” she added angrily, “you’re the sort of man I’d run from as fast as my legs would carry me. You think you’re irresistible? You, with your notched bedpost and years of one-night stands? God only knows what sorts of diseases you’ve exposed yourself to...!”
The insult put a fire under him. He started toward her with blood in his eye, bent on intimidation. The movement was quick, threatening, dangerous. The shock of it took her stumbling backward toward the wall. On the way, she grabbed a chair and held it, trembling, legs out, toward him while she cursed herself for her stupid runaway tongue.
He stopped suddenly. He realized, belatedly, that she was afraid of him. Her face was chalk-white. The chair she’d suspended in midair was shaking, like her slender young body. She was gasping for breath. Wheezing. Coughing.
He frowned.
“Don’t...!” she choked, swallowing, coughing again.
The door opened. “What in the hell...?”
“Stay with her,” Carson said curtly, running past Cash. He made a dash to his car, grabbed his medical kit and burst back in the door just as Cash was taking the chair from Carlie and putting her firmly down in it.
“Grab her driver’s license,” he ordered Cash as he unzipped the kit. He pulled a cell phone out of his slacks. “Who’s her doctor?”
“Lou Coltrain,” Cash replied.
Carlie couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe.
She heard Carson talking to someone on the other end of the phone. She heard her boss relaying statistics. Why did they need her weight? She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the air was stuck inside her lungs and couldn’t get out. She heard a weird whistling sound. Was that her?
Carson tore open packages. He swabbed the bend of her elbow and pulled up a liquid from a small bottle into a syringe. He squirted out a drop.
“This may hurt. I’m sorry.” He drove the needle into her arm. His face was like stone. He was almost as pale as she was.
Her breathing began to ease, just a little. Tears sprung from her eyes and ran, hot, down her cheeks.
“Call the emergency room,” Carson told Cash. “Tell them I’m bringing her in. She needs to be checked by a physician.”
“All right,” Cash said tightly. “Then we’ll have a talk.”
Carson nodded curtly. He handed Carlie her purse, picked her up in his arms and carried her out the door.
6
OUTSIDE, A PATROL car was waiting, its lights flashing like mad.
“Chief said for me to lead you to the emergency room,” the patrolman called to Carson.
“Thanks,” he said. He put Carlie in the passenger seat, strapped her in and threw himself behind the steering wheel.
He ran two red lights, right behind the police car. It was only a short drive to the hospital, but he wanted to get Carlie there as quickly as he could. Her color was still bad, although she was breathing a little easier.
“Damn...you,” she cursed, sobbing.
“Yes,” he rasped. He glanced at her as he pulled up at the emergency entrance. “God, I’m sorry!”
He got out, unfastened her seat belt and carried her right past the waiting gurney with its attendant, past the clerk, back into a waiting room, trailing irritated people.
“Dr. Coltrain is ready for her, we called ahead,” he said over his shoulder.
“Is that Carlie?” the clerk exclaimed. “Is she all right?”
“Not really,” Carson said in a rough tone. He carried her into a treatment room. Seconds later, a blonde woman in a white lab coat came in, a stethoscope around her neck.
“Are you the one who called me from her office?” she asked, glancing at Carson. “You said that she was upset and having trouble breathing.”
“Yes,” Carson said quietly. “I’d bet my left arm on asthma.”
“Asthma?” Dr. Lou Coltrain frowned at him.
She turned to Carlie, who was still gasping. “Epinephrine. You said on the phone that you were giving her epinephrine.”
“Yes,” Carson replied tersely. He reminded her of the dosage. “I checked her weight on her driver’s license first.”
She nodded. “Fran, bring me an inhaler,” she said to a nurse nearby. She gave the name brand and the dosage. “Hurry.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the woman said, and went to get it.
Lou examined Carlie, aware that she was glaring at the man who’d brought her in. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets and he looked as if somebody had cut the life out of him. She didn’t have to guess what had prompted Carlie’s attack. Guilt was written all over him.
“She has no history of asthma,” Lou said.
“Allergies to perfume, difficulty breathing after exertion, coughing fits,” Carson said.
Lou frowned as she glanced at him. “Sporadic?”
“Very. Difficult to diagnose without proper equipment. I’d recommend an allergist.”
“Yes. So would I.”
She finished her examination. Fran was back with the inhaler. Lou instructed her in its use and waited until she’d taken several puffs.
“You’re lu
cky that you had no underlying heart conditions, like a sinus node issue,” Lou said as she watched Carlie suck in the meds. “Epinephrine can kill someone with a serious arrhythmia.” She glanced at Carson. “You knew that.”
He nodded. His face was solemn, still. He didn’t add anything to the nod.
“One more puff, and then I want you to lie there and rest. I’ll be back to check on you in a minute. Feeling better?” Lou asked Carlie, and smiled as she smoothed the ruffled wavy dark hair.
“Much. Thanks, Lou.”
Lou turned to Carson. “Can I speak with you?”
He glanced at Carlie. She averted her eyes. He sighed and followed Lou into an empty treatment room nearby.
Lou turned, pinning him with pale eyes. “You know too much for a layman.”
“Field medic in the military,” he replied.
She pursed her lips. “Try again.”
He drew in a breath. She was quick. Nobody else had ever questioned his skills. “I finished medical school and got my degree. I’d have gone into an internship after, but I quit.”
“I thought so. Why did you quit?”
His face closed up. “Personal issues. Serious ones. I went off the deep end for a few years.”
“I think you’re still there,” Lou replied. “Off the deep end, I mean.” She jerked her head toward Carlie. “What do you know about her?”
“A hell of a lot more than I thought I did, after the past few minutes,” he said flatly. “We had an argument. My fault. I’m hotheaded and I was...frustrated. I started toward her...” He held up a hand when she looked ready to explode. “I’ve never hit a woman in my life,” he interrupted, his black eyes flashing. “My father beat my mother to death in a drunken fit. He went to prison and he was killed by one of her relatives who was serving life on a murder charge. I know more about violence than you have time to hear.”
Her face relaxed, just a little. “I’m sorry.”
“I would never have struck her. I just went closer.” He drew in a breath and leaned back against the block wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes sad. “She backed away and picked up a chair to hold me at bay. That’s when I noticed that she was barely able to breathe. I frightened her. I don’t know why. Unless there’s some violence in her past that I’m not aware of.”
“There is,” Lou said quietly. “But I don’t discuss patients.” She smiled to soften the words.
“I understand.”
“You reacted very quickly. You may have saved her life.” She studied him from across the cubicle. “You also treated Sheriff Hayes Carson when you rescued him and Minette, across the border. You know, doctors are getting thin on the ground. Except for specialists, there’s just me and Copper,” she added, referring to her husband, also a physician, “and Micah Steele.”
His face tautened. “I’m doing a job I like.”
“Really?”
He averted his eyes.
“I’m no psychologist,” she said after a minute, “but even I can see through the anger. You’re hiding, inside yourself.”
“Don’t we all do that?” he asked.
“To some extent, yes.” She smiled. “I’ll stop. I just hate to see waste. You surely don’t want to spend the rest of your life feeding people to crocodiles?” she added.
He groaned. “Does everybody know everything in this town?”
“Pretty much,” she agreed. “We don’t have secrets from each other. We’re family,” she explained. “We come from all backgrounds, all cultures, all religions. But there are so few of us in Jacobsville and Comanche Wells that we think of ourselves as just one big family.”
“Not what I connected with small towns,” he confessed. “And I don’t share my secrets.”
“You never carry ID with you,” she began. “You work for Cy Parks, but Eb Scott sends you on assignments periodically. You have a very bad reputation for being a womanizer. You don’t drink or smoke, you keep to yourself, and you and Rourke are friends.”
“Damn,” he muttered.
“See?” she added smugly. “Family.”
He shouldered away from the wall. “Not for long. I’m moving on soon.”
“Because of Carlie.” She laughed softly.
He glared at her. “Because I don’t stay in one place long. Ever.”
She crossed her arms with a sigh. “You can’t run away from the past,” she said gently. “It’s portable. No matter how far you go, it travels with you. Until you come to grips with it, face what you’re running away from, you’ll never be satisfied.”
“Well, if it catches up with me, it had better be wearing track shoes,” he replied. He stood erect. “I need to get Carlie home.”
“She’s more fragile than she looks,” Lou said surprisingly. “Try not to hurt her too much.”
He didn’t say a word. He just walked by her.
* * *
CARLIE REFUSED TO be carried. She walked out the front door beside him, slowly, although her breathing was easier.
“I have to go to the pharmacy,” she began.
“I’ll drive you. Don’t argue,” he said heavily. “It’s the least I can do.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Thanks.”
She got in and fastened her seat belt so that he wouldn’t have to do it for her. She didn’t want him any closer than necessary. He affected her too much, and her nerves were raw after what had happened.
* * *
HE DROVE HER to the pharmacy and went inside with her. Bonnie, at the counter, smiled at Carlie.
“How’s it going?” she asked as Carlie handed her the prescription. She read it and grimaced. “Oh. I see how it’s going.”
“Can you fill it while I wait?” Carlie asked in a subdued tone.
“Sure. Let me see if we have this in stock.” She went to talk to the pharmacist Nancy, who waved and smiled. Bonnie gave Carlie a thumbs-up and went to fill the order.
One of the other clerks, a new girl, who was returning from lunch, stopped by Carson and smiled. “Can I help you?” she asked in a very sweet tone.
He didn’t even look at her. “I’m with her.” He nodded toward Carlie.
“Oh. Okay.” She gave him a hopeful look. He didn’t even glance her way.
She went on to the pharmacy, smiling at Carlie.
Carlie was breathing much better, but the experience had shaken her badly. She hated showing weakness in front of the enemy. Because that’s what Carson was, however much she tried to convince herself otherwise.
Filling the prescription didn’t take long. Bonnie motioned her to the counter and smiled as Carlie handed her a debit card.
“Directions are on the box,” Bonnie said. “I hope you feel better.”
“Me, too.” Carlie sighed. “Asthma. Bummer. I never even guessed I had it. Dr. Lou’s sending me to an allergist, too.”
“It will probably be Dr. Heinrich,” Bonnie said. “He comes here every Friday to see patients. He’s from San Antonio. It will save you that long drive.” She looked at Carlie over her glasses as she finished ringing up the purchase, returned the card and handed Carlie the medicine in its white bag. “Especially after you were doing a hundred on the straightaway in your dad’s Cobra,” she added with pursed lips.
Carlie flushed. “Don’t you start.”
“I like you,” Bonnie replied. “And I hate funerals.”
“Same here!” Nancy called across the counter.
“Okay. I’ll drive like an old lady,” she muttered.
“Mrs. Allen is an old lady, and she pushes that Jaguar of hers over a hundred and twenty when the sheriff’s deputies aren’t looking,” Nancy reminded her.
“I’ll drive like a conventional old lady,” Carlie corrected.
“Senior citizen,
” Bonnie whispered. “It’s more politically correct!”
Carlie laughed, for the first time since the ordeal began.
* * *
THEY WERE BACK in the car. Carlie glanced at Carson, who still looked like a locked and boarded-up house. “Thanks for taking me to the pharmacy,” she began.
He ignored her. He wasn’t driving toward her house. He went down the highway until he spotted a roadside park by the Jacobs River. He stopped at a convenience store and parked the car.
“Come on,” he said gently, helping her out.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Lunch.” He led the way inside. She picked out a packaged ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, and a soft drink. He got a roast beef sandwich and a soft drink. He paid for all of it and led her behind the store to a picnic area beside the river, complete with concrete table and benches.
The sound of the river, even in winter, was soothing. It was February, and her ratty old coat felt good, but she could have taken it off. It was warmer in the sun.
They ate in silence for several minutes. She liked being outside. When she was at home, she did all the yard work, planted a garden, tended flowers, raked leaves, did all the things she could to keep her out of the house. She loved the seasons, the rain and the rare snowfall. She was an outdoor girl at heart.
When they finished eating, he took the waste paper and put it in a container. There was a recycling bin for the soft drink cans, and he put them in it.
She started toward the car, but he caught her hand gently in his and led her down to the river. He leaned against a tree, still holding her hand.
“Your Dr. Coltrain said that I’m hiding from the past. She’s right.” He drew in a long breath. “I was married.”
Carlie caught her breath. His hand tightened around her fingers.
“She was younger than me. Pretty, bright, full of fun. She teased me and provoked me. I loved her more than my life. We grew up together on the Wapiti Ridge Sioux Reservation in South Dakota. Our people had known each other for generations. She was several grades behind me, but we were always friends. I was in my final year of...graduate school—” he didn’t want to say “medical school” “—when we went to a dance together and fell in love. Her parents thought she was too young, but we wouldn’t listen. We were married by the local priest.”
