Bryce left the bedroom and closed the door.
He had to get Brenna ready for school.
“Abby?”
Abby turned away from the glass doors that led to the entrance portico of the hospital. The movement told her that she’d been still too long; her sore muscles were beginning to tighten and cramp.
Jason Coble stood there, wearing a hospital ID tag, a dress shirt and tie, and black slacks. He looked just as hot as last evening—but in a much more professional way.
His greeting smile faded. “Oh my God, are you all right?” he asked, eyeing her bruised and butterfly-bandaged forehead. “What happened?”
“I had an accident.” She bit her lower lip to keep from saying more. The knot arose in her throat again as she thought of that poor man lying in the woods. But she’d held herself together this long; she was determined not to break down until she got behind the privacy of her own door.
She tucked her hands behind her back as the trembling began once again. Her dismissal papers rattled slightly as they shook against the back of her skirt. She hoped Jason didn’t notice.
He walked closer. “In a car?” He raised his brow and pointed to the stains and mud crusted on her clothes.
“My van went into the marsh.” She looked down at herself. “This happened when I walked out.” Walk being a relative term, she thought.
“But you’re all right? You’ve been checked out in the ER?” His hazel eyes reflected the concern in his voice. She felt foolish for even flirting with the possibility that he’d drugged her while they sat in Jeter’s last night.
“Yes. I’m just waiting for my dad to pick me up.”
“How did it happen? The accident, I mean. Was it on your way home from Jeter’s?”
“I don’t think so. I lost consciousness.” She touched the throbbing bump on her head. “I really can’t remember anything.”
“And they’re letting you walk out of here! You should be held for observation—”
“I’m fine.” She cut him off firmly, even though the very uttering of it shot pain through her head and tensed sore muscles in her neck.
He stood there with his hands on his hips, glaring. And the man had one forceful glare.
“Really, I’m all right,” she said. “They checked me over completely—X-rays and everything. I have the papers here to prove it.” She held up her dismissal forms. “Besides, some of us small business folk don’t have the luxury of health insurance.”
“Lack of insurance is no reason for negligent care.” He looked as if he was going to pick her up and carry her back to the ER and demand they admit her.
“Dr. Morris gave me all of the lecturing I need.”
His eyes narrowed. “So he wanted to admit you.”
“No, he didn’t. Not exactly. He mentioned the possibility. When I said I’d rather not, he didn’t argue. He just had me sign an extra paper.”
“Abby!”
“I’m fine! I just want to go home and go to bed.” She realized she sounded like a whiny child, but seriously, if she didn’t get home soon she was going to have a breakdown here in public. She added, “And I’ll go see my family doctor tomorrow morning if I’m feeling anything more than sore.”
He gave an exasperated sigh, but at least he no longer looked as if he was going to go caveman on her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You’re sweet to offer, but no.” Now go away. I want to be alone—just in case the growing cracks cause me to fly into a million pieces.
“I’ll stay with you until your dad comes.”
The last thing she needed was explaining all of this to her dad in front of Jason. She pointed to the hospital ID. “I’m sure you have doctor things to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait.”
It appeared he was determined. And she was too tired to fight anymore. So she fell quiet, watching out the front doors again.
Jason surprised her by following her lead and letting silence rule the moment. And, as he stood quietly by her side, he had the same calming effect on her as he had yesterday in the sanctuary. After a few minutes, her tension ebbed and fatigue took the upper hand.
She must have swayed on her feet, because he took her elbow and said, “I think you should wait sitting down.”
“I don’t understand why Dad isn’t here yet. He was at home when I called; ten minutes away.”
“How long ago?”
She looked at the clock over the reception desk—her watch had fogged over and stopped working—and was surprised to realize how much time had passed.
A sickness bloomed in her belly. “Nearly an hour ago.”
CHAPTER 5
Abby explained to Jason how she’d lost her cell phone in the marsh. She told it dispassionately, but he saw the anxiety in her eyes and tension in every muscle of her body. She must have been terrified out there in the dark, disoriented, hurt, and alone.
It was clear by her scant details that she didn’t want to talk about the accident. Jason respected her privacy even though he desperately wanted to know what had happened to her—and, he realized, not because of simple curiosity. For some reason he needed to know everything about her.
He swallowed his questions, handed her his BlackBerry, and suggested she call her father again. “Maybe he got… distracted.”
The sharp look she shot him before she dialed confirmed his suspicion that Abby wasn’t completely unaware that something could be going on with her father’s mental health.
Jason watched the worry in her eyes intensify as that call went unanswered.
Dear God, he wanted to hold her, assure her that her nightmare of a night would not turn into a hellish day. When he’d laid eyes on her moments ago she already presented such a tragic picture that he’d had to make a conscious effort not to reach out and comfort her. That contusion on her head had to be killing her. Her white blouse, the same one she’d had on at the funeral yesterday, the one that was fitted and oh-so-flattering, was untucked from her skirt, dirty, and torn slightly at the shoulder seam. She wore tan non-skid hospital socks instead of shoes. And that long, beautiful dark hair was matted and tangled at the ends.
And now she was scared to death for her father. Unfortunately, Jason thought that fear was likely warranted.
He inched closer.
“No answer.” She punched the “end” button and handed the phone back to him with a frown. Her eyes roved the lobby, as if she was deciding her next move.
“Does he have a cell?” he asked.
“No. Refuses to get one. He had Mom’s account cancelled after she died and donated her phone to a battered women’s shelter.”
“And you said you didn’t tell him about the accident?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to upset him before he got in the car.”
Good thinking. “Wait just a minute.”
He left her and stepped over to the reception desk. He gave Janet Baker, the woman on duty, the name and description of Abby’s dad and instructions to call Jason’s cell if he showed up. He also asked her to have Emergency call him if Abby’s father arrived there, either as a patient or looking for Abby.
Then he sent a quick e-mail from his BlackBerry cancelling lunch with a colleague.
When he returned to Abby, all of the lethargy that had enveloped her when he’d first walked up had disappeared. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and twisting her dismissal papers into a tight rope in her hands.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
She looked at him with startled eyes. “What?”
“I’ll drive you to your dad’s house. Maybe he just stopped someplace and we’ll pass him along the way.”
It was clear that she could see through his pretext; but she played along, clinging to her denial just a little longer.
“What if we miss him and he shows up here?” she asked.
“I’ve told Janet to call me if he does.” He inclined his head toward the reception desk.
He could see the argument rise in Abby’s eyes, then quickly fade as her worry overcame her independence. “Okay.”
On the way out the door, she said, “You think there’s something wrong with him, don’t you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The look in your eyes.” She paused.
He was normally much better at masking his thoughts. Or maybe Abby just read him more easily than most people. “Let’s find him, then we’ll deal with whatever comes next.”
He was glad she didn’t ask any more questions.
When they got to his car, he opened the passenger door for her. She slid in, giving him a naked glance that tore at his heart. After he closed the door, he looked at her through the window for a moment. He wanted to fix this—not as a psychiatrist, but as a man. He wanted to restore that cheerful spark in her eyes that he’d seen last night. Last night, when he’d felt a connection unlike anything he’d experienced with a woman in a long, long while.
His own house wasn’t in order. His invitation to future dinners had fallen out of his mouth before he’d fully engaged his brain. He had no business even thinking about getting involved.
And yet, here I am.
He could guise his actions in just being a good Samaritan all he wanted; his true motives were pounding in his veins like a primal drumbeat.
He’d find her father, then he’d back off. It was the only fair thing to do. She had enough to deal with without heaping his issues on top of her own.
With a self-disgusted grunt he walked around and got into the driver’s seat.
Abby scanned the lot as he pulled out of his reserved parking space. “Dad drives a Black Explorer with tan trim around the wheel wells.”
At this time of day the lot wasn’t crowded. There was no black Explorer.
Jason pulled onto the street. “Should be easy to spot, then.”
He watched oncoming traffic. Abby looked down the side streets and checked parking lots as she directed him toward her father’s house.
Jason asked, “Have you noticed changes in your dad lately?”
“You mean like that ‘where they bury people’ thing yesterday?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road, looking for the Explorer.
“He looked for his lost keys in the flour canister. He was in an absolute panic.” Her voice held a sad resignation. “Mom had been doing most of the driving. Still, it was so unlike him to get that worked up over something like misplaced keys.” She sighed. “I suppose I should have been watching him more closely since she died.”
“They did a lot together, your mom and dad?” he asked.
“Everything. Since he retired, they even sold the second car.”
Jason nodded, thinking the best specialist for Alzheimer’s and dementia was seventy-five miles away from Preston.
“This is it, on the right.” She pointed toward a white two-story with a wide front porch. “Pull in the driveway. His car should be in the garage.”
Jason did as instructed. Abby was out of the car and trotting toward the detached garage before he got his key out of the ignition.
She opened the side door, leaned in, and popped right back out. “His car’s gone,” she called as she hurried back toward where Jason stood with his car door still open.
“Let’s check the house anyway to be sure he isn’t here,” he said.
“His car is gone.”
“What if he loaned it to someone? What if it’s in the shop?”
“Why wouldn’t he have told me when I called for a ride?”
Because he might not have remembered. “It’ll only take a second. Check the house.”
“I don’t have a key.”
“Let’s make sure the door’s locked.”
Looking annoyed, Abby walked over to the back door. Jason followed a few steps behind.
She gave him a this-is-a-waste-of-time look as she put her hand on the doorknob. That expression changed to surprise when she turned the knob and the door swung open. “He always locks the door.”
“Dad?” she called as she stepped inside.
A quick search of the house confirmed neither her dad nor his car keys were there.
They returned to Jason’s car and backed down the drive.
He noticed someone sitting in a gray Chevy Impala across the street and half a block down. “Is that a neighbor?”
Abby followed his gaze. “I can’t see well enough to tell with those tinted windows. I don’t recognize the car.”
“Maybe he saw your dad leave.” Jason got out. He hadn’t taken two strides in that direction when the car pulled away from the curb.
Jason held up a hand to stop him.
The car accelerated on past.
Jason got back in the car with Abby.
“Maybe he didn’t see you,” she offered. “Lots of the neighbors are elderly.”
“Maybe.” Only if he was too blind to drive.
“Take me back to the hospital.”
He looked at her. “Janet is watching for him there. Is there anywhere else he goes on a regular basis?”
“The post office. The grocery, I guess.”
“We’ll check there.” He backed the rest of the way out of the drive and headed toward town.
They didn’t find her father’s Explorer at either place.
Jason asked, “Friends?”
Abby bit her lip. Her toes were tapping against the floorboard and her hands had once again picked up those hospital papers and wrung them into a sweaty pulp. “John and Constance Zeiss are really the only people he’s spent any time with since Mom died.” She looked at him with wariness. Clearly his ex-mother-in-law had let her opinion of him be known.
“Hey, it’s a public street. We’ll drive by and see if his car is there.”
The appreciation in her eyes made it seem as if he was making a Herculean sacrifice. He assured her, “It’s okay. Constance hasn’t come after me with a rifle… yet.” He winked and was rewarded with a smile.
Tom Whitman’s car wasn’t at the Zeisses’. At Abby’s suggestion, they checked Abby’s mom’s grave at the cemetery. No luck.
“I think I should drive you home. You can get cleaned up and…,” he stopped, unwilling to finish.
“What? What are you thinking?”
“You don’t have your cell. Your home number is the only way he, or someone on his behalf, can get in touch with you.”
“On his behalf,” she echoed weakly. “You mean the police. You think something’s happened to him.”
“It sounds like he’s had some confusion already. Sometimes people get disoriented while driving. Sooner or later, they usually ask for help.”
She closed her eyes, accepting his words with the strength he’d already grown to expect from her. “All right. Take me home.”
Bryce was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich when his mom walked in.
“Why aren’t you at school? And where’s your sister? Why didn’t someone wake me?” she asked, her rapid-fire questions holding a tone of accusation. She always went on the offense like this when she feared she’d been caught.
He set his knife in the sink. “Bren’s at school—I drove her. And we did try to wake you.” He wasn’t going to explain why he wasn’t at school. She had no right to give him any shit about it.
She pushed a hand through her hair and sighed, her demeanor changing in a heartbeat. She was pale, her blond hair dull; she looked almost translucent, as if she was fading away. “I’m just so exhausted. All of those days at the hospital… the funeral….” She went to the refrigerator and got out the half-and-half. Then she kissed his cheek as she passed on her way to the coffee maker. “You sweet boy, you made coffee.”
“Where’d you go last night?” he asked, fingers tensing on the edge of the countertop.
He saw her jaw tighten before she turned to lo
ok at him. She had that don’t sass me look on her face. “I went to see a friend.”
He snorted.
“Things have been very difficult for me, and you know it.” That angry tone was back. “I just needed a little time for myself.”
“Is that what I should tell Grandmother?”
Her pale blue eyes snapped to his face. “You called Mother?”
“She called here.” He leaned against the counter, glad to see the panic in her eyes.
“What did she want?” Her hands trembled as she brought the coffee cup to her lips.
“To see how you were.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her.” He knew his grandmother would only make the situation worse; she always did. Still he wanted to kick his mom’s ass right now.
“Tell her what?” she straightened, looking defensive.
“That you snuck out in the night and went drinking.”
“I was not drinking! I told you, I went to see a friend.”
“And I suppose the side mirror on your car fell off by itself.” It had been hanging by the wiring when he’d gone into the garage to get his own car to drive Bren to school.
“I stopped at the ATM. I got too close and clipped the post next to it.”
Because you were drunk.
If Jason found out, it would ruin any chances at all of their family getting back together. The drinking had torn it apart. If his mom stayed sober long enough, Jason would come home.
Bryce wanted to yell. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to break something.
Instead, he picked up his sandwich and headed up to his room, slamming the door behind him.
“Oh, my gosh, there he is!” Abby said when Jason turned at the painted sign for Abby’s Flowers at the end of the lane to her house.
Tom Whitman was leaning against the driver’s door of his Explorer, parked in front of the flower shop, which was closer to the main road than the little brick cottage where Abby apparently lived. Off to the right, in front of the cottage, were the ruins of brick steps that led to nothing. Beyond that was what looked to be a formal garden in the making.
A very unusual place to live, he thought. But then, Abby wasn’t a usual woman.
Jason pulled in next to the Ford.
Sleep No More Page 6
