by Becky Flade
“Where the hell do I start?”
“I find the beginning to be a good spot.” Carter winked.
“Good, you have a sense of humor.” She took another sip. “When I was in my early twenties, I received a traumatic head injury. I was comatose for about three months. When I woke up, I had a new . . . sense. It’s a form of empathy based on touch, skin-to-skin contact.”
“You’re saying, what? That you pick up the emotions of anyone with whom you come into contact?”
“Yes, but it’s more than sensing what they’re feeling. I feel it as though they’re my emotions, too. If a man is angry because his wife cheated on him and my arm touches his, I’ll share his anger. I’ll be angry. If he’s planning on killing her, I’ll feel as though I want to kill too. I don’t get thoughts or memories—I won’t know who I want to kill or why—but for that split second I’ll be consumed with an overwhelming, violent rage. Once the contact ends, my feelings return to my own again.” She drained the rest of the water. “Most contact is bearable. But there have been a few I’ve connected with strongly. And it’s as though their souls are screaming. That’s the worst because the effect lingers like a hangover.”
“And last week?”
“You’re a screamer, Sheriff.”
“I have never been called that.” Carter laughed. “Sweet baby Jesus, Henley. Assume, for the moment, I believe all this. You go around zapping people and sucking up their emotions?”
“Zapping people?”
“I felt a tingling. It started in my fingertips as soon as our hands touched, sizzled through my hand, and crept up my arm. It wasn’t what I would call pleasant, but it didn’t hurt, either.”
“You felt it? That’s new, as far as I know. Maybe you’re like me? Maybe you felt me?” She stared. She had lovely, expressive eyes. Carter easily read the surprise and the glimmer of hope framed there. Regret kicked him.
“I’ve only ever felt my own emotions, Henley. I’m sorry.” Carter couldn’t imagine living in a world where he was afraid to touch others or forced to feel their sadness, grief, or anger, if only for a moment. Sure, you could share happiness, but how many people walked around happy these days? Actually, he didn’t think any of what she said was true, but she believed it. He could tell from her eyes and the conviction in her voice. Henley Elliott probably was mad as a hatter, but damned if he didn’t want to kiss her. “What scared you just now?”
“How much I wanted to punch you. I’ve never hit anyone in my life. Yet I saw myself doing that, and it felt good. What if all the negativity I’ve absorbed has started to stick?” She turned eyes as wide as saucers toward him, and the urge to protect warred with the tickle of lust. “I wanted to run away.”
“From me?” he asked.
“From the Cove. I haven’t felt right since I got here.”
“What would happen if I kissed you?”
He hadn’t intended to ask her that. But as she’d explained her “condition,” he’d wondered, as he told himself most men would, about the intimate consequences.
The expression on her face would’ve been insulting if he hadn’t found it comical. He’d had no shortage of girls looking for a kiss since kindergarten—first a kiss on the cheek and by high school . . . Well, high school was fun. He grinned at his past self’s exploits. But Henley was clearly appalled and confused by the idea. She looked like he’d just suggested they kill someone for the hell of it. Damn, if that didn’t make him more curious.
“Why would you do that?”
“We could call it an experiment.” He inched the chair closer and thanked Teague—mister or missus—for buying office furniture on coasters. “You’re a doctor; you should appreciate the scientific methodology.”
He watched her pull her emotional shutters closed and cursed his big mouth. Her back lengthened as she straightened and rounded her shoulders. The schooled, empty expression returned.
“You investigated me?”
He could tell her that Maggie had let that little nugget slip. But that would likely damage the only friendship Henley had made as far as he knew. And truth was they had done a standard screen. He nodded.
“What else did you find?”
“Not much. You’re a medical doctor licensed to practice psychology in Ohio, which matches the legal address you gave us on your employment application, driver’s license, and vehicle registration. You have no wants or warrants. And an excellent credit rating. Standard background check for employment, Henley. The county ran a much more intrusive one on me, and I’d won the election. And on Doug, who has lived here since birth.”
“Right. Right. I expected that.” She picked up and sat down the empty glass. What else did she have to hide other than allegedly having a voodoo whammy?
“What else is there to find?”
“Pardon me?”
“You asked what else we found—what else is there?”
“Nothing.” She knocked the glass over with a fluttering hand.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” He fought the urge to smile, figuring she wouldn’t appreciate it, and righted the empty cup. “Do yourself a favor and don’t ever play poker with Mags; you’re a rotten liar.”
“I’ve already been warned about the poker thing, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. What are you hiding, Henley?” She shook her head. “Or is ‘from whom are you hiding?’ a better question?”
The phone rang, and he didn’t need empathic abilities to sense her relief. The telephone was an old, heavy version with a curly cord, attached to a more modern switchboard/answering machine that would pick up if she didn’t get it soon.
“Go ahead and answer it; we’ll get back to this.” He stood as she lifted the receiver.
“I’m not fired?”
“What for?”
“Being a basket case.”
“Did I say you were crazy?”
“Your eyes did.”
“If being crazy was a deterrent, they wouldn’t have given me a job, Doc. And mine comes with a gun. Answer the phone. If the machine does, the rumor mill may decide we’ve closed our doors, and we’ll both be outta work.”
“Sheriff’s department. How can I help you?”
Would she let him help her if he tried?
Chapter Five
“Bye, Mom. Give my love to Dad and Michelle.” Henley hung up and stretched her back. It had been a pleasant call. That wasn’t usual. It had to do with the fact that she had called from the same location she’d been the last time they spoke. This was a first for her since she’d left Cleveland two years ago. She’d expected that a month in Trappers’ Cove would have given her itchy feet by now, but she was good. Better than good. She was comfortable. And she wasn’t anxious about being comfortable.
Henley grinned at herself and laid her head on the back of the thick wooden chair where she lounged. She was surprised at how much she loved the woods. The serenity here was palpable. The solitude wasn’t anything to sneeze at either; she had company when she wanted to be near people. And she liked her job.
As for Carter, he saw too much, and he wanted to know more. Although he hadn’t pressed her since her first day and he hadn’t mentioned her episode or the confession that had followed it, he was careful not to touch her. He managed it without being obvious or rude. She appreciated the thoughtfulness, though she knew he didn’t believe her. How could he? She’d catch him staring with those bright, intelligent blue eyes. Her instinct was to squirm under the weight of his questioning stare. It had been a long time since anyone had made Henley want to squirm with only a look.
The cabin had become a sanctuary she enjoyed retreating to at the end of each workday. Though it was May and the days grew warmer, it was cool under the canopy of trees. She could see a small stream from the eastern windows. She often watched small animals drinking or bathing in the chilly water. The gentle trickle of the water washing over rocks lulled her to sleep at night. Cleveland’s suburbs had been the most rural environment she’d enjoyed as a
child, and she had considered herself an urbanite. But the peace of spirit she’d known these last five weeks in Trappers’ Cove made her reconsider her sense of self.
A rustling in the woods caught her attention, and she turned her head toward the sound. She held still in her chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of the animal moving through the brush. She’d made a game of trying to identify the different wildlife. There were many that called this area of Minnesota home; she was the interloper.
But what she did see, she wasn’t sure she believed.
It was Tala Gael and what appeared to be a wolf. The child walked alongside the animal without any fear, apparently chatting with it, animatedly from Henley’s perspective, as though the beast were tame. As quickly as they entered her line of sight, they disappeared among the ferns and bushes. Henley stood on the porch, battling with indecision. Should I follow her? Or should I call Maggie?
She’d taken one hesitant step toward the edge of the porch when the sounds of a vehicle approaching caught her attention. Henley stopped, curious, and watched as her Grand Prix approached. The engine cut, and Carter alighted from the driver’s seat.
“Morning,” he called to her, his smile bright.
“That’s my car.” She could have kicked herself for stating the obvious.
“Can’t get anything by you, can I?”
“I meant to say, what’s my car doing here? I haven’t finished paying Al yet.”
“Well, Al holds the contract for maintenance of all municipal vehicles, and I told him to charge the balance to the sheriff’s office.” He stopped a few feet from the bottom step and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.
“Who said that was okay? I didn’t.”
“Nobody. I thought you’d want your own ride. Got the sense you didn’t enjoy being beholden to the Gaels.”
“And you thought I’d prefer to be beholden to you?” Her hands clenched the porch rail. “You have some nerve, McAlister.”
“Hold it.” He raised one hand and thrust it through his hair. “You’re not beholden to anyone. Al gets paid in full, you get your car, and the money you owe the county—not me personally—comes out of your paycheck. I figured the same amount and frequency you and Al had agreed to because you felt that was fair. You’ll have to approve it with the comptroller on Monday. But at least this way you have your car back.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. I didn’t mention it because I wanted it to be a surprise. But if you’d be more comfortable borrowing the Gaels’ ranch truck, I’d be happy to take this hunk of junk back to Al’s.”
“It’s not a hunk of junk.” She tilted her head. “You’re mad.”
“Yeah, you know what, I am. I tried to be helpful, and you bit my head off.”
“I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions. Thank you.” She caught the keys he tossed her. Her car was back. And with it, she lost her excuse for staying in town and keeping the job at the sheriff’s office. She could simply hop in the driver’s seat and find a new place—one that didn’t include the nosy, meddling, arrogant sheriff. He was too smart not to have considered the possibility. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”
“Not a damn thing.”
“You’ve already thought of that, the fact that I could, and still you made sure I got my car back. You’re very trusting. Didn’t you used to be a cop in Philadelphia?”
“Yeah. And?”
“Didn’t think a big-city police officer would be naïve.”
“I’m not a big-city police officer anymore, am I? Now I’m a small-town sheriff. And I don’t think I’m naïve. You want to leave? Leave. But I think you’ll stick. At least for a while. You’re hiding. Oh, don’t make a face, you are. Believe me, I should know. And whether you like it or will admit it, you’re also healing. And I get that too.”
She balanced the car keys in her hand; for the first time in a long time their weight didn’t feel like freedom. The contentment she’d enjoyed an hour ago resonated. He was right. She would stick. But she didn’t think the sexy sheriff needed to be told that.
“Should I infer that you’re hiding and healing as well? Maybe spill my guts to the insightful Carter McAlister?”
“You’re a tough nut, Elliott.” He shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I didn’t bring your car out with any ulterior motives. You ever heard the saying ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’?”
“I always favored ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions.’” She couldn’t help smiling when he laughed.
“You’ve got secrets. Fine. So do I. And as long as you’re not breaking any laws, you’re entitled to keep them same as everyone else.”
“And that’s it?”
“Yep.” He hooked his thumb in his pocket and grinned winningly. “Well, that and I’d appreciate a ride back into town.”
“Sure. Give me a minute.” Henley dashed into the cabin and grabbed her purse. Carter was standing in the doorway when she turned.
“I love that no matter which window you’re facing in this place, there's a terrific view.”
She nodded. “I thought I saw Maggie’s little girl hiking earlier.”
“You probably did. Turnip runs wild in these woods.” He stepped back as she closed and locked the door. “It’s not necessary to lock the door, ya know?”
“Maggie said the same when I first took up here. But as I told her, it’s a good habit to keep.”
“Because eventually you’ll be back on the road and need to keep yourself safe.” She glanced at him, measuring his words. She didn’t sense any sarcasm or censure. She nodded.
“That’s smart.”
“Thanks. They let her roam the woods by herself?”
“Well, it is right in their backyard. They set boundaries, and Tala isn’t of the age or disposition to start pushing those boundaries yet. Why does it bother you?”
“I thought there was a wolf with her. A big one. It startled me. I almost followed them.” Henley slid into the driver’s seat and gave the steering wheel a friendly caress. Carter grinned as he fastened his seat belt. She shrugged, not caring if he was amused by the gesture. “It had to have been a dog, right? I mean, she didn’t appear scared. She was chattering.”
“Could have been a wolf; we do get them around here occasionally. They wander over from the forestry lands.”
“But wouldn’t Tala know better than to get near one? That’s dangerous.”
“Turnip has a . . . way with animals. It’s spooky. And, like I said, these woods are her backyard; her parents have raised her to have respect for the land and the animals. If she sensed danger, she’d have given the animal a wide berth. Think of it like a city kid navigating public transportation—instincts bred from experience.” He pulled out his cell phone. “But I’ll give Maggie a buzz, let her know.”
“You’re doing that for my benefit, aren’t you?”
“You’re worried about your neighbor, your landlord and, dare I say, your friend’s daughter. That’s a good thing. And if, God forbid, Tala was in trouble, someone should call her mother. Plus, it’ll ease your mind.”
“A win-win?”
“Those are my specialty. Hey, Mags.” Henley tuned out his side of the conversation and enjoyed the bucolic landscape, the prettiest area she’d seen in her travels. She wasn’t in a hurry to move. Her feet weren’t itching. That was interesting. She felt more at home here than she had at her parents’. But now that she had her car back, when she did get urge to leave, she could.
She knew he’d ended the call. And she appreciated that he didn’t fill the car with unnecessary conversation. He hadn’t been anything but friendly. He hadn’t ridiculed her, or, to the best of her knowledge, spread gossip around town about her. He was careful with her and respectful, not wary of the crazy lady.
“You said that being crazy wasn’t an employment deterrent.”
“And?”
“You implied that you’re not altogether sane.”
“Is this a professional inquiry, Doc?”
“If it were?”
“I’d suggest you perform an anatomically impossible maneuver.” She snorted. “Or perhaps butcher the proverb ‘Doctor, heal thyself.’”
“Physician, heal thyself.”
“Whatever. You don’t want to talk about yourself, but you expect me to bare my soul?”
“I wouldn’t have put it like that.”
“Course you wouldn’t.” He pointed to the general store. “You can let me off here; I need to get a few things.”
“Have I upset you?” Henley asked as she pulled to the side of the road.
“Nah.” But she didn’t believe the casual dismissal. Something in his tone of voice, the set of his jaw, made her think he had spoken honestly at the cabin—she wasn’t the only one with secrets. And she didn’t think he appreciated her query. Carter had demons of his own, demons that, like her, he tried to hide from prying eyes. Maybe now he’d stop asking her so many questions. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Thank you, sincerely, for making sure I got my car sooner rather than later. I appreciate it. And I give you my word that the county will get fully reimbursed.”
“But not that you’ll stay. You’ve got a clever way with words, Doc.” He popped open the car door, and she allowed herself a second to appreciate his fine behind as he stood. She jerked her eyes to his face as he leaned in the open door. “As far as secrets go, I’ll make you a deal: Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He winked. Henley got the impression the double entendre was intended. “See you around.”
• • •
Henley ran her hand over the dash and smiled. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her car or the joy of having freedom at her fingertips. After dropping Carter off, she’d decided to go for a drive and had ended up at the mall in Brandwyne. Giving in to impulse, an action she hadn’t felt comfortable doing in what felt like years, she had spent a lazy afternoon munching on fried food-court fare, people watching, and window shopping. She’d passed the bookstore, and her nerdy heart had leapt.
