“Don’t look at the house, Sarah,” she cautioned her- self as she began to walk forward. “Just relax…be cool.”
It was Sheriff Metcalf himself who stepped out of the patrol car. He was alone.
“Afternoon, Sarah,” he said. He looked around, his eyes seeming to scan every inch of the place as he walked toward her.
“Good afternoon,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. She touched the scar, then shook her head slightly.
Sheriff Metcalf had seen her several times since the ac- cident, so the scar wasn’t anything new to him. He’d come to the hospital after the accident and also to offer his con- dolences about Joe. That’s when he’d told her they had no clues about the “drunk driver” who ran them off the road.
As the sheriff approached the small plot of garden where Sarah stood, Tom jumped up and with his bushy tail held high, ran through the grass toward the garage.
“Well,” the sheriff drawled. “Got a cat now, I see. He doesn’t seem to take to strangers much.” He laughed and his face crinkled good-naturedly.
“No, I guess not,” Sarah said. “He’s just not very so- ciable, I guess,” she said. She took off her gardening gloves and wiped her hands nervously down her pant legs. It took every ounce of strength she possessed to keep from glancing toward the house and the windows of the room where her mysterious patient slept.
Sarah turned her attention toward the sheriff. He was still smiling.
Like most people who grew up in Ware County, she had known Sheriff Metcalf all her life. But she was probably one of the few people who didn’t trust him. Until the ac- cident she’d thought he was a good, dedicated lawman, one to be admired and respected. But his attitude after Joe’s death changed all that for her.
Having him here in front of her, his tall form straight and dignified, his eyes gazing kindly at her, Sarah wa- vered a bit about her feelings. It would be hard for any- one to suspect this man of doing anything wrong. And she couldn’t quite explain why she did, except for some deep gut feeling.
“How you been, Sarah?” the sheriff asked.
“Me? Oh…I’m doing fine,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “Just fine.”
“I was driving by and thought I’d stop in and check on you,” he said.
“Well, I appreciate that.”
“Everyone in town expected you’d be back at work by now.”
“Yes…I know.” Sarah glanced down at the gloves she held in her hands. It might be nice living in a small town, but one of the disadvantages was that everyone knew your business. And no one seemed to mind offering advice about what they thought was best for you.
The sheriff sighed and put his hands on his hips. The service revolver he wore strapped at his side looked large and ominous.
“Just don’t seem right out here without your grand- dad,” he said, looking around at the farm. “But every- one said he wouldn’t last long after your grandma Grace died.”
“They were crazy about each other,” Sarah agreed, smiling wistfully. “Even after having been married more than fifty years.”
“Yep. Guess you can’t say that about many folks these days.”
Sarah began to feel uneasy. The sheriff seemed to be stalling and his alert eyes were scanning every inch of the property, as if to see if something were out of place. He looked toward the house, his eyes narrowed and in shad- ows beneath a white wide-brimmed cowboy hat.
She hadn’t closed the door to the front bedroom.
Dear God, what if the sheriff asked to come inside?
He turned his gaze back to her.
“Listen,” he said. “We had something happen here in the county last night. I don’t mean to alarm you, but it might not be a good idea for you to stay out here, all by yourself. You still got your old place in town, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” Sarah said. “It’s rented to a young cou- ple.”
“Too bad. Thought you might want to stay there awhile. You didn’t hear anything unusual last night, did you? See anyone hangin’ around? Passin’ by on the road maybe?”
The suspicious tone in his voice caused Sarah’s heart to skip a beat.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t seen anyone.”
He smiled again and Sarah reached up to touch her throat. She wondered how much he’d tell her.
“Does this have anything to do with the raid on the Sa- tilla River?” she asked. “I heard about it on the news this morning.”
“Did you?” he asked casually. “Yeah…’s bad busi- ness, that bunch out there. But I don’t think you have to worry about them so much as the two who escaped. The ones who were in the van.”
“Do…do you think they might be in this area?” Sarah asked, her voice breathless.
“Could be.” He seemed cautious and very serious. “Could be anywhere. They killed a woman police officer from Atlanta. Guess you heard about that, too?”
“Yes…I did. It’s just terrible.” Sarah forced herself to meet his eyes. “Who’d think that something like that could happen here in our small community.”
“It’s happenin’ everywhere now, sis,” he said. The sheriff took off his hat and rubbed his arm across his forehead. “And it’s gonna get worse. There’ll come a time when all of us will have to defend ourselves in our homes. We’d better be ready for it is all I can say.”
Sarah thought it was an odd thing for the sheriff to say.
He was still surveying the property suspiciously. She tried to tell herself that he was simply worried about her, as he said. He could be deciding how safe he thought she was out here alone.
“Have they found anything?” she asked. “The van that the men were driving or—”
“No,” the sheriff said. “Nothing yet. But we will,” he said. “You can bet we’ll find ‘em, one way or another.”
Sarah shivered. She supposed it was his job that made him sound so cold—after all, the sheriff saw violence on a regular basis.
But she couldn’t forget that the man inside might be dead if he hadn’t stumbled onto her porch. He could be lying in some ditch, covered by mud and water until someone found his cold, lifeless body.
Should she tell the sheriff about him?
“You sure you’ll be all right out here alone?” he asked, as he turned to go.
“I’m sure,” she said. “If I see anyone suspicious, I’ll call your office.”
“You do that,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled rather fatherly at her. “In the meantime, keep your doors locked and don’t let any strangers in under any circumstances. You still got that old shotgun your grand- dad used to have?”
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” she replied innocently.
“Might not be a bad idea to load it and keep it close by. Just till we get this whole thing settled. I’ll give you a piece of advice, sis…though I’d have to deny sayin’ it if it ever came up—if you see a stranger or someone trying to get into your house, you just shoot first and ask questions later.”
She found his advice disconcerting, but she said noth- ing.
She thought he’d never leave. She’d been outside for quite a while now and she had a horrible vision of the stranger inside stumbling out on the front porch to find her.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the sheriff open his car door. Then he stopped and turned, and came back toward her.
“Say, Sarah,” he said, his gaze covering the empty driveway. “Where’s that old pickup your granddad used to have? Red, wasn’t it? I thought you started drivin it when you moved out here.”
Sarah swallowed hard and bit her lip.
“It’s…it’s in the shop. The old clunker is completely worn-out,” she said. For the life of her she couldn’t ex- plain why she was lying. If she intended to tell him about the man who had stumbled onto her porch, now was the time.
“I took it in to have a tune-up and a few repairs done.”
“That
right?” he asked. “That’s funny. I don’t re- member seein’ it at Rainey’s Garage today when I was there.”
“Rainey’s?” Sarah asked. She was practically holding her breath, hoping the sheriff wouldn’t walk on out to the garage and peek in. “Oh; sure, Rainey’s is where Grand- dad used to take it. No, I didn’t take it there.” Her mind was spinning as she tried to remain calm and sound as if she were telling the truth.
“Actually I took it to this guy over near Millwood. He’s just a shade-tree mechanic, but someone told me he was very good and not quite so expensive as Rainey’s.”
“Ah,” the sheriff said, nodding. “That explains it. So, I guess that wasn’t you I saw in town last night. Thought I saw the old pickup on Central Ave.”
“No,” Sarah said, shrugging her shoulders. Central Avenue was near Lacy’s house. Had he seen her last night…or was he just feeling her out? “It wasn’t me,” she lied.
“Guess you still don’t get out much, huh?” he asked casually.
“No…I don’t.” At least that much wasn’t a lie.
He nodded and glanced around once more before turn- ing and moving back to the patrol car.
“You call me if you need anything now, you hear?” he asked as he stepped into the car. “And remember what I said about loadin’ the shotgun.”
“I will,” Sarah said. “And thanks, Sheriff, for coming by to check on me.”
The sheriff waved as he backed the car out of the drive- way and turned back toward town.
Sarah walked toward the house and up onto the porch. She stood watching until the car was out of sight, then she sighed heavily and collapsed onto the top step.
“Oh, my God,” she murmured. “It’s just like grand- mother always said, one lie just leads to another.” She ran her hand over her face, then pushed her hair back and stood up.
She opened the front door quietly and tiptoed to the bedroom. The shades were drawn and the room where her patient slept was dim.
As she stepped into the room she was suddenly aware of someone beside her. She screamed and tried to move away just as his arm came out and grabbed her.
He pulled her against him, his breathing heavy and loud in the quiet room. His body was hot, burning with fever as he held her back against him and whispered against her ear.
“Did you call him while I was asleep? What did you tell him?” he hissed.
For a moment Sarah felt panic-stricken as she realized that she had trusted this man more than she should have. She’d been foolish enough to lie to protect him and in the process her only source of help had just driven away. She’d lied for a man who might very well be a cold-blooded killer.
“No, I didn’t call him…and I didn’t tell him any- thing,” she said.
His arm was across her shoulders and neck as he held her tightly back against him.
“Don’t lie to me…”
Sarah put her hand up to pull against his tensed fore- arm. She couldn’t move her head to look at him.
“Please…” she said. She had to make him think she was calm and unfrightened. “Why are you doing this? I thought—”
“You thought I trusted you? Yeah, maybe I did,” he growled. “And maybe that was a mistake. At this point I’d be a fool to trust anyone. Even someone as pretty as you.”
“I swear to you—I didn’t tell him anything.”
“What did he want?” Hagan shook her a little for em- phasis, but he didn’t loosen his grip.
Sarah wondered how he managed to remain standing, much less hold her with such intensity. If the heat of his temperature was any indication, he was very, very sick.
“You’re burning up,” she said. She moved her head and tried to glance back at his face. “Let me help you back to bed and…”
That was a joke. He didn’t seem to need any help. She was the one who needed help.
“Just answer my question,” he growled.
Sarah sighed. Her hands were still on his arm and for a moment as she leaned against his hard body, she almost forgot that she was in danger.
“He mentioned the raid on the Satilla compound.” She could feel his body tense as he listened. “He said the two men in the van hadn’t been caught yet.”
“What else?”
“He…he advised me to load Granddad’s shot- gun…and if anyone tries to break in, I should shoot first and ask questions later.”
“That son of a bitch,” he said in amazement. “He hopes you’ll shoot me,” his voice rasped. “Make the job easy for him.”
Hagan grunted and leaned back against the wall, pull- ing Sarah with him.
“Do you really think he’d have driven away if I’d told him about you?” she asked.
“He might,” he murmured.
“The van is probably in the river by now.” Sarah had the feeling he was talking to himself more than to her. “This man came himself to see if my body was still in the ditch where they thought I’d be. And when it wasn’t…” He grunted again.
Oddly, the same thought had crossed Sarah’s mind. That was probably why, when the sheriff asked about her truck, she lied. Because she knew with a quiet, sinking feeling of fear, that he was involved in whatever had hap- pened.
“He asked where my granddad’s truck was and if I drove it last night,” she said. Her voice was quiet and for a moment the room was completely silent.
“Oh, hell.” He released her and turned her around to look at him, gripping her shoulders hard as he stared di- rectly into her eyes.
“What did you tell him? Don’t lie to me, Sarah.” His brow was. furrowed and Sarah thought she’d never seen anyone more intense—almost desperately so. “Because if you are…”
“I’m not lying,” she said. “It’s true that I’ve known Sheriff Metcalf all my life. But I don’t trust him any more than you do. And I’m certainly not going to defend him if he’s involved in this. I don’t know how to convince you that I’m telling the truth.”
“Why don’t you trust him?”
“It’s…it’s personal,” she said, not wanting to get into the story about the accident and Joe’s work.
The man’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared at her. As if he thought he could read her mind if he looked hard enough into her eyes.
She saw his white teeth biting at his lower lip and then he frowned. He seemed a bit confused and disoriented.
“Please,” she said, reaching out. “You should be in bed. You’re very weak and I’m afraid your fever has gone up even higher than before.”
His knees buckled and then he caught himself and straightened. He pushed her hands away and walked stiffly and slowly toward the bed.
Sarah watched him with a mixture of disbelief and awe. What a stubborn man he was. He was too sick to walk and she could see for herself that he was in terrible pain. And yet he still wouldn’t let her help him.
Once he was in bed, Sarah reached for the thermome- ter. Reading the numbers a few minutes later, she felt a sense of fear and despair wash over her.
What on earth was she doing trying to take care of someone as seriously ill as he was? He should be in a hos- pital with a critical-care doctor and twenty-four-hour nurses.
“We have to get your fever down,” she murmured. “It’s a hundred and three. I’m worried about this infection.”
The man’s eyes were bright. He hadn’t stopped watch- ing her the entire time.
“What…what did you tell him about the truck?” he asked, his breathing quick and hard.
Sarah sighed and shook her head. He wasn’t going to rest or let the subject go until she’d told him everything he wanted to know.
“I told him it was being repaired.”
He shook his head. “He won’t believe that. All he has to do is send someone out here tonight when you’re asleep. When he finds it, he’s going to know you’re lying. And he’s going to know why.”
“I can’t help it,” she said. “It was the only thing I could think of at the moment.”
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“It doesn’t matter. I’m not saying you were wrong. I just wish to hell…”
“What?” she asked. “That you weren’t here? That I wasn’t involved? Well, I wish that, too. But you know, one thing I’ve learned this past year is that wishing really doesn’t make it so. So I don’t waste my time on wishes.” She clamped her teeth together and stood up.
Hagan found his distrust diminishing as he stared at her.
When he looked into those blue eyes, he wished a lot of things. At the moment he wished he knew who he was and was strong enough to walk away from this place and this woman.
It was true he didn’t like involving her, but there were other reasons for wanting to get away, too. Reasons he couldn’t put a name to because they were pushed way down deep inside so far he couldn’t even deal with them. He didn’t have time for personal feelings right now. They only complicated things. And as he looked into Sarah’s face, he sensed that she could complicate a man’s life real good.
But the thing he wanted most had nothing to do with his instincts or survival, or even his memory. He found him- self wanting to be the one to make that pain in her eyes disappear. He wanted to be the one to make her believe in wishes again. And those thoughts surprised and shook him.
Must be the fever.
Sarah turned away and left the room. When she re- turned she carried a washbasin and washcloth.
She pulled a chair beside the bed and pushed the covers away from him. She held a glass of water to his mouth and helped him swallow more tablets. Then, without a word, she pushed the robe away from his chest and began to bathe him in the cool water.
Hagan closed his eyes with a soft groan. He shivered and forced his eyes open again as he reached for the cloth.
“I can do that,” he said through chattering teeth.
“No,” Sarah said with a stubborn, haughty look. “I’m the nurse, you’re the patient. Just lie still and let me do it.”
He made no more protests, but Sarah thought it was only because he was too weak. She could feel his body shaking beneath her hands as she continued bathing him.
When he fell asleep she stopped. Somehow, asleep, he seemed too vulnerable for her to continue such an inti- mate act. Maybe it was her conscience. Maybe it was those erotic visions she’d had. Whatever it was she couldn’t re- member ever feeling that way before about any of her pa- tients.
You Must Remember This Page 7
