Last Resort

by Hannah Alexander

  When Cheyenne Gideon announced her intention to extend the hours, services and space of Hideaway Clinic, the town had discovered the resources to make her wishes come true, completing the expansion and new construction in a very short time. Although the clinic was not a designated hospital, that didn’t prevent the citizens from treating it as such.

  Carissa’s deep even breathing provided a gentle harmony to the soft snores of her elderly roommate on the other side of the drawn curtain.

  Eyeing the fold-out cot Blaze had provided, Nathan swung away from the window. No way could he sleep while Noelle was in the hollow, but he desperately needed rest. What was taking her so long? She’d been gone two hours, and he felt torn between being offended because she had insisted on going without him and berating himself for allowing her to browbeat him. But he couldn’t leave Carissa now, and he couldn’t drag the girl out of bed and take her with him.

  Carissa shifted, turning on her side toward him. Just when it seemed she’d settled back into sleep, she raised her head, the delicate lines of her face—and her wide-open eyes—visible in the glow of a night-light.

  “Nathan?” Her sleepy voice held an edge of panic.

  “Yes, it’s me.” He crossed to her side. “You’re safe.”

  “Where’s Noelle?”

  “Probably on her way here right now. She went out to the hollow to check on some things.”

  Carissa tried to sit up. “She went back there? But—”

  “Why don’t you lie back down and close your eyes? We’ll wake your roommate if we keep talking.”

  The girl lay back, but her eyes remained open. She shifted to her side and kicked off her top sheet, then sighed with impatience. “How long has it been dark? Shouldn’t she already be back?”

  “Any time. It hasn’t been dark long.”

  Carissa raised her head again. “Really, I mean it. Something might be wrong. Can’t you check? What about her cell phone?”

  “Not a good idea, especially if she’s trying to keep a low profile.”

  Carissa grimaced and nodded. “Okay, but can’t you go find her?”

  “She took my truck,” he said dryly.

  “Take Karah Lee’s car. She lives down the street.”

  He sighed. This kid argues as well as Noelle ever could. “I can’t leave you alone, Cis, you know that. And you know why. We’ll wait a little while before we call out the backup forces, okay? Besides, Karah Lee’s car probably wouldn’t make it over the low-water bridge by now.” Still, he might reconsider if Noelle didn’t come back in the next fifteen minutes.

  Carissa took his hand. “Nathan, I’m scared.”

  The steady snoring softened in the next bed. Nathan and Carissa stared at each other in waiting silence. The snores deepened once more.

  “I’ve remembered something else that happened,” she whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  She crooked her finger at him and he leaned close. “You know that report I’m doing on the family history?”

  “Of course. You grilled me about it like a seasoned newspaper reporter.”

  “I saw Harvey Sand drive up to the sawmill a couple of Sundays ago, when Melva was down there catching up on some office work? I decided to talk to Harvey about the history, because he’d been the accountant for the business for so long? But when I reached the building, I heard shouting and decided not to go in.”

  “Someone was actually shouting?”

  “Well, okay, maybe not shouting, but I could sure tell Melva was mad.”

  “Melva?”

  Carissa nodded. “Yeah. I heard her say, ‘We can’t afford that! Are you crazy? You wouldn’t take that kind of chance, or you’d end up in prison, right beside my husband!’”

  “You remember those words?”

  Carissa nodded. “I wrote it down so I would.”

  Nathan digested this in silence. What was going on here? “Could you hear Harvey, too?”

  “Not as well. He kept shushing Melva, but I did hear him say, ‘I’m not the one who’ll rot in prison.’ Or something like that. I couldn’t write fast enough to get it all down. But then I heard a crash, glass breaking, I think, and Harvey came running out of the office and almost tripped over me. He didn’t even stop. I thought maybe he’d hurt Melva, so I ran inside to see if she was okay, and there she was, standing by the desk, crying. Then Justin sneaked up behind me and scared me so bad I practically had a heart attack. He took me by the shoulders and shushed me and pushed me out the door before I could even say anything to Melva. Like I was a little kid.”

  “Did you hear what happened then, between Justin and Melva?”

  “Nope. I ran to the house.”

  “Did you talk to either of them about it later?” Nathan asked.

  Carissa shook her head. “I don’t think Melva even saw me, and Justin’s been all quiet and weirder than ever.”

  “Did you talk to anyone else about it?”

  “Nope. Melva was all crying and everything after that, and I decided I’d better give her a break, especially since she and Dad’ve been arguing a lot lately.”

  A soft movement at the doorway interrupted them. A band of light widened as the door opened slowly.

  Nathan stood up, placing himself between Carissa’s bed and the entryway. The door opened farther and more light spilled inside to silhouette a tall, broad-shouldered figure.

  “Carissa?” the man’s whisper sounded like a growl.

  Nathan relaxed slightly. “Cecil.”

  There was a long, taut pause, then a heavy exhalation of breath. “Nathan, what are you doing here?”

  “I felt like keeping Carissa company for a while.”

  Cecil stepped through the threshold, the shadows of the room contrasting against the light from the hallway to throw the outline of his brooding gaze in sharp relief. The bulk of his shoulders seemed to block the light. He glanced at the curtain that provided visual privacy but no sound barrier from the next bed. He frowned at his daughter. “You insisted you didn’t want anybody to stay with you.”

  “I couldn’t bring myself to leave her alone in case she woke up tonight,” Nathan said, before the girl could respond. “After what she went through…” He shrugged.

  There was a short pause. Then: “Good thinking.” Cecil did not disguise the edge in his tone. “Comes with the pastoral training, I suppose?”

  “Of course.” Though Cecil was two years older than Nathan and Noelle, he had often been a part of their childhood adventures in the hollow. Cecil had a fun, social side when he made an effort—which he clearly wasn’t doing now. He obviously had a lot on his mind lately.

  He strolled over to his daughter’s bedside and placed a hand on her forehead. “How’re you feeling, punkin?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. Just tired and sore.”

  “No more breathing problems?”

  “Nope. Karah Lee says I just inhaled too much water. They gave me a treatment, and I’m feeling better.”

  “Why don’t we let Nathan go home and I’ll stay here with you? I know he’s as tired as I am.”

  “I told you I was fine.”

  Carissa did whiney really well when she wanted to, Nathan noted, suppressing a grin.

  “Nathan’s just waiting for Noelle to bring his truck back, and you’re tired, too, Dad.”

  Cecil turned his frowning attention back to Nathan. “Noelle’s got your truck? I told her she could use our car if she needed it. Where’d she go?”

  “Errands.”

  “Jill said Joel was back in Springfield. Tell me Noelle didn’t go traipsing back up to Springfield to confront him.”

  “Why would she do that?” Nathan asked softly.

  Cecil shrugged. “Sounds like something she’d do. The sheriff sent someone up to have a little visit with Joel and see if he has a decent alibi for last night.”

  “Any report on that?”

  Cecil snorted. “Said he was in church. That’s unlikely, though, on a Thursday ni
ght, so they’re still checking out his story. I wouldn’t put anything past that picklehead. Noelle staying at your house tonight?” Typical Cecil. He had a habit of setting up his listener with distracting conversation, then slipping in a pointed question. Jill and Nathan weren’t the only ones, apparently, who were protective of Noelle. No wonder she was hesitant about coming back to Hideaway.

  “You know better,” Nathan said calmly.

  Eleven years ago, when Nathan had returned to Hideaway as a pastor, Cecil had made it obvious he did not approve of his childhood friend’s profession, though he remained friendly. Something in Cecil had turned bitter, as if he blamed God for the breakup of his first marriage, and possibly even for the sawmill tragedy. The change of heart had distressed Nathan, because it appeared Cecil had abandoned the Christian faith of his childhood.

  But lately Nathan didn’t think that abandonment was going to last forever. In recent weeks, he’d noticed less antagonism toward God in Cecil, and more questioning. A good sign, though not always comforting, since Nathan was most often expected to answer those questions. Cecil had a habit of trying to catch Nathan at a disadvantage, as if playing a game of spiritual sparring, testing him to make sure he practiced what he preached. Or, at least, what he used to preach.

  “How did it go with the sheriff today?” Nathan asked.

  “Nothing new.” Cecil’s voice had always been deep, but fatigue and anxiety about his daughter had roughened it until it seemed to vibrate the rafters.

  Carissa sat up in bed. “What did he ask you, Dad?”

  “Just if we’d noticed you talking to any of the workers at the mill, or to the ranch hands or any new friends, maybe some older kid at school.”

  “I don’t talk to any of the sawmill employees,” Carissa said. “You don’t like me at the sawmill when it’s running. And the ranch hands have been too busy to talk lately.”

  “That’s what I told the sheriff,” Cecil said. “What about kids at school? Anyone seem strange to you? Anybody scare you?”

  Carissa shook her head.

  “They asked about Justin’s friends.” Cecil glanced at Nathan, clearing his throat, and Nathan understood the message. He hated that he understood. Was Justin a suspect simply because he had an overt quirk in his personality?

  “Why would he ask you about Justin’s friends?” Carissa asked.

  “You know Greg. He’s got a suspicious nature. That’s what makes him a good sheriff.” Cecil focused more closely on his daughter’s face. “He seems to be working under the assumption that you were abducted, Cis.”

  Carissa blinked up at her father innocently. “I haven’t remembered anything else since the last time you asked me about last night, Dad.”

  The girl could act. Nathan made a note to remember that in the future.

  “You’ll tell me if you think of anything, won’t you?” Cecil asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Okay.” He paused, shooting another quick glance at Nathan. “Well, I guess I could use a few winks. You sure you’re gonna be okay, Cis?”

  “Yes, Daddy. See you in the morning.”

  Noelle waited in complete darkness, listening for another squeak of the floorboards below. She strained to hear a clue that the intruder knew she was there. But a Black Angus bull could be running through the house and she wouldn’t hear it over the beating of her heart.

  The floorboards squeaked once more, and her whole body stiffened. Surely it was Taylor Jackson patrolling? She should call out and let him know she was up here.

  But something kept her from it.

  Footsteps creaked with painful slowness through the front room, toward the kitchen in back, closer to the steps hanging down from the attic entry. Noelle held her breath. Oh, Lord. What have I done? Why didn’t I check with You before making this crazy trip out to the hollow alone? When the footsteps stopped just below the attic entrance, the silence lengthened. She knew she couldn’t pretend not to be here.

  Before whoever it was started up those steps, she would have to bluff, somehow. She couldn’t let on how frightened she felt.

  Noelle picked up the heavy battery lantern from the floor and straightened. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward briskly.

  “Nathan, I’m up here,” she called, striving to sound casual. “You’re late. I found that poem we talked about. I think I’ll take it to Carissa and let her have it, since she seemed to like it so much.” She switched on the lantern. “You should have been up here to watch the sunset, it was beautiful.” She aimed the beam down the attic entrance. It reflected off the steps and spotlighted the empty floor below. “Nathan? Come on up here for a minute. I saw some old pictures I’d like to have framed.”

  Thrusting the light down through the entry, she illuminated the kitchen. The room was empty. She waited, then heard a sound that her chatter had been covering—light footfalls rushing out the front door, across the porch and down the wooden steps.

  So it wasn’t Taylor. He would have answered immediately. Someone else was getting away. She needed to know who’d been here.

  Praying for courage, Noelle dived down the attic steps, skipped the last riser, jumped to the floor and dashed to the open front door. She stopped on the threshold, holding her breath, listening.

  Brush crackled near the old path that led to Pearl’s house. Noelle aimed the lantern in that direction and ran toward the sound, holding her light high. All she needed was a glimpse. Then she would know who’d abducted Carissa.

  Wouldn’t she? Who else but Carissa’s attacker would be running away from her?

  She paused at the spot where the path entered the woods, no longer hearing any rustling in the brush ahead.

  She peered into the thick blackness, lightened only a little by the thin crescent moon peeking through the trees. The darkness was so thick, it seemed to swallow the light from the lantern. She hoped Nathan kept these batteries charged.

  Someone waited in those woods.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carissa didn’t like spending the night in the clinic. Sure, it was going to be cool to tell all her friends about it—as one of the first overnight patients in the new section, she’d milk some good attention. Maybe even write about it in the school paper. Even better, now she could make herself a part of the history paper she was writing.

  But there was too much going on for her to be lying here in bed trying to get well, especially since both of the doctors said she was in “surprisingly good shape, considering…” They only wanted to watch her for any signs of developing pneumonia.

  The patient in the bed on the other side of the curtain sounded like a high-speed wood saw, making it hard for her to sleep. And Noelle still wasn’t back. Nathan sat staring out the window, trying hard to act like he wasn’t worried, but Carissa could tell by the stiffness of his shoulders and his silence that he wasn’t relaxed.

  “Nathan?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Aren’t you asleep yet?”

  “Nope. Do you think maybe I could go up and stay with Noelle for a few days when she goes back home to Springfield, after I get out of this place? Then I’ll be safe.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I think I would.”

  “Others might not agree.”

  Carissa sighed. “Melva wouldn’t let me go, anyway. She wants me in school if I have a pulse and am breathing.”

  “Sounds like the best place for you.”

  “She won’t let me go see my own mom, so why let me go to Springfield with Noelle?”

  “It isn’t the same thing at all,” Nathan said gently.

  “But if I could just stay at Noelle’s a couple of days, maybe. To recover, you know? She’s a nurse. She could take care of me. I mean, if it hadn’t been for you and Noelle, I wouldn’t’ve been found for another couple hundred years, probably, and by then my white skeleton would’ve become one with the rocks, or would—”

  “Carissa, where did you get that morbid imaginatio
n?”

  “Noelle. Dad says I take after her. I’ve heard him and Melva arguing about that. Melva doesn’t think a personality can be inherited. Dad says she’s wrong.”

  “I think personality can be inherited.”

  “Me, too. I am a lot like Noelle, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you think I’ll be a nurse someday?”

  He hesitated. “Not necessarily.”

  “Why isn’t Noelle a nurse anymore?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, flexing his shoulders as if they were stiff. “Why are you suddenly so talkative?”

  “Because I can’t sleep, and I’m tired of thinking so much.”

  He returned to his study of the moonlight. “Noelle’s a nurse. She always will be.”

  “You know what I mean. She doesn’t work as a nurse anymore. Jill wants her to come back down to Hideway and work at the clinic, but one of my friends at school—you know, Lacey, she’s Junior Short’s cousin who moved here from Arkansas last year?—she said Jill shouldn’t try to convince Noelle to come work here because Noelle had already blown it and proved she couldn’t be trusted. How did she blow it?”

  Nathan turned away, but not before she saw his flash of annoyance in the dim glow of the streetlight. Nathan hated small-town gossip. So did Carissa…to a point. But it sure did help her fill in the blanks in her report, especially when she talked to the old locals, like Bertie Meyer.

  “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll ask Noelle.”

  “No, you won’t, and stop trying to manipulate me. It isn’t an attractive trait, and Noelle’s job circumstances are no one’s business but her own.”

  She blinked at the sharpness of his tone. “Yeah, but a good researcher makes everything her business.”

  He turned away from the window with obvious reluctance and stepped to Carissa’s bedside. “Noelle would be hurt to know you’ve been talking about her behind her back.”

  “But I’m not saying anything bad about her.”

  “You’re repeating hurtful comments made by someone else in order to dig up more information. That’s called gossip.”