A Daughter's Perfect Secret (9 page)

A private life… Even before Abby’s bombshell, he’d eschewed lazy Sundays at the lake for board meetings, operational committees and conferences sandwiched between shifts at the hospital. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to let his mind rest. Now his focus had changed, but his drive hadn’t. “I like to stay busy,” he said. “And I like to feel needed. Helping others is a good way to remind yourself of your blessings. Someone always has it worse than you.”

Darcy’s expression faltered as if she’d realized her statement had smacked of selfishness, and she bit her lip. That single action, something she’d probably done a hundred times and he’d never noticed, drew his attention and held it for an inordinate slice of time. Why had she come to Cold Plains? What was the real reason? Little by little, she gave off signs and signals that she wasn’t the usual newcomer, yet she professed to be enamored with the Cold Plains lifestyle.

“I don’t like needles,” she confessed, embarrassed. “I mean, I
really
don’t like needles. As in I’m a bit phobic. Is there a time limit for these tests?” she joked.

“No, you can do them whenever you like. May I ask why you’re afraid of needles?”

“Aren’t you afraid of anything?”

Not finding Devin in time. Getting found out by Samuel before I get the answers I need…
Yeah, he knew a thing or two about fear. “I don’t particularly like birds.”

She did a double take. “Birds? As in, tweet-tweet?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Dirty menaces.”

At that, she laughed, revealing a beautiful smile that knocked him back a bit. “You know, birds are everywhere,” she said.

“Welcome to my life. Aren’t you glad you’re only afraid of needles?”

“That does put things in perspective.”

“Happy to help. You didn’t say why you were afraid of needles.”

Her expression turned wistful. “No, I didn’t.” She drew a deep breath and said, “Well, I guess it’s because of my mom. She recently died of cancer, and the doctors were always poking her for one reason or another. She started to run out of places where they could poke her because her veins were collapsing and her body was covered in bruises. Every time I see a needle, I get sick to my stomach. It’s hard to deal with, the memories of what she went through. So I guess, if I had to pinpoint the origin, that would be it.”

“I’m sorry to hear of your mother’s cancer.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, ducking her head. “It’s still kind of raw. I try not to think about it.”

“Is that why you came to Cold Plains?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation, though there was something else in her eyes, but it was gone before he could place it. She brightened. “New place. New start. I need that. You know?” She gestured to the quaint, pristine street and the overall picture-perfect quality surrounding them. “And what a place to start fresh. This is like a little slice of heaven. Clean streets and air, a community that actually cares about each other…it’s just what I needed.”

“That’s what most people say,” he agreed. “So, just let me know if you want someone to accompany you. I’d be happy to be the person to do that.”

“Thanks, Dr. Black.”

Rafe knew it was wise to keep the formality between them, but it felt wrong and forced. “Please, call me Rafe,” he said. “Unless you prefer Dr. Black, of course.”

She seemed unsure, and he didn’t blame her. Hell, the minute he offered, he wondered if he shouldn’t have kept his mouth shut, but when she slowly nodded and gave him a sidewise grin as she said, “Rafe it is,” he knew things between them would start to change.

He just wasn’t sure whether the change was good or not.

Either way, something had just been set in motion.

He could feel it.

Darcy watched as Rafe walked in his usual hands-in-pockets yet brisk style down the sidewalk toward his parked car, and tested Rafe’s name on her tongue a few times.

It was sexy, no doubt about it.

How many doctors were named Rafe? Doctors—like accountants or dentists—were given names like George, John or Tom.

Not Rafe.

Most doctors didn’t look like Rafe, either, at least not in Darcy’s experience.

Everything about the sexy doc was surrounded by an air of mystery. Good Lord, she found that highly attractive.

Bad. Bad. Bad.

She should’ve politely reminded Rafe that a certain level of formality was good for employee-boss relations.

But she liked that he’d offered.

Darcy sighed. She supposed, try as she might, fighting her own nature was a losing battle.

Before Louise died, Darcy had been a bit of a party girl. Not dangerous and recklessly so, but she’d enjoyed a good time or two.

That seemed ages ago now.

She checked her watch—it would be time for the nightly meeting soon. She had just enough time to get back to the hotel, freshen up and do some research before heading to the community center.

But even as her mind processed the mountain of new information that seemed to come at her from all angles, she had trouble keeping her thoughts wrangled on the straight and narrow. Unfortunately, that party girl was still alive and well inside of her, even if she’d been mostly subdued as of late.

And that party girl liked what she saw in Rafe Black. She liked the fact that he was a bit mysterious—possibly dangerous—and most definitely hiding something behind those dark eyes. Overall, Rafe was a package deal of off-limits-stay-off-the-grass, and even as sternly as she reminded herself to steer clear, that was the exact opposite of what Party Girl wanted to do.

The question was, how could she stay the course in her mission to find answers, without succumbing to that reckless impulse to get to know the good doc a bit better?

It was yet another dilemma placed on an already full plate—and yet another opportunity to slip up in grand fashion with potentially deadly consequences.

Chapter 10

R
afe crossed the threshold of the clinic and enjoyed the bracing rush of cold air after being in the June heat. He walked straight to the chief of medicine’s office, having made an appointment to see him personally. He wasn’t going to waste time with people who didn’t have any power. Now that he’d operated his practice for a few months, he felt he had more to offer, that he’d proven his loyalty.

Smile firmly in place, he walked into Dr. Virgil Cruthers’s roomy office and closed the door behind him when Virgil gestured for him to do so, before he took a seat across from him.

“So good of you to see me on such short notice,” Rafe started, shaking the older man’s hand.

Virgil Cruthers was a white-haired man with a face and body that would look quite natural in a red Santa suit, but Rafe saw past the soft wrinkles and grandfatherly demeanor to the sharp, cunning man behind the mask. He didn’t doubt Cruthers was a Devotee, otherwise Samuel wouldn’t have trusted Cruthers in such an important position. If anyone knew about a secret infirmary, Cruthers did—and likely oversaw the operation.

This was the man whose trust Rafe needed to earn and the one who was likely as dangerous as Samuel.

“I’m happy to meet with a colleague such as you, Rafe. You’ve earned yourself a bit of a reputation, son.”

He arched his brow. “Oh?”

“All good, I assure you,” Virgil said, smiling, actually pulling a file folder from his desk. That there was a file on Rafe didn’t surprise him at all, but it did shock Rafe that Virgil was being so open about it. Rafe took that as a promising sign. “I see here you’ve been very helpful in referring patients to Heidi for help with their nutrition needs. Your success rate is hovering at eighty-five percent. Not bad.”

“Success rate?”

Virgil closed the file and leaned back in his chair, regarding Rafe with keen eyes. “Each time a referral comes in, we determine where it came from, and then if the patient completes the program successfully, that reflects well on the person or agency that referred them.”

“Eighty-five percent, huh? Glad to hear so many patients are being successful,” he said, smothering the questions that begged to be asked: What happened if his patient success rate started to fall? What happened to the patients who failed? Rafe needed to know, but he wisely bided his time. “I’m happy to help.”

“And Cold Plains needs people like you, Rafe,” Virgil said sternly. “Smart, capable and with the program. I took a look at your numbers and you’re in excellent physical shape, just the kind of example we like to set in Cold Plains. You’re a perfect ambassador.”

Rafe resisted the urge to shift in discomfort. He didn’t want to be Cold Plains’s poster boy for anything, but he recognized Virgil meant it as a compliment, so he reacted accordingly. “I appreciate that. I try to keep in shape, and the meal plan is very helpful in maintaining a healthy balance.” God, help him, he was lying through his teeth but he’d long since ditched any reluctance to stretch the truth since moving here.

“So what can I do for you?” Virgil asked.

“I want to do more for the Cold Plains community,” he said. “I heard that the clinic might need an extra pair of hands.”

Virgil sighed and laced his fingers together. “True. Unfortunately, the budget doesn’t support hiring another doctor, otherwise you’d be first on our list of desirables.”

“I understand and that’s why I want to volunteer.”

“Volunteer?”

“I was raised to believe a life of service was the key to true happiness. I’m ready to be put to use here in my new community.”

Virgil’s expression split into an approving smile, which actually reached his eyes, and Rafe knew he’d said the right thing. “You were raised right, son,” Virgil said with a short nod. “Too many in this world have no regard for their fellow man. That’s what makes Cold Plains special, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Completely. And I need to feel I’m doing my share.”

“Ah, I like the way you think. It’s a generous offer, for sure, but can you handle a practice and a volunteer schedule? That’s a heavy load.”

Rafe laughed. “Virgil, if I may be blunt, before I came to Cold Plains I was gunning for the chief of medicine position at my old hospital. I don’t have to tell you what that entails. I’ve long since forgotten what it’s like to have spare time, and frankly, I’m more comfortable being busy.”

“A man after my own heart,” Virgil said, smiling. “I know how you feel. Just doesn’t seem natural to sit on your hands and do nothing when you’ve got talents to share and lives to change. You’re a good man, Rafe Black. Cold Plains is lucky to have someone of your character.”

Rafe offered Virgil a sidewise grin. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do want to help. Can you use my services?”

“Of course,” Virgil answered, yet there was hesitation in his voice. Rafe waited, not wanting to appear suspiciously eager. “Here’s the situation.... Mr. Grayson has a personal stake in the running of this facility and all hiring of personnel and volunteers are passed by him first. What kind of relationship do you have with Mr. Grayson?”

Rafe made a point to appear nonplussed. “I think we’re on good terms. Never had a negative run-in, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good. Then I’ll schedule a sit-down with you two, and if he gives you the green light, I’d be thrilled to have you on board. We could really use some help in the maternity ward. I know you don’t specialize in obstetrics, but as a volunteer, you would be working under the direction of the staff OB doctor. That sound okay with you?”

Rafe couldn’t have found a more perfect fit for his purposes. He smothered the grin he felt building. “I’d be happy to fill in wherever there’s a need,” he offered.

He was rewarded with a big smile from Virgil. “That’s an excellent attitude, son. I think you’re going to be just fine around here. I’ll call when Mr. Grayson has an opening. And between you and me, expect a call sooner rather than later, so please have a schedule you can commit to ready for presentation to Mr. Grayson.”

Rafe stood and shook Virgil’s hand again. “You bet. I’ll await your call.”

As Rafe left the room, he caught Virgil picking up the phone. He suspected he’d be meeting with Mr. Grayson by tomorrow.

Darcy may have embellished a little on her needle phobia. It was true each time she saw a needle she cringed inwardly because of what she’d seen her mother go through, but her reluctance to get the tests done had more to do with Samuel Grayson than some phobia. She couldn’t see herself allowing anyone associated with Samuel Grayson taking her DNA, because if cross matched, half would line up with Samuel himself. She imagined that wouldn’t go over very well. There’d be no hiding in plain sight after that.

She crossed to the library and slipped inside but not before attracting the attention of someone else who followed her into the building.

The library seemed a good place to start to look into the past history of Cold Plains. She figured there had to be something that drew Samuel here, and she wanted to know what it was. Maybe if she knew the why, she’d gain some insight into his personality or what drove him.

Darcy went straight to the archives where the newspapers were kept on microfiche. It took her a moment to remember how to work the archaic machine, but thankfully, her college experiences, library trolling for several professors who didn’t believe in the internet, came in handy.