Blind Trust (27 page)

Tom swerved onto the road as details of the accident came over the police radio. A tan-colored Corolla had careened off the embankment.

His heart sank.
Kate's dad.

Tom floored the gas.
God, please don
't let him die. Not before Kate can talk to
him.

The rain had stopped, but the roads were still slick. In minutes he reached the hairpin turns of Tucker's Hollow. As he rounded the first curve, the ground to the right seemed to fall away, no longer hemmed in by trees. The purple-gray sky opened up over him.

One more bend in the road and he caught his first whiff of the sickening smell of burning fuel and tires. He pulled behind the yawning doors of an empty ambulance.

Firefighters in protective gear were already hauling hoses and equipment down the embankment. Tom headed after them.

The car's rear bumper exploded and every firefighter dropped to the dirt as if he'd been shot. Tom kept running, his gaze fixed on the burning vehicle.
Oh,
God, not again. Please, not again.

Someone grabbed his shoulder and held him back as firefighters turned hoses on the flames. A scream—his scream—cut through the swooshing in his ears.

The guy who held him gave him a hard shake. “You know this guy?”

Tom blinked. He stared at the figure suspended by his seatbelt in the upturned car. Not his former FBI partner.

Kate's dad.

Firefighters quickly beat down the fire, then one of them reached through the window. “He's still alive!”

Thank you, Lord
.

A giant power saw roared to life, and the firefighters went to work on the crushed door.

Tom turned away. Kate wasn't expecting this. Never in a million years would she expect this. But how could he keep this secret and ever look into her eyes again?

He trudged partway up the hill out of the way of the rescuers and pulled out his phone. Broken glass and yards of battered metal lined the crushed vegetation Baxter's car had pitchpoled over.

Dad answered on the first ring. “How bad?”

“Bad. How's Kate?”

“Waiting to see a doctor. Don't worry about us. You do what you have to do.”

Tom glanced toward the vehicle to see a firefighter hunched over Kate's dad from the backseat, holding his battered head immobile as another worked to free the man's legs.

This was exactly the kind of attack Baxter had feared. What they'd been trying to protect Kate from. He wished he could have reunited them one last time.

Dad had given Kate the phone, but Tom's whirring thoughts
couldn't make sense of her words. Before he knew it, the firefighters were snapping a c-collar on her dad and moving him carefully to a backboard. His clothes dripped away in molten strips, baring raw, mangled flesh. “Kate, honey, I need to go. I'll call you again as soon as I can.” He didn't wait for her response before disconnecting.

Firefighters hustled her dad up the hill and into the ambulance.

“Is he going to make it?” Tom asked one of the paramedics.

“We're doing everything we can.” The default response. The paramedic climbed into the back of the ambulance. “You know him? He got any medical conditions we should know about?”

“I—” He swallowed, shook his head. “Sorry. I don't know.”

The doors snapped closed. How had he let it come to this?

Kate would never forgive him. Was that why he had this overwhelming sense that his life had just hurtled out of control along with Baxter's car? Because if he told Kate the truth, she might not ever be able to trust him again. Or forgive him.

Or love him.

The ambulance veered onto the road and away, siren wailing.

His mind spun backward like a film unspooling in his head. His FBI partner stomping back to his car, telling him he had it under control, that he knew what he was doing. Then
boom
, the earth shook. Burning metal spewed in a hundred different directions.

And his friend's life vaporized.

The psychologist had assured Tom that he'd done everything right, that Ian reaped the consequences of his own choices. But deep down Tom hadn't believed her. There had to have been more Tom could do. If he couldn't change outcomes, why do the job?

He could rationalize decisions all he wanted, but he couldn't undo what he'd done. Sometimes, mercifully, he could forget.

“Hey, you hear what I said?”

Tom focused on the uniformed officer standing in front of him. “What?”

“This was no accident. The shattered plastic from the car's parking light is strewn on the road. Based on its location and the tire skid marks, looks like someone rammed the car off the ravine.”

He'd figured. Tom jogged back down the ravine to the car. “You find any burlap sacks?” he asked the officer photographing the scene.

“No. Lots of dirt, though, and this.” The officer held up an evidence bag with an amendoso plant. “Not like any weed I've ever seen. You think this guy dug up someone's pot garden? A sure way to make an enemy.”

That thought gripped Tom's chest like a vice. Baxter had only one enemy—GPC. And now they'd connected him to Kate.

Tom scanned the swath Baxter's car had plowed. The other guy must've grabbed the sacks. And any hope of tracking footprints had been obliterated by the dozen firefighters, paramedics, and officers tromping up and down the hill.

Leaving a couple of officers to work the scene, Tom drove to the hospital.

Family engulfed him the instant he walked through the ER doors. He returned Timmy and Terry's boisterous hugs, then turned to his dad. “Did something happen to Tess and Xavier?”

Dad caught a hand of each of the twins. “No, I figured Kate shouldn't be on her own tonight, but she couldn't reach her friend, Julie, so I called Tess. Of course, as soon as Tess heard what happened, she came right over.”

Grateful for his sister's big heart, Tom scanned the waiting room. “Where are they?”

“With the doctor. Kate asked Tess to go in with her. She's pretty shook up. The reality of everything has finally hit her.”

Tom cringed at how much darker the reality was than she knew.

Dad settled the twins back on a play mat with a couple of cars. “How's her . . . Mike?”

“It doesn't look good. And it was no accident. I definitely don't want Kate going home alone.”

“Tess already invited her to spend the night at their house. I said we'd pick up her car later and bring it around.”

“Good. I need to go check on”—wary of listening ears, he glanced at the people lining the chairs of the waiting room—“the victim. Don't let Kate leave before I see her.”

Before the words were out of his mouth, Kate rushed to his side. “I'm here. Are you okay?”

Tom swallowed her in his arms. “Me? You're the one with the head injury.”

“The doctor says I have a slight concussion, not too serious. But you sounded so distraught on the phone.”

He clung to her, soaking in her loving concern. He didn't deserve it. Not with her father fighting for his life a room away and him keeping the fact from her. He heaved in a breath and relaxed his hold.

“What is it? You look like you just lost your best friend.”

His heart crunched into his ribcage at how close to the truth he feared that was, or would be if he told her who'd been driving the wrecked car.

Dad mouthed, “I'm sorry,” and ushered Tess to the chairs.

Yeah, so was he.

“Did the victim survive? Is he someone you know?” Kate pressed.

“Yes, I should go check . . .” He needed to try to convince her father to tell her who he was. He had no idea if Baxter would survive his injuries. This could be their last chance to see each other.

Kate gave him a supportive side hug. “I'll wait for you.”

“That's not necessary,” he heard himself say, hating himself for it.

“I want to be here for you, Tom. I can't explain it, but from the moment you called, I had this strong sense that you really needed me. That you needed to know I'd be on your side tonight.”

He cupped her face. “I love you. You know that, don't you?”

Her lips spread into a heart-crushing smile. His gaze became entangled in a dance between her eyes and lips. Slowly, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers, absorbing their sweet softness.

The babble of the waiting room faded to nothing. Nothing but him and Kate and the feel of her arms around him.

He drew her closer and deepened the kiss.

His knees weakened at her utter surrender. He didn't deserve her. And more than life itself, he wanted to. He wanted to be a man she could trust and believe in—something revealing the truth about her father might irrevocably jeopardize.

But if he didn't, he could never be that man.

She pulled back, tilting her head, and gave him a strange look. She reached up and thumbed dampness from his cheek. “You're crying.” Something akin to awe reverberated in her voice.

He tightened his embrace and buried his face against her neck. “I never imagined I could feel this way about anyone. I never want to hurt you. Never. You have to know that.”

Her fingers stroked a reassuring rhythm along his back. “I know, Tom.”

The blare of a code blue over the hospital's PA snapped his head up. Suddenly hyperaware that anyone could be watching, he scanned the faces around the waiting room. What if her father's attacker was among them? Waiting. Watching.

There was no telling how Kate would react to his revelation. He deserved nothing less than to be screamed at, but giving away that the victim meant something to her was precisely what her father had been so desperate to avoid. For her own protection.

The paramedic from the scene flagged Tom. “Your friend's stable. They'll probably let you in now.”

“Thanks.” Tom clasped Kate's hand and tugged before he lost his courage. “Come with me.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Tess hurried after them, Dad and the twins on her heels.

“You go on and get the boys to bed. I'll bring Kate by in a while. Okay?”

A gleeful “way to go, brother” twinkle lit Tess's eyes before she gave Kate a warm hug goodbye.

Knowing better, Dad squeezed Tom's shoulder.

Tom expelled a breath. “Pray she gets a chance to speak to him before . . .” His voice cracked.

“I will. And . . .” Dad glanced at the people lining the waiting room. “I'll watch your back.”

Kate paced the empty waiting room on the burn ward, her heart aching for Tom and his friend. He still hadn't told her who the victim was, but clearly he was dear to Tom.

Sinking onto a chair, she closed her eyes and revisited his kiss, the tears on his cheek, his whispered words of love, and her heart soared once more.
Love.
Could it really be? Seeing someone he cared about so near death would make him not want to hold back, as she'd been doing. If only her love could take away the pain crushing his heart.

He returned with two cups of steaming coffee and handed her one.

“Any word on your friend?”

He shut the door, giving them absolute privacy, then set his coffee on the corner table and sat beside her. “There's something I need to tell you.”

The gravity in his voice made her heart hammer. Her coffee sloshed over her fingers. She set it on the table and snatched up a napkin.

Like a fog lifting, the situation suddenly became clear to her. The way he'd avoided answering her questions about the victim. His reassurances of love. The victim wasn't his friend . . . It was hers.

Oh, please
, God, no. Not Julie
.

Tom clasped her hands, squeezing so tight her fingers began to lose sensation, but she didn't mind. His grip was a lifeline. An unspoken promise that he wouldn't let her fall. His soulful eyes searched hers, awash with apology and sympathy.

“Is she going to make it?” Kate whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“Julie. She's the victim, isn't she? That's why . . .”

Tom crushed her in his arms. “No! Oh, Kate, I'm sorry. No. I didn't mean to let you think that the victim was your friend.”

She gently pushed against his chest, and when he released her, she looked him in the eye. “Then what's going on? Just tell me.”

His Adam's apple bobbed. But she couldn't imagine any worse news he could tell her. She had no family. He and Julie were the most important people in her life, and he was sitting right in front of her, perfectly healthy.

Or was he? Was this not about the accident at all?

“There's no easy way to tell you this, Kate.” His voice sounded rough, agonized.

Her spirit plummeted. She clasped his hands. “Just tell me.”

His shoulders sagged. New lines creased his forehead. “Your father . . .” Tom swallowed.