Fated Hearts (20 page)

“Who do you think it could be?” she asked.

“I think we can cross anyone aware that Henley had moved out of the cabin off the list. If he meant to hurt or kill her, he chose the wrong residence at the wrong time. But I don’t think that was his intent.” She gestured for him to continue. “Henley spent time with me at the cabin; the cabin was broken into. She spent time with me at my house; her car was vandalized. She went away with me; the place he thought she resided in was burned to the ground. It doesn’t take a criminologist to see the pattern. She’s being punished for her interest in me.”

“You could be a target.” Maggie sat up straighter.

“I might. Yeah. It’s more likely he’ll come after me than you or your family. And I doubt he’s a local or he’d have known she’d moved. Have you seen anyone you haven’t recognized hanging around here or town?”

“Not that I remember, and strangers stand out in the Cove.”

“Has Tala mentioned seeing anyone hiking or camping in the woods?”

“No, and she would. She’s as possessive and vigilant as Aidan in that regard.” Maggie abandoned her mug and grasped his hand in hers. “Maybe you should distance yourself from Henley.”

“She works in my office and lives above it.” He shook his head. “If I could avoid her professionally, which I can’t, I wouldn’t distance myself personally. Capitulating to this whack job is a mistake. He wants her isolated, scared, vulnerable. I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

“I had to try.”

“I understand, sweetie.”

“Aw, I can’t remember the last time you called me that.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Any other questions, Sheriff?”

He ran through the pro forma inquiry. She hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know or expect to hear. He’d go through the same routine with Aidan and, to a lesser degree, Tala, but he wasn’t optimistic. This was someone either rejected by Henley or jealous of her. He could feel it. The Gaels didn’t apply.

“So now what?”

“I ran into an old FBI contact while in Cleveland. He’s been transferred to the field office there, and I’m going to call in a couple of favors.”

“Sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in weeks. By the way, if this thing between you and Hen works out, I plan on taking full credit,” Maggie said.

“Hen, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s an abbreviated form of Henley.” Maggie’s snarky tone matched her smirk.

“I call her Doc.” He smiled, but the gesture faded as he heard Tala and her father’s voices a moment before they opened the door. It made him happy to see the love spread over Maggie’s face when her family returned. He denied the tiny spark of envy spearing him.

But Tala didn’t look happy to see him.

“What’s the matter, Turnip?”

“You’re going to take Dublin home now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, baby, I am. But thank you for taking such good care of him for me while I was gone.” He slipped her five dollars when he bent to hug her. “That’s for you. A job well done deserves a reward.”

He chuckled when she surreptitiously tucked the bill into her pocket. Avaricious little kid. He winked and tugged on her braid before facing her father.

“Hey. We need to talk,” Aidan said.

“After you.” Carter followed Aidan out onto the deck and rested his body against the wood rail while he waited. It took Aidan a moment, while staring out over his meadow, to put his thoughts together.

“Any leads?”

“No. I’ve got ideas. Avenues worth exploring. Most of which won’t get me anywhere, but any and all possibilities will be exhausted.” Carter angled his body into Aidan’s line of vision. “I won’t let anything happen to your women. I’ll do my best to protect your property too.”

“I hate myself for asking this, but does that include convincing Henley Elliott it’s past time she moved along? It’s not her fault—I get that. But if not for her, this shit wouldn’t be happening. And I need to know if my family is your priority or if that woman is.”

Aidan’s words echoed the opinions of Henley’s family. Carter wasn’t about to let Aidan or anyone else continue making her feel that way. “Henley isn’t going anywhere if I have anything to say about it. Don’t put me in a position to choose, Aidan. And don’t go to her with that bullshit, either.”

“It’s like that?”

Carter nodded. He turned toward the meadow and gripped the rail he’d been leaning against, his stance no longer casual. He felt Aidan’s stare, but he didn’t acknowledge it. They were quiet. Carter was saddened by the chasm he felt growing between them.

“You have questions for me, right?”

Carter mechanically ran through the list of questions he’d already asked Maggie. Aidan’s answers were similar, as he’d expected. Aidan assured him that if Tala had seen anyone, she would’ve remarked on it. He promised to keep his eyes and ears open. With nothing more to do, and the tension between him and Aidan making him uncomfortable, Carter collected Dublin’s things and said good night.

He was backing his Jeep out of their drive when Maggie came running out of the house, calling his name. “Carter, wait.” She leaned into the open window. “I’m sorry about Aidan. You know how he is.”

“I do. I get it.” He winked. “We’ll be fine. Don’t sweat it, okay?”

“Okay.” She grinned, but it wasn’t the full of life and enthusiasm smile she usually displayed. “When you talk to Henley, let her know that Doug has her spare key.”

“What?”

“She left the windows open to air out the paint and cleanser fumes. Gave me the spare, you know, in case of rain. When the clouds got thick on Friday, I ran into town, but before I got to her place they issued a tornado warning and closed the school. I ran into Doug when I picked up Tala. He offered to close Henley’s windows for me.”

“And Doug still has the key?”

“Yeah. Why?” Maggie froze. “You can’t possibly think … ?”

“I’m not taking any chances. Call her.” He hit the gas and spun out of the Gaels’ driveway. He had no reason to suspect Deputy Doug Roman. The cabin had been empty and an ineffectual threat because she’d moved. Doug knew she’d moved. Unless he was wrong, and the cabin had been torched not as threat or punishment, but to drive a wedge between Henley and the Gaels. Anyone who knew Carter well could reasonably conclude he would choose Maggie and Aidan. Henley could leave town, go back out on the road where she’d be an easy target. What if that’s what she had done while he was at Maggie’s? Would she have left him a note? If she didn’t, how would he know whether she’d left on her own impetus, or if someone had taken her?

He pressed the accelerator to the floor, and when he could see the edges of the town, hit the lights and sirens. He had a knot in his gut, the same sense of doom he’d had walking into that alley. He couldn’t make another mistake. He glanced at Dublin, and the dog whimpered. Decelerating, Carter reached over, grabbed the passenger-side seat belt, and buckled in his mutt. “Not going to lose you either, partner.”

The sky was dusky. Red and blue lights ricocheted off dim windows. People spilled out of their homes as he flew down Main Street. He turned hard into the parking lot, throwing himself into the door, tires squealing, and slammed to a stop. Carter released his belt and the dog’s before jumping to the asphalt; Dublin leaped to his side. They ran to the rear exterior door, the one that housed the steps to the second-floor apartment, the door he found unlocked. He wasn’t aware of his own shouts as he took the stairs two at a time, Dublin on his heels.

“Henley! Henley!”

He skidded to a halt on the landing and reached for his piece. His hand came away empty. His firearm was in the lockbox in his closet at home. He swore and placed his body against the wall beside her door. He shushed the dog, pushing Dublin behind him, out of the line of fire, and tried the knob. It turned without resistance. He gave the door a push. It swung open.

Gas!

The pungent smell assaulted him as he eased over the threshold. The room appeared empty. Thanks to the open floor plan he could see all but the bathroom and bedroom, unless an intruder crouched behind the kitchen island. He cleared that space and moved into the short hallway. Both doors were open. He edged into the bedroom doorway and saw Henley in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Oh God, oh God.” The image of a dark alley superimposed itself over the pretty bedroom. The memory of garbage, blood, and spent gunpowder overpowered the noxious gas. Carter shook off the nightmare. And new fear stole his breath. Coughing from the fumes, he dropped down beside Henley. He put his fingers to her throat, avoiding looking at her face. Her hair was thick with blood, but her pulse was strong. He scooped her into his arms. Dublin licked her face. “Wake up, Henley, baby. Look at me.”

The atmosphere in the apartment changed. The air felt thick. They weren’t alone. He glanced around for a weapon. Laying her down and making as little sound as possible, he unplugged the lamp from her nightstand and removed the shade. Keeping the prone woman behind him, he faced the door and gripped the makeshift bat in two hands. He noticed Dublin had straddled Henley’s body with his own quivering mass. If they got out of this, he was buying the dog a steak.

He saw the gun first. Carter lowered his body, hoping the shooter would aim high and the bullet would go over his head. He widened his stance and corrected his grip. The gun became a forearm. Carter waited, coiled. The panic he’d felt was gone. In its place was the cool calculation necessary to survive, a skill he’d learned as a rookie. Later, he resolved, later he’d reflect on how natural, how righteous, that mantle felt.

When the gunman crept around the doorframe, Carter’s stomach dropped, but his arms did not waver. Doug stood in center of the doorway, his gun drawn, mouth agape.

“Sheriff!” His eyes shifted to the floor. “Is she okay?”

Carter held the lamp high, refusing the urge to follow the path of Doug’s gaze; he kept his eyes trained on the firearm that remained aimed at him. Doug looked back at him when he didn’t answer, saw his own hands gripping the lethal tool. “Oh, crap. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His arms dropped to his sides, and Doug holstered the weapon. Carter maintained his grip on the lamp. He was aware of Dublin growling.

“Doug.” His tone was firm and authoritative. “Go down and shut off the gas at the valve. I want you to get Dr. Tucker over here and call Brandwyne General for an ambulance, preferably the medic chopper. After that, I want you to come back up here, make sure the area is secure, and open every window you can.”

“What about Henley?”

“I’ve got her. Go. Be quick.” Not until he heard the sound of Doug’s feet on the stairs did he relax.

• • •

The darkness. It was everywhere. It had her. She’d been swallowed by the pain and the sorrow. She wouldn’t succumb; she’d fight. But bright red tentacles formed in the black and reached for her.

Henley startled awake. Caught in the fringes of her nightmare, a scream lodged in her throat. She saw a dark figure rush toward her. She raised her hands defensively. The image crystallized. She knew it was Carter. And that Carter would not hurt her.

“Hey, Doc.” He spoke to her like she imagined he would a spooked horse. “Welcome back.”

She saw the IV—she was in a hospital. Machines beeped and whirred, the sound filling her with revulsion. And anxiety. Memories that had become disjointed and vague over the years sprang fresh and terrifyingly clear. She whipped her head from left to right; a tube tugged at her nostrils. She had to fight the instinct to flee. She heard her whimper under the escalating sounds of the machines responding to her distress.

“Henley. Henley! Calm yourself. Sweetheart, please, you have to calm down. I can’t touch you. I’m feeling too much, and I’ll make it worse. Please. They’re going to be racing in here soon with needles and drugs.” His words registered. She looked into his sad, steady gaze and reached out wildly until she gripped his fingers in her fist. His emotions were intense. There was fear, and there was anger. But there was light and warmth. She latched on to the goodness. She focused on his blue eyes and the strength in the hand linked with hers. The power of his emotions pushed her fear into recess.

“I thought it was you.” Her voice sounded froggy, and her throat was bone-dry. Those five little words had caused explosions in her head. She winced.

“Shh. We’ll get to that.” Without pulling his hand free, he dragged a chair to her bedside. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He looked haggard. She had never seen him look disheveled, but the starkness of his expression and the wrinkled clothes couldn’t detract from his inherent good looks.

“You’re awake.” The nurse’s voice was too loud. The woman flicked on lights that were too bright. Henley wanted to growl a threat and grovel for mercy simultaneously.

“You think you could do whatever you need to do with less light and at a lower volume, miss? She’s hurting.” Carter’s tone was barely polite. She’d observed him charm men and women alike with his easy nature. Abrupt Carter was new to her and no doubt an indication of his turmoil. Turmoil he was holding back from her.

“I’m sorry, but the light is necessary.” Henley considered it a minor victory that the woman had moderated her voice. She checked Henley’s vitals, adjusted the machine, and promised to be back with something for the pain after Henley had seen the doctor. Blessedly, she extinguished the light when she left, and Henley pulled out the nasal cannula. Carter held a straw to her lips. The ice water felt like heaven. He took it away too soon and replaced the oxygen tube.

“Please.”

“I’m sorry, but you heard Nurse Ratched—small sips and this stays.”

“How long was I unconscious?”

“We’re not sure. It was past eight when I found you yesterday. It’ll be dawn soon. You’ve been out at least ten hours.” She felt her lips tremble. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re worried about the big brain of yours, right? Well, the doctors said they were more worried about how much gas you inhaled. In fact, that was likely more responsible for the long nap than the head wound.”

“Who was it?”

“I hoped you could tell me that, Doc.”

“I didn’t see; he came up behind me. I was unpacking and thought I heard the door. Thought it was you. I remember stuffing my dirty clothes in the hamper while I called out that I was in the bedroom. Then”—she reached up and felt the bandage—“he must have hit me.”