Warning Signs (Love Inspired Suspense) (12 page)

Nick always joked about her weakness for rescuers, and usually she went along with it for fun, but maybe he was onto something, because in this moment, Owen Matthews was her hero.

She’d lost all feeling in her body and hadn’t known how much longer she could perform the standard survival float on her back when he’d shown up out of nowhere. The rock had given her a handle to hold, but with her extremities frozen, she couldn’t be completely positive she still grabbed it. Any more time in those frigid waters would have meant death.

Judging by Owen’s quick and knowledgeable response, he knew that, too.

She wished she could tell him thank-you, but she couldn’t speak with her arms beneath the blanket, and in her frozen state, her mind seemed to inhibit her from forming words on her lips. On the boat, she’d tried to tell him someone had nearly killed her, but by the look of confusion on his face, she’d known her words hadn’t been formed correctly.

Owen spun her around at the clinic doors so he could back in. Yesterday, the two of them had brought Nick here. Now it was her turn.

She needed to tell Owen someone had tried to hit her with their boat. That she’d been afraid to get on the rock in case they came back. And swimming back was out of the question.

A nurse appeared, concern on her face. Owen spoke; then she waved them into Nick’s room.

Nick’s empty room.

Miriam pushed up in Owen’s arms, frantically searching the room for Nick. Where was he? She focused on the nurse’s lips and caught, “Nick checked out....” The rest of the words were spoken too quickly to comprehend.

Owen laid her down on the bed. “I’ll be right outside. The nurse is going to get you warmed up.”

Miriam threw off the blanket to sign, “Where’s Nick?”

“The nurse said he had an appointment that he couldn’t miss and checked himself out.”

She signed quickly before he turned away and left the room. “It’s not safe for him out there. Someone tried to kill me.”

Owen’s eyes pierced her. “What do you mean? How?”

She told him everything, including how grateful she was to him for coming for her.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me.” Owen’s signs jerked sharply as the cords in his neck tensed. “If I hadn’t left your side, you’d be fine.”

“I’m a big girl and can own up to my own behaviors. You told me not to leave the clinic, and I did. My fault. Not yours.”

Owen tapped his chest. “The pain in here tells me I let you down. Not the other way around. I shouldn’t have forgotten that you’re disabled.”

Miriam’s breath hitched, unsure if the word
disabled
had really formed on Owen’s hands. Had she read that correctly? Maybe he got his signs mixed up. That had to be it. He couldn’t really see her as disabled.

Her hands felt cold and stiff as she signed, “You said D-I-S-A-B-L-E-D. Did you mean to say something else?’

“No.”

Sheriff Grant stepped into the room before Miriam could reply. The two men exchanged some words, but the rolling anger Miriam could feel rising in her wouldn’t allow her to focus on their conversation. All she could think about were the few choice words she had for Owen. One in particular was that she was
not
disabled.

“Sheriff Grant has asked me to translate for him,” Owen signed through the growing red haze of her eyes. “I promise I’ll tell you exactly what he says and translate your words accurately. Are you okay with me interpreting for you?”

Miriam fisted her hands to refrain from saying what was really on the tips of her fingers. As soon as Sheriff Grant left the room, she would be giving Owen an eyeful. Miriam breathed deeply and signed stiffly, “Sure, go ahead.”

Sheriff Grant reached to his belt and removed silver handcuffs. In the next second he had her left hand incased in one cuff. In confusion, she watched him secure the other cuff to the metal railing.

Miriam tugged. The edges of the contraption cut into her skin with each shake and pull.
What is this about?
She sat stupefied. Her gaze traveled from the cuffs to the two men.

Sheriff Grant’s lips moved without an ounce of expression on his face.

Owen’s expression turned ashen. His chest expanded with a deep breath before he raised his arms and translated the sheriff’s words.

“Miriam Hunter, you have the right to remain silent....”

NINE

“W
hat do you mean the package was gone?” Owen asked the back of Wes’s head from the top step of Miriam’s basement stairs.

“Like I said, we looked on every rock out there. Nada. No package and no sign of a flying bicycle.”

“So there you go. From the time I brought Miriam back to when you got out there, the pickup of the package was completed by the real perp. That proves her innocence.”

Wes led Owen to a wooden door that matched the surface of the walls. He wouldn’t have known the door was there if Wes hadn’t pulled it open. “It proves nothing. Besides, this is all the proof I need.”

He pulled a string dangling in front of them. Light revealed an eight-by-eight room filled with tan stacks of plastic-wrapped rectangular blocks from floor to ceiling.

Marijuana.

“I knew she was involved all along,” Wes exclaimed as Owen walked the perimeter of the room, forced to accept the sight before him—and what it would mean for Miriam. “She and her interpreter friend thought they were so hilarious, making fun of me right in front of my face. Well, now who’s laughing?”

Owen’s brain went into overdrive. “Nick said he had an appointment he couldn’t miss. Maybe he went to retrieve the package. Maybe he snuck these in here when Miriam wasn’t home. I’m sure she doesn’t even know this room exists.”

“Why are you defending her?” Wes demanded. “She’s guilty, Owen. Look around you. Just because she’s disabled doesn’t mean the laws are different for her.”

Disabled.
It was the same word Owen had used with Miriam less than hour ago, but hearing it from Wes’s mouth sounded a bit harsh. It made him wonder how she felt when she heard people say it. How it made her feel when he’d said it to her. A stir of his scruples told him he might have hurt her.

“Oh, man, I think I messed up,” Owen mumbled aloud. He spoke to himself but also to Wes. “I think we might be wrong about that. I’ve watched her thrive in her surroundings with no assistance from anyone. Yes, she needs an interpreter, but anyone who speaks a different language would. That doesn’t make her disabled, right?”

Wes folded his arms, his head bouncing. “Oh, I see how it is. Never would I have believed it, but it seems I’ve uncovered two secrets today. It’s too bad you’ve fallen for a drug smuggler,” he huffed. “This would kill Rebecca all over again. Unless you’re glad she’s gone so you and the fiery redhead can get together.”

Wes’s remark drove the air from Owen’s lungs. He could do nothing but stand among the stacks of the destructive, toxic drug and hear the echo of his friend’s words, just as potent.

“I asked you to come here to help me crack this case,” Wes continued. “I did not expect you to interfere with it by getting cozy with the number-one suspect. You may not think too much of this island, but I do. It’s been my home all my life, and I will protect it from outsiders who only want to abuse it for their own gain.”

“And that’s what you think Miriam is about? Harming your precious island?” Owen pushed his fists into his waist to keep them from slamming into Wes’s face. “All Miriam wanted was to be a part of this community. To belong here. Did you even try to talk to her? Maybe learn a little bit of her language so you could say hi, how are you? Or did you avoid her instead?”

“Don’t you try to turn this on me. Look around you, Owen. The evidence is in
her
house.”

“Yes, but did you look for leads anywhere else? Or were you so focused on getting rid of her that perhaps you overlooked some other people? People who might have planted this stuff here for the same reason you’re going after her. I told you Nick has been misinterpreting her words. Miriam’s a funny lady, but I’m sure a lot of the jokes you think she said were Nick doing his best to ruin her.”

“Nick? I doubt that. They’re friends.”

“Some friend. I’m actually not surprised the whole town has turned against her. Because of him, they think she’s evil and rude.”

Wes rubbed along his jaw in indecision, staring at the rows of drugs. “I don’t have any other leads, but maybe I didn’t look deep enough into Nick Danforth.” He faced Owen. “All right, listen. I’m not willing to let her go just yet. But I won’t put her on the ferry tomorrow to be arraigned in Bangor, either. She can stay at the clinic this week while I do a little more snooping into Nick’s past.”

“Can you get rid of the handcuffs?”

“It’s either handcuffs or the holding cell.”

“You might as well gag her mouth. Her hands are the way she communicates.”

Wes shook his head. “I don’t have a spare man to guard her.”

“I’ll guard her. It’ll be my badge and gun if I don’t.”

Wes’s cheek twitched, but he reached into his pocket and withdrew a key ring. His thick fingers worked at removing a key, and he placed it in Owen’s waiting hand. “You must really like her if you’re willing to give everything up if she runs.”

“It’s not like you think.” He pocketed it. “We’re friends. That’s it. But I trust her, and I know she didn’t do this.” He gestured to the stacks of marijuana. “I can see now why someone wanted her out of here. By moving in, she disrupted their operation.”

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions, Owen.”

“You’re not jumping to enough.”

“All I know is we’ve never had illegal drugs on this island until Ms. Hunter and Mr. Danforth showed up.”

“Perhaps they were released as a way to get rid of her. Without her here to live in this house, it would stay vacant for a long time. Makes a great holding place before distribution to the pushers, I’d say.”

“Perhaps, but someone would buy the house eventually.”

“Has anyone made an offer or said they would like first dibs?”

Wes grew quiet, not recalling any names. It felt as though he didn’t want to answer.

“Well?” Owen asked again. “Has there been an offer?”

Wes cleared his throat. “Frank Thibodaux said he wanted it for his family. So what? He was Hans’s best friend. No one around here is going to deny an old man and fellow islander a final wish. We take care of our own.”

“It seems to me all roads lead to Frank Thibodaux around here.”

“Owen, you’d better watch your step.” A dangerous edge to Wes’s voice caused Owen to eye his friend dead-on.

“Is that some kind of warning?”

“Like I said. My job is to protect the people of this island from outsiders.”

Owen nodded, reading the message loud and clear. At the end of the day, he was one of those outsiders.

Owen didn’t want to think the worst of his friend, but he needed to know to what extremes Wes would take his job. To the point of scaring an unwanted outsider away? Would he even plant evidence to bring the law down on her so she was sent to be imprisoned on the mainland and off his precious island? And if that failed, would he attempt to kill her?

* * *

“Let me out, Mother! I won’t sign anymore.” Miriam hoped she said the words correctly. Speaking was so hard for her. Making her lips move the right way, then dragging air up from her tummy to blow out felt funny. But not as funny as the way people looked at her when she tried. She had no idea how she sounded, but when she got a scrunched-up face like the person ate a lemon, Miriam knew she’d got it wrong.

She hated that look. It made her feel dumb.

I’m not dumb.
Coach Erin told her those were Helen Keller’s first spoken words to the hearing world. And she’d also told her that Miriam wasn’t dumb, either. Coach said that she was just speaking the wrong language. And then Coach showed her the right one.

But now, with her hands tied in front of her, Miriam could speak no more. She tried her hardest to sit still on the cold hard floor in Grandma Trudy’s dark basement.

I hate the dark. I can’t see anything. It makes me feel so small. Even though I’m a little girl, it makes me feel like I’m even smaller, like I’m not here anymore.

Miriam wondered how long her punishment would last this time.

She struggled up from the ground, using her bound hands as leverage. Breath lodged in Miriam’s chest, squeezing it to the point that only a streamline of air passed through. With her chin up, Miriam faced the door she knew was above her. Even if she couldn’t see it, she knew it was there at the top of the stairs. She couldn’t say the same for the areas around her, and she had to force her head to face the unknown darkness.

Her chin trembled as she peered over her right shoulder. Slowly she twisted her rigid body around, but she dared not move in any direction.

Her body shook and she wished she could wrap her arms around her shoulders to get warm. The straps of her sundress did nothing to block the cold breeze blowing over her from her right.

Miriam wondered where the cold air came from, but she also wanted to get away from it. The darkness on her left seemed different, not as dark as her right. And not as cold. Like to a bug at night, life-giving light, warmth and safety beckoned her forward.

She put one foot in front of the other and bumped along cool rock walls. She was in some kind of passageway like the ones in the castles of her fairy tales. Miriam stubbed her big toe on something sharp, leaving her sandal sticky. She ignored it, for the pathway grew brighter ahead.

Light burned around the next bend. Miriam’s steps picked up speed. The light was a magnet, and she was powerless to its attraction. Her feet carried her at full speed into a small room, and instantly she could breathe better. She didn’t feel so small anymore.

Shadows danced merrily on rock walls. A candle flickered on a wooden table in the middle of the room. Miriam stepped in farther, scanning the dancing shadows around her.

Except they weren’t all shadows. A real person sat in a chair against the far wall. It was a lady, and her eyes bulged as they looked at Miriam.

Miriam’s legs locked, suddenly not liking this place at all. The woman’s eyes were so big. So scary.

Miriam backed away, but something yanked her wrist. She noticed a big hand in front of her eyes, pulling up her tied arms. Up and up the big, white knuckles pulled. Pain cut into her as the scene flashed gold and black.

And then out.

* * *

A sharp tug on her right hand jolted Miriam from her sleep. Her eyes opened wide to fluorescent lamp–lit clinical surroundings and settled on the hand holding her cuffed wrist. Fingers curled around her skin like the ones from her dream. The same dream she’d had since she was ten years old. And every time she had it, she’d swear it was real.

Especially with the hand still holding her.

Her gaze rose from the grip to meet the face it belonged to.

Owen.

Her brain tripped over this information. Was he the man from her dreams? She looked at his hand again to compare it.

Owen’s fingers were longer, thinner. His knuckles weren’t big and white and didn’t protrude in their grasp like the hand that had grabbed her with a vengeance. Miriam could rest assured; Owen Matthews was not the man from her dreams.

Something silver flashed between the fingers of his other hand. He brought it over the handcuffs that chained her to the bed. With a twist of his hand, the cuffs opened and slid from her wrist.

Air rushed into her lungs as she realized she was free again. Free because of Owen. He might not be the man from her dreams, but at the moment, he sure was the man
of
her dreams.

She took in his dark brooding eyes as she rubbed away the residual discomfort left by the cuffs. He swallowed hard, making his neck contract, and tossed the cuffs on the bedside table without removing his eyes from her.
So serious,
she thought. Not the look of a man here to set her free, after all.

But maybe a reprieve? “Thank you,” she signed, able to speak once again.

“I hated seeing Wes slap these on you.” Owen sighed deeply. “He’s letting me guard you here instead of inside a jail cell, but you’re still in a lot of trouble, Miriam. I saw the drugs in your basement myself. But even so, I told him he’s wrong about you.”

She tilted her head, comparing Owen’s words with his opinion of her from earlier. “Because a disabled person couldn’t be capable of such things?”

Dark eyes drooped with remorse. “I’m so sorry I said that. I have no excuse but ignorance. These last few days with you have shown me I have a lot to learn.” He flashed his dimple in a sheepish grin. “But I couldn’t think of a better teacher—or principal—to do the teaching.”

Miriam’s lips twitched. With Owen’s heart-melting charms turned on her, she found it increasingly difficult to stay mad at him. Besides, he was willing to learn, and what principal would ever turn away a willing student?

* * *

“I brought my video TTY phone for you to use.” Owen signaled to the chair behind him, where the machine rested. “You get one phone call like everyone else, and it should be on a phone useful to you.” He could kick Wes for not supplying one for her. The fact that the sheriff didn’t have one on hand in case the island’s deaf resident needed to contact the police really upset him, but Owen would curtail his disappointment at his friend for now. Clearing an innocent woman’s name took precedence.

Owen placed the screen on the bedside table while observing Miriam’s mood change. He was glad to see the petrified expression on her face had been replaced with her infectiously sweet smile again. When he’d first awakened her, her dull hue and deep-set eyes had made him feel as if he were the enemy. As if she expected him to harm her.

Then he thought maybe he was the enemy. His guilt at his earlier ignorance told him his words had been just as harmful as any weapon. And yet Miriam forgave him without question. And rewarded him with her clean-slate eyes and beaming smile.

Even though she was the one under arrest.

Now her hands were the focus of her attention. While Owen plugged in the phone cord, she wrung them the way a hearing person might worry on their lower lip when they were at a loss for words.

Something had made Miriam Hunter speechless.