Читать книгу John Doe on Her Doorstep - Debra Webb - Страница 12

For an endless moment, Dani stood frozen…unable to move or think. Her physician’s instincts screamed at her to go to the man who was obviously injured in some way, but the vulnerable, human side of her refused to even breathe, much less move a step in his direction. The skin on her wrist still burned where he had clutched at her so desperately and with such strength. How could a man on the verge of collapsing possess such tremendous strength?

When he continued to lie motionless, those instincts honed for nearly a decade in medical school, then a couple more as a resident, finally kicked in. She crouched next to him, bracing one knee against the smooth hardwood floor.

Her heart racing, she reached toward his throat and the carotid artery there. He was breathing, though his pulse rate was a little slow. Needing more light, she flipped on the overhead fixture and resumed her examination.

His color was ashen. Not good. His clothes were mud-splattered, with dried leaves stuck here and there in garish decoration. A number of angry scratches marred his face and bare forearms. The dried blood on his shoulder certainly would not have come from any of the scratches. Easing closer, allowing both knees to rest on the floor now, she leaned over him and examined his right shoulder.

The edges of a small tear in the fabric of his shirt were stuck together with blood. As she noted the damage to the khaki material somewhere in the back of her mind she considered that she should be using gloves. Should be calling the police…an ambulance.

She slipped enough buttons from their closures to facilitate sliding the shirt off his shoulder. More red, angry flesh surrounded an already healing circular wound about the size of a nickel. The injury was unmistakable. A bullet wound. Cal’s and Rand’s story zoomed into her thoughts. But she didn’t have time to reflect on that right now.

Using all her strength against the deadweight pressing down onto the floor, she rolled him onto his left side. She carefully peeled the shirt away from his skin to see if the bullet had exited cleanly.

A sigh slipped past her lips when she found the exit wound, larger and not healed quite so well. Okay, there would be no bullet to remove. The incredible fact that the injuries were healed so well eliminated the need for suturing. Allowing his weight to ease back down against the floor, she sat back on her heels and considered her unexpected patient. The gunshot wound wasn’t the cause of his current state, that much she’d wager. His flesh felt too warm. She needed to verify his temperature. Maybe an infection?

Proceeding with her examination, she checked his limbs, which appeared to have been working fine before he collapsed. He had moved toward her and his grip had certainly been plenty powerful. All appeared to be in order as she made her way along his lean, muscular limbs and torso, then up his neck. Buried in thick, silky hair, her fingers stilled where they roamed his scalp. There was noticeable swelling at the back of his skull. She rolled him onto his side once more and surveyed the area more closely. The flesh was not damaged or discolored. His full head of blond hair looked no worse for wear. Yet there was a definite raised area.

She had to have help. She couldn’t move him on her own. Getting him to the hospital was the next logical step. Calling an ambulance, as she’d considered earlier, would be pointless. By the time it reached her remote location, she could have him at the hospital twice over by herself. She just needed help moving him.

Cal and Rand.

She made the call and in less than fifteen minutes, the two were at her door.

“Holy cow.”

Rand looked from the stranger, still unconscious on the floor, to his friend, whose exclamation still echoed in the seemingly too quiet house. “I told you, man,” he murmured.

“You think this is the man you saw?” Dani asked as she knelt next to the stranger and checked his pulse once more. Still a bit slow, but damned steady.

Rand nodded. “It’s him.” Then he shook his head slowly from side to side in visible regret. “Dammit. I didn’t mean—”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Dani interjected. “Help me get him to your truck.”

Rand’s eyes rounded in terror. “You going to take him to the hospital?”

Cal jabbed him with his elbow. “Of course she is, you idiot. He’s been shot.”

Dani’s gaze locked with Rand’s and she knew exactly what he was afraid of. The hospital would be required to report the shooting to the sheriff. Sheriff Lane Nichols was an absolute jerk. The idea of having to deal with him left a bad taste in her mouth as well. She shuddered, then shook off the dread.

“We have to—”

“He’s all right, ain’t he?” Rand demanded. “I mean, he’s not going to die or anything…”

Dani peered down at the stranger once more. “He’s stable, if that’s what you’re asking. His life isn’t in danger from the gunshot wound, in my estimation.” She considered his heated flesh. Unless an infection was in the works. “But there might be other complications.” She shrugged as half a dozen scenarios filtered through her thoughts. “Infection. There’s a lump on the back of his skull.” She looked up at the boys then. “Could he have fallen after you shot him?”

Both shook their heads vigorously. “He ran like hell,” Cal explained. “That’s why I thought it was a deer. I saw the blood where he’d been hit, but he was long gone.”

Rand nodded his agreement. “We weren’t close to any bluffs or nothing like that. One second he was there, the next he was gone. I even followed the blood trail for a while but never caught up with him.”

“That happens with deer a lot,” Cal put in. “That’s why I was sure…”

His gaze dropped back down to the man. He didn’t have to say the rest. Dani understood. He sincerely thought his friend had shot a deer that had run off to die someplace where his hunters would never locate him.

“If you take him to the hospital,” Rand said softly, “the sheriff’ll have my hide. He’s got it in for me anyway.”

Dani could believe that. Nichols had had it in for her for a long time. She didn’t trust him. In fact, he scared the hell out of her.

Maybe the boys were right. Maybe involving the sheriff wasn’t even necessary. She peered down at the injured man once more. Maybe she could give him all the attention he needed. When he woke up, hopefully she could convince him not to press charges against Rand.

“All right,” she said as she pushed to her feet. “Let’s get him to the guest room.”

The relief on the boys’ faces was palpable. She had to be out of her mind. What if something went wrong? What if he took a turn for the worse during the night? Then she’d call that ambulance, she promised herself. But, what if he was a fugitive from the law? For all she knew, he could be a killer. Why else would he hiding out in the woods like that?

Just now taking the time to consider who the guy was, she knelt down next to him and searched his pockets for some sort of identification. His pockets were empty. The possibility that he’d been robbed occurred to her. But why, then, would he hide in the woods?

It didn’t make sense.

Any more than what she was about to do.

She stepped back out of the way and let Rand and Cal take over. Cal, the more muscular of the two, hooked his arms under the stranger’s and hefted him upward. Rand lifted him with one arm under the bend of each knee. The typical dead man carry.

Moving the stranger didn’t actually worry Dani. He’d walked into her home of his own volition, and her examination had given her no reason to believe he had any broken bones. That wasn’t to say that there couldn’t be fractures undetectable by the naked eye and probing fingers. But that was a risk even paramedics would have to take were they to heft him onto a gurney and into an ambulance.

She followed the slow progress up the stairs. Rand and Cal had to take it one arduous step at a time. The guy was heavy. Dani estimated his height past six feet and his weight close to two hundred pounds. Judging by the fit of his jeans and shirt, every ounce of it was rock-solid muscle.

She swallowed hard as the idea that he could be a fugitive—a rapist or killer—crossed her mind yet again.

Shoving the thought aside, she reminded herself that whoever he was, right now he needed help. Even an inmate on death row received proper medical attention. Now wasn’t the time to question her motivation or to second-guess her reasoning. He needed help; she would do what she could.

Once in the upstairs hall, she moved around the three men and hurried to the guest room. She drew back the comforter and top sheet and fluffed the pillows. When Rand and Cal had positioned the injured man on the bed, she removed his hiking boots and set them aside. A frown wriggled its way across her brow as she noted the brand of his shoes. Two hundred bucks minimum. Why would a fugitive from the law be wearing high-priced footwear?

“Help me with his shirt,” she said to Cal, who stood on the left side of the bed. Rand stepped out of her way as she moved to the head of the bed.

One quick glance at the label told her that his taste in shirts was every bit as refined as that in his footwear.

When she’d undressed him to the waist she turned to Rand. “Tomorrow morning, I want you up on that mountain. Search the area where you think you saw him and see if you can find a wallet or anything else that might help us identify this guy.”

Rand nodded, his eyes still wide with uncertainty. “Does this mean that you’re not going to call the sheriff?”

Dani thought about that for a time before answering. “It means,” she said carefully, “that I’m going to see what John Doe here wants to do when he wakes up.” The idea that the lump on his head might be trouble nagged at her. “But,” she warned, looking from Rand to Cal and back, “if his condition deteriorates in any way, all bets are off.” If hidden trouble existed, symptoms would surface.

The two nodded. “You want us to stay the night, Miss Dani?” Cal asked.

She decided that was a good idea. “I’d appreciate it. That way, you’ll be close by if I need you.”

“We’ll call our folks,” Rand told her as they left the room, both looking about ten years older than they had that morning.

Having them close by would be a good thing. The house had four bedrooms. There was plenty of space. At daybreak, she’d send the boys out to search the area where they thought they’d first encountered this man. If they could locate the path he’d taken coming down the mountain, maybe they’d find something. Anything he’d had in his possession might prove to be useful.

Dani put all other thoughts aside and set to the task of doing what needed to be done. She gathered the elaborate first aid kit she and her father kept at the house and the necessary cleaning supplies. She also put a call in to Doc but couldn’t reach him. Leaving a message with his service would work. As soon as he got the message, he’d call. She needed a second opinion on the decision she’d made not to go to a hospital right away.

Part of her felt certain she was making a mistake, but another part of her was convinced that she’d done the right thing for all concerned. But was the option she’d chosen more right for her and Rand than for this helpless stranger?

After she’d cleaned his wounds and applied topical antibiotic, she determined that his temperature was only slightly above normal. The pupils of his eyes responded appropriately, as did his involuntary reflexes. That puzzled her a bit. The lump on his head and his continued deep sleep made her uncomfortable, but there were no outward symptoms that would dictate concern.

She chewed her bottom lip and thought about the bullet wounds she’d cleansed. According to Rand, the shooting had taken place yesterday morning but the advanced healing indicated otherwise. The wounds should have been still oozing, with scarcely any formation of a scab. Maybe this man’s injuries had nothing to do with Cal and Rand.

Her gaze roved over his well-defined torso. He looked to be in excellent physical condition. She was well aware that prisoners had access to state-of-the-art gyms in prison. So his great physical conditioning didn’t tell her anything one way or another. His clothes, however, were a different story. How many inmates could afford a single outfit that likely cost five hundred dollars or more? She supposed he could have stolen it, but the fit was perfect. Her gaze moved down the length of his long legs. She didn’t have to peel off the denim to clearly see that the rest of his anatomy was as well maintained as his torso.

Another of those foolish shivers danced up her spine and she chastised herself for being an idiot. She wasn’t a kid. Getting caught up in some fantasy here was seriously beneath her. Whatever this man’s story, she had to keep her wits about her. Serial killers could be well dressed, even wealthy.

Once she’d covered him with the sheet and comforter, she went downstairs to check on Cal and Rand. Their hushed conversation ceased when she entered the kitchen. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee made her think of long nights at the hospital. She sure hadn’t expected to be patching up the wounded tonight.

Cal met her gaze guiltily. “Hope you don’t mind that we made some coffee.”

“Help yourself to anything you’d like to drink or eat.” Supplies needed to be used up, she didn’t bother adding. In a few more days, she’d be gone. God only knew how long it would be before she got back here.

“Miss Dani,” Rand said, dragging her attention in his direction. His dark hair had fallen into his eyes and he looked suddenly like a child rather than an eighteen-year-old man. “I’m real sorry about all this.” He stared at the floor and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to cause all this trouble. If that fella—”

“He’s going to be fine,” she insisted, knowing he needed reassuring. “If there’s any permanent damage, it’s going to be from the blow he took to the back of his head. The gunshot didn’t do any real damage that I can see.” She pulled a cup from the cabinet above the coffeemaker. “I don’t know his story, but it can’t be good.” She smiled with as much added reassurance as she could muster. “Whatever his reasons for running around in those woods, they have nothing to do with us. We’re helping him. That’s a good thing.”