Читать книгу So Dark The Night - Margaret Daley - Страница 10

Emma shifted on the bed, trying to stifle a moan from escaping when pain lanced through her. Her head and shoulder ached and every square inch of her body was sore, as though a herd of elephants had trampled over her. “I’m sorry you had to be a witness to that.”

“I’m sorry you had to be.”

The reverend’s voice was a deep baritone, smooth sounding with just a hint of a Southern drawl. What did he look like? She tried to imagine him from the way his voice sounded, but it was useless. He could be twenty-five, forty or sixty. She couldn’t tell by the mere sound of his voice. Frustration churned her stomach. As a photographer, her profession centered around the visual, and she had no idea what the man talking to her looked like.

He cleared his throat. “Is there a reason you wanted me to stay?”

Emma heard her mother’s voice from the hallway. Heat scored her cheeks as she thought of all the people in the corridor listening to her mother and father fight. Their marriage and breakup—in fact, all her mother’s three other ones—had played out in the tabloids, making her promise to herself never to have her life plastered before the public like her mother’s. She preferred being behind the camera, not in front.

Emma licked her dry lips and said, “No particular reason. I just—” She couldn’t admit to this stranger that she’d had a sudden fear of being left alone with only darkness around her. She’d always been afraid of the dark and now she lived in it. A tremor of alarm quaked through her.

His footsteps approaching the bed made her tense, her fingernails digging into her palms. The scraping of a chair nearby echoed through her mind, ridiculing her with how helpless she was, lying in this bed.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

Kindness coated his words, causing a spurt of anger to well inside her. “To appease your guilty conscience?”

“Yes and no,” he replied slowly as though considering his answer carefully. “I tried to avoid you on the highway, but you spun into my path. That’s something I’ll have to live with.”

“No, that’s something I’ll have to live with.” She wasn’t quite ready to let go of her anger—not necessarily directed at the man beside her bed.

He released a long sigh. “I’m here because I sense you need someone to talk to.”

Regretting her words, she closed her eyes and searched her mind for any hint of what had happened the night before. Nothing. All she could recall about yesterday was driving from New York, the wind blowing through her hair, the sun beating down on her. She’d felt free, escaping the hectic pace of her life as a photographer to the stars, thrust into the limelight almost as much as the people she took pictures of. She’d spent the whole day enjoying being by herself for once. That was why she had chosen to drive instead of fly. Now all she sought was not to be by herself—alone with her thoughts, her fears, her grief.

“When I was shot—” She touched her bandaged shoulder, still shocked at the turn of events.

“Yes?”

His gentle voice, sprinkled with the Southern drawl, urged her to talk. “The sheriff told me they don’t have any leads. You didn’t see anyone?”

“No. I understand from the sheriff that you don’t remember what happened.”

“Nothing.” Tears that were so close to the surface sprang into her eyes. “The police think I might have seen something, but what good is it? I don’t remember.” The throbbing in her head intensified with each effort to recall what had happened. She massaged her temples, rubbed her sightless eyes.

“Sometimes it’s best not to push it. Your memory will come back when you’re ready.”

“If I saw something to help—” Her tears strangled the flow of words, her mouth as arid as Death Valley.

She swallowed several times, and still she couldn’t finish what she’d wanted to say. Wet tracks coursed down her face. She swiped at them, turning away from the stranger sitting next to her. The tight lump in her throat made it impossible to get a decent breath.

He placed his hand over hers. “Your mind’s blocking the memories for a reason. Concentrate on getting well instead of remembering. It’ll come when you’re ready to handle it.”

The feel of his touch centered her. She inhaled deeply until her lungs were full of rich oxygen and her heart returned to a normal beat.

For a long moment silence reigned. Emma noticed that her parents’ voices couldn’t be heard anymore. Relief flowed through her like a river swollen with rainwater. She couldn’t deal with them right now. In the past it had taken so much of her emotional strength to handle the conflicting feelings surrounding her parents. She loved her mother, but the great Marlena Howard drained her emotionally.

And your father? an inner voice asked. She didn’t know what she felt for her father. He’d left when she was eight. Memories of loud fighting and slamming doors inundated her. She shoved those away before they overpowered her.

The reverend’s hand over hers squeezed gently. “You need time to heal.”

Emma drew in a deep breath. The broken pieces of her life lay scattered about her. Heal? Where did she start? She expelled her breath slowly between pursed lips. “There’s so much that’s happened.” She faltered at the vulnerability that sounded in her voice. She didn’t know this man. Always before she’d held herself apart from others. So much was shifting, altering what was her life. How was she going to proceed without her dear brother, without her sight, her work? That was what defined her.

“When life seems overwhelming, I find it’s best to think only of the immediate present.”

“Take it one day at a time?”

“I know it’s a cliché, but it’s good advice.”

His hand slipped away and for a brief moment she wanted to snatch it back, to clasp it and never let it go. A lifeline? Panic began to nibble at her brittle composure. She didn’t depend on anyone—hadn’t since—

“When are you leaving the hospital?”

She grasped on to the reverend’s question, turning her thoughts away from that past best forgotten, from that looming future. “The doctor said I can go home tomorrow.” Home? Where was that? Her apartment in New York? Her mother’s? She shook. She clenched her hands to keep them from trembling.

“Then you’ll be leaving Crystal Springs tomorrow?”

“No,” she said without thinking, the word wrenched from the depth of her being. The pounding in her head magnified tenfold. “I don’t know what I’m going to be doing.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“That’s what my father and mother say, but I can’t go with either one of them. They’ll make me feel like a rope in a tug-of-war game.”

“Where do you live?”

“I have an apartment in Manhattan.”

“Is there anyone who can stay with you?”

Emma thought of her so-called friends and couldn’t think of a single person she would want to ask. She’d always been a private person who traveled a lot for her work. It had been difficult to maintain friendships, especially when she found so many people only wanted to get to know her because of her parents. She worked and lived with many people around her, but they were really only acquaintances or employees. Suddenly, the lonely existence of her life taunted her.

“No, there isn’t anyone I could ask.” She didn’t want to go to New York and be subjected to her acquaintances’ pitying looks, which she wouldn’t be able to see. The idea of holing herself up in her apartment didn’t appeal to her, either. “I don’t know what I’m going to do after I leave the hospital.”

“And your parents aren’t an option.”

“You’ve got that right.” It hadn’t really been a question, but she answered anyway, needing to emphasize to herself how impossible it would be to live with either of her parents while recovering. “You saw them. Neither one’s thinking about Derek, about—” Emotions she didn’t want to feel swelled into her throat, knotting her words into a huge ball. Her older brother had been the one person she could turn to when she needed advice, a friendly ear who hadn’t wanted something from her. She couldn’t imagine life without him. Didn’t want to think about it.

Tears returned. She rolled onto her side away from the Reverend Colin Fitzpatrick. One tear then another slipped from her eyes. It was so much easier not to think, not to feel.

“Emma?”

“I’m tired, Reverend. I’m sure there are others who need you more than I do.” It’s too late to help me, she thought, pressing her lips together to keep the words inside.

Her tough words did nothing to disguise the sob in her voice. Wanting to comfort, Colin started to reach for her, but hesitated. If her stiff back and averted face were any indication, she didn’t want it. And he wouldn’t add to her pain. He’d done enough already.

“I’ll be back,” he murmured as he walked toward the door, determined somehow to help the woman he’d hit.

He paused outside her room, taking a moment to get his bearings and decide what to do next. The sound of her cries could be heard through the door. His chest tightened with sorrow. There was a part of him that needed to go back into her room and hold her, give her what solace he could, but he also knew she needed time to grieve by herself. She was a loner who he was sure had shown more emotion today to him than she usually did to people she knew.

He understood all too well what she was going through. He’d lost his wife several years before and the pain was gut-wrenching. It had taken time for him to turn to others for help. He had to respect that, but he wanted to be there when Emma needed it. He owed her.

Dear Heavenly Father, watch over Emma St. James. Soothe her pain and help her to accept Your grace and love. She will need them in the days to come.

With reluctance Colin headed for the bank of elevators. He needed to talk with J.T. and find out what the sheriff knew so far with this case.

Fifteen minutes later Colin stood in the middle of J.T.’s office, facing the sheriff. “Any leads?”

J.T.’s dark, assessing gaze zeroed in on Colin. “Not much to go on. The cabin was obviously searched. We got a tire print at the cabin and footprints from the side of the road where they shot her. That’s all at the moment.”

“They? There was more than one killer?”

“From the footprints that’s a strong possibility. Did she remember anything after I left?”

Colin shook his head. “Did you talk with her doctor?”

“Yes, with her permission.”

His heartbeat sped up, his palms sweaty. He had to ask and yet he didn’t want to know. “Why can’t she see?” Did I do that to her when I hit her?

“There isn’t a physical reason. It’s all psychological, according to the doctor. She’ll see when she’s ready.”

“What in the world did she witness that she refuses to remember? Her brother’s murder?”

“Probably.”

“Do you think she’s in danger?”

“Could be. Then again, whoever killed Derek could be long gone, especially if they were hired to do the job or if they were just looking for something of value to steal. It doesn’t look like anything was stolen, but then we really don’t know for sure what Derek St. James had with him. We may never know.”

“She’s leaving the hospital tomorrow.”

J.T. straightened in his chair. “Where’s she going?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“I’d rather her not leave town, but there’s really nothing I can do to stop her.”

“I don’t want her going back to Manhattan and being alone in her apartment.”

“Especially if someone thinks she witnessed what happened to her brother and wants to eliminate her. Do you have any suggestions for her?”

Colin kneaded the back of his neck, an idea taking form. “Maybe. But first I need to talk to someone. I’ll let you know what my aunt says.”

“Grace.” J.T. laughed. “That tough old cookie.”

“Don’t let my aunt hear you call her old.”

J.T. scratched his jaw. “And if she finds out, I’ll know who told her.”

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you keep me informed of any progress with the case.”

“So you’ve taken a personal interest in this murder.”

“It’s definitely personal. A woman’s lying in a hospital bed because of me.”

“No, not because of you.”

“I didn’t help the situation by hitting her with my car. She’s going to be sore a long time because of me.”

“But she’s alive. Did you ever think that if you hadn’t happened along at the time you did, she would be dead right now?”

Colin frowned. “That should comfort me, but it doesn’t. It was hard watching her try to remember and deal with not being able to.”

J.T. rose. “She’ll be mighty lucky to have you and Grace watching over her.”

“She may not think so. You know how my aunt can be.”

“Yup. She doesn’t take no for an answer and has the strength and will to back it up.”

“But she’ll be a good bodyguard when I’m not around.”

“So that’s what this is all about?”

“Someone needs to watch over Emma St. James and I believe the Lord picked me when my SUV hit her. I may be a bit rusty, but I know how.” His Special Forces training might help someone after all these years.

Colin left the sheriff’s office and headed toward home, eager to see his aunt now that he had a plan to keep Emma safe until her memory returned—until he had repaid his debt to her. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw Grace’s Jeep Cherokee parked at the side of her house, which was next door to his. Glad to see she was home, he hopped from his vehicle and hurried across his lawn.

Even though he had a key to his aunt’s house, he didn’t use it. Instead, he pressed the bell and waited for her to open the door.

Dressed in army fatigues with her short red hair spiked on top, Grace blocked his entrance into her foyer. “I wondered when you’d come visit me. I heard about your little trouble last night.” Finally she stepped aside to allow him into her house.

“Been busy with the sheriff and visiting the woman at the hospital.”

“Emma St. James?”

He nodded and started toward his aunt’s kitchen. He needed a large cup of coffee if he was going to keep himself going.

“I also heard her mother is in town. Staying at the inn near the lake.”

“Is there anything you don’t hear, Grace?” His aunt was only ten years older than he and when she’d come to live in Crystal Springs after her retirement from the military she had insisted he call her only Grace. He’d learned early on never to disobey her, so Grace it was.

“Not much. You’ve got to know what’s going on. That way no one can take you by surprise.”

In the kitchen Colin poured himself some of the coffee that was always on the stove in his aunt’s house. She lived on the stuff and yet slept like a baby at night. “Well, Ms. St. James took me by surprise last night. She came out of the woods and straight at my car.”

“Sugar, I’ve got to teach you some defensive driving.”

Colin gripped his mug. “I swerved, but so did she.”

Grace eased her slender body into a chair at the oak table and pulled her coffee cup closer. “Sometimes there’s nothing a person can do to avoid an accident. Don’t beat yourself up over it. That’s wasted energy, and you know how I am about wasted energy.”

Sitting across from his aunt, Colin took a large swallow of the warm brew, relishing its strong taste. He and his aunt had similar tastes when it came to coffee. “I have a favor to ask.” He fastened his attention on his aunt. “Emma needs a place to stay for a while.”

“She can stay here.”

“First, Grace, you should know that she may have seen the killers and they may be after her.”

“No problem. I spent years teaching recruits how to protect themselves. I think I can protect one woman.”

“Are you sure?” He had to ask. He didn’t want his aunt not to know she could be in danger even though he knew she could take care of herself, better than most men.

“Never been a bodyguard. Maybe I should take up a second profession. Yes, sugar, I’m sure. Emma St. James is in trouble and the good Lord taught us to help our neighbors in need. That’s all I’m doing.”

The tension inside him melted some with his aunt’s words. All his life he had looked up to her and had even followed in her footsteps by going into the army. And her strong faith in God had been the guiding force behind him becoming a Christian and turning his life’s work over to the Lord.

“So what’s this Emma St. James look like? Anything like her mother? I’m a big fan of Marlena Howard.”

“No, I’d say she looks more like her father—long, curly dark hair and big chocolate-colored eyes.”

“Chocolate-colored? Sugar, what kind of description is that?”

Colin chuckled. “The kind a man who’s hungry would say.”

Grace scooted the chair back and stood. “What do you want for lunch?” She started for the refrigerator, adding, “When’s she coming to stay here?”

“That, Grace, hasn’t been decided, since I still have to ask her if she wants to stay in Crystal Springs to recuperate.”

Sweat poured off Roy as he reached for the phone to put in the call he had dreaded making for the past twenty-four hours. Punching the number into the pay phone, he tugged at the blue cotton material of the shirt that stuck to his skin.

Ring.

Roy’s heart hammered a fast tempo inside his head. His mouth went dry.

Ring.

Sweat rolled in his eyes, stinging them.

Ring.

Roy had started to hang up when a frosty voice said, “Hello.”

The slick, wet feel of the receiver turned ice-cold in his hand. “Roy here, reporting in.”

“All I want to know is how are you going to fix this little problem.”

It wasn’t the words that bothered Roy, but the way his employer on the other end said them—with such coldness that Roy felt the menacing threat even though they weren’t in the same room. “I’m on it, boss.”

“You are?”

Sarcasm with a hint of amusement encased him in fear. “She doesn’t remember anything, and on top of that, she can’t see a thing.”

“That could change.”

“Do you want me to take care of her?”

There was a long pause on the other end. Roy envisioned his employer frowning, icy eyes narrowed on a point across the room while his employer was deep in thought.

“No, not yet. Another murder could have everything blowing up in our faces. Bring me the packet and you two disappear.”

Roy’s heart stopped beating for a painful few seconds, his breath trapped in his lungs.

“Roy, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Manny and me didn’t get the papers. We didn’t have time to search the cabin thoroughly.”

“So they’re still at the cabin?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Derek never said where they was. He wasn’t gonna talk. But I believe he brought them with him when he came to Crystal Springs. They’re at that cabin somewhere, hidden so well the sheriff hasn’t found them.”

“But you don’t know for sure?”

The lethal edge to his employer’s words cut through Roy, leaving him shaking in his boots. “As soon as the sheriff is through with the cabin, we’ll search it until we find what you need.”

“You better. And keep me posted on Emma St. James.”

“Will do.” Roy quickly hung up, his hand trembling so badly he dropped the receiver into its cradle, its loud sound snaking down his spine.

Emma felt the warmth of the sunshine as it flooded the room and slanted across her bed. Earlier she’d heard the nurse opening the curtain and had wondered why the woman even bothered, because it didn’t make any difference whether there was light in the room or not. But she hadn’t voiced her thought aloud.

As with the day before, darkness greeted her. To keep her panic at bay she kept her eyes closed, pretending the darkness was due to that rather than the fact she couldn’t see anymore. She didn’t like pity parties and had never allowed herself one. But then she had never been blind before, either. She’d never lost the one person who had understood her, accepted her for who she was.

Clasping the sides of her head, she shuddered. “Don’t go there, Emma. Not a good place.” Another shudder trembled through her body, leaving a coldness in its wake.

The door swishing open intruded into her thoughts, bringing her straight up in bed to turn her face toward the noise. “Who is it?” She couldn’t shake the idea she could be a target. Even though she had bravely told her father the day before that she could take care of herself, she had her doubts.

“Colin Fitzpatrick.”

The tension siphoned from her at the velvet smoothness of his voice as though he could mesmerize a person with its mere sound. “Nothing’s changed. I’m past saving.”

“No one’s past saving if she wants to be saved.”

“I don’t know if I agree with you, but come on in since you’re here.” The idea that she didn’t have to spend the next few minutes alone lifted her spirits. But she wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone, especially Reverend Colin Fitzpatrick. “What brings you by?”

“You.”

His answer made her spirits rise even more, and she didn’t understand why. She leaned toward the sound of his voice. “I’m getting out of here later this afternoon. I get to escape all the poking and prodding.”

“Where are you going when you escape?”

“Haven’t the faintest idea. Any suggestions?”

“Actually, I do.”

His words took her by surprise and that didn’t happen very often. “Where?” she asked, a breathless quality to her voice, her mouth and throat still so parched she felt she’d eaten a bowl of cotton for lunch.

“My aunt’s. She has extended an invitation for you to stay with her.”

“Why? She doesn’t know me.”

“I asked her to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“Do you think I’m helpless?”

“No.”

“Do you think I’m in danger?”

“It’s a possibility and my aunt can certainly take care of you.”

“Is she with the police?”

“She’s retired from the army, but her last job was teaching people how to defend themselves.”

When he had said retired, a vision of a woman in her sixties or seventies, white haired, bent over, popped into Emma’s mind. Even if his aunt had taught self-defense and had been in the army, she was hardly someone who could take care of her. “How old is she?”

“Forty-six.”

“And she’s retired?”

“Only from the army. She writes children’s books now.”

Conflicting images flowed through her mind—none of them of someone who she thought could protect her. “If your aunt’s forty-six, how old are you? Twenty?”

“Thirty-six, so she’s more like a big sister than an aunt, and she won’t let me call her Aunt Grace. Just Grace.”

His answer sent relief through her and she wasn’t sure why. “I still don’t understand how a stranger would want to help me.”

“You’ll understand when you meet Grace. My daughters practically live over at her house. They think she’s cool.”

“Daughters? You’re married?” Of course, he would be. Why would she think otherwise and why had she bothered to ask?

“My wife died four years ago. I have fifteen-year-old twins who have tested this father’s patience on more than one occasion.”

Exasperation roughened his voice, masking his Southern drawl. Emma laughed. “That’s what teenage girls are put on this earth for.”

“To test fathers’ patience?”

“To be exasperating.” Memories of her own father, absent from her teenage years, flooded her mind and all laughter faded.

“Then they have fulfilled their calling. So what do you say? Want to spend some time in Crystal Springs recovering?”

Thinking about the blank pages of her mind chilled her to the marrow of her bones. Whom should she trust?