Fated Hearts (19 page)

“I’ll get it.” He pointed to one of the stools that sat along the length of the island. “I could use a cup myself.”

Henley sat as Carter retrieved a rooster shaped kettle from a lower cabinet. He’d filled it and set it on the stove, turning the flame high. He set a pair of ceramic mugs, painted to match the teapot, on the counter. She enjoyed watching him. The play of muscles across his back as he reached for the tea captivated her. He moved quietly, with masculine grace, and the simple tasks of setting out cream and sugar struck her as sensual.

“I’m not going to let this get hot enough to whistle. Let me know if the tea isn’t warm enough.”

She nodded. He turned back to the stove and she stared at his calves. Amused with herself, she pulled her gaze up as Carter lifted the pot and turned to fill their mugs. Without looking, he placed the kettle on a trivet and leaned his elbow on the counter. He was easily as comfortable in his mother’s kitchen as he was in his own home. 

“You didn’t need me here for moral support. Your family was delighted to see you and you them,” she reproached. “Anyone who didn’t know better would never have guessed that you’ve been absent from the nest for two years. The understanding and laughter, the arguments, all of it spoke to the depth of your love for them and theirs for you.”

Henley removed the teabag and added a scoop of sugar. She took a testing sip and found the tea excellent, the temperature just right. “I’ve never seen you that happy. Maybe you should consider moving back.”

He lifted his cup and considered her over the rim. She held his gaze. When he lowered his mug, she could see the twitch of his lips. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“It would make things easier on Deputy Doug and me.” Henley smothered her laughter when he choked down more tea. She’d timed her response with his next sip. It prevented a glib response.

“Not funny, Doc.”

“I disagree.” She winked and sipped her oolong. “I’d miss you. But I’m your friend, and friends are supposed to want what’s best for the other, not what’s best for them. I can’t help but think you’d be happier here, with your family close. Perhaps it’s time to put an end to your self-imposed exile.”

“And what about us? This?” He waved his hand between them.

“We haven’t known each other but a few months. Why would you base life decisions on our association?”

“Why indeed?” Carter moved around the island. “Your speech becomes more formal when you’re rattled. Did you know that?” Henley shook her head. He closed the distance between them, literally and figuratively. She had to swivel the stool to maintain eye contact with him. “I like your pjs, and I like your hair better this way. But if you were in a suit and had your hair in a bun, I’d still be thinking about that kiss in the car. I’ve been thinking about touching you since I found you standing in the dark.”

“You have?” He stopped moving one step from being bracketed between her knees. She clutched her mug in front of her like a shield.

“Yep. That is why you’re awake, right?”

“Why are you awake?” she heard herself whisper as she nodded.

“’Cause I can’t stop wanting you. If I had kissed you last night, would you have invited me into your bed?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His nostrils flared. “If we weren’t in my parents’ house … ”

Henley didn’t need him to finish the sentence—her imagination filled in the blank—but internally she screamed for him to complete his thought. His body was close enough to touch. She reached out her hand. His chest hairs were crisp against her palm, the skin underneath taut and smooth under her fingertips. His muscles quivered, and he sucked in a breath. But he didn’t stop her from mapping the planes and valleys of his torso. His arousal thrummed through her being. She was drowning in their mutual desire. Henley gulped in air and pulled her hand back as though scorched.

“Go to bed, Doc,” he ground out. “Take your tea with you. We’ll talk in the morning.”

The sun shone on her dark hair. Today the front was pulled into a barrette, and she’d left the back hanging loose. It was a young look for her, and he liked it. Henley appeared carefree as she sat on the patio, her face shining in the sunlight. She didn’t know he watched her in a moment when her defenses were down. He didn’t think she was aware of how much stronger she was becoming day by day, but he could see it, right now, in her peaceful expression. It physically hurt him to know, in moments, he would destroy that. Carter stepped through the open door, and she turned toward him.

“Hi.” The happiness on her face fell away as he approached her, replaced by wary caution. It saddened him to watch as she erected invisible walls. “What’s wrong?”

“The cabin burned down last night.”

“What did you say?”

“This morning, when Aidan stepped out onto the back deck, he spotted smoke, a lot of smoke, coming up through the trees. He raced over there while Maggie called the volunteer fire department, but they were too late to save much. Doug just called, asking for the number of the county arson investigator. No one was hurt, it’s just a thing, and it was insured, but Maggie’s still upset.”

“It was because of me, wasn’t it?”

“Best guess? Yeah. We need to talk.” Carter sat on the chaise across from her, his elbows braced on his knees. “You’ve had enough time to think it over, Henley. Who wants to hurt you?”

“No one.”

“There has to be someone.”

“No, there’s no one. The only person who wanted to hurt me was Jacob, and he’s dead.” Tears filled her eyes, and he wanted to hug her, but he couldn’t. “That’s it. The rest of my life has been boringly ordinary.”

“Someone wants to do you harm. And we need to find out who that is. I need you to think. What about disgruntled patients?”

“Disgruntled patients file malpractice suits. No one filed against me. Ever. And if it were a disgruntled patient, why would he or she wait this long to do something about it? Or do something so extreme?”

“I don’t know. I’m grasping at straws here. Think, Henley—patients?”

“I had one problem patient—one. The boy I told you about, the one I failed. He formed an unhealthy attachment to me. His father and I discussed the situation, and I transferred his treatment to a male doctor. That was it.”

“That couldn’t possibly be all there was to it, Henley. Not with the reaction you had. It triggered something, a PTSD episode that snowballed, but, regardless, it wasn’t as simple as you’re making it. I need to know what happened.”

“The boy was grieving the loss of his mother. They were very close, and he wasn’t dealing well, trapped in denial. His father thought the two of them going through her things, packing them up, together, would be healthy for him. Normally, he’d have been right. But the boy found evidence he’d been adopted. They hadn’t told him. The boy’s behavior became volatile, angry, and violent. That’s when he was referred to me.”

“Sounds a lot like Jacob.”

Henley nodded, solemnly. “He was having an identity crisis. Suffering with abandonment and inferiority. And, yes, he displayed some markers for paranoid schizophrenia, although it’s difficult to diagnose in adolescents. I felt my patient needed to know that what he perceived as his biological mother’s rejection was, in fact, an act of love and self-sacrifice. And that his adoptive mother hadn’t loved him more or less but as radiantly. It became imperative that I make him understand that.”

“You were thinking of your son.”

“Yes, I was. What I did wasn’t about him, it was about me. And the boy got worse.”

“Was the father mad?”

“No. Poor, sweet man broke down and sobbed.”

“How’d the son take it?”

“It was decided I needed to cut all ties, and his new psychiatrist couldn’t discuss his treatment with me because that would’ve been a violation of confidentiality.”

“So you don’t know how he took it. What’s the boy’s name?”

“It’s not him. If he were going to act out against me, it would’ve been when I stopped seeing him more than five years ago. He had ample opportunity in the three years before I left Cleveland. He knew how to find me—it doesn’t track that he’d wait this long and hunt me down in Trappers’ Cove.”

“Someone was stalking you in Cleveland, but you allowed others to convince you that it was a symptom of your illness and not an actual threat. Now there’s a threat.” He wanted that name. “At least, let me talk to the doctor you referred him to.”

“No. I’m not going to violate his privacy and insert myself back into his life.”

“I’ll have someone local check on him, casually, no intrusion into the kid’s life. No connection to you. Make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be. Easy as that. Give me his name; give me something.” Her tears were gone. In their place was grim determination.

“It wasn’t Aidan,” he added.

“I realize that. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Henley.”

“Carter.”

“Goddamn it, don’t play games.” He punched the arm of the chaise, and the wicker crackled threateningly. “This is serious. Had you been in the cabin, you’d be dead now.” She recoiled. “Goddamn it, Henley! Don’t pull away from me. I’m not mad at you. I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” Her voice sounded tiny. She wasn’t small or frail, but he saw fragility. On a groan, he leaned forward, grabbed her waist, and pulled her into his lap, his front to her back. He wanted to touch her but knew it wasn’t wise with the riot of emotions swirling through him. He rested his cheek against her shoulder blade.

“It still could’ve been one of the Cove’s single ladies,” she said.

“We’re definitely going to explore that possibility when we get back. I’ll run down the list of all the women I’ve scorned since moving there.” He rubbed his face back and forth against her back. The heat and scent of her excited him. “It’s a mighty short list.”

“I rejected Doug.” His body jerked. He had to force himself to relax.

“Shit. You’re right. And I had more to do with that than you. I’ll check, but I don’t think it’s Doug.” He stroked her sides. “Any other spurned lovers, ex-boyfriends, one-night stands that refused to take a hint?”

“Is the sheriff asking, or the guy with his hands on me?”

“Both.” He kissed her spine through the shirt she wore. “We both need an answer.”

“Zero.”

“Zero? Come on, Doc. The nicest, most well-rounded people have at least one sour relationship to their credit.”

“I do.” She hesitated. “Jacob.”

“And since Jacob?”

“None.”

“None that ended badly?” An impossible conclusion took root in his mind. She tried to push herself out of his lap. “Hold still. Hold still.”

How flushed her face had become. She immediately turned away from him.

“Henley?”

“There was only ever Jacob.” He felt his muscles clench. “With my ability, I thought, I didn’t … I haven’t tried.”

“Until now?” He needed to know, before he fell any harder. Carter willed her to look at him. And felt a tiny thrill of triumph when she met his eyes.

“Until now.”

“Thank God you’re here.”

Carter caught Maggie as she flung herself into his arms. His honorary little sister was always in constant motion, and the tiny, curvy powerhouse packed a punch. He smiled and rubbed her back.

“Hey. You better not be crying.”

“I’m not crying. I’m fucking pissed. That was my place.” She stepped out of his embrace, and he noticed the glimmer in her eyes that promised payback. “I know you drove straight here from the airport, but have you had a chance to talk to the arson inspector?”

“Yeah. George says his report isn’t ready and he has more tests to run, but the pervading odor of kerosene on the scene made for an obvious initial conclusion. He expects his test results will confirm.” He followed Maggie through the house as he relayed the rest of his conversation with George. The kitchen was more cluttered than usual. The papers spread out over the table were probably insurance forms. “Where are Aidan and the Turnip?”

“They went for a ride. I wanted to go through all this”—she waved a hand at the table—“without interruption. We’ve been on top of each other all day. I thought I’d appreciate the alone time, but I got restless as soon as they left.”

“Dublin?” Carter was loathe to admit he’d missed the mutt.

“Followed them out the door. Traitor didn’t hesitate to abandon me. He’s a peach.” She held up the coffee pot, and Carter nodded. “We’re going to have to get Tala a dog now. Thanks for that.”

“You were thinking about getting her one anyway, as I remember it.” He accepted the mug with a murmur of thanks. “I need to ask you some questions, Mags.”

“I know you do.” She sat and pushed her hand through her curls. “Henley?”

“I told her to go home when we parted ways in the short-term lot. I have ideas of where to start but nothing solid. Regardless, I’m fairly confident this is about her and not you. However, I need to cover all the bases.” He held his cup, imitating how Henley used hers as a shield in his mother’s kitchen. They hadn’t known the cabin was burning while they’d whispered over tea. “She’s worried about you. And, though she hasn’t said it, worried you’ll blame her.”

“That’s ridiculous. She didn’t set the cabin on fire.”

“That’s what I thought
you
would say.” He intentionally emphasized “you.”

“Aidan doesn’t blame her either. But we’d both be fools if we ignored the fact that the problems started when Henley arrived in town. He wants me to limit my and Tala’s exposure to her.” She picked up her mug. “I told him that was bullshit. I’m not going to turn my back on Henley when she needs me most. I get the feeling she doesn’t easily make friends. And she’s got me whether she likes it or not. But I did agree to keep Tala at a distance until you’ve got this nut in custody.”

Carter nodded. He understood Aidan’s position. He understood Maggie’s. He didn’t necessarily disagree with either. Still, he was worried that if Henley realized the Gaels had put up roadblocks between her and their daughter, she’d be hurt. It couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t deny the fact that two of the three incidents to date had happened on their property or that the person responsible was escalating.