Run to Me (16 page)

Zack felt a funny stir of emotion. A boy who’d actually known his father. A mother who hadn’t shoved him in foster care just so she could marry some loser.

Where were the boy and his father now? Clearly, they didn’t live in the cabin. Were they dead? Had the man and the
crazy
lady divorced?
Had
she deserted them? Had
they
dumped her because she was crazy? If they were her loved ones, why did she keep their picture in a drawer?

His gaze kept returning to the woman. She looked so beautiful, so happy and normal. How long ago had the picture been taken? What had happened to change her since?

A shiver washed over him. His face was burning but his feet were like
ice. He buried the picture where he’d found it, grabbed some socks and closed the drawer.

Back in the main room he sat on the couch and pulled on the socks. His shivers continued, the cold having seeped through the rest of his body.

The remains of a fire burned in the hearth. Even its dying warmth felt wonderful. He drew up his legs, curled in a ball. He’d just stay a minute, soak up what warmth
and comfort he could, before going outside again.

‘Marilyn Roswell?’

Vanessa looked up at hearing the false name she’d given the receptionist. The man standing in the waiting room’s archway was tall and dark-haired with an earnest expression. Though he wasn’t what she’d call break-your-heart gorgeous, he radiated an aura of quiet strength.

‘Doctor Hadley?’ She got to her feet.

His smile, though reserved, softened his features from
overly serious to warm and concerned. She felt a slight kick in the middle of her chest.

He greeted her then motioned to the hallway behind him. ‘Would you come this way?’

As she followed him across to the treatment room she found herself revising her plan. She’d originally thought to complain of insomnia – something with no visible symptoms to reveal her lie. But now that she’d seen him she
suddenly felt the urge to change her complaint to one that would require him touching her. Why the hell not? There was no reason this had to be totally boring.

He ushered her into a brightly lit treatment room and indicated the chair by his desk. She let her skirt hike up as she sat,
but he’d turned his attention to the form before him and didn’t notice.

Only after taking down the usual details
did he finally look up at her. ‘Now, Ms Roswell, how can I help you?’

‘I wonder if you’d check my ankle for me, Doctor. I had a fall yesterday and it’s been hurting a bit.’

‘Certainly. If you’ll just come over here.’

Chase led the woman across the room, watching how she carried her weight. Strange that he hadn’t noticed her limping on the way over from the waiting room – she certainly was now.
He took the hand she extended towards him as she climbed onto the treatment table. Then he rolled over the stool and sat down before her.

‘I don’t think it’s broken,’ she said, slipping off a three-inch heel. ‘But I wanted to make sure nothing else was wrong.’ Toes pointed, she raised her leg and lowered it into his hands.

The sensuous nature of the gesture surprised him but he dismissed it.
Surely just his imagination. ‘How did you fall?’

‘I didn’t so much fall as twist it coming down the stairs of my cabin.’

‘I see.’ Initial perusal of the site showed nothing. Chase began testing the joint with his fingers. ‘Your cabin. Would that be one of the rentals out by the lake?’

‘Why yes, it is.’

‘Nice spot for a vacation.’

‘Oh, I’m not on vacation. I’m on my way to a conference in
Toronto and thought I’d break up the trip.’

‘Well, you picked a nice spot.’ Still at a loss to find the problem, he smiled. ‘Can you show me exactly where it hurts?’

Like a cat unfurling after a nap, she stretched forward slowly, running her hand down the length of her leg till her fingers skimmed the side of her foot. ‘Just in here.’

There was no mistaking her movements this time. Nor could
he miss the view now displayed with her blouse hanging open inches from his face.

Keeping his gaze fixed on her foot, Chase began rotating the ankle gently. No swelling, no contusions. Warning bells had started to sound in his head.

‘When it happened I felt like such an idiot,’ she laughed. ‘It got me thinking – what if I’d really hurt myself? I mean, this area is so remote. What do you do if
someone gets seriously injured or sick?’

‘Presque Isle hospital is only an hour’s drive from here. Any pain when I do this?’ Chase flexed the joint. Suddenly he didn’t feel like making small talk.

‘No, that’s fine. Well, it must be a comfort to the folks who live here, having a hospital so close by. Do you have to send people there very often?’

‘I sent a patient there only yesterday as a matter
of fact. Aside from that I can’t really say – I haven’t been here all that long.’ He extended the rotation just a bit further. ‘How about this?’

The woman arched back her head and closed her eyes. ‘Oh yes, that’s the spot.’ Her voice was more breathy than edged with pain.

He lowered her foot. ‘Your ankle looks fine, Ms Roswell. It’s certainly not broken and there’s no sign of tendon or ligament
damage. At worst I’d say you sprained it. Slightly.’ He got up and returned to his desk.

‘Oh, thank you, Doctor. That’s such a relief.’

Vanessa slipped on her shoe again. Feeling somewhat slighted by his lack of interest she slid off the table, returned to the chair and sat watching him write in her file. ‘So you haven’t been here all that long.’

‘I only took over the practice three weeks ago.’

‘You poor thing. I imagine it gets pretty lonely out here.’

Chase gave a tight smile. ‘Lucky for me I don’t live alone.’

When he left his office a few moments later he found Elaine leaning over her desk watching Ms Roswell walk down the hall. She turned to him worriedly. ‘Everything all right?’

‘As far as I know. Why, is there a problem out here?’

‘Oh no, no, everything’s fine. I just wondered
. . .’

He arched a brow.

‘I thought you might have had trouble with that one.’ She jerked her head towards the hallway.

‘You mean with Ms Roswell? What sort of trouble did you think I might have?’

‘Come now, Doctor. Don’t tell me a city boy like you can’t spot . . .’

He maintained his expression of bewildered innocence.

Elaine leaned towards him and lowered her voice even though they were
totally alone. ‘A woman of that sort.’

‘Ah.’

‘All that make-up. And those shoes!’ She shook her head. ‘No woman wears shoes like that unless she’s . . .’

‘That sort,’ Chase supplied.

‘Well, they aren’t built for comfort, I can tell you.’

‘The women or the shoes?’

She narrowed her eyes at his burgeoning smile. ‘Maybe you haven’t heard about female patients seducing doctors and then later
suing them for sexual assault.’

‘Actually I have. But I thank you for your concern, Elaine. If she comes again I’ll be sure to have you in the room while I treat her.’

Elaine humphed and returned to her filing.

At the sound of his mobile, Nolan pulled the car to the side of the road. It wasn’t out of concern for safety. It was simply that without a current destination he could accomplish just
as much standing still.

He eyed the phone on the seat beside him. Then again if it was Tragg on the other end the conversation might well have an adverse effect on his driving. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

‘I just left the doctor,’ Vanessa said without preliminaries.

Nolan slumped against the seat in relief. ‘And?’

‘They sent the kid to Presque Isle hospital. I’m heading there now.
You stay and keep an eye out for Ballinger. I’ll see you at the cabin when I get back.’

‘I got a better idea. How about I go to the hospital and you stay and look for Ballinger?’

‘That’s your baby, Nolan. Just find the woman and you find the kid.’

‘And how do you propose I do that exactly?’

‘For Christ’s sake, it’s a fly-speck burg with one main road. Drive around long enough and you’ll run
into everyone who lives here.’

‘Well, if it’s so damn easy –’

‘Hospital’s only an hour’s drive. I’ll call you when I get there.’ The line disconnected.

Nolan threw the mobile onto the seat.

Vanessa drove to the parking lot exit, sat looking up the road towards Presque Isle, then pulled out and headed in the opposite direction. She was making an unscheduled stop before leaving. Back to the
cabin. Just for insurance.

When she’d heard Nolan lying to Tragg last night, the writing on the wall had lit up like a neon sign. The man had not just outlived his usefulness, he’d become an outright liability.

Listening to his voice on the phone just now had confirmed those fears. Nolan was done. He was too freaked out to do the job. He wasn’t going to find this mystery woman and he wasn’t
going to get Ballinger back.

Well, she would not go down with his sinking ship! Yes, she’d slipped up. Yes, she’d let Ballinger get information about Lazaro. But she hadn’t let the boys escape. That was totally Nolan’s doing and she wasn’t going to share the rap for it. Or for his lies.

She had to distance herself while she could. Tragg would be wild when he learned the truth. But if she could
convince him she’d done her bit – more than her bit – if she could return to him with two of the boys Nolan had lost, he might overlook her part in the rest. Especially if she did it right.

Vanessa drove on with renewed conviction. She’d always known Nolan was totally spineless. Now that he had lost it completely it was time to cut the dead weight loose.

The plank pulled free with a tortured groan and hung by a single supporting post. Shyler stepped across to the anchored end and drove the crowbar beneath its last nail. A moment later, it lay with the others at her feet. She bent and examined a piece more closely.

The timber was in a perfect state of deterioration – beautifully weathered but with no sign of rot. Like the other old
shelters she’d dismantled that summer it would provide the raw materials for a dozen projects. Indeed, with what she’d already scavenged she hardly needed to collect any more.

So why was she here?

She gathered up the planks, carried them to the pick-up and laid them in the back. The track she’d parked on was little more than a driveway’s width, trees crowding in on either side. For perhaps the
tenth time since she’d arrived there she paused to take a look around.

The morning’s mist had left the forest fragrant and sparkling. In places where sunlight pierced the canopy, maple leaves gleamed on the ground like rubies. Morels and puff balls poked shy faces through the mulch and the ghostly swan necks of Indian Pipes
arched gracefully beneath the hemlocks. In every direction all she could
see was virgin forest, all she could hear was bird song and the wind gently stirring the leaves.

Yet something was wrong. She’d been here a couple of hours now and still felt no better than when she’d arrived. Work of this sort, performed in solitude and surrounded by nature, normally soothed her. But today the diversion just wasn’t working. Today she just couldn’t get her mind off the dream.

In the newest version she’d had last night Jesse had actually spoken to her. He’d prattled for what had felt like hours, telling her about his friend’s new rabbit, the bike he wanted, the hit he’d gotten at Little League training. He’d held her hand and asked her to sing him his favourite song, then laughed when she couldn’t remember the words.

Smiling, she recalled the excited gleam in his almond-shaped
eyes as he spoke of the pretty new girl in his class. Her little boy was getting so big, so grown up. And still, his face had been smudged with dirt, his tousled hair in need of a trim, his . . .

She leaned against the truck and closed her eyes. No, her Jesse wasn’t getting big, he wasn’t growing up. He would never grow up. Fish Hook and the others had seen to that.

She groped for the driver’s
door, yanked it open, and threw herself in. Gripping the wheel she sat, head bowed, fighting to make sense of her whirling thoughts.

It seemed to be getting harder and harder to pull her mind from what she so desperately wanted to believe. And it wasn’t just in sleep any more. She’d seen Jesse in the cabin last night. She’d stepped from the pantry and there he’d been, standing in the doorway,
plain as day. He’d looked older. Not as she had seen him last on the bridge but as he would if he had lived.

She’d dropped the jar of peaches she was holding, she’d been
that shaken. Yet when she’d looked up from the mess at her feet, her boy had gone. Only to reappear this morning in her rear-view mirror as she’d driven off to collect her wood.

With trembling hands she started the engine and
guided the truck back through the forest. At the road she waited for a car to pass. The driver slowed and for a moment she thought he was going to stop – a lost vacationer? – but in the end he drove on. She pulled out and turned in the opposite direction.

Even as she sped up the track towards home, she knew she couldn’t outrun her fears.

Nolan drove at a reasonable speed till the pick-up vanished
from his rear-view mirror. The minute it was out of sight he swung a U-turn and started back after it.

Clearing a bend he spotted the vehicle up ahead and slowed again. It was her, he was sure of it! He’d seen her face clearly, if for but an instant, when he’d passed her at the edge of the road. Just as well she’d been stopped there or he might have missed her. All this time he’d been looking
for the sedan she’d had at the general store yesterday.

With a growing sense of anticipation, he forced himself to hang back far enough to avoid drawing the woman’s attention. He’d follow her till she led him home then, one way or the other, he’d solve the problem of Zackary Ballinger.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on the kid. All the trouble the little shit had caused him – threats from
Tragg, abuse from Vanessa, traipsing around this godforsaken wilderness . . .