Run to Me (25 page)

He slowed to pull into his office parking lot then sped ’round the back. That monstrous
trap! Who in their right mind would set a bear trap just yards from their back door? It had to have been deliberately placed there as a booby trap. Which meant Shyler had to have expected trouble. Did she know all this time that someone was after her? Was that why she lived such a reclusive existence? Perhaps there was a logical reason for her behaviour after all.

Skidding to a stop, he leapt
from the car and ran for the building. He’d unlocked the back door and was halfway down the hall to the front when the sound of breaking glass stopped him dead.

He stood in mute shock. Yes, it had come from
inside
the building. More muffled noises now. Bottles clinking. Drawers opening. It sounded like someone was in the treatment room. What the hell was going on? Was the entire area under siege?

The store room was two steps back on his left. He ducked inside it, scanned the shelves, and grabbed the snow shovel off its hook.

Recalling the two dead men at the cabin – one with a bullet
hole in his forehead, the other still clutching a high-powered rifle – he hesitated before going on. But despite the timing, these couldn’t be the same men who were after Shyler. Most likely they were kids.
At worst an addict. Didn’t they know he didn’t keep narcotics on the premises?

At the end of the hall he paused to survey the reception area. Elaine’s work station looked undisturbed. Nothing seemed amiss in the waiting room opposite. The sounds were definitely coming from the treatment room. He inched around the corner and, brandishing the shovel, stepped through its door.

A slight figure,
possibly a woman, stood with her back to him, hunched before the medicine locker.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

She rose and spun around.

‘Shyler! You’re all right! I – What on earth . . .’

Glass was everywhere. Some from the window she’d smashed to get in, the rest from the shattered cabinet doors. What was she after? If someone was chasing her why come here? Why tear up his
treatment room? Lifting his gaze to search her face, he noticed for the first time what she was holding.

Slowly he raised one hand in the air. ‘Easy now. Everything’s going to be all right. I didn’t realise it was you. I’ll just set this down over here.’ He stepped aside and placed the snow shovel on his desk.

Her rifle never wavered from its aim at his chest.

‘Shyler, it’s me. You don’t need
that.’

She stood unmoving, eyes wide. She really was spooked. Understandable after what he’d found at her cabin. Had she killed those men? Had it been self-defence? He wanted to think so.

‘Are you all right?’ He scanned her quickly, spotted the blood. ‘Your arm –’ But the instant he moved towards her, the rifle came up again.

‘It’s okay, I just want to help. It looks like you might have torn
out some stitches. We can fix that. But I need to know, are you hurt anywhere else?’

She just kept staring. Not the look of someone in shock but of one trying to reach an important decision.

‘Please, answer me, are you hurt?’ He was fighting to smother a fresh wave of panic. If she’d been shot . . . Was
that
why she’d come? ‘Shyler, for God sakes –’

‘I need more medicine.’

He blinked at her.
‘Medicine?’

‘The tablets you gave me the other night. The antibiotics.’

‘What . . .?’ He did his best to go with the flow. Surely this would all become clear in a minute. ‘What happened to the ones I gave you? You didn’t take them all at once, did you?’

‘I didn’t take any of them. They weren’t for me.’

When her gaze flicked aside he turned to follow it. Behind the door sat a dark-haired boy
about ten years old, face flushed, brown eyes glassy, leaning to one side as though in pain. It took him a moment to register who the boy had to be. ‘Your son?’

‘Yes.’

‘He has a fever?’

‘The last few days. He has an infected cut on his leg.’

‘Will you let me examine him?’

That look again. Uncertain, debating, filled with distrust. Then she nodded and lowered the rifle.

Zack stiffened, trying not to shrink away. The man’s taut body angled above him like a leaning tower.

As though sensing the effect his size was having, the doctor pulled over a little stool, sat down on it and put out his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Chase. What’s your name?’

The ‘z’ sound was nearly out of his mouth before he stopped it. ‘Jesse,’ he answered. With Tragg still after him it seemed
the smart thing to go on being somebody else.

‘Nice to meet you, Jesse.’

The man smiled more with his eyes than his mouth, eyes blue as marbles with rooftop brows. Now that he was sitting, he wasn’t so scary. But his voice helped too. Even when the crazy lady – Shyler, it was good to finally know her name! – even when Shyler pointed her gun at him he spoke really calm. Like old lady Harriet
trying to coax her cat from a tree.

Zack shook the hand extended towards him. So this was the man who’d treated Corey and sent him to the hospital. He hoped he’d spoken as softly then as he was now – Corey would have been so scared. The impulse to ask about his foster-brother nearly overcame him, but he couldn’t give himself away.

‘Your mom says you’ve got an infected leg. Mind if I have a look?’

Zack hesitated, then stuck out his foot.

The doctor gently pushed up his jeans, removed the bandage and examined his cut. It was hard to see any change in his face but Zack thought he saw those rooftop eyebrows scrunch up a bit.

‘Is it sore?’

‘Better than it was. But . . . I think it’s getting worse again.’

‘Your mom gave you medicine. Can you remember how many of the pills you took?’

‘Two,
I think.’

‘Three,’ Shyler corrected from the window. ‘He had his first the night you gave them to me, one yesterday morning and the third at lunch.’

The doctor tossed the old bandage in the bin and began replacing it with a fresh one. ‘Why’d you stop taking them? What happened to the rest of the medicine?’

‘We left it at the cabin.’ Zack shifted, knowing what the next question was likely to
be. ‘We had to leave in kind of a hurry.’

‘Why can’t you just go back there and get it?’

Zack glanced at Shyler but she’d turned away to peer out the window.

Chase sat back and addressed them both. ‘Okay, I know what happened out at your cabin. The fact is, I just came from there.’

Shyler spun around. ‘You
what?
’

‘The place is shot up and two dead men are lying in the wreckage. Maybe you
can tell me what’s going on.’

‘But how . . .?’ Her confusion changed to resolve. ‘You’re not calling the police.’

Chase eyed the rifle that had swung his way. ‘You aren’t serious.’

‘How did you know where my cabin was?’

‘I talked to your mother. I got her name from one of Doctor Muir’s old files.’

‘Why?’ She stepped closer. ‘Why did you want to know where I lived?’

‘Because you lied to me.
The address you gave me the other night doesn’t exist.’ He got to his feet, gently took hold of her injured arm and drew her aside. ‘Because I was worried about you,’ he whispered. ‘I knew this cut was self-inflicted.’

She looked at the bandage, now in tatters, then back at him. No denial.

‘Shyler, please, what’s going on?’

She slid her arm from his grasp, her expression giving nothing away.
Was she wondering why he would be so concerned about just another patient? Did she sense his feelings ran deeper than that? Or did she think he was one of the men who were after her?

‘Just take care of Jesse.’

He watched her walk off. Fighting the urge to press her for answers, he opened a drawer, grabbed the thermometer and returned to his patient.

‘Jesse, tell me, do you hurt in here?’ He
pointed discreetly to his own groin.

The boy nodded.

‘Anywhere else?’

‘It’s kind of like I fell off my bike. I hurt a little bit everywhere.’

‘That’s a good description. I know just what you mean.’ He shook the thermometer then held it out. ‘Just hold this under your tongue for a minute.’

As he checked the boy’s pulse he glanced aside. Shyler had resumed her vigil. With a white-knuckled grip
on her twenty-two, she sat staring anxiously at the road.

He had no problem reading her thoughts. Were they out there? Had they followed them here? The same questions had occurred to him. And her single rifle wasn’t much comfort. That and his snow shovel would hardly stand up to the type of destruction he’d seen at the cabin. He could understand it might take her some time to trust him. The question
was, how much did they have?

He withdrew the thermometer and read the bad news. ‘I saw they slashed the tyres on your cars back at the cabin. How did you get here?’

‘Canoe,’ Jesse said. ‘We ran through the woods till we got to this stream, then Sh – I mean Mom – told me to get in the boat and we floated away.’

Chase nodded and managed a smile. The boy seemed willing enough to talk. Perhaps
he could get more answers from him. ‘When was this that you went down the stream?’

‘Last night. After . . . what happened at the cabin.’

Chase met his gaze. ‘You want to talk about it?’

He shook his head.

‘All right, so you floated down the stream. Then what?’

‘We camped by a pond overnight. Then this morning we walked here.’

‘You’re talking about the pond behind this building? That’s a
fair hike; you must be exhausted.’ Chase reached up and gently palpated beneath the boy’s jaw. ‘From the time you left the cabin to the time you got here did you see anyone?’

‘Nope. No way. Unless you count mooses.’

‘So you’re fairly certain you weren’t followed?’

‘I’m positive we weren’t.’

‘Well, that’s good news, eh?’ He started to lower his hands and stopped. Slowly he reached out and drew
Jesse’s T-shirt collar aside. Contusions encircled the boy’s throat.

‘Jesse, you’ve got some bruising here. How did this happen?’

For a moment Zack couldn’t think what he meant. Then he remembered – Nolan’s attack. No way could he tell the doc about that. ‘I . . . I fell.’

‘These marks go right across the front of your neck. Did you fall on something?’ Chase leaned closer. A chill washed over
him at the unmistakable sight of a thumb print. ‘Jesse, did someone –’

The sound of a car engine cut off his words.

Shyler gasped and jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, God, it’s them!’

On the sun-drenched lane in front of the office a second car had pulled up behind the first. Men were getting out – two from the first car, two from the second; she could see more silhouettes still inside. If they all had guns . . .

Shyler took aim at the man running up the path towards the office.

‘No!’ Chase shoved the barrel to the sill.

‘It’s them!’

‘No, it’s not. They’re loggers.
There must have been an accident on one of the lines.’ His voice, now calm, seemed a lifeline she could cling to.

A pounding on the front door made her jump. She tried to turn but he still held the barrel.

‘That’s Harvey Lediston. Trust me, I know him, he’s one of the foremen.’

‘Doctor Hadley, you in there?’ came a muffled voice.

A third car sped into the parking lot. Shyler turned in time
to see it disappear around the side of the building. She looked up into Chase’s calm gaze. If he was lying it meant they were now surrounded.

‘Shyler, I have to go and see what they –’

‘No!’

He held both her arms. ‘Listen to me. Someone’s been hurt. Maybe several people. I have to help them.’

She hesitated, suddenly uncertain what frightened her more – that he might be lying or that she had
no choice but to trust him.

He pointed towards a second door off the treatment room. ‘Just through there is a room with a bed. Take Jesse in there and have him lie down. You’ll be perfectly safe. No one will see you.’

‘You’ll tell them we’re here.’ Her protests were weakening. Whatever he said she had to believe him.

‘I won’t. I promise.’

Men’s urgent voices were coming down the hall from
the back of the building. He didn’t seem to hear them. His gaze held hers as though nothing could hurry him from her side.

‘You’ll call the police,’ she said, pleading to be denied.

He nodded towards the sick room. ‘There’s a phone on the desk in there. You’ll know if anyone makes a call out because the light will come on. If you’re worried, pick up and listen in.’

‘Doctor Hadley!’ The voices
were closer.

With a final desperate scan of his face, she lowered the rifle. ‘Jesse, come on.’

As Chase stepped away, Jesse hobbled towards her. Shyler wrapped an arm around his shoulder and guided him through the sick room door. Before she closed it she looked back at Chase.

He too had turned, concern and reassurance in his eyes. ‘I’ll come and check on you as soon as I can.’

The car pitched
and bounced as Tragg negotiated a rocky stretch in the forest track. Opening the map she’d taken from the cabin,
Vanessa again found the squiggly line that marked their present course.

‘The stream flows into a pond just a mile and a half from the town’s main road. If they did have a boat they’d most likely have left it at that point. Why don’t we just go straight there?’

‘We follow the creek,’
Tragg said flatly, never taking his eyes from the trail.

She stifled a sigh. They’d been doing just that for nearly an hour and hadn’t covered a quarter of its winding length. ‘There’s nothing but wilderness between here and there. There’s no other place they could’ve gone.’

‘We follow the creek.’ This time Tragg did look over at her, his expression chilling. ‘We follow every inch of it all
the way to wherever it leads. And every time we lose sight of it
you
get to get out and take a hike.’

Vanessa folded her hands over the map. She’d already taken two such hikes. Each time the water disappeared from view he’d made her get out and follow it on foot till stream and trail met up again. Once she’d lost her footing on a stretch of steep, bramble-covered bank. Her boots were now soaking,
her socks full of prickles and her face was covered in black-fly bites.