Still Waters (14 page)

Not that she thought about Brian anymore. No, she’d
been able to move past their relationship with an ease she found alarming.

It was Jake who haunted her. Or maybe not Jake so much as what he seemed to represent.

Beyond attraction, respect and friendship, she and Jake connected on a level that she and Brian never had. When she was with him, she felt…complete.

The word cut through Tiffany like a knife and she sagged into a chair, clutching the quilt in tense fingers as her mind flew from one thought to the next. Complete? That wasn’t good. Not good at all.

She’d made a life for herself. She was strong, independent, able to take care of herself. She’d never relied on a man to fulfill her. Never asked Brian for anything other than companionship. Sure, she
wanted
marriage and children. But she didn’t need them to be complete.

And yet, when she was with Jake she felt different. Better. More herself. As if suddenly she was exactly the person God intended her to be.

“That’s insane.” Tiffany stood, shoved the quilt onto the cutting table and stalked to the window.

It was the kiss. It had thrown her. No doubt about it.

Tiffany rubbed the tension from her neck and stared out at late-afternoon beauty. She imagined the soft call of bullfrogs and sweet trills of songbirds. The fragrant scent of summer grass and the moist breeze that blew across the lake.

Home. She’d made this place for herself. The faded old Victorian, slowly being transformed to its former splendor. The lawn that, despite what she’d told Jake, was green and lovely. The porch, gleaming white in the sun, thanks to Tom’s diligent labor.

From her vantage point, Tiffany could see Bandit roam
ing the fenced yard, his nose pressed to the ground, perhaps searching for some small animal. White pickets were bright against the sun’s fading glory. The lot, the house, the lake view—every piece a beautiful part of Tiffany’s world.

She needed to find contentment here, in this place that God had given her. Only then would life be what it should.

If quilting wouldn’t help her find solace today, perhaps physical labor would. The gazebo needed work before winter. Today was the perfect day to get started.

Hurrying, eager to put her melancholy mood aside, Tiffany wrapped her still-stiff ankle, changed into shorts, and walked out into the yard. Bandit ran to greet her, black tail high and curled.

“Hey boy, we’ve got some work to do. Ready?”

The dog gave a short bark and fell into step beside Tiffany. She laughed, leaning to pat his head. “You’re something else, Bandit. And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

Together they shoved through thick foliage. The gazebo was in bad shape. Bad enough that Tiffany was afraid it wouldn’t survive another winter. Now that the porch was complete, Tom could begin work replacing some of the gazebo’s rotted floorboards.

Or maybe the roof should be first.

Tiffany eyed the structure, wondering how much she and Tom could do together, and how much work she’d need to contract out. Maybe getting rid of some of the overgrown foliage that surrounded the gazebo would give her a better view of things. “No time like the present to get a job done.”

Bandit, who lay sprawled on the gazebo floor, eyed Tiffany with little enthusiasm.

“Don’t worry, I won’t need your help and you’ll get your evening snack before I grab the clippers. Come on.”

Physical labor was what she’d wanted. It was what she got. Two hours later she stood sweating, panting and eyeing what her hard labor had revealed.

Thin-trunked pines formed a half circle on one side of the gazebo. Closer in, touching the base of the structure, were a variety of shrubs that Tiffany couldn’t identify, but that she imagined would flower in the spring. A tall oak dipped its branches close to the gazebo roof and an old magnolia stood sentry duty nearby. She could picture it—trimmed, overflowing with blossoms, and she smiled.

Next year the gazebo would be a welcoming spot. Just as Tiffany was sure it had been a century ago.

“Come on, Bandit. I’ve got some measuring to do and I don’t want you knocking over that ladder while I do it.”

With sunlight fading to dusk, Tiffany worked quickly, locking Bandit into the mudroom and grabbing the ladder from the garage. It was heavy and unwieldy. She considered putting it back, perhaps waiting until Monday when Tom would be on hand to help, but she had a trip to Rocky Mount planned the next day, and knew she could order the wood she needed for repairs while she was there.

Besides, idle, her mind might return to its earlier worries, and Tiffany had no intention of spending more time regretting what could never be. When Jake arrived later, she planned to look busy, productive and content with her lot in life.

Measuring tape in hand, she climbed up the ladder and began measuring. The steep, slanted roof was difficult to reach and Tiffany clambered up farther, standing on the top rung and stretching to reach the pinnacle of the roof. When Bandit began barking she paid little attention, her mind focused on the task at hand.

Then his barking became frantic and even from a dis
tance, she could hear his big body slamming against the wood door. Startled, Tiffany turned, saw movement to the right and scrambled to glimpse what had caused it. “Who’s there?”

A figure lurched from between the pine trees, lunging toward the ladder, shoving it hard.

Before Tiffany could scream she was falling, the world spinning in a kaleidoscope of summer colors. She tried to catch hold of something to slow her fall, but her hands met empty air and she crashed to the ground. Pain, sharp and brutal, ripped through her arm seconds before her head slammed into the ground.

J
ake paced the emergency room lobby, glancing up each time the double doors to the treatment area opened. What was taking so long? Was the deep, ugly bruise on Tiffany’s forehead even worse than it appeared? Perhaps her injury had already sapped the vitality and life from her.

Jake winced at the thought, his hands clenched into fists. He wanted to shove open the doors and search for answers to his questions. Questions he’d been asking himself for over an hour, the same helpless fear he’d felt when Will had been shot eating away at his gut.

At least with Will, Jake had a chance before the ambulance arrived. A chance, while Will’s lifeblood seeped onto his hands, to tell him how much their friendship had meant to him.

With Tiffany, Jake hadn’t had that chance. He’d found her lying still as death, a heavy metal ladder on top of her.
The bruise on her head, the obscene twist of her arm, the waxy paleness of her skin, had made ice flow through his veins.

That her pulse beat slow and steady had seemed little comfort as the ambulance crew slid her onto a gurney and took her away. She hadn’t regained consciousness and that, more than anything, worried Jake.

Head injuries could be bad. Really bad.

“Sheriff Reed?”

The voice sounded familiar and Jake looked up to find Brian McMath walking toward him. The expression on his face was grim and Jake braced himself for bad news.

“The nurse told me you were out here.”

“How’s Tiffany?”

“She’s awake. Claiming someone pushed her off the ladder. I tried to calm her down but she’s distraught and very insistent that you be notified.”

“I’ll go in and see her.”

“That isn’t necessary. I’ll let her know that I’ve contacted you and that should calm her.”

“If she was pushed I need to speak with her.”

“
If
is the operative word in that sentence. Head injuries often cause confusion. And Tiffany tends to be accident prone.”

“Like I said, I need to speak to her.” Jake bit out the words, rage coloring his voice. He wanted to grab McMath by the front of his overstarched shirt and shake some compassion into him.

Surprise flickered in the doctor’s eyes, then he shrugged. “All right, but I doubt you’ll accomplish much and you won’t have long. She’s scheduled for surgery on her arm.”

“Surgery?”

“She has a compound fracture and the bone is splintered.
The sooner we can get in there and put things back together, the better.”

Jake nodded his understanding, following the doctor down a long corridor filled with curtain shrouded cubicles. He could smell ammonia and antiseptic and illness. A smattering of people stood outside the curtains, anxiety and irritation floating on the waves of tapping feet and restless pacing.

His own nerves frayed, Jake spoke to the doctor’s back. “Besides the arm, how is Tiffany?”

“She has a concussion, a few bruises, but she’ll be fine. The way insurance companies operate, she’ll probably be home by tomorrow night. And hopefully not climbing ladders any time soon.” The doctor let out a bark of laughter and Jake fought the urge to drag him around and beat the humor out of him.

As if sensing his thoughts, McMath sobered and turned to look at him. “You must think I’m terrible making jokes about Tiffany’s accident.”

“Lacking in compassion would be a better description.”

McMath’s eyes hardened, his mouth pulling into a tight line. “You don’t know me well enough to make that judgment, Sheriff. Tiffany and I dated for a year and I believe I know her well enough to laugh at some of her…idiosyncrasies.”

“I don’t call being pushed off a ladder an idiosyncrasy.”

“Climbing onto a ladder to take measurements of a worthless outbuilding is a typical example of Tiffany’s foibles. As for being pushed…let’s just say Tiffany is highly imaginative.”

“For someone who dated her for a year, you don’t know her very well, do you?”

“I know her well enough to make a judgment call about this situation. Hang around her a while, you’ll see that I’m right.”

Jake started to argue the point, but forced himself to silence. One of the many things his friendship with Will had taught him was to focus on the important and let go of everything else. The jerk of a doctor standing before him was not important. “Where is she?”

For a moment he thought McMath would continue the argument. Then the man turned, his shoulders tense with resentment, and stalked forward several paces. “She’s in there. Like I said, you won’t have long. We’ll be prepping her for surgery soon.”

Without another word he walked away. Jake was glad to see him go, glad he’d have a few minutes to speak with Tiffany without McMath adding his two cents in.

Besides, another minute in the arrogant doctor’s presence might have resulted in Jake doing something he’d regret. “Pompous piece of…”

“Hold that thought, Jake. Wouldn’t want Sunday’s sermon to be about controlling our tongues.” Jake looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and spotted Ben Avery coming toward him.

“Fluff. I was going to say ‘pompous piece of fluff.’” Jake moved forward to greet his friend, tension and irritation lifting as he pushed McMath from his thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Johnson had hip replacement surgery this afternoon. I was upstairs visiting and heard the nurses whispering about the commotion down here. Figured I’d come down and get the real scoop.”

“What commotion?”

“Well, first I heard Tiffany had an accident.”

Jake nodded, not sure why her accident would cause an uproar.

“Then Sue Brandon, one of the nurses, said she got a call
from a friend who saw Tom Bishop being handcuffed outside Tiffany’s house.”

“What?!”

“According to several people who’ve made a point to ask for my prayers on the matter,” Ben’s expression was wry, “Tiffany told Brian McMath she’d been pushed from the ladder. Tom’s arrest has people adding two and two and getting ten.”

“In other words, Tom’s responsible for what happened.”

“Right.”

“Great.” Jake ran a weary hand through his hair then pulled his cell phone out and dialed the station. It didn’t take long for him to get the information he needed. Smiling grimly at his friend, he replaced the phone and moved to Tiffany’s cubicle. “Looks like the rumors are based on fact. Tom was caught trying to enter Tiffany’s house. He’s being questioned now.”

Ben didn’t say anything, just waited for Jake to continue.

“I need to talk to Tiffany before I go to the station. Can you do me a favor? Drive to the station and keep an eye on Tom. Make sure he doesn’t get in any more trouble until I get there. Henry’s there, I told him you were going to play referee.”

“No problem. Do you think Tom did it?”

“No. But he was there, so he knows something and I plan to find out what.”

Ben nodded. “I’ll try to keep Tom from getting thrown in jail for attitude. Tell Tiffany I stopped by and I’ll try to get back later.”

“Will do.” Jake didn’t wait for his friend to retreat down the hall. His time with Tiffany was limited and he needed to get information that only she could provide.

The area beyond the closed curtain was just large
enough to hold a gurney style bed, an IV pole and a chair. The overhead light had been dimmed and the darkness of the cubicle was a stark contrast to the brightly lit corridor. Closing the curtain, Jake moved toward the bed where Tiffany lay.

Her eyes were closed, her lashes forming dark crescents against skin so pale it seemed translucent. A large bruise marred her forehead, the rectangular-shaped bump reminiscent of the ladder rung that had landed there. Jake pulled the chair over and sat down, careful not to jar the bed and Tiffany’s swollen, mangled arm.

He’d seen worse injuries but few that had affected him as much. Leaning forward, he brushed a stray curl away from Tiffany’s cheek. “Tiffany?”

Her eyes opened immediately, deep green and startling in contrast to her pale skin. It took a moment for her gaze to focus on Jake. When it did, tension eased from her face. “I told Brian you’d want to know what happened.” Her voice sounded raspy, the words slightly slurred.

“You were right. How are you feeling?”

She eyed Jake for a moment, then grinned. “Like a walking disaster area.”

That she could smile after her ordeal made Jake’s throat tighten with an emotion he refused to name. “More like a moving target.”

“You were right about me and trouble. I’ve attracted more this summer than I have in my entire life.” Tiffany’s gaze drifted to her arm. It had been covered with sterile gauze, hiding, Jake knew, the place where bone had pierced flesh. “I’ve never broken a bone before.” Her pale skin turned gray and she swallowed as if fighting nausea.

Hoping to distract her, Jake reached for her uninjured hand and clasped it tightly. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“You mean my version, or the one Brian probably already gave you?”

Good, she still had some fight left in her. “Yours. Brian is an idiot.”

“You said that the day we met. I think I’m finally starting to believe you.” Tiffany’s eyes drifted closed, as if keeping them open were too much effort.

“Tell me what happened, Tiffany.”

A frown line appeared between her brows as she opened her eyes again. “I was measuring the gazebo roof, trying to figure out how much wood I’d need for repairs.” She paused licking dry lips. “I’m really thirsty, can you get me some water?”

“I don’t think they’ll let you have any before surgery.”

“That’s right. The nurse told me that. I forgot.” Her eyes drifted shut again.

“You were measuring the gazebo, and…?”

This time Tiffany didn’t open her eyes when she responded. “I put Bandit in the house. I was afraid he’d knock the ladder over accidentally.”

“Is that what happened?”

“No, like I told Brian, Bandit was in the house barking and I looked around to see what had gotten him riled up. Before I could figure out what was going on someone darted out from behind one of those big old pine trees and shoved the ladder out from under me.”

“Did you see the person?”

“No, just a dark blur. But I think he might have been the same one who was in my house the other night.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know.” Tiffany opened her eyes and frowned. “Oh, wait. I remember he kind of ducked and crouched when he came out from behind the tree. The branches in
the pine are pretty high. Maybe six feet. I think he was trying to avoid running into them.”

Jake nodded. “You said the person who was in your house was tall. Your mind must have made the connection without you realizing it.”

“I guess that’s it.”

“Did Tom Bishop work today?”

“Yes. A half day because I had to go to the shower late this afternoon and I didn’t want him to be stranded at my house.”

“You drove him home?”

“Yes, I dropped him off before I went to Joy’s. Why?”

“Just wondering how he might fit into things.”

“He didn’t push me, if that’s what you think.” Tiffany raised her head from the pillow, wincing as she did so.

“Just relax. I don’t think he did.”

She subsided back onto the pillow, her eyes closing and then fluttering open again. “Sorry, I’m just so tired.”

“Sleep. I’ve got some things to take care of at the station. Then I’ll be back to see how you’re doing.”

Jake moved to disengage his hand from Tiffany’s, but she tightened her fingers around his, and opened her eyes, anxiety and pain clouding their depth. “Can you stay for a while longer?”

For the first time, it occurred to Jake that she might be scared. He squeezed her hand gently. “Nervous about the surgery?”

“A little. Mostly I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

Jake watched Tiffany trying to smile and wanted to tell her that if it were up to him she’d never be alone again.

“I know it’s silly. I’m alone all the time….”

“It’s not silly. I’d want someone with me, too.”

“Really? I asked Brian to call my parents, but he said it would be better to wait until the surgery was over.”

Her eyes had closed again, and she looked vulnerable. Fragile in a way Jake had never seen her. “I’ll call them for you. What’s the number?” Jake took out his cell phone, ready to dial but Tiffany didn’t respond.

Eyes closed, face relaxed, she slept soundly. Jake brushed another lock of hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. What would he feel for her if he allowed himself to?

He refused to answer the question. Refused to think about what could never be. Instead he dialed information. Only when he’d located her parents and been assured they were on the way did he leave.

Maybe he couldn’t give Tiffany the love she deserved, but at least he could be a friend she could depend on. If the thought of being only that made him feel hollow and empty, Jake didn’t acknowledge it.

He had more important things to think about. Like how he was going to get Tom Bishop to give him the names of his buddies. He knew the kid had information, and Jake had every intention of getting it this time.

Anger and frustration had him pressing down on the gas pedal, speeding to the station. He didn’t waste time with niceties, just shoved the door to the interrogation room open with enough force to have it banging against the wall.

Tom sat at a long table, his face set in lines of rebellion. Ben, stationed to one side of him, had a hand on the boy’s shoulder, the gesture designed either to comfort or to keep him in place. Two officers sat on the opposite side of the table. Neither looked happy.

That was fine. Jake wasn’t happy, either. They’d make a good team. He nodded at Ben, not bothering to try on a smile. “Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”

Ben must have sensed the rage behind Jake’s words. He
hesitated, his normally easygoing expression hardening. “Jake—”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to give him the beating he deserves.”

Ben held his gaze for a moment. Then, as if satisfied that Jake had his emotions under control, he released his grip on Tom and stepped away. “His father might. He’ll be here in an hour.”