Tymber Dalton (20 page)

“Oh, nothing serious, I hope?” She reversed the sign and unlocked the door. A young couple patiently waited outside, the man checking his BlackBerry while the woman studied a Tarot card display in the window.

“No, just his gallbladder. He’ll be fine, but thank you.”

Sami still had a few minutes before the end of Steve’s appointment with Dr. Raymond. She went to the truck and looked for a place to stash the box.

She didn’t want Steve to see it.

The truck had a large crew cab. There was room for the box under one of the back seats. After checking nothing inside would spill, she shoved it under there and put a folded rain poncho on top.

Sami reached Dr. Raymond’s building when Steve emerged. She walked with him to Dr. Smith’s office. A matronly nurse smiled when they arrived. “Sign in here please.” She handed him a clipboard.

Dr. Smith kept them waiting only five minutes. “Sorry about that, my caseload is up with Susan back.” He checked the incision and asked Steve about his pain levels. Steve took only extra-strength Tylenol after having refused offers of stronger meds at the hospital.

“I don’t want anything stronger.” He looked at Sami. “That was a bad scare you threw into me, Doc. I don’t want to screw things up.”

“Understandable. Again, I’m sorry about that. We still don’t know exactly what happened.”

Steve smiled. “Just take it off my bill. Oh, wait, maybe you could give us a freebie.” He motioned to Sami. “Take a look at her hand, will you?”

Sami shrank back in her chair. “It’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Sami, let the doc look at it. While he’s doing that, I need to visit the little boys’ room.” Sami took Steve’s place on the exam table, and Dr. Smith unwrapped the gauze.

“What happened?”

“It was a stupid accident.”

“Steve didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“No!” He looked up, and she realized her answer had sounded a little too forceful. “It happened while he was in the hospital.” When doctor didn’t say anything, she burst into tears. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

He handed her a tissue and continued to examine the wound. “I won’t tell him.”

She gave him the abbreviated version and was finishing when Steve returned.

“—and when I reached over to pet him on the nose, I snagged my hand on the wire. It was stupid. I wasn’t paying attention.”

The doctor nodded, playing along. “When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Several years.”

“I’ll get you one.”

Steve stood up again. “I’ll wait outside, honey.” He was not a fan of needles used on himself or others.

The door closed behind him, and Dr. Smith finished dressing the wound. “You’re lucky you didn’t land on the knife.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“You couldn’t have explained that away so easily.”

“I know.”

He gave her the shot and made a notation on a new chart sheet. “How is your stress level right now?”

“Oh, let’s see. Right about…here.” She held her good hand a foot over her head.

“And one of Julie’s cappuccinos can put a jittery spin on things.”

“How did you—oh, the cup.” He’d pointed to the distinctive kiwi-green cup with its swirly pink lettering.

He nodded. “Don’t let her fool you. She was a Rhodes Scholar. Graduated valedictorian of her high school class and had a full academic scholarship. She should be running a Fortune 500 company on Wall Street, or trying cases before the Supreme Court, or something like that.”

“What’s she doing here?”

He shrugged. “One too many ghost stories in her past, I suppose.” He eyed her again. “I can’t say I believe in spirits, but there’s no denying that house has a history. Don’t hesitate to reach out for help.”

* * * *

Exhausted, Steve went upstairs to bed when they returned home. Once sure he was asleep, Sami retrieved the box from the truck and managed to fit it in the bottom of the file cabinet. She didn’t want to look at it now. It would have to wait until he left Monday morning for his meeting and appointments.

Matt called for an update. Sami left out most of the details, not wanting to worry him. There would be plenty of time to catch up when he arrived on—

“Oh! You’ll be here Sunday.”

He laughed. “Nice to know you remembered.”

“I lost track of time.”

“I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything else you needed. I’m leaving Saturday morning, taking my time. Pog and I will stay somewhere Saturday night…”

Ten minutes later they said good-bye, and she stared at the cell. It was a mixed bag, emotionally. How would she handle having Matt around on top of all of this? He’d help her make sense of everything.

Or maybe it would make things worse, having him around.

I need a ride.

Mutt was eager. It took her longer than usual to groom and saddle him with her sore hand. A few bikes whined through the park, but Thursday afternoons were generally quiet. She took a small backpack to hold the mail and a bottle of water and turned the gelding south. She wanted to take her time getting to the front gate, needing the time alone to clear her head.

She spotted the path to the graveyard. Despite the horse’s wishes, Sami took a moment to study George Simpson’s gravestone.

“What kind of monster were you?”

The wind picked up, rattling pine needles and oak leaves. Mutt blew a nervous snort.

“Easy, boy.” She patted the gelding on the neck and examined the stone cairns, most likely the Spanish explorers massacred by the local tribe. Sami knew there was more to that story, too, considering the Spaniards wrote the history.

She wondered what precipitated the attack. Yes, it was possible they were simply hostile natives resisting intrusions to their land. But the tribes in this area were relatively peaceful, and it wasn’t beyond the realm of imagination to think the invaders had done something to deserve their fate.

Sami closed her eyes and listened to the distant sound of traffic on the interstate and a couple of bikes on the main road…

And a girl’s terrified shriek.

Her eyes snapped open. Mutt was pulling on a tuft of grass at the base of a sapling and froze in mid-bite, his radar ears swiveling to the west where the sound originated. It wasn’t her imagination.

Brush rustling, and another scream.

Mutt’s head shot up and Sami urged him forward, toward a faint path through the palmettos at the edge of the clearing.

She leaned forward against the gelding’s neck, dodging limbs threatening to sweep her from the saddle.

Now she heard men’s laughter, coarse and taunting.

“Puta…”

That was Spanish, she knew, and not very nice either.

The girl sounded terrified, babbling in an unrecognizable tongue. They sounded closer, but Sami couldn’t quite pinpoint where.

She pushed the horse through a stand of slash pine saplings, wondering for the first time what she would do when she found the girl. She had no weapons, not even a riding crop, and she’d stupidly left her cell phone at home.

The girl sobbed. Now Sami heard animal grunts, unmistakable rutting noises, and more coarse laughter. They were right in front of her.

She rounded the corner in full gallop, pulling up short at the overgrown clearing. The sound faded into the wind. Mutt’s ears swiveled like airport radar.

Wheeling him around, she listened but couldn’t hear them. There were no tracks in the clearing, the weeds undisturbed except where Mutt stomped them down.

“Hello?” she yelled.

Her heart raced. She listened for any noise, any trace of sound.

She was alone.

Shivering, she dug her heels into Mutt’s side. He bounded for the south side of the clearing and she let him find a path. Minutes later they burst into the day-use campground near the front gate. With no traffic in front of her, she galloped to the gatehouse where Tom Jenkins’s truck was parked.

He greeted her with a smile then saw her face. “What’s wrong?”

She leapt off Mutt’s back, stumbling over her words, trying to get it all out. Finally, “We have to call the sheriff!”

He studied his feet. Sami nearly yelled at him when he shook his head. “They won’t find anything,” he whispered.

The blood drained from her face. “What?”

He looked at her. “They called her a ‘
puta
’ didn’t they?”

Sami nodded. She hadn’t specifically told the ranger what they’d said, too anxious to get the story out.

“That’s the Indian girl. The conquistadores kidnapped her, raped her, and her family got their revenge that night when they rescued her.”

“What?”

He looked around, even though they were alone. “My grandfather reported it, years ago, when he was the ranger. He was out on horseback and heard the same thing. They spent days combing the woods on foot with dogs and on horseback. They found nothing. Three weeks later, a group of hunters reported nearly the same thing. Again searchers found nothing.

“We haven’t had any reports in about fifteen years. During the weekend, people can’t hear anything with all the traffic going through here. If they’re on a bike, forget it.”

Sami tried to digest this. “You’re saying they’re ghosts?”

“You said it, not me.” He handed her the mail. “You might want to ride home along the main road. You can’t do that girl any good, and it’s creepy listening to it.”

She shoved the mail into her backpack with numb fingers and trembling hands. “Have you heard it?”

Jenkins looked like he didn’t want to answer. “I saw them one night, but not that. I saw what happened to the Spaniards. It happened not too far from your house.”

Upon her return she found Steve in the living room. He was unusually quiet and took the mail from her without comment.

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked.

He shook his head as he looked through everything before handing it back. “I’m not hungry. I need to work.”

He seemed more than tired. He seemed…distant. “Are you okay?”

“I have a lot of work to do.” He returned to his study and closed the door behind him.

“Great.” She considered telling him about the strange experience in the woods, but the closer she got to home, the sillier she felt. Tom Jenkins had to be yanking her chain. Shit like that didn’t happen in real life. He was probably having a great laugh with his fellow rangers at her expense.

That didn’t explain the things she’d heard and seen for herself.

Or Jenkins’s serious demeanor when he told the story. How he seemed to not just believe her, but anticipate what she was going to tell him.

I am not seeing ghosts. I am
not
.

If she said it enough times, maybe she’d believe it.

Work was out of the question. After her shower she channel surfed for a few minutes before finding a movie. Steve stayed in his office until almost nine. He looked drawn and tired when he walked into the living room.

“Are you hungry?” It had been hours since he’d last eaten.

“Dammit, if I’m hungry, I’ll fucking tell you to fix me something.”

“
Excuse
me?” She’d be damned if she’d put up with this bullshit.

The shock and anger on her face must have startled him. “Sami, I’m sorry.” His face softened. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

It wasn’t even what he said, but how he said it, like he spoke with someone else’s voice. She shut the TV off. “No, I’m sure you didn’t.”
So much for Steve being in a better mood.
Mentally kicking herself for softening her heart to him yet again just to get hurt—again—she stormed through the kitchen to the basement to run a load of laundry.

If he was back to this old self, she wasn’t hanging around long enough to put up with it.

The basement door opened. “Do you need any help?”

“No, Steven, I don’t need any help. It’s all under control. You need to go to bed and wake up on the right side of it. Sick or not, I won’t tolerate that shit from you any longer.” She slammed the washer lid and wrenched the dials before smacking the knob to turn it on. The dryer fared no better, and she saw the sliver of light from the kitchen disappear as he closed the door.

* * * *

Dammit, what’s wrong with me? She called me Steven? She is
really
pissed.

He slowly climbed the stairs, aware of his sutures every step. Why had he snapped at her like that? He was so tired, his nap full of bad dreams, and his mouth tasted foul when he woke up.

Like whiskey.

When he left his study, he realized he’d lost three hours of time. That wasn’t like him. Yes, he zoned out occasionally when in a good rhythm, but he couldn’t remember what he did from the time he went in there and coming back out and taking poor Sami’s head off.