Hidden in Shadows (14 page)

“The girls say you've been doing wonders at the shop.” She leaned closer. “And with Krista.” She winked.

Luke shot a panicked look at the chief, who shrugged.

“Ah, well, I'm pretty good with drains, but nearly killed myself hanging Christmas lights,” Luke said, avoiding the comment about Krista.

“I heard. How's the ankle?”

“It's good, thanks.”

“Mr. McIntyre?” An elderly woman stepped in front of the streusel lady. “I'm Delores Frupp, Doe for short. If you have any pain from the ankle, I use arnica, an herbal cream that reduces the swelling.”

“Thanks, I'll remember that, but I'm really—”

“Or aloe vera. That's always helped me,” streusel lady offered.

“R.I.C.E.,” Julie Sass said. They all looked at her.

“Rest, ice, compression and elevation. That's what the coach told Tori to do when she sprained her ankle in soccer.”

The three women discussed the benefits of the various forms of first aid for sprained ankles. Luke glanced at his plate of food, wondering why it bothered him that they seemed to care so much about him.

It reminded him of something, someone…

The many someone's from his childhood church. They'd
visit once a month after services bringing food and clothes, sometimes toys for Luke.

He'd hear the doorbell ring and he'd hide in his room as Mom welcomed the group into the living room, offering them a beverage…

While she threw back her fourth glass of scotch.

At one in the afternoon.

Buried memories shot to the surface, blinding him, suffocating him.

The women's voices, the cacophony of the crowd rose to an unbearable pitch. His heart pounded against his chest.

“I gotta go.” He handed the chief his plate and made for the door.

He needed fresh air, needed to get out of here and shake the memories from his mind. Get his head back in the game.

Mom was an alcoholic.

He'd never admitted it before.

Shame coursed through him.

He stormed out the back of the church toward the garden.

That's why she died: because she drank herself to death. Everyone in town, all the church people knew it.

They knew his shame.

Which was why, after two years in foster care, he'd lied about his age and joined the army.

He ran, just like he was now. Had to get away from the crowd of people inside who reminded him of his childhood church community, the people who knew the truth—Luke was so bad that he drove his mother to kill herself with booze.

He went outside to the back garden that was covered in snow, the plants dormant until spring.

Dormant, like his memories.

Until now.

“Mom,” he whispered as frustration ripped through his chest.

A crunching sound drew his attention and he turned.

Just as something hit him in the back of the head. He dropped
to the ground, face-first into the snow. His cheek chilled as he struggled to focus, to figure out…

He gasped and passed out.

W
hen Krista saw Luke bolt out of the community room, she wondered if he'd received word about the case. Then she caught the look in his eye and she instantly wanted to follow him, find out what caused the desperation she read there.

It wasn't about the case. It ran deeper than that and she wanted to help him.

Unfortunately she was surrounded by church friends who wanted to hear more details about the mission trip. She directed them to her new blog site, and politely excused herself, saying she had to visit the ladies' room.

She made a beeline for the back door, whipped it open and froze at the sight of a tall, hooded figure standing over a motionless body in the snow.

Even from here she recognized the fallen man's black boots. Luke's boots.

“Luke!” she cried.

The hooded man sprinted away, disappearing through nearby bushes.

She opened the door to the community room and grabbed Tori Sass, who happened to be standing there with her boyfriend. “Tori, go get the chief and send him out back, now.”

Krista turned and rushed down the back steps, instinct driving her across the property. Luke's normally strong, large body looked dwarfed in the snow.

Panic flooded her chest at the thought of him being—

“Krista?” the chief called from the back door.

“It's Luke, someone hurt him!” She skidded to a stop and kneeled beside him, brushing her hand against his cheek. He was so cold, so still.

The chief rushed up behind her.

“Did you see—”

“The bushes.” She pointed, but could hardly say more in her distraught state.

The chief called across the property, but she could hardly hear him past the pounding of her heart.

“Luke, open your eyes,” she whispered, placing her palm to his cheek to warm him.

Please God, don't take him yet. Not like this.

“What happened?” Dr. Langston said, rushing up to her. A small group was forming.

She glanced up at the tall, elderly doctor. “I'm not sure. He's unconscious.”

“Krista?” Luke moaned.

She turned to him. “Luke, you're okay, it's going to be okay.” She glanced at the doctor, looking for confirmation.

He motioned for her to move aside and she did, but she didn't break the contact with Luke's cheek.

“Do you remember what happened to you, son?” Dr. Langston asked.

“No, sir.”

“I need to call an ambulance,” Krista said.

“No.” Luke grunted and pushed up with his hands. Krista helped him stand.

He wavered a bit and she put her arm around his waist to steady him. Dr. Langston came around the other side for support.

“Let's get him into the pastor's office,” the doctor said.

Krista nodded and the three of them shuffled past the growing crowd into the back of the church.

“Give us space,” the doctor ordered the group, then nodded at Julie Sass. “Can you get my car keys out of my parka inside and get my bag out of the car?”

“Absolutely.” She ran ahead, while Krista and the doctor helped Luke up the back steps and down the hallway toward Pastor White's office.

The concerned mumblings of church friends echoed down the hall behind them. There was no way around it, everyone was going to find out who Luke was and why he was here.

And how much danger Krista had somehow brought back with her to Wentworth.

“What happened?” Tatum asked someone behind them.

“Looks like he slipped on the ice. Happens to the best of us,” the chief offered. “Everyone, back to the potluck.”

Krista understood his motivation to keep the real danger a secret. His job was to protect the people of Wentworth, and find the Garcia threat as quickly and quietly as possible.

Krista and the doctor led Luke around the corner to a chair in the pastor's office. She kneeled beside him. She didn't like the way he looked. His skin was pale and his eyes creased with confusion.

“Do you feel faint?” the doctor asked.

“No, but I've got a massive headache.”

Julie rushed into the room. “Your bag.”

Dr. Langston opened it and pulled out a penlight to examine Luke's eyes.

“Let's start with a few questions,” the doctor said, shining the light in one eye, then the other. “What day of the week is it?”

“Friday.”

“What's your name?”

“Luke McIntyre.”

“Where are you?”

Luke glanced around the room. Krista mouthed “church” and Doc Langston raised a brow.

“Sorry, sorry,” Krista said. She couldn't help herself. She wanted him to be okay.

Julie touched Krista's arm. “Come here,” Julie motioned.

Krista glanced at Luke and he shot her a hint of a smile, indicating he'd be okay without her hovering over him.

She wandered to the other side of the room with Julie. “What happened?” Julie asked.

“I have no idea. I went looking for Luke, and spotted some guy standing over him in the snow.”

“What happened to the guy?”

“When I called out for Luke, he took off.”

Julie's gaze drifted to the doctor's examination of Luke. “So some guy attacked Luke?”

“Let's not assume that. But he sure didn't do anything to get help.”

The chief came into the pastor's office. “Well, that's more excitement than we've had at a potluck in ten years. They need you out there, Julie. Something about the kids spiking the punch?”

“Oh, no.” Julie rushed out of the office and the chief closed the door.

“How is he?” the chief asked.

“Fine,” Luke said.

“His eyes look fine, motor skills good,” Doc Langston said. “He's got a nasty contusion on the back of his head. You get that from falling on the ice, son?”

“I…” He paused. “Don't remember, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” The doctor stood and glanced at Krista. “Wouldn't hurt to put ice on his head, get fluids into him and ask him questions every hour or so until he goes to bed. If he seems disoriented or starts vomiting, get him to the clinic.”

“Should I take him to the clinic now?” Krista said.

“No,” Luke argued. “Just get me some aspirin and I'll be fine.”

The doctor glanced at Luke, then Krista. “I don't think it's serious. Still, wish you could remember what happened, son.”

Luke rubbed the back of his head. “Me, too.”

“Well, I'm headed back inside.” Dr. Langston packed up his bag.

“Thanks.” The chief opened the door, and closed it behind him.

Luke glanced up at Krista. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I'm dying or something.”

“I was worried.”

“Don't be. I've been through worse.”

The comment stung, especially because it drove home the violence he'd survived as a federal agent, violence that disturbed her way too much to be a part of her life.

“What happened out there?” the chief asked.

“I told you, I don't remember,” Luke snapped.

“Luke,” Krista hushed.

“I'm frustrated, okay? One minute I'm in the community room staring at a plate of food, and the next thing I know I'm facedown in the snow.”

“Do you remember handing me your plate and saying you had to get outside?” the chief said.

Luke's eyebrows furrowed and dawning colored his blue eyes, then he glanced away. “No.”

Either he didn't remember or he didn't want to share. Krista guessed it was door number two.

Krista wondered if his disorientation was freaking him out. She touched his shoulder. “It's okay. You're safe.”

He stood and paced to the window, breaking their connection.

She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. Although his reaction was probably born of frustration and helplessness, it cut deep into her heart.

“I need to talk to the chief.” Luke turned to her. “Alone.”

“I thought we agreed you'd keep me in the loop from now on?”

“Just…” He bit back what he was about to say. “Can you get me some aspirin?”

“Sure.” Krista left before doing something stupid, like getting in his face and demanding he stop shutting her out.

She headed down the hall, calming her breathing, fighting back the wave of frustration that made her tear up.

Why did he get to her like this?

Because you care about him more than you're supposed to.
Her heart plummeted when she saw his body lying there in the snow. If he had died…

No, she couldn't think about that now.

Thank you, Lord, for protecting Luke. Please help me with my feelings for him, and please help me show him the grace of God.

 

He was angry and embarrassed, and the pain reliever did little to ease the pounding in his head. And all he wanted to do was go back to his temporary home and chill out with Roscoe.

But Krista was determined to check in on Natalie and bring her food from the potluck. Krista was concerned because she hadn't spoken to her friend since she'd been released from the hospital.

“Head still hurt?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Want me to drop you at home?”

“Nope.”

“I'm sure I'd be safe at Natalie's.”

“Just as I was sure I'd be safe at church.” The minute he said it he regretted the words. They weren't necessary. He didn't have to bite her head off.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I know.”

He suspected she really did know, and that terrified him. He could face off some of the deadliest criminals, but what scared him more was this woman's ability to see into his heart.

“I'll only be a few minutes,” she said, turning down a side street.

“I'm going in with you.”

“I'm not sure Timothy will like that.”

“He'll get used to me.” He eyed her. “You have.”

She smiled, then redirected her attention to the street. A good thing.

“That's odd,” she said.

“What?”

“Her house is completely dark.”

“Maybe she's asleep.”

“No, she always leaves the porch light on, and the light in the living room is on a timer. It stays on all night for her cat.”

“Cat's afraid of the dark, is it?”

“Natalie thinks so.”

“Drive past the house a block and park.”

“But—”

“Please, just do it.”

With a disgruntled sigh, Krista passed Natalie's house and pulled up behind a blue sedan.

“Call her,” Luke ordered.

Krista dug in her pocket for her cell and made the call.

“Voice mail,” she said.

“Try again.”

She called her friend, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “It's no use, she's not—” Krista sat up straight. “Natalie?… Where are you?… But… I know, but…”

While Krista caught up with her friend Luke scanned the neighborhood. He was seeing shadows everywhere now, behind trees, beside cars, even in living room windows.

He'd let his guard down earlier, allowed ghosts of the past to mess with his head and throw him off course for only a few minutes. That's all it took for someone to whack him but good.

But why? If they'd wanted him dead they would have finished him off in the church garden.

Then again, it seemed like Krista had interrupted the attack. He fisted his hand. She could have been kidnapped, or worse, and he would have been lying there, unconscious. Helpless. Unable to protect her.

“I don't understand,” Krista said. Luke figured she was still talking to her friend. “Luke?”

He turned to her perplexed expression. “Excuse me?”

“She's at Timothy's. I guess he doesn't want her at home by herself.”

“That's decent of him.”

“He's really not the nurturing type and has little patience.”

“He must love her.”

The words hung in the air between them. Love, a confusing and complicated emotion at best.

“She's lucky,” Krista whispered, and started the car.

“So we're going to Timothy's?” Luke asked.

“No. She doesn't want to upset him and he, well, doesn't want me around right now.”

“What's that about?”

“He blames me for the car accident.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“He feels the way he feels.”

Yep, just like Luke felt something for Krista, even though he knew it was inappropriate and wrong on so many levels.

“May I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“Do you really not remember what drove you outside at church?”

“It's a little foggy, why?”

“Because the look in your eye just before you ran out of church was, I don't know, well it spooked me.”

That's the look of raw anguish, sweetheart.

“What did I look like?” he said.

She glanced at him, then back at the road. “Like you just found out your mom died.”

His gaze drifted out the side window. She'd read it in his eyes, read the heartbreak and agony that followed. Amazing.

“If you want to talk…” She hesitated. “I'm a really good listener.”

“I'll bet you are,” he whispered. But talking to her, sharing his buried shame would only weaken his ability to protect her.

“It might make you feel better,” she prompted.

“I doubt that.”

“Try it.”

“I remembered something about my mom.” Although his
mind told him to shut his mouth, his heart couldn't stop the words.

“Is she…?”

“Dead. Passed away when I was fifteen.”

“Oh, Luke, I'm so sorry.”

“It happens.”

A few minutes of silence passed as they drove through the heart of town to get to Krista's house. He thought he was off the hook.