Renee Simons Special Edition (45 page)

He’d missed knowing Callie was where he could see and talk to her, missed the kidding, the disagreements. And, daring to hope she would have a place in his future, he’d never stopped wanting her. He’d been haunted by memories of how she’d tasted and looked, how her velvety skin had felt beneath his hands, how his body had ached to thrust deep inside her, and bury himself in her warmth. Now he could add worry to all the rest. He turned back to the road.

She was in god-awful shape. What kind of trouble had she gotten into? She’d said she was going into
Albuquerque
, but three days later, he’d found her in a ditch with her bike nowhere in sight. If she hadn’t had an accident with it, how had she fallen? And where? If she’d been coming north from
Albuquerque
, she would have passed Blue Sky. Yet she believed she was walking south.

The more he thought about her condition — the pain in her arm, the bruises, the disorientation — the more convinced he became that he needed to know the extent of her injuries. He wanted x-rays, CT-Scans, MRIs, whatever it took for a complete evaluation.

At the small hospital in the nearby town of
Monte D’Oro
, he was forced to settle for an EEG for her head injury and an x-ray of her arm. He fought to remain at her side, but could manage only a view through a window in the examination room door despite a long-standing friendship with the attending physician.

What Luc could see of Callie’s injuries sent a chill through him. The dim overhead light in the pickup had masked the worst of the damage. Here, the unforgiving glare exposed the bruises on her face, neck and arms in vivid shades of yellow, purple and black. Her jaw and bottom lip were swollen and discolored, as was her injured left forearm.

The attending cleaned a cut on her right temple near the hairline and ended up suturing the wound. Watching the proceedings filled Luc with anger and a powerful need to fold his arms around her and make sure nothing never hurt her again. Once she'd been taken to a small room on the first floor, a nurse hooked her up to intravenous liquids to counter the dehydration. He and the doctor talked in the corridor.

“You have a special interest in the victim?”

Luc eyed him sharply. “Any significance to your use of the word 'victim', Eddie?” Dr. Eduardo Vega usually spoke with the same precision that epitomized the practice of his medical skills. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say anything you didn’t mean absolutely.”

Eddie grinned. “Well, there was that time in fourth grade....”

Luc smiled in response. “There were a couple of times in fourth grade. But let’s not go that far back, okay?”

“Fair enough.” He leaned against the painted cinder block wall. “Ms. Patterson’s injuries could have occurred during a fall, or other such accident, but they are also consistent with an assault.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“You have not answered my question, Luc. Is she someone special in your life?”

He and Eduardo had seen each other through several affairs of the heart until his friend had taken himself out of circulation by marrying the great love of his life. "Yes."

“Well, then, I will leave the questions to you. If you need a copy of the medical report, let me know."

As he turned away, Luc put an arm on his shoulder. "You said 'assault'. Do we need to consider rape?"

Eddie shook his head. "I asked. She said no. Should I get a rape kit?"

"She wouldn’t lie."

"
Bueno
. She asked for you, so come with me while I talk to her."

They returned to the small room where Callie rested. She opened her eyes when Eduardo Vega took her wrist to check her pulse.

“Your color is better,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Almost human,” she said. A tiny smile flirted with one corner of her mouth, lifting Luc’s spirits.

Aside from the obvious injuries, she’d sustained a mild concussion and had broken a long bone in her left forearm. The simple fracture needed only a cast and Eddie wanted a twenty-four hour stay so they could observe the after-effects of the head injury and make sure the dehydration had been reversed.

“I’d rather go home, Dr. Vega. I’ve lost too many people in hospitals to be comfortable here.”

"Many patients feel this way about hospitals, but my experience cautions me to conservatism. So, let us compromise." He folded his arms across his chest, in a non-verbal warning that he would go only so far in accommodating her wishes. "Stay until noon. If at that time all your vitals are stable, I will release you."

He glanced at Luc. “It would be best for her not to be alone for the next few days.”

Eddie was saying her condition needed monitoring. “I’ll see she's taken care of.”

The doctor smiled at Callie. "Then I am satisfied. How about you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You could become difficult. Or sign yourself out. But I wish you would not. That concussion concerns me and I want to keep you under observation for the next several hours." He looked at his wrist watch. "The night is nearly through. Give us a bit more of your time."

Callie nodded.

"A wise decision, Ms. Patterson. We will try to make your stay as comfortable as possible." He patted her shoulder. "Relax and let yourself drift off, if you can. Your body needs rest to heal."

He glanced at his friend. "You can stay if you want."

"I want."

Eddie nodded. "The nurses will do vitals and neuro assessments every hour."

Luc settled himself in a wooden arm chair with cushions covered in fake leather. "Do you mind my staying?"

"It isn't necessary, you know."

He smiled. Her consistency comforted him. "I know."

"I guess that's never stopped you before, has it?" Her voice reached barely above a whisper but she attempted a smile. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? Prop your legs on the bed."

Although he didn't follow her suggestion, he did hitch his chair closer, relieved to be near enough to observe her beneath the subdued light above the bed. The panic that had been so obvious when he'd found her had receded into fatigue, leaving dark smudges beneath her eyes. The pale glow cast her face in shadows, softening the intensity of her bruises.

"Talk to me," she said.

"You heard what Eddie said. You should sleep."

"I will," she said with a sigh. "Just not yet. I want to lie here and get used to being safe again."

"Are you up to telling me what happened?"

Callie had been surprised when the doctor told her what day it was, but it had been dark underground. She’d lost her watch during the fall so she'd had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Three days, it had been. She didn’t remember every detail of that time, but fragments rose to the surface of her mind like foam on a rough sea. She wasn’t ready to ride that particular surf. More particularly, she had no desire to relive the hours alone, the pain of her injuries or the despair of thinking she'd been trapped underground and might die there without anyone knowing.

“I was out exploring when someone came up behind me. He slugged me and threw me down a mine shaft." A shiver coursed through her. "It took me a while after I came around, but eventually I found my way out.”

He took her hand. "It must have been awful."

She welcomed the touch warming her cold fingers. "It wasn't fun."

“You never made it into
Albuquerque
?”

“I was down there the whole time.”

He shook his head and cursed under his breath.

“What?”

“I came every day looking for you, but nobody'd seen you. Your bike was gone so I figured business kept you away.”

"Gone?" She'd parked it beneath the back steps, never expecting she'd need to protect it from more than the weather. “You looked behind the house?”

“Everywhere, even in that old shed at the corner of the property."

“Maybe whoever attacked me stole it.” She struggled to put down a newly reawakened fear. “He knows where I live.”

"It's probably the same guy who's been doing all the damage." His hold on her hand tightened, though not painfully so. "I think it may be one of Nick's workers."

"Why would one of his men be against a project that's giving him work?"

"I've been doing background checks, checking finger prints, and verifying alibis. I found the can of spray paint the vandal used. When we nail him we'll know why."

He pressed his lips to the back of her good hand. "We worried about you."

She struggled to suppress a smile and failed. "We?"

He answered with a lopsided grin. "Okay. If you have to hear it.
I
worried."

She took in his words and suddenly didn't feel quite so lousy. She stifled a yawn and closed her eyes for a moment as a wave of sleepiness threatened to claim her exhausted body and mind. The overhead light clicked off, turning the room into an oasis of dark warmth rimmed by the soft light out in the corridor. Anxiety zigzagged through her and she tugged at Luc's arm.

"
Calmate
," he whispered. "It's all right,
querida
. I'm here." His weight barely dented the hard mattress as he lay beside her; she nestled against him, letting his body heat envelop her like a featherbed. "You won't be alone tonight,
mi vida
."

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "I wish you'd stay away from the house for a few days. Until we run this guy to ground."

"I'd rather not go back to the hotel."

"Stay with my folks."

"That would be an imposition."

"Are you kidding? My mother would love having someone to take care of again. She's a retired nurse, you know."

"That doesn't mean she wants to be unretired."

"To her it would feel like caring for a family member. She thinks that much of you."

"Nice," Callie said with a sigh. "But I want to be sure. Will you call her first?"

"If you need me to, I will."

So, Callie thought. Dorotea Moreno was a retired nurse. Could she have been the young
partera
Grandmother had mentioned in her diary? Or the daughter? And did she have the key to the mystery of "C"?

At noon, Eduardo Vega released Callie's wrist with a nod of satisfaction. "I am signing you out, Ms. Patterson, but I want to see you in two weeks. Understood?"

She nodded. "Thank you, doctor."

He scribbled on a prescription pad and held out a single sheet. Callie raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing complicated here. Just some instructions about after-care."

The two men shook hands and left a nurse to prepare her for discharge. She balked at the wheelchair ride to the door but chose it over being carried out by Luc. Although the idea had definite appeal, she thought the wheelchair would attract less attention. In the pickup, he belted them in and started for home.

"My mother's getting a room ready for you. She planned a week's worth of meals to jump start your appetite. I'm angling for an open dinner invitation."

"I should have followed my instinct to go back to The Mansion." She shook her head. "This sounds like too much of an inconvenience for her and for you.”

"Not at all. She's thrilled and I get to stoke up on her cooking." He glanced at her, then turned back to the road. "Be warned, she's an incurable matchmaker and she's got you in her sights."

"For whom?"

"For her only unattached son."

"You."

"None other."

She chuckled despite the blush heating her cheeks. "That must thrill you no end. Considering how opposed you are to getting involved. Or does your opposition apply only to me?"

"Opposed or not, I'm involved up to my eyeballs. Can't you tell?"

"I thought I could last night."

"Nothing's changed."

He touched her hand gently, leaving a trail of warmth where his fingers had been. With her good hand she swiped at unbidden tears that surely had been caused by her weakened state. Too soon to accept his admission as fact, she thought with a sigh of relief. She had time to decide how these new feelings would affect Gram’s dream. As the rugged landscape rolled past she let herself relax into the motion of the four-by-four.

"Who's married?"

"My brothers Tino and Miguel. It's a rough situation for Miguel. He and his wife separated about six months ago. They have a little boy. We're all hoping they can work it out." He cleared his throat. "You'll meet Quique. He's with my folks right now."

"Has their situation scared you away from...." She searched for a word that wouldn't sound too explicit — to either of them.

His low chuckle told her he understood her hesitation. "You can say the word. Marriage."

"Has it?"

"I want to settle down. Have kids."

"But...?"

"The time's not quite right." He went silent for a moment. "But soon, maybe, if things work out."