Mercy

  Noah was enjoying her discomfort. “I’m very what?”

  The word “experienced” came to mind along with about a dozen others. Noah was the kind of man who had women like Mary Ann for breakfast. Michelle realized she was being judgmental and that she could be wrong.

  “You’re . . .” “Yes?” Noah prodded.

  “Your friend has the hots for Noah,” Theo explained.

  Noah nodded. “Yeah, she does.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said, clearly exasperated. “Just because Mary Ann was being friendly, you immediately jump to the conclusion that she had the hots for Noah?”

  Theo smiled. “I didn’t jump to any conclusions. Honest. Mary Ann said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Hey, Theo, I’ve got the hots for Noah. So is he married or what?’”

  Noah nodded again. “That’s about how it happened.”

  The sad thing was that Michelle thought Theo might be telling the truth. Mary Ann did have the annoying habit of blurting out her every thought. Michelle started laughing even as she shook her head.

  “We’ve got to get to the clinic,” she told them.

  “Just a second, Michelle,” Noah said as he flipped through the playbook. “Theo, look at page fifty-three. Do you remember —”

  “Theodore, take that book away from your friend and get him moving now.”

  Calling him Theodore did the trick. He grabbed the book and got up. Noah was impressed. “She sounds like a drill sergeant,” he said as he watched Michelle standing in the doorway, tapping her foot impatiently.

  “She can get tough when she has to.” Theo made the comment sound like a compliment.

  “That’s a real talent,” Noah remarked.

  “She gives as good as she gets. She doesn’t back down. I like that. You know what else she does? Vegetables,” he said as he walked through the dining room to get to the front door.

  “Did you say vegetables?” Noah asked, certain he hadn’t heard correctly.

  “Yeah. You should see her cut vegetables with a paring knife. It’s incredible. You could put it to music.” Noah followed Theo outside. “What the hell does that mean?” “She’s so . . . precise.”

  Noah laughed. “Man, oh man.”

  “What?”

  “Have you got it bad.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Noah and Michelle didn’t make it to football practice. There was simply too much work to get done at the clinic. Her friends amazed her. They got the files back in order and stacked them alphabetically in boxes, so that as soon as the new file cabinets arrived, all she had to do was drop them in the drawers. Theo drove over to the clinic to pick up Michelle, while Noah went back to his motel to shower and change before heading to The Swan to help Jake.

  Michelle felt guilty that neither Theo nor Noah had gotten to fish. When she made that remark to Theo, he told her not to worry. Saturday he would be in a boat from sunup to sundown, and, anyway, the anticipation was almost as much fun as the actual event. He rattled off all the items he thought they should pack in the cooler. Like the Boy Scouts, he wanted to be prepared, and God forbid he should run out of sandwiches and beer.

  He had parked the car in her driveway, and they were just getting out when Elena Miller pulled up in her little hatchback, tooting her horn to get their attention.

  “Dr. Mike,” she called as she ran around to the passenger side, “would you ask your young man to carry this box in?”

  “What’s in the box?” Michelle asked.

  “Didn’t you get my message? I called you from the hospital and left it on your machine.”

  “As you can see, I just got home, Elena,” Michelle answered.

  “I’ve had it with you doctors cluttering up my ER. This box is full of mail that was scattered all over the counters,” she said, motioning with both hands to the backseat of her car. “I started with you, and next Monday I’m taking on Dr. Landusky’s junk.”

  Michelle introduced Theo to the exasperated woman and explained that the staff secretary was trying to organize the ER.

  “Why can’t you have your journals sent to your clinic, Doctor? It really would help if you would just take your mail home every night. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Michelle said, feeling as though she were in school again. “Why didn’t you just leave all this stuff in the doctors’ lounge?” she asked when Theo picked up the box and she saw all the magazines.

  Elena shut the door behind Theo and then got in behind the wheel. “Because I just finished cleaning out that mess,” she said. “You doctors . . .”

  She was backing the car out of the drive and didn’t finish the sentence.

  “I’ll try to do better,” Michelle called.

  Placated, the woman waved as she sped down the road. Theo followed Michelle inside. “Elena reminds me of someone,” he remarked as he carried the box into the library and put it on the desk. She nudged him out of the way so she could look through it. There were several journals, parcels from two pharmaceutical companies, and a pile of junk mail.

  “Who?” she asked as she dropped the envelopes back into the box. There wasn’t anything that required her immediate attention.

  “Gene Wilder.”

  “She’s just got a bad perm,” Michelle said, laughing.

  “Where’s your cooler?” he asked.

  “In the garage. It needs to be washed, though,” she said as she headed for the steps.

  “You go ahead and take your shower first while I hose it off. Then I’ll clean up. And don’t use all the hot water,” he called after her.

  He’d been a guest in her house for a couple of days, and he was already trying to tell her what to do. She shook her head as she laughed. Nice, she thought. Having him here was very, very nice.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The deep resonant boom of thunder awakened Theo. It sounded like a firecracker had gone off inside the bedroom. The bed actually shook. It was pitch black outside, but when he turned his head, he could see lightning streaking across the sky.

  A hell of a storm was raging. He tried to go back to sleep, but it was too hot. The air conditioner was humming, but because the window was open a crack, the cold air was being sucked out into the storm.

  Michelle was sound asleep, cuddled up against his side, one hand flat on his stomach. He gently eased her onto her back, kissed her forehead, and smiled when she tried to roll over on top of him. He was suddenly thinking about waking her up and making love to her again, but then he glanced at the glowing green numbers on the clock radio and changed his mind. It was three o’clock. Waking her was out of the question. She needed her sleep, and so did he. They’d gone to bed at ten, but they hadn’t gone to sleep until midnight.

  If he wanted to spend Saturday fishing, he would have to get everything else done tomorrow. He had another meeting with the Carsons and their attorneys to hammer out the details, and when he was finished, he was going to help at the clinic.

  Michelle didn’t want to waste the entire day Saturday fishing until Theo told her about a little side bet he’d made with Noah. Whoever caught the most fish had to pay the loser a thousand dollars.

  She had been appalled by the amount of the wager — how could anyone bet that kind of money when it could be put to much better use — but as soon as Theo told her he couldn’t and wouldn’t call the wager off, she got with the program and became determined that he win. Boasting that she had a secret strategy, she explained that her father would take Noah to his favorite fishing spot deep in the swamp, just around the bend from John Paul’s cabin. But on the other side of the bayou was an even better spot where the fish were so plentiful and friendly they would all but jump into the boat.

  When he’d asked her how come she’d never told her father about her special fishing spot, she explained that she didn’t want him going there alone because it was so isolated, and there were predators in the area. He’d translated the remark to mean that there were alligators in the area. S
he didn’t deny or confirm his suspicion but took his mind off his worry by kissing him as she slowly removed his clothes. Taking his hand in hers, she’d led him to her bed. The diversion had worked like a charm.

  Until now.

  Maybe he’d grab that modified shotgun at The Swan and take it along. Then he remembered he was hot and wanted to close the window. He sat up, yawning loudly, and swung his legs over the side. His feet got tangled up in the sheet when he stood. He stumbled, slammed his bad knee into the bedside table, the round brass knob striking that oh-so-tender spot just below his kneecap where he was sure every nerve in his body converged, sending excruciating pain rocketing down his leg. It burned like acid. Muttering an expletive, he sat down hard on the bed and rubbed his knee.

  “Theo, are you all right?” Her voice was a sleepy whisper.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I hit my knee on the table. You left the window open.”

  She pushed the sheet back. “I’ll close it.”

  He gently pushed her down. “Go back to sleep. I’ll get it.”

  She didn’t argue. While he sat there rubbing the sting out of his knee, he listened to her deep, even breathing. How could anyone fall asleep that quickly? Then he thought that maybe she was exhausted because he’d worn her out making love, and he felt a little better. With a wry smile, he admitted to himself how arrogant that thought was.

  He got up and limped to the window. He was pushing it down when lightning lit up the night, and he saw a man darting across the road into Michelle’s front yard.

  What the hell? Had he just seen what he thought he’d seen, or had he imagined it? Thunder rumbled, then another bolt of lightning flashed and he saw the man again, crouching down by the sycamore tree.

  He also saw the gun. Theo was already moving back when the shot rang out. The bullet pierced the glass, shattering it as Theo turned and dove for cover. Pain cut through his upper arm, and he thought he might have been shot. He hit the bed, grabbed Michelle as she bolted upright, and rolled with her in his arms to the floor, trying his damnedest to protect her head from striking wood. Pain shot through his arm again as he rolled off her and sprang to his feet, knocking the bedside lamp to the floor in his haste.

  “Theo, what —”

  “Stay down,” he ordered. “And don’t turn the lights on.”

  She was trying to comprehend what was happening. “Did lightning strike the house?”

  “That was a gunshot. Someone just took a shot at me through the window.”

  He was up and running. If he had let Michelle go to the window, she could have been killed. It was just a piece of luck that he happened to be looking down when the sky lit up.

  Sprinting toward the guest room, he shouted, “Call the police and get dressed. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Michelle had already grabbed the phone and pulled it down next to her. She dialed 911, then put the receiver to her ear and realized the phone was dead. She didn’t panic. She dropped the phone, reached for her clothes on the bureau, and ran into the hall.

  “The phone’s dead,” she yelled. “Theo, what’s happening?”

  “Get dressed,” he repeated. “Hurry.”

  He had his gun and was pressed against the wall next to the window. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give the bastard an easy target this time. Edging the drapes back with the barrel of the gun, he squinted into the darkness. Another shot rang out just as the sky opened and the rain began. He saw a burst of red as the bullet left the chamber. He pulled back. He stood there, straining to hear every little sound, praying that lightning would strike again and he could see if there were any others lurking out there.

  Was there just one man? God, he hoped so. If he could get one clear shot, maybe he could nail the bastard. He’d never killed anyone, never even fired the gun except in target practice, but he wasn’t feeling at all shy about taking this man out.

  Five seconds passed, then five more. Lightning split the sky open then, and for a heartbeat, it was as bright and clear as day.

  “Hell,” Theo muttered when he saw another figure darting across the road.

  Michelle was in the bathroom dressing by the soft glow of the night-light in the hall. She was shoving her feet into her tennis shoes when the nightlight went out. The bulb was too new to have burned out. Racing back into her bedroom, she saw that the clock radio dial was also dark. Either lightning had struck a power line, or someone had cut the power feeding her house. She opted for the second bleak possibility.

  It was so dark without the nightlight, she couldn’t see anything. The linen closet was right outside the guest room. She felt around for the handle, got the door open, and reached up on the top shelf for her flashlight. She knocked over a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a box of Band-Aids. The bottle landed hard on her instep. She kicked it into the closet to get it out of her way, found the flashlight, and then shut the door so she wouldn’t bump into it.

  There were Band-Aids scattered all over the floor. She slipped on one as she ran into the guest room. “The phone line’s dead and the electricity’s out. Theo, what is going on?”

  “There are two men out in front. One’s crouched down low by the tree and isn’t moving. Grab my cell phone and hand it to me. We’ve got to get some help.”

  She was afraid to turn the flashlight on because the drapes were open, and whoever was outside would see the light, so she felt around on the dresser, her frustration mounting with each second.

  “Where is it?” she asked. Then she heard the sound of a motor humming in the distance. She ran to the window facing the water and saw the light from the boat coming closer and closer to the dock. She couldn’t tell how many were in the boat, couldn’t see anything but that shimmering beacon that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own as it grew stronger and stronger.

  Theo already had his jeans and shoes on and was pulling a dark T-shirt over his head and trying to keep watch at the window at the same time. Pain shot through his arm when he shoved his hand through the short sleeve, and his skin felt wet and sticky with blood. He touched the injury, felt the jagged piece of glass, and was relieved it wasn’t a bullet hole. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he tugged the T-shirt down, then reached up again and plucked the shard of glass out. It burned as if a hot iron were stuck to his skin.

  “There’s a boat coming toward the dock,” she said. “They’re with the two in front, aren’t they?” She felt foolish asking the question. Of course there were more of them. Who among her friends would come visiting in the middle of the night during a torrential storm? “What do they want?” she whispered.

  “We’ll ask them later,” he said. “Where’s my phone?” he demanded as he fastened the holster to his jeans, then shoved his gun into the leather pouch and closed the snap. He’d already figured out their escape route. They’d have to go out the back window, drop down onto the porch roof, and hit the ground running. With any luck, they could get to his car.

  “It’s not on the dresser,” she said.

  “Ah, hell,” he muttered, for he’d suddenly remembered where he’d put it. It was sitting in the charger next to Michelle’s on the desk downstairs. “I plugged it in by your phone.”

  “I’ll go get it.”

  “No,” he said sharply. “The steps face the back door, and if one of them is waiting there, he’ll see you. Stay by the window and try to see how many get out of the boat. Has it docked yet?”

  Theo kicked the door shut, then shoved the heavy dresser in front of it in hopes of slowing the men down.

  “One man just got out of the boat, and he’s using a flashlight. He’s headed for the backyard . . . no, he’s going around to the front. I can’t tell if there’s another one.”

  “Open the window,” he said as he picked up his car keys and shoved them into his back pocket. “We’re going out that way. Let me go out first so I can catch you.”

  He climbed out the window, swung down, and tried to be as quiet as possible as he dropped to the porch roof. The
shingles were slick from the rain, and he almost lost his footing on the sharp pitch as he landed. Bracing his legs apart, he put his arms up and waited for Michelle to jump, all the while praying that lightning wouldn’t strike and give them away. If there were others in the yard or in the boat, they would see them and sound the alert.

  He reached for Michelle just as he heard glass breaking downstairs. It sounded as if it was coming from the back door. The noise was immediately followed by an earsplitting sound of gunfire coming from the front of the house. The bastards were organized. They were simultaneously rushing both entrances. They wanted to trap Theo and Michelle inside.

  Michelle could hear them knocking things over downstairs. How many were there? She tucked the flashlight into the waistband of her jeans and climbed out on the ledge.

  “Let’s go.” His voice was a low, urgent whisper.

  She hesitated for a second or two, trying to focus, but then she heard the pounding of heavy footsteps on the stairs. She let go.

  Theo caught her around the waist. She slipped, but he held fast until she recovered her balance. Staying close to him, she scrambled on all fours across the roof. The rain was coming down in sheets now. She could barely see her hands. She reached the edge, tested the gutter, hoping she could hang on as she swung her legs over, but the gutter was loose, and she knew it would make a racket if it fell. There were overgrown lilac bushes all along the side of her house. She put her hand over her eyes as she jumped into the center of the thicket.

  Scurrying to get out of Theo’s way, she ran headfirst into a thick branch. It cut her cheek, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  “Which way?” she whispered.

  “The front. Wait here.” He pulled his gun out. He edged his way to the corner of the house, ducked down, and then leaned out. The hood of his car was up, which meant they’d disabled it. He looked across the road, judging the distance to the swamp. He didn’t relish getting trapped and hunted in the maze of dense vegetation, but if they could run across without being seen, then he and Michelle could make their way to the crossroads.