“Sure. What stuff?”
Ursula came to the door, a dish towel in her hands. “What stuff?”
“The town came to my house while I was sleeping off my knock on the head. They left their get-well gifts. More than I will ever eat or use, I’m afraid.”
“If you’re looking for people to help you eat, this is the place. Let me see,” Ursula said, leaning close and squinting at the stitches in June’s hairline. “Ouch.”
“Doesn’t hurt much anymore,” she said. “But damn, did I have a headache this morning.”
Elmer reached the front door with laden arms. “Ursula, you have coffee?”
“For you, I’ll make fresh. June, I feel guilty. I didn’t bring any gifts to your porch.”
“Thank God. Really, you can’t imagine all the stuff….”
“But doesn’t it make you feel wonderful? To know the town values you so highly?”
“It’s a little staggering,” June said. “I’ve never felt unappreciated, but…” She stopped. Five Toopeek children led by Tanya pushed past her to the front drive. “I can’t remember anything like that ever happening in Grace Valley. Do you?”
“Birdie had a nice kitchen full of casseroles,” Ursula said. Her eyes grew round and astonished as her children, aged eight to fifteen, begin to reenter the house carrying covered dishes, plastic containers, boxes, bags and pans filled with goodies. “My God,” she whispered, aghast. “June, this qualifies as an outpouring!”
“This isn’t even the half of it,” June said. “The porch was covered. I had to leave Sadie home because we nearly filled the truck bed. And now that she’s gotten used to going everywhere with me, she was expressly unhappy to be left. You should have seen the look she gave me.”
“Well, come in. We’ll have coffee and start packaging and freezing your goodies and casseroles.”
“I’d like that, but actually, I have to see Tom about something. Shouldn’t take a minute.”
“He’s out back, whittling while Lincoln chants. He’s praying for you, you know.”
“Tanya said that,” June said, surprised anew. “Do you suppose his prayers had something to do with all my casseroles and desserts?”
“There were many times he managed to cover his own table and feed seven children when their means were slim. I suspect he has great influence.”
Wish I could get him on a special project, June thought. But she kept silent.
June carried two cups of coffee into the backyard. Tom crouched on one side of the small campfire and Lincoln sat cross-legged on the ground on the other side. She shivered slightly inside her wool jacket. The late spring afternoons had begun to be warm and humid from the rains, but in the evening the temperature dropped, and the night air was crisp. The fire felt good. “I brought coffee,” she said.
“June,” Tom said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Long enough for Ursula to brew a fresh pot.” She held out a mug toward Tom, who accepted, and toward Lincoln, who held up a hand to decline.
“I’ll go inside for some in a few minutes,” Lincoln told her. “You have that one.”
“Thanks. And Elmer is inside, Lincoln. Probably sitting behind a big slice of Philana’s pie.”
Lincoln smiled. “Today would be rhubarb. The favorite of the house.”
Then he seemed to withdraw into himself and resume meditating, shutting them out.
“I want to talk to you about a couple of things. I need your help with something,” June told Tom. “A very delicate matter.”
He straightened up and waved a hand toward the picnic table. “Step into my office.”
“I still can’t believe this is happening. It has to do with John Stone….”
“John?”
“I did a routine check of his references. He graduated from medical school with honors, did a residency in OB-GYN and later went back east, to Boston, for a second residency in family medicine. He gave me a list of doctors to talk to for character references and they recommended him highly.
“Then I had a young, pregnant patient refuse to see John again. She panicked at the suggestion, and she needs a specialist. She implied he was improper with her.”
“Did you speak to John about it?” Tom inquired.
“No. And in waiting, I waited too long. At a loss, I called the founder and CEO of the OB-GYN clinic he was a partner in before his second residency. This doctor was not on John’s list of references, and for good reason. He appears to despise John, but wouldn’t be specific about his reasons. He would only say they parted on bad terms, something about John wanting to be bought out of the partnership his clinic gave him. It was easy for me to brush off—economic differences have nothing to do with me. Besides, that’s not so unusual. John would have built equity into his share by investing his own time and work, patients he would have to leave behind.
“But John realized what I had done, who I had talked to. Assuming I wanted a list of references from that California clinic, he gave me a new list of names—his old OB nurse, an office manager, a physician’s assistant. I talked to the nurse, who sang his praises.”
“Back and forth, back and forth,” Tom observed.
“You don’t know the half. After John stitched up my head, spent the night looking after me, saw all my patients so I could rest, I wondered how I could ever have doubted him. He’s a good guy, Tom, I just know it. But this afternoon I got a call from a woman, a doctor who knew John well some years ago just before he left the Fairfield Clinic. She gave me a laundry list of personal problems John suffered. Then she topped it off by telling me she had him arrested for sexually assaulting her.”
Tom was frozen silent by the allegation, the quick shrinking of his black pupils, barely visible, the only outward sign he was stunned.
“Now I don’t know what to think. I really can’t talk to him about it, not until I get some information. The only place I can think of to look is public records. Police records.”
“That’s easily done,” Tom said. “And…if there’s no record of this assault…?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?”
“Any number of reasons. He could have been picked up and not charged, in which case certain baseless records are expunged regularly to make room for real arrests. Or he could have been charged and dismissed. Or—”
“But will you check?”
“Of course. My advice, however, is that you speak to John about these allegations. And look closely at his eyes as he explains.”
“Yes, you’re right. But not just yet. First let’s see if we find anything.”
Tom smiled. “We?”
She smiled back. “You. Thanks in advance. I’m going to do my best to put this from my mind until I hear something about your investigation.”
He took a sip of coffee. “You said there were a couple of things.”
“Oh! I nearly forgot.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bloodstained rag. “When Cliff woke me, this rag was pressed to the cut on my head. When John stitched me up, I instinctively stuffed it into my pocket. Look at it.”
He did so without touching it. Folded, it was about six inches long, three inches wide and a triple thickness. “Cheesecloth?” he asked.
“More like homespun. Or maybe muslin. It isn’t mine…didn’t come from my bag.”
“Cliff?”
“Nope. Cliff thinks I was thrown out of the Jeep, but I wasn’t, Tom. I was pulled out of the burning Jeep by a thirty-year-old man who kept his pants up with rope suspenders and carried an ax. In fact, he said he used the ax to open the Jeep and get me out. He put this on my head and rinsed it out in a stream that wasn’t there.”
“I get the impression you haven’t told anyone about this,” Tom said.
“It was him, Tom. Wyatt. There’s no question in my mind.”
“Wyatt is a very prevalent folktale. It’s possible you dreamed him.”
“And this?” she said, eyeing the rag still resting in her palm. “Did I drea
m this?”
“There are a number of possible explanations. It could have been lying on the roadside.”
“Except for the blood, it’s perfectly clean! I’m sending it off to a lab. I’d like to know what kind of fabric this is and how old it is.”
“I’ll be anxious for the results as well, but if I may, you might wish to limit the people you share this story with.”
“You think no one will believe me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Some would, some wouldn’t. I’d just hate to see them lift an eyebrow, the way they do at Jerry Powell’s spaceship ride.”
“Well, maybe he really did have a ride in a… Okay, I see your point.”
“By the same token, June, I think I’ll take a run out to the salvage yard and look at the Jeep. It’s burned to a crisp, but if the driver’s door was opened with an ax, I’ll know it with one look.”
Jessica pulled up to the Stones’ house in her little Toyota truck, ready for some baby-sitting. Susan had called earlier and asked if she would mind. John had been putting in so many hours, the couple never had any time to talk. Tonight they would just grab a bite at the Vine & Ivy in town and have a real conversation, while Jessica tangled with Sydney over a video game or two before bedtime.
The door opened before she could even knock and there stood Susan, looking a bit sullen. “Bad news,” she said. “John just got a call. Vintner by the name of Hank Bryant cut his leg on some binding wire, badly enough that he doesn’t think he should try to drive to the hospital….”
“I know Hank,” Jessica said.
“I guess our dinner out is probably off. I’d hate to ask you to wait around. What if it takes all night?”
At that moment John whisked through the doorway with his bag. “Sorry, Jessie,” he said, moving quickly toward his BMW. “Susan will pay you anyway. Lost wages.”
She looked longingly at his back as he went. “It’s not important,” she said, because the money meant nothing to her. She just longed to see what had happened to Hank, and to see what John would do.
“John?” Susan said, stopping him. He looked at his wife and Jessica over the top of his car. The young girl looked so forlorn, he tilted his head to one side in some confusion. Susan, standing behind Jessica, pointed at her, but John didn’t get it. “John, do you need any help on this house call?” Jessica’s eyes lit from within, and slowly it dawned on John.
“Ah…ah…yeah! Sure. Jessie? You want to ride along?”
“Is it okay?” she asked excitedly.
“As long as you don’t try to take over the sutures,” he said.
Like a bolt, she was beside him in the car. “This is great,” she said. “Really great!”
When Elmer drove June home from the Toopeeks, she was forced to make an immediate decision—one she hoped she would not live to regret.
“Good of you to leave a light on for Sadie,” Elmer said.
But she had not.
“Well, I have to think like a dog owner now,” she said.
“I’m sure Sadie appreciates it. You’ll be okay?”
Oh, she hoped so. She prayed so. But she said, “I think so, Dad. And in case I didn’t say so already, thanks for everything you’ve done. I sometimes forget to tell you how much I appreciate you.”
He laughed a little bit. “Sometimes I forget to do things for which I can be appreciated. Get some rest.”
She climbed onto the porch and approached the door slowly; she could hear Sadie squeaking on the other side. June let herself in, closed the door behind her and let Sadie welcome her. First things first. Then she said, “I’m alone.” And that brought him out of the shadows and into the light. “You’ve got some nerve, you know.”
He smiled as though he knew. “I wanted to see that you were all right. And I brought you something.”
“Flowers? Candy? Believe me, I’m all stocked up.”
“No,” he said. “This.” He held out his hand and there, on his palm, in an opened leather sheath, was a badge.
Eighteen
“I’ve heard that undercover police officers who are investigating narcotics and such have to occasionally partake. You know, to prove to the people they’re investigating that they’re really okay. This is true?”
“This is true,” said Jim. “But I don’t find myself in that particular situation. So don’t worry. Worry about something else if you have to worry.”
“Should I worry about you being killed?”
“I don’t know that you should. It’s optional. My mother, for example, worried about that a lot. Before it was really even an issue, she worried it like a hangnail.”
“Does she still?” June asked.
“I hope not. She’s on the other side now.”
“Oh. My condolences.”
He smiled and drew her near. “It was quite a long time ago. She worried herself nutty when I was a street cop.”
“You can’t imagine how grateful I am for the badge, Jim. I didn’t think it was possible I’d be attracted to…” Her voice trailed off. She hadn’t intended to be quite so transparent. “Well, that’s out,” she said in disgust.
He laughed heartily, stretching out his legs and relaxing against the sofa. “I knew you’d fallen for me.”
“Must be the pain medication—loosened my tongue. As I was saying, I believed I would know if you were of a criminal bent. I believed my instincts would direct me. But I worried about it, because my instincts have been a little jostled lately.” And she frowned to herself, thinking how she’d frozen when Birdie and Judge needed her, how she’d been rescued by an angel, how she’d investigated John. Phew, it had been a rugged week. “Jostled doesn’t even touch it.”
After finding him in her house, she’d brewed a pot of coffee for him, a pot of tea for herself, and they’d settled onto the sofa together. He explained that he had been aware of the fire, and learned that it had been her Jeep. “I hadn’t expected to see you again this soon,” he said. “I’m not the best kind of boyfriend.”
“What makes you think I’ll let you be my boyfriend?” she countered.
Ignoring her question, he continued, “I don’t get away often, and if you ever happen to see me in public circumstances, you should pretend you don’t know me. Whether anyone likes it or not, I’m going to do this kind of work for about three more years. And then I’m going to retire.”
“And who besides me wouldn’t like it?”
“I have a sister who took over worrying when my mother passed on. She’s not exactly sure what kind of work I do, but she knows I work for a federal agency, and suspects the worst.”
“Just so you don’t have a wife, or even an ex-wife….”
“Whew! Even an ex-wife would disqualify me?”
June thought about it. “Yes, I think it would. Today.”
“God, you’re tough!”
“I am. I don’t like crowds.”
“No intimate partners. No kids. No girlfriends. I have a couple of ex-girlfriends, but even you couldn’t be that picky….”
“Just out of curiosity, when you ‘get away,’ as you put it, where do your buddies think you’re going?”
“To get laid.”
That put a rod in her spine; she came stiffly upright, eyes wide, mouth open in shock.
“What’re they going to understand? Huh?” he asked.
“Where do you say you’re doing this? You don’t say you’re coming to my house, do you?”
“Of course not. We have a halfway house. A safe house. A friendly little brothel down the road where one of our own takes clients. Her clients are insiders. It gives us a little break from the action.”
“So, what exactly are you doing right now?” she asked curiously.
“Come now, you know better than that. I’ve already told you too much. But as my doctor, you have to maintain confidentiality, don’t you?”
“So, are you saying if I let you be my boyfriend, you’re going to have to be kept totally secret? For three years??
??
“Unless my territory is changed. In which case it will be even harder to be your boyfriend.”
“Then why would I even entertain such a notion?” she asked him.
“Well, I’m counting on you not being able to help yourself,” he said.
She settled into the crook of his arm, leaning against him very comfortably. “I’m going to be able to help myself tonight. I have a headache.”
June wasn’t going to rush into anything. Despite a crippling attraction, despite unmistakable desire, she did not pop open the ivory case that held her brand-new diaphragm. She would, at the very least, get to know him better. Her secret man. It brought a smile to her lips just thinking about him.
For one thing, he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Positively deep wells. And she loved the way his cheeks became hard and round like little apples when he smiled. And that dimple right under the left one, at the corner of his mouth. Oh, and there was the hair, thick and unruly. He was forty years old and there was no evidence he’d ever lose his hair.
Her headache had not prevented her from at least completing that kiss she’d started a few days before. She’d been right about that much—it was a wonderful kiss. He was a powerful kisser. A hungry kisser. Of course, his hand had strayed to her breast and she’d said, “Not yet. You’re going to be patient. And I’m going to get more comfortable with this idea.”
He’d said, “Okay.” But he’d kissed her in a way that suggested she might not want to force too much patience on him. Which just added to his allure. There was nothing quite so sensual as impatience, nothing so titillating as a man with a weak grasp on self-control, as a lover just dying to possess.
She had pushed him out the door at midnight and he’d disappeared into the trees. “I might as well be having an affair with Robin Hood,” she told Sadie.
She dreamed about him that night and in the dream he became Wyatt and Wyatt became Jim. When she tried to hold either one of them close, she found her arms empty. But in the early hours of the morning, as she woke for the day ahead, she was snuggling dreamily into the down comforter, nurturing a fantasy that was rich and deep. With flushing anticipation, she knew that before terribly long she was going to have a man in her life again.