The Truth Seeker

by Dee Henderson

  Marcus appeared in her line of sight. His hand gripped hers. She wished she had the strength to return the grip. “Ten minutes, Lizzy, and you’ll be fussed over by the experts. Stephen and Quinn are coming with you. Kate and I will meet you there. I’ve got to deal with Christopher first. He’s got a hangover that is making getting straight answers out of him impossible.”

  At least Christopher was still alive. She was incredibly relieved at that. She blinked slowly to let him know she understood.

  “Good girl.” He looked at the paramedic. “Get her out of here.”

  Quinn was praying.

  Lisa angled her hand on the hospital bed toward his, nudging his first finger up with hers. It was about the extent of her energy. It was such a blessing to know the man was consistent through thick and thin.

  He looked up. The relief that crossed his face was incredible. “Welcome back.”

  She blinked slowly in reply. She was in the ICU on a trachea respirator. That fact registered slowly. She was relieved to have the help to breathe. Her stressed body hurt.

  He looked so tired.

  Quinn reached across her for the buzzer. She wished he hadn’t done that.

  He gently brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Everything is going to be fine, Lizzy. I promise.” She held his gaze, searching to see if the reassurance was forced but found only calm confidence.

  She smiled with her eyes and carefully, just a glimmer, with her mouth, for any movement that caused the trachea respirator to shift would hurt. Stephen had done a good job, but he’d been forced to work in the field, and it had been fast surgery.

  Quinn smiled back. “I’ve been praying for you to wake up. Sorry. I know you need the sleep, but it’s so good to see your pretty eyes.”

  That Montana drawl over tenderness . . . she loved listening to it.

  “Lisa, I’m Dr. Paulson.” She shifted just her eyes. The man was smiling at her. “You’ve slept away about twenty-two hours now. How are you feeling?” She decided she liked the patient voice.

  She closed her eyes, then opened them. All things considered, she wasn’t feeling too bad.

  “The swelling has been going down since you arrived. Did you know you were allergic to turpentine?”

  She wrinkled her forehead.

  “That choke hold started the swelling, but the turpentine aggravated things.”

  No wonder she’d panicked when she smelled it. Her subconscious would have been screaming a warning as the smell enveloped her.

  “Everything is going to heal just fine. You won’t have more than a faint scar when this is over.” He checked the monitor behind her. “You’re reading at 92 percent oxygen in the blood. Would you like to try breathing on your own for a moment, get a feel for how you’re doing?”

  She blinked several times, and his smile widened. “I thought you might.” He squeezed her hand. “I hear you make a lousy patient, wanting to play at being your own doctor, so listen carefully to the real doctor—that’s me.” She wanted to laugh but couldn’t.

  “This might make you a little dizzy,” he said gently. “That’s normal. The swelling is down, but it will go down a lot more in another twelve hours. It’s still going to feel like you’re struggling to get air. I’m going to keep you on the trach respirator until the morning regardless, so don’t try to prove you’re fine. I know better. Still want to try this?”

  She blinked more slowly.

  With a smooth movement, the doctor disconnected the respirator and covered her trachea. “Breathe for me.”

  It burned, her airways were so swollen, but she was able to get her first natural breath. She took another breath, as deep as she could, and felt the relief.

  “Very good.” He let her stay off a minute, watching the equipment behind her. “Okay, just relax.” Moments later the respirator was breathing for her again.

  The doctor wiped her eyes. “You held at 84 percent oxygen. By tomorrow, you’ll be left with a sore throat, a headache, and my bill.”

  She had a comedian for a doctor. Quinn chuckled for her.

  She squeezed one finger of the doctor’s hand in thanks.

  “Get some sleep,” Dr. Paulson advised.

  She had more important things to do at the moment. She turned her gaze back toward Quinn. Two minutes ago he’d looked tired, every one of his years; now . . . his relaxed, comfortable smile was back as he lifted her left hand and slowly entwined their fingers. “I brought you candy corn and sweet water taffy, but I had to use them to bribe the nurses so I could stay.”

  He was staying. She’d been afraid he would take the doctor’s word as gospel and leave her to sleep.

  “The family is out in the waiting room.” He looked at her, his expression turning serious. “I hope you don’t mind. I asked to be the one to stay.”

  She loved him for it. She wanted so badly to be able to talk, to share the decision she had made. It would matter to him, and she didn’t want to wait until tomorrow. Jesus, just a couple words. Please. It matters. She struggled to form the words.

  With a frown, Quinn got up and leaned over to try and hear.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzy. I don’t understand.”

  The worry in his voice . . . It hurt too much to try and say the words again. She closed her eyes, trying to think of something else, and felt him brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. She couldn’t even turn her head to press against his hand in appreciation. It was frustrating.

  She opened her eyes, locked her gaze with his, and used most of the energy she had to lift her hand. She pointed. He’d left his Bible on the table beside his chair.

  “The water?”

  She kept pointing.

  “The card? The Bible?”

  She blinked fast.

  “The Bible. Okay.” He reached for it and she closed her eyes, relieved. She heard him sit back down. He moved the chair closer. Now what? She opened her eyes. He solved her problem by lifting her hand and setting the Bible on the bed. The item she sought she found by touch. The folded piece of paper was still inside the front cover where she had placed it when he let her borrow the Bible. She put it in his hand and rolled his fingers around it, the paper crumbling. She smiled at him.

  It was a simple message. And he’d always been a smart man. She wasn’t expecting to see him blink away sudden moisture in his eyes. “It makes sense?”

  She let her smile bloom not caring that it hurt. Quinn’s hand had a fine tremor in it as he intertwined his fingers with hers. This time when she managed to say a couple words they were clear enough to understand. “I believe.”

  He laughed, squeezed her hand, leaned close, and just smiled at her. She could drown in those fascinating eyes. “I’m glad.”

  She had so much to say and no way to say it. About faith. Andy. What she had thought during the darkness as she waited for him to come.

  He turned their joined hands and kissed the back of her hand. “Who cares if it’s hardly the appropriate place,” he said abruptly. “I love you. And if you walk into trouble like that again . . . ”

  Only Quinn. She looked at him and silently formed the words I love you too.

  “You’re turning into a Jennifer on me.” He wiped the tears, looked frustrated when the Kleenex turned soggy before her eyes were dry, then reached over to retrieve the box. “Did you really have to spoil my big speech? I’ve been practicing it for weeks.”

  She caught his wrist, the power and strength in it impressive, wanting to laugh, yet having to settle for a gentle tug to bring him down to her.

  The kiss was a brush when she wanted a real one. “Tomorrow.” It was a promise. He wrapped his fingers through hers. “Be good, and I’ll stay here to see the dawn with you.”

  She closed her eyes. This was what it felt like to be treasured. And it felt good.

  “I think I kind of like you being forced to whisper for a while.”

  In the last three days she’d learned to be quite expressive with her body language
. Lisa caught Quinn’s shirt collar with her fingers and tugged him down toward her. “Hear this whispered shout. You’re heading toward trouble.”

  He laughed softly and kissed her. She leaned into it, loving it, then she regretfully pulled back. “Don’t take away my breath.”

  “You take away mine.”

  It was a lovely compliment. She had napped on the flight back to the ranch. Quinn had invited all the O’Malleys to come out for a long weekend at the ranch. Jennifer and Tom had arrived the day before. She couldn’t wait to see them. She wanted to hug Jennifer.

  Jesus was so good. She’d found her verse, the one she remembered from her childhood, in Psalm 18:19. It was her verse, claimed and held tight. “He brought me forth into a broad place; he delivered me, because he delighted in me.”

  She hated to memorize, and the three-by-five card had been plastered to her bathroom mirror to help her out. It was the delighted part that had thrilled her as a child, and as an adult she appreciated it even more. Delight was a powerful word, and yet it could barely do justice in describing the depth of emotions she felt toward God. To know He felt the same about her was priceless.

  Lisa slid her hand comfortably around Quinn’s forearm. “Where’s my dog?”

  “Your dog, huh? I thought we were going to share.”

  Marcus had driven down from the ranch house to meet the plane. He opened the back door of the jeep and Old Blue jumped down and shook himself. Quinn whistled, and the dog came trotting over, ignored him, and nearly knocked her over. She knelt down to return the affection.

  “Traitor.”

  She tilted her head to look up at Quinn and laughed at his amused disgust.

  She straightened and slid her arm around his waist. “We’ll get you your own dog.”

  He tugged at a lock of her hair. “I have a feeling every animal on the ranch is going to become a pet. Just don’t make a pet of my horse.”

  “Now that’s impossible. He blows on me and I fall over.”

  “Lizzy, before we get up to the house: You do realize Dave is carrying an engagement ring for Kate.”

  She leaned against him to whisper the truth. “I talked her into saying yes.”

  “Did you?”

  She nodded. She was proud of herself. Payback. She had owed her sister a big one, and she’d been able to deliver. Kate nervous . . . she hadn’t known her sister had it in her to get cold feet. But she had.

  It had taken just a few carefully chosen whispered words. “You were right about Jesus. I’m right about Dave. Get off the fence.” Lisa was still doing a little private dancing that she’d been able to push Kate so smoothly back on track. Although it had probably helped that Kate wanted an excuse to be pushed.

  “Let’s go to the house.” Lizzy snapped her fingers and Old Blue fell in beside her as she walked to the jeep. She wanted to see Jack.

  There were now two groups within the O’Malleys—those who believed and those who didn’t. It was time to close the deal with Jack, Stephen, and Rachel. It was Lisa’s new mission in life. She now understood the passion that drove Kate, Marcus, and Jennifer, that burning desire to share the Good News. Lisa wanted to grab Jack’s arm and drag him to church. Kate had laughed at that pronouncement and turned the tables, pulled her back, and reminded her rather bluntly how Lisa had reacted when pushed too hard. Lisa knew Jack. It would just take some creativity. Jack was a challenge. She was ready for a challenge.

  Quinn paused her. “Not with Marcus. Over here.” He held out keys.

  “What?”

  He pointed toward the hangar.

  And she stopped. “You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered, overwhelmed.

  “I know.”

  “Why did you?”

  “It gives me pleasure.”

  She could barely breathe as his words settled inside. “Quinn—”

  The convertible was even blue.

  “It’s time someone spoiled you a little.” He smiled at her. “Besides, you need an excuse to visit often in the next few months.” He linked his hands around her and drew her back against his chest. “Like it?”

  Her thoughts couldn’t keep up with her heart. A tremulous smile was the best she could manage as the emotions overwhelmed her. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” He rested his chin against her hair. “I like doing things that bring out that smile of yours. It makes my old heart feel good.”

  She laughed and relaxed against him, comfortable suddenly with a man who had so often confused her. “You’re not that old.”

  “I’m ancient,” he countered.

  She squeezed his arm around her waist. “Lay off that malarkey. Come on, I’ll let you drive me to the house.” He didn’t move, and she glanced back. “What?”

  He smiled. “Nothing.”

  “Uh-huh, something. What?”

  “Kate said if you let me drive it I’d know that you really loved me.”

  “It takes Kate to convince you I meant it?”

  He kissed away her frown. “I love you, Lizzy.”

  “I know that. I’m holding the car keys to prove it.”

  He laughed. “Let’s go up to the house.”

  Twenty-eight

  “Quinn, is there a cave with water?”

  The mood had become solemn the farther they rode. Finding where Amy had been buried—or as Walter had claimed, hidden—remained a mystery they had not been able to crack. The only thing that made sense was that Quinn’s father had stumbled upon Walter and been shot in the back. Lisa had been back to look at the area with her family, but on this occasion she had asked only Quinn to come.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “You said the day your father was killed that this tributary running down to the Ledds River was still filled from a flash flood the week before.”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it cut close to a cave?”

  Quinn stood up in the saddle and looked around. “Farther down . . . see where the streambed bends? If the water had topped its banks, it would flow into the bluffs. That’s how some of the deepest ravines have been cut. It’s possible the water would cut into a channel near some of the caves.”

  “Have they been searched?”

  “Those near here. There are dozens of caves in these miles of bluffs, and most of them branch off and go deep and interconnect with each other.”

  “Let’s explore a couple of them today.”

  “You’re up to it?”

  “I’m up to it.” She loved this man, and he was hurting. It was a quiet grief. She had found him on more than one occasion sitting on the back porch with Old Blue late at night. It was where he went to pray. When she’d asked what she could pray for him, Quinn had replied with one word: peace. He was searching so hard to find it. She understood. He was grieving his dad in a way he never had before. The killer had been found. Now he had to find a way to accept what had happened.

  Quinn was preparing to resign from the marshal service and return here for good; she wanted to make it a clean transition for him. If she had to search these bluffs for months, she would try to find those final pieces of the puzzle. Walter had revealed enough in his words and actions that she knew it had to be possible to put the pieces together.

  Walter had said Amy had been hidden. He’d used that word because it was his predominant impression twenty years later of what he’d done.

  Lisa could easily imagine that day in Walter’s life. Scared. Faced with the idea that Christopher had killed. Wanting to ensure that Amy was never found . . .

  The key was the water. She was convinced of it. Every murder since then he had hidden his victims near water because water had helped him hide that first victim. She knew it from a lifetime of seeing the graves. Patterns . . . it was all about patterns.

  He’d bound Amy’s hands because he had to bring her out here, probably on a horse given the terrain. The way rigor mortis would have set in, he’d probably had to tie her body down, bind not only her hands but he
r legs to keep her resting across a saddle without spooking the horse. He’d buried her near water. She just had to prove it.

  She shifted the reins. “Come on, Annie.”

  “Are the batteries in your flashlight still strong?”

  “Yes.” Lisa slid the flashlight strap around her wrist. Even though the reason for the exploration was grim, the cave spelunking presented just enough of a challenge behind every turn to be fun. They’d found arrowheads, places rock hounds had chipped out samples, several shed snakeskins. This would be the fourth cave.

  Quinn tied the guide rope to a boulder near the entrance. “The inclines in this cave are not steep, you can walk them without a problem, but there are several dropoffs that will require a rope descent.”

  “I’ll stay close,” she reassured. He had much more experience doing this than she did.

  The entrance was no more than a four-foot-high opening in the bluff. She slid inside after Quinn, had to walk half crouched for the first four feet until the cavern opened up into a six-by-seven-foot hollow. It was cool in the cave, a slight draft of air suggesting at least one of the passages led back to the surface elsewhere. The rock floor showed two small depressions still holding water. “Is that moss?”

  Quinn straightened as best he could. “Yes. There must be standing water in here most of the time.” His light illuminated the options. “Which way? Left or right?”

  “Right.”

  The passage grew taller and more narrow. Quinn had to turn his shoulders to slip through the tightest places; she found it narrow but passable.

  “Good choice.” His voice echoed, and a few steps later she understood why. It was a massive cavern a good fifteen feet high, ten feet wide, and thirty feet long, with limestone stalactites and stalagmites from the ceiling and floor meeting each other. His light illuminated the dripping formations. “There’s been water running through here.”

  “The colors are pretty.”

  “Metal deposits in the limestone.”