Blind Trust

by Sandra Orchard

  She pressed her palm to his chest. “I can walk.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead. “I like carrying you.”

  The sweet smile in her eyes loosened the knot that had been strangling his gut since Baxter’s call. “The bouncing kind of hurts my head.”

  “Oh.” He lowered her feet to the ground. Her pupils were equal size and no more dilated than he’d expect in the fading light. He fanned a hand over one eye, then the other—something he should’ve done at the bottom of the hill to rule out a severe head injury. Thankfully, her pupils reacted to the change in light normally. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Why did you come here?”

  “To dig up some of the plants. But Beck—or whatever his name is—beat me to them.”

  Tom bit back his irritation with the pair of them.

  “Had ’em in burlap sacks,” Grandma Brewster added. “The younger one looked like he wanted ’em.” She walked ahead, then suddenly stopped and lifted her rifle.

  At the top of the hill, Tom’s dad shot his arms into the air.

  “It’s okay. He’s here to help,” Tom said.

  “Kate okay?” Dad called down the hill as the old woman lowered her gun.

  “She needs to see a doctor. Could have a concussion.”

  “I’m fine,” Kate protested even as the climb grew steeper and she leaned more heavily into him.

  “We’ll let a doctor decide.” His heart had felt like it ripped from his chest at the news of the attack. He wasn’t taking any chances. “I can’t believe you came out—”

  “Save the lecture.” Dad strode to Kate’s other side and lifted her free arm over his shoulder. “I can take her to the hospital. The police radio’s buzzing. A car went off the road at Turner’s Hollow.” Dad caught Tom’s gaze above Kate’s head. Insistence flared in his eyes. “You need to go.”

  Realizing the victim might be Kate’s attacker, Tom gave her one last hug. “Promise me you’ll stay with Dad until I get back.”

  “I won’t let her out of my sight,” Dad vowed.

  23

  Tom swerved onto the road as details of the accident came over the police radio. A tan-colored Corolla had careened off the embankment.

  His heart sank. Kate’s dad.

  Tom floored the gas. God, please don’t let him die. Not before Kate can talk to him.

  The rain had stopped, but the roads were still slick. In minutes he reached the hairpin turns of Tucker’s Hollow. As he rounded the first curve, the ground to the right seemed to fall away, no longer hemmed in by trees. The purple-gray sky opened up over him.

  One more bend in the road and he caught his first whiff of the sickening smell of burning fuel and tires. He pulled behind the yawning doors of an empty ambulance.

  Firefighters in protective gear were already hauling hoses and equipment down the embankment. Tom headed after them.

  The car’s rear bumper exploded and every firefighter dropped to the dirt as if he’d been shot. Tom kept running, his gaze fixed on the burning vehicle. Oh, God, not again. Please, not again.

  Someone grabbed his shoulder and held him back as firefighters turned hoses on the flames. A scream—his scream—cut through the swooshing in his ears.

  The guy who held him gave him a hard shake. “You know this guy?”

  Tom blinked. He stared at the figure suspended by his seatbelt in the upturned car. Not his former FBI partner.

  Kate’s dad.

  Firefighters quickly beat down the fire, then one of them reached through the window. “He’s still alive!”

  Thank you, Lord.

  A giant power saw roared to life, and the firefighters went to work on the crushed door.

  Tom turned away. Kate wasn’t expecting this. Never in a million years would she expect this. But how could he keep this secret and ever look into her eyes again?

  He trudged partway up the hill out of the way of the rescuers and pulled out his phone. Broken glass and yards of battered metal lined the crushed vegetation Baxter’s car had pitchpoled over.

  Dad answered on the first ring. “How bad?”

  “Bad. How’s Kate?”

  “Waiting to see a doctor. Don’t worry about us. You do what you have to do.”

  Tom glanced toward the vehicle to see a firefighter hunched over Kate’s dad from the backseat, holding his battered head immobile as another worked to free the man’s legs.

  This was exactly the kind of attack Baxter had feared. What they’d been trying to protect Kate from. He wished he could have reunited them one last time.

  Dad had given Kate the phone, but Tom’s whirring thoughts couldn’t make sense of her words. Before he knew it, the firefighters were snapping a c-collar on her dad and moving him carefully to a backboard. His clothes dripped away in molten strips, baring raw, mangled flesh. “Kate, honey, I need to go. I’ll call you again as soon as I can.” He didn’t wait for her response before disconnecting.

  Firefighters hustled her dad up the hill and into the ambulance.

  “Is he going to make it?” Tom asked one of the paramedics.

  “We’re doing everything we can.” The default response. The paramedic climbed into the back of the ambulance. “You know him? He got any medical conditions we should know about?”

  “I—” He swallowed, shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t know.”

  The doors snapped closed. How had he let it come to this?

  Kate would never forgive him. Was that why he had this overwhelming sense that his life had just hurtled out of control along with Baxter’s car? Because if he told Kate the truth, she might not ever be able to trust him again. Or forgive him.

  Or love him.

  The ambulance veered onto the road and away, siren wailing.

  His mind spun backward like a film unspooling in his head. His FBI partner stomping back to his car, telling him he had it under control, that he knew what he was doing. Then boom, the earth shook. Burning metal spewed in a hundred different directions.

  And his friend’s life vaporized.

  The psychologist had assured Tom that he’d done everything right, that Ian reaped the consequences of his own choices. But deep down Tom hadn’t believed her. There had to have been more Tom could do. If he couldn’t change outcomes, why do the job?

  He could rationalize decisions all he wanted, but he couldn’t undo what he’d done. Sometimes, mercifully, he could forget.

  “Hey, you hear what I said?”

  Tom focused on the uniformed officer standing in front of him. “What?”

  “This was no accident. The shattered plastic from the car’s parking light is strewn on the road. Based on its location and the tire skid marks, looks like someone rammed the car off the ravine.”

  He’d figured. Tom jogged back down the ravine to the car. “You find any burlap sacks?” he asked the officer photographing the scene.

  “No. Lots of dirt, though, and this.” The officer held up an evidence bag with an amendoso plant. “Not like any weed I’ve ever seen. You think this guy dug up someone’s pot garden? A sure way to make an enemy.”

  That thought gripped Tom’s chest like a vice. Baxter had only one enemy—GPC. And now they’d connected him to Kate.

  Tom scanned the swath Baxter’s car had plowed. The other guy must’ve grabbed the sacks. And any hope of tracking footprints had been obliterated by the dozen firefighters, paramedics, and officers tromping up and down the hill.

  Leaving a couple of officers to work the scene, Tom drove to the hospital.

  Family engulfed him the instant he walked through the ER doors. He returned Timmy and Terry’s boisterous hugs, then turned to his dad. “Did something happen to Tess and Xavier?”

  Dad caught a hand of each of the twins. “No, I figured Kate shouldn’t be on her own tonight, but she couldn’t reach her friend, Julie, so I called Tess. Of course, as soon as Tess heard what happened, she came right over.”

  Grateful for his sister’s big heart, Tom scanned the
waiting room. “Where are they?”

  “With the doctor. Kate asked Tess to go in with her. She’s pretty shook up. The reality of everything has finally hit her.”

  Tom cringed at how much darker the reality was than she knew.

  Dad settled the twins back on a play mat with a couple of cars. “How’s her . . . Mike?”

  “It doesn’t look good. And it was no accident. I definitely don’t want Kate going home alone.”

  “Tess already invited her to spend the night at their house. I said we’d pick up her car later and bring it around.”

  “Good. I need to go check on”—wary of listening ears, he glanced at the people lining the chairs of the waiting room—“the victim. Don’t let Kate leave before I see her.”

  Before the words were out of his mouth, Kate rushed to his side. “I’m here. Are you okay?”

  Tom swallowed her in his arms. “Me? You’re the one with the head injury.”

  “The doctor says I have a slight concussion, not too serious. But you sounded so distraught on the phone.”

  He clung to her, soaking in her loving concern. He didn’t deserve it. Not with her father fighting for his life a room away and him keeping the fact from her. He heaved in a breath and relaxed his hold.

  “What is it? You look like you just lost your best friend.”

  His heart crunched into his ribcage at how close to the truth he feared that was, or would be if he told her who’d been driving the wrecked car.

  Dad mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and ushered Tess to the chairs.

  Yeah, so was he.

  “Did the victim survive? Is he someone you know?” Kate pressed.

  “Yes, I should go check . . .” He needed to try to convince her father to tell her who he was. He had no idea if Baxter would survive his injuries. This could be their last chance to see each other.

  Kate gave him a supportive side hug. “I’ll wait for you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” he heard himself say, hating himself for it.

  “I want to be here for you, Tom. I can’t explain it, but from the moment you called, I had this strong sense that you really needed me. That you needed to know I’d be on your side tonight.”

  He cupped her face. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Her lips spread into a heart-crushing smile. His gaze became entangled in a dance between her eyes and lips. Slowly, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers, absorbing their sweet softness.

  The babble of the waiting room faded to nothing. Nothing but him and Kate and the feel of her arms around him.

  He drew her closer and deepened the kiss.

  His knees weakened at her utter surrender. He didn’t deserve her. And more than life itself, he wanted to. He wanted to be a man she could trust and believe in—something revealing the truth about her father might irrevocably jeopardize.

  But if he didn’t, he could never be that man.

  She pulled back, tilting her head, and gave him a strange look. She reached up and thumbed dampness from his cheek. “You’re crying.” Something akin to awe reverberated in her voice.

  He tightened his embrace and buried his face against her neck. “I never imagined I could feel this way about anyone. I never want to hurt you. Never. You have to know that.”

  Her fingers stroked a reassuring rhythm along his back. “I know, Tom.”

  The blare of a code blue over the hospital’s PA snapped his head up. Suddenly hyperaware that anyone could be watching, he scanned the faces around the waiting room. What if her father’s attacker was among them? Waiting. Watching.

  There was no telling how Kate would react to his revelation. He deserved nothing less than to be screamed at, but giving away that the victim meant something to her was precisely what her father had been so desperate to avoid. For her own protection.

  The paramedic from the scene flagged Tom. “Your friend’s stable. They’ll probably let you in now.”

  “Thanks.” Tom clasped Kate’s hand and tugged before he lost his courage. “Come with me.”

  “Hey, where are you going?” Tess hurried after them, Dad and the twins on her heels.

  “You go on and get the boys to bed. I’ll bring Kate by in a while. Okay?”

  A gleeful “way to go, brother” twinkle lit Tess’s eyes before she gave Kate a warm hug goodbye.

  Knowing better, Dad squeezed Tom’s shoulder.

  Tom expelled a breath. “Pray she gets a chance to speak to him before . . .” His voice cracked.

  “I will. And . . .” Dad glanced at the people lining the waiting room. “I’ll watch your back.”

  Kate paced the empty waiting room on the burn ward, her heart aching for Tom and his friend. He still hadn’t told her who the victim was, but clearly he was dear to Tom.

  Sinking onto a chair, she closed her eyes and revisited his kiss, the tears on his cheek, his whispered words of love, and her heart soared once more. Love. Could it really be? Seeing someone he cared about so near death would make him not want to hold back, as she’d been doing. If only her love could take away the pain crushing his heart.

  He returned with two cups of steaming coffee and handed her one.

  “Any word on your friend?”

  He shut the door, giving them absolute privacy, then set his coffee on the corner table and sat beside her. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  The gravity in his voice made her heart hammer. Her coffee sloshed over her fingers. She set it on the table and snatched up a napkin.

  Like a fog lifting, the situation suddenly became clear to her. The way he’d avoided answering her questions about the victim. His reassurances of love. The victim wasn’t his friend . . . It was hers.

  Oh, please, God, no. Not Julie.

  Tom clasped her hands, squeezing so tight her fingers began to lose sensation, but she didn’t mind. His grip was a lifeline. An unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let her fall. His soulful eyes searched hers, awash with apology and sympathy.

  “Is she going to make it?” Kate whispered.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “Julie. She’s the victim, isn’t she? That’s why . . .”

  Tom crushed her in his arms. “No! Oh, Kate, I’m sorry. No. I didn’t mean to let you think that the victim was your friend.”

  She gently pushed against his chest, and when he released her, she looked him in the eye. “Then what’s going on? Just tell me.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. But she couldn’t imagine any worse news he could tell her. She had no family. He and Julie were the most important people in her life, and he was sitting right in front of her, perfectly healthy.

  Or was he? Was this not about the accident at all?

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this, Kate.” His voice sounded rough, agonized.

  Her spirit plummeted. She clasped his hands. “Just tell me.”

  His shoulders sagged. New lines creased his forehead. “Your father . . .” Tom swallowed.

  Kate braced herself for what could only be a horrible revelation about her father’s guilt, and yet at the same time she felt oddly touched that Tom should agonize so over telling her.

  Tom closed his eyes, then slowly lifted his eyelids as if they were leaden. “The man driving the car that went over the ravine is in critical condition. He’s suffered internal injuries and a head injury and has third degree burns down his legs. He’s in a coma.”

  She nodded, because he seemed to be waiting for some response, but she didn’t understand why he was telling her this or what it had to do with her father.

  “The crash wasn’t an accident. Someone rammed his car.”

  She gasped. “Why would someone do that to him?”

  “Because he knows things he shouldn’t.” Tom closed her hands in his. “This man revealed himself to me a week and a half ago and swore me to secrecy for your protection.”

  “Mine? Why?”

  “He feared that if you knew who he was, you
wouldn’t be able to conceal that knowledge, and that would put you in danger.”

  “I don’t understand. Why me?”

  “Because your father knows things about GPC Pharmaceuticals, bad things, and if they were to discover that you’re his daughter, they might assume you know too. They might assume you have access to proof he was never able to reveal twenty years ago.”

  As Tom’s words whirled through her head, her mind stuttered at his word choice. “Knows? You mean knew. He knew things about GPC.” When Tom pressed his lips together, a cold sensation crept over her body.

  “Your father didn’t die in police custody, Kate.”

  She stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “He’s alive?”

  Tom nodded, agony in his eyes, which made no sense.

  “He’s alive,” she repeated, a little louder this time, hope swelling within her. “Where? Can I see him?”

  Tom’s hold on her hands tightened. “Kate, listen. We don’t know who we can trust. You can’t do or say anything that would give away that this man is more to you than a casual acquaintance. Even to show that much might be dangerous.”

  This man? “You mean . . .” The hope that a moment ago had made her feel lighter than air balled in her chest and dropped like a stone to the pit of her stomach. “You’re telling me the man in the coma is . . .” She gulped air.

  Tom clasped her shoulders in a steadying grip. “Your father. Yes.”

  Something exploded inside her. She pushed him away and surged to her feet. “You knew he was alive and you didn’t tell me! How could you? How could you?”

  “Kate, I—”

  She cut him off with a slash of her arm. “There’s no excuse. My father’s dy—” She balled her hand against her mouth. “I could have talked to him. Spent time with him. Now . . . I may never get that chance.”

  Tom reached for her arm, but she sloughed off his grasp. “Don’t touch me. I want to see my father. Now.”

  He gripped her upper arms with a steel force she couldn’t break and waited until she met his gaze. “You can see him. Talk to him quietly when no one else is in the room. But you have to remember what I said. You can’t give away what he means to you. Your life, and his, could depend on it.”