by Grace Walton
“They said they kept some women,” whispered Carrie beginning to see that perhaps what the men had said on the trail was just braggadocio. “Against their will.”
Mrs. Beasley clucked and shook her head. “Oh my dear, no wonder you were so afraid for the girls. There is a woman who lives up in the hills, who will accommodate a man for a price. Grace and I have been trying to befriend her. She is a poor sad creature.”
“So it was all a pack of filthy lies?” Carrie closed her eyes to ease their stinging. Sam’s hands tightened over hers again. It was a soothing feeling, having a man comfort you. When Gage touched her, she burned with a fiery longing. When Sam did the same she only felt his gentle compassionate concern.
“No Miss Smith, they did kidnap those little girls with the intent of training them to be pure and submissive wives. It was a horrible, unspeakable thing to do and we women would have put a stop to it by ourselves. But thankfully we had ample help.” Here she stopped and gave Sam a thankful smile.
He suddenly stood up as if he was uncomfortable with her praise. “Well, we’ve got to be going.” He looked at his watch. “The chopper will be here in less than ten minutes Carrie.”
She understood his discomfort and got up to follow him. It was convicting to be around Mrs. Beasley. She seemed to have no malice in her. In fact, her forgiveness seemed unbounded.
“Mrs. Beasley, thank you so much for the tea and the warm place to wait.” Carrie’s words were sincere. “I hope things work out for you.”
Sadie stood at the door. “They will Miss Smith, they surely will.”
Sam led Carrie out into the cold, raw night. They walked down the street without a word. Halfway down Sam threw his arm around her shoulders. He tucked her up close to his body. He lowered his head to whisper in her ear. His breath smelled acidic, almost alcoholic. Carrie wondered idly if he’d been drinking.
“I think I hear the chopper.”
And far off in the distance she did too. The rhythmic thump of its rotors echoed down the mountain hollows. At the end of the street they stopped and waited. In a few minutes the helicopter was visible. It landed in a flat bit of pasture behind one of the town’s houses. Sam ushered Carrie to it at a run. After helping her inside, he hoisted himself into the seat beside her. He surprised her by gathering her once again into his arms. Carrie didn’t see the grim faced man standing in the inky darkness watching them.
Inside the helicopter Carrie was barraged with questions. The medic wanted to know if she had any physical emergencies. A detective wanted her to give a full and accurate account of what had occurred. Everything, he insisted. The co-pilot, who she’d be willing to bet a month’s salary on, was a Witness Protection extraction expert, asked what had happened to her glasses. He conveniently passed her a case containing both brown contact lenses and another pair of huge horn rimmed glasses. She was to put both on immediately. With numb hands, she complied. Then the co-pilot asked to see her GPS cross, and frowned thoughtfully as he examined it.
It was pretty much a three ring circus until Sam barked out an order, “Enough. That’s enough. No more questions. Give her a chance to breathe. You’re all going to just back off.”
Carrie appreciated the quiet. She smiled kindly to the man who had appointed himself her guardian. She leaned against his shoulder and confidently went to sleep. She wasn’t afraid. After all, Sam was watching over her.
The flight lasted only 25 minutes. It was amazing that what had taken days to hike was covered so swiftly. Sam shook her gently awake as they neared the helipad at the local hospital.
“Carrie?” it was said softly. “Wake up Honey.”
She was instantly awake. She decided she’d give him one more chance to quit calling her ‘Honey’. Partly because she felt she owed him her life and then there was the fact that he said it with absolutely no condescension. It was as if he truly cared for her, which she knew was an idiotic idea. Neither one of them knew each other well enough to have anything other than a purely professional relationship.
She did know one thing. She would definitely go out with him again. She owed him that much along with her life. In the corner of her mind it did sort of bother her that he hadn’t called her back after their first date. And it was a pretty poor commentary on him that he didn’t want to date her until he’d found out she had been a model in another life.
“Carrie, there might be a crowd waiting for us when we land,” he said it like he was dropping a bomb.
OK, she mused, he’s a really nice guy, but he must be convinced I’ve got the IQ of a turnip. Have I truly been acting helpless? As she asked herself the question she realized maybe she had. After all, she’d been plenty spooked by Gage. No, that wasn’t completely true. She’d actually been spooked by her reaction to Gage. So maybe she deserved being treated like a child? No, she inwardly rebelled. No adult male or female should ever be treated like a backward child, by anyone.
“I think I can handle it Sam.”
He sensed immediately he’d underestimated her and made a tactical error. “Yeah, I guess I’m being pretty dumb, huh?”
She forgave him instantly. It was just like his calling her ‘Honey’. The guy was so darned sincere. How could you stay mad at a man who admits he’s messed up? She knew she couldn’t. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“It’s OK Sam. I didn’t mean to sound surly, it’s just that I cut my eyeteeth answering the hard questions from a horde of vultures who call themselves the ‘Press’. It can get ugly, so I won’t be upset if you make yourself scarce when we land.”
The hospital was in sight now. And sure enough, there were at least three camera crews. Racks of lights had been set up to illuminate the helipad. Three talking heads with microphones in one hand and a sheaf of printed copy in the other waited patiently for the chopper to land.
“Nobody knows who you really are down there Carrie,” Sam insisted as the aircraft dropped. “We didn’t release a picture of you and we told them no interviews just exterior shots as we transport you into the hospital.”
Carrie was impressed. He’d handled her arrival almost as well as Sid would have. She pulled him close to whisper.
“So who does know, about me, I mean?” Her eyes were hopeful. Could he have possibly pulled it off? It’d be so great not to have to move again.
“Like I said before, just the sheriff and I know. But I’m pretty sure the guy up in the front seat knows.” He grinned.
“Yeah, most helicopter crews don’t carry around spare contacts and glasses.” She grinned back. She leaned even closer. As the helo bumped to earth she was thrown into his lap. The door opened and Carrie started in surprise as Sam’s cool lips covered her own. A host of cameras flashed. Tomorrow’s headline in several national newspapers would read, The Snatched Teacher and The Hottie Sheriff.
She struggled from his arms and got out of the helicopter without his help. How dare he? She waded through the sea of reporters as the hospital’s one nurse pushed aside the masses to meet her halfway. Just as they were about to meet, the nurse was suddenly thrown back. And Carrie was surrounded. The shouts for attention and the snapping strobes of the cameras were unbelievable. One particular camera was poised an inch from her nose. Its shutter clicked with the speed of a machine gun firing.
In her peripheral vision she watched a hand come up to bat the expensive camera to the ground. Almost simultaneously Sam’s side arm cleared its holster. He had it trained on the stunned photographer. If Carrie had blinked she would’ve missed the entire exchange. The speed and lethal grace of his movements was more than a little unsettling.
“Sure looks like you’re harassing the lady to me. We put folks in jail for that kind of thing around here,” he snarled at the reporter.
More cameras flashed and ensured the covers of the gossip rags would be salacious and interesting this week. Yeah, she thought. A kiss, and a gun, now all they needed was a headline claiming she was actually an alien and Sam was Elvis reincarn
ated. She was sure the reporters would come up with something equally as titillating.
The man with the camera was backing off, but not quite fast enough for Sam. He holstered the gun. He scooped Carrie up in his arms. The crowd seemed to part a lot quicker for him than it had for her. Of course they were very busy capturing more images of the heroic lawman. He carried her straight into the tiny hospital. The nurse followed in his wake. She slammed the doors behind them and leaned against them breathing hard.
“Martha, I’d lock those if I was you,” Sam said as he set Carrie on her feet. The nurse nodded and slid a dead bolt in place. She indicated they were to follow after her. She led them down a quiet hall into a bare hospital room.
“Doc Patel is on his way,” she said and slipped out to guard the door.
“We need to talk.” Carrie folded her arms over her chest and glared at the deputy.
“Fine.” He glared right back at her. “You go first.”
“I overlooked the fact that you called me ‘Honey’ two or three times. And I overlooked the fact that you treated me like as an idiot child in the helicopter. But I will not overlook the fact that you kissed me, in front of three networks and Heaven knows how many scandal sheets. And I’m not sure why you felt like you had to haul me up and stride off like a conquering Viking.” She blew at a long strand of hair blocking her vision. “Do you know how much they’ll get paid for just one salacious picture of me? Do you? More than you make in five years. They’re going to be set for life off of the photo ops you just gave them.”
He settled his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face the room’s mirror.
“Do you look like the famous Caroline right now? Take a good hard long look Carrie. And tell me.”
Carrie was in shock. Her clothes were more than rumpled. Her glasses were askew. The trademark auburn honey shot hair was tied back. Little frizzy hanks were sticking out in all directions. But the worst was her face. Her poor face was red and badly wind chafed. Her nose was peeling. She looked like she had a terminal case of leprosy. It was humiliating.
“No.” It was all she could croak. She was ashamed.
“You might be surprised at what I make in five years Carrie. As to the other- I won’t ever call you ‘Honey’ again. I’ve already apologized for treating you like a child. But I will not apologize for the kiss. I’m a man Carrie. I’m not a block of ice. You were in my lap and you looked so hopeless. I just wanted to, ever mind, it doesn’t matter. ” He strode out of the hospital room on stiff legs. He was angry, very angry.
Carrie felt like bawling. She’d been doing a lot of sniffling lately. It was so unlike her. So instead of breaking down into noisy tears she got a hold of her runaway emotions. She sat quietly on the edge of the pristine bed and waited. Pretty soon a doctor would examine her to make sure she was OK.
Then she was going home. She was going home to her own little house to take a long hot shower in her own bathroom. She was going to make a hot cup of chamomile tea and eat a whole package of chocolate sandwich cookies. Then when she was finished with those, a knock on the closed door stopped her junk food fantasy.
“Miss Smith? May I come in?” When she answered, he peeked around the old cracked door. Seeing her dressed and sitting on the bed, he smiled.
“Good, good, you’re not bleeding.” He was a small dark Indian gentleman.
That struck Carrie as funny. She smiled in a warm, friendly manner and asked, “Did someone tell you I was bleeding?”
He consulted the clipboard in his hands. He smiled nervously in return. “No, but when I get a call in the middle of the night it usually involves a car wreck or a gunshot. Montana is a very violent place.” He shuddered delicately. “There’s always lots of blood.”
“And that’s a problem?” She was intrigued.
“Yes, you see, my real love is podiatry.” He nodded as if she would understand that odd statement entirely.
“Not much blood with podiatry?” she ventured politely.
He grinned in relief. “Almost none at all.”
“Well, you’re going to very happy with me. I’m not bleeding and my feet are fine. In fact, there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Let’s just cover the basics so we can be sure,” he murmured as he took his stethoscope from around his neck. He checked all her vitals, then stepped back to look seriously into her eyes. “Now, Miss Smith, tell me the truth, is there any reason we should complete a rape kit on you for the police lab?”
Carrie’s eyes got round. “No… no reason at all,” she stuttered.
His stern face melted into a huge grin. “Excellent.”
“That’s as bad as blood?” she asked, seeing his relief.
He nodded vigorously. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“I understand completely.”
“So very, very good,” he said in a polite rapid way. “I can find nothing wrong with you Miss Smith. You are released from the hospital, after filling out the appropriate forms of course. I don’t imagine you have your insurance card with you, do you?” he asked politely.
Carrie was stunned. Forms to fill out and a medical insurance card to prove the hospital would get paid before she was released? When was this nightmare going to end? She shook her head. “I guess my card is in my purse. It’s still at the school. Do you need my insurance card tonight?”
Dr. Patel smiled in sympathy, but nodded his head at the same time.
“It’s OK Doc, I’ll vouch for her.” Sam stood in the open doorway.
“You understand you will be liable for her debt here at the hospital?” The doctor passed him the clipboard to sign.
“Yeah.” He pinned Carrie to the bed with a superior look. “I can cover it if she stiffs me.”
She had the grace to blush.
“Good bye Miss Smith, it is my very great pleasure to have met you.” Dr. Patel smiled his way out of the room.
“That was a really nice thing for you to do,” Carrie said.
For a long minute he just looked at her. “I’m a really nice guy.”
“Yeah, I think I’m starting to get that.”
“So, you need a ride home?” He walked out into the hall beside her.
She bit her lip as if she had a hard decision to make. “I really need to go to the school and get my car.” It was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Don’t worry about your car. I’ll have one of the guys pick it up and deliver it to your house, if you trust me with your keys.” It was a test she thought, a test to see if she was up to giving him a second chance. She dug around in her jumper pocket.
She dropped her keys into his outstretched hand. “I’m pretty sure I could trust you with my life,” she said lightly.
His strong fingers captured hers around the keys. “You can, you know,” he said quietly. “You can trust me Carrie, I’m not like him.”
She nodded and extricated her hand from his hard grip.
Chapter Eleven
Carrie sighed as she smoothed down the rough denim fabric of her jumper. The reflection facing her in the floor length mirror was dismal, depressing in fact. She was back in character as a small town kindergarten teacher. With a limp hand, she tucked a wayward strand of hair back into the thick braid trailing down her back. A quick shove had the heavy glasses back up the bridge of her perfect little nose. She sighed again.
It was an amazing fact that school opened back up today. It had only been a little over two weeks since the kidnapping. But the folks in Montana were nothing if not resilient. They’d put the whole thing behind them. The kidnappers had been arrested, all except Harvey Beasley. He’d gone to ground somewhere and there was no sign of him. His part in the crime had been a great shock to the whole town. Nobody had even suspected he’d been leading a double life.
Carrie wondered how his wife was dealing with it. She’d certainly seemed like the kind of woman who could weather any storm. Right now Carrie was wishing she was more like Mrs. Beasley. It wasn’t that she was weak.
She was just tired.
And the idiot from Witness Protection who’d shown up on her doorstep the day after she’d gotten home hadn’t helped. She’d received a very stern lecture on taking better care of her GPS and keeping a low profile. Low profile? What did he think she’d been doing for the last few years, renting billboards with her new address and identity printed across them in big red letters?
But Sam had understood. He’d insisted she have round the clock police surveillance. He’d installed a new security system with cameras. The whole perimeter of her house was live, in streaming video, 24 hours a day. Sam had done a lot of things for her since she’d been back. Because he insisted Gage was still out there watching, just biding his time.
It gave Carrie the willies. It was one thing to know your life was threatened by some nameless faceless entity. But it was quite another to know exactly who wanted to kill you. It was worse when the someone was Gage Ferguson. She had no doubt that without Sam’s protection and guidance Gage would have gotten to her long before now.
In fact, Sam was parked right out in her driveway waiting to chauffeur her to school. It was like he could read her mind. He’d known going back the first day would be incredibly difficult for her. Just leaving the house had been too hard until today. Sam had brought her groceries and even library books this past week. Several nights he’d sat up with her watching old movies when she couldn’t sleep. And that was all he’d done, sat with her.
He was a great guy, the kind of guy she’d always wanted. So how come right now all she could think about was Gage Ferguson and how right she’d felt in his arms? The thought made her sick to her stomach. She shook her head to rid herself of the image of him holding her, kissing her. Tight fingers balled up the fabric of her dress as she struggled to put it out of her mind.