MIND READER

by Hinze, Vicki

  Parker?

  She slid her narrowed gaze to him, but he was watching the road. No, she told herself, Parker couldn’t have torched Sarah’s building. He hadn’t even known Sarah James.

  Or had he? Was that his dark secret? What he’d been holding back?

  Her heart thudded a low, wild beat. The guilt Caron had so often seen and sensed in him, the reaction he’d had to being at the morgue. Had Sarah been the woman he’d identified there?

  No. No, he would have told her. She was letting her imagination run away with her. She’d confided Sarah’s story to him, and he’d comforted her. He would have told her.

  Like Mike and Greg had? Like her father had?

  She shoved the ugly thoughts away. But a nagging doubt slithered back and gnawed at her. Wanting to ease her mind, she started to ask Parker, but his grim expression and the jostling and bumping inside the car told her that swerving through sandy dirt at high speed required his full concentration.

  The doubt raged. And she looked back. It all fit. His hatred for her at the beginning. His bitterness and lack of faith, his cold disdain for her and her gift. His pulling away every time she’d mentioned imaging.

  He’d wanted to tell her the truth on the way to the camp. They needed to talk, he’d said. When this was over... It all fit. Drowning in a sea of betrayal, she silently cried. No. No, not him. Not Parker, too. I love him!

  Stop it!

  She had to stop this. He wasn’t like them. He wasn’t! He wouldn’t do that to her. She had to trust him. She had to give him the benefit of doubt. She loved him; he deserved at least the benefit of her doubt.

  Hearing Misty groan, Caron looked back.

  Misty’s lips were turning blue.

  At 3:00 p.m. Dr. Z. came into the waiting room. Parker grimaced. The good doctor’s shoulders were slumped. Not a good sign.

  Caron jumped up from the sofa.

  “She’s fighting,” Dr. Z. said, looking at Parker, “but it’s rough going. Her temperature is one o’ four, her breathing is labored—we have her on a respirator now—and she’s dehydrated. She went so long without treatment that she’s having severe difficulty.”

  The doctor rubbed her temple. “Caron, when did you first feel the pain in your leg?”

  Caron licked her lips. “I don’t know, exactly.”

  “It was the eighteenth.” Parker put an arm around Caron’s shoulders. She looked ready to snap. “We were at Shoney’s, remember?”

  “That’s right, it was.”

  “Then it’s been nearly a week since she was bitten.” Dr. Z. shook her head.

  Panic edged Caron’s voice. “She can’t die.”

  When the doctor didn’t deny it, Caron’s tremors became full-fledged shakes. Parker tightened his grip on her shoulder. “Dr. Z.’s doing everything she can.”

  The doctor took Caron’s hand. “Parker is right. I am. But I’ve never lied to you, Caron, and I won’t start now.” The doctor’s eyes looked faded and weary. “Misty is critical. My best may or may not be good enough to save her. Only time will tell.”

  Caron slumped against his side. Parker had to do something, or she was going to fall apart at the seams. “Have you contacted her parents?”

  “Misty won’t tell us who they are.”

  “Caron.” Parker waited until she looked at him. “You’d better talk to her.”

  Caron nodded, straightened, then crossed the hall and went into Misty’s room.

  Parker watched her go, damn worried himself. If anything happened to Misty, he wasn’t sure Caron could handle it.

  Dr. Z. patted Parker’s hand. “I was wrong about you, Mr. Simms.”

  He swung his gaze from Misty’s door to the doctor.

  “Caron loves you.”

  “I think you’re mistaken.” That denial had his heart feeling like a cold lump in his chest.

  “No, I’m right.” The doctor cocked her head. “She isn’t suffering the same symptoms as Misty now.”

  She wasn’t! He wrinkled a perplexed brow.

  “Her emotions aren’t so focused. They’re split between her concern for Misty and you.”

  Caron couldn’t be in love with him. As much as he wished Dr. Z. was right, she had to be wrong. Reasonable, logical, but wrong.

  “And you’re worthy of her.”

  “I’m not fit to wipe her shoes.” A knot of emotion caught in Parker’s throat. “She...” He couldn’t make himself goon.

  “She doesn’t know about you and Sarah. Or about Harlan.” Dr. Z. gave him a sympathetic nod. “Yes, I know. Sandy explained.”

  Parker stuffed his fisted hands into his pockets. “Are you going to tell her?”

  “No, I’m not.” The doctor looked up at him through glasses with spot-speckled lenses. “You are. And I don’t envy you the task.”

  “She’ll be hurt.”

  “Yes.” Dr. Z. nodded her agreement. “And furious.” She started walking back toward the hallway between the waiting room and Misty’s. “Stay close, Mr. Simms. If things go badly, Caron is going to need you.”

  Parker nodded, outwardly calm. But inside he was splitting in two. If things went badly, Caron wouldn’t have him. And, more than anything in the world, he wanted her.

  At three o’clock the next morning, Caron was still pacing. Sprawled in an upholstered chair, Parker watched her. “Come on, honey. You need to try to rest.”

  She walked to a potted fichus, pinched off a brown leaf, then paced back in the other direction to the door. “I can’t rest. Misty’s fighting for her life in there.”

  Caron slumped against the doorframe and sent him a searching look. “Why won’t she talk to me? Why doesn’t she want her father here? She’s crazy about him, Parker.”

  It was task time again. “Have you called Sanders?”

  “No.” Caron shoved away from the wall and took up where she’d left off pacing. “I’ll call him in the morning.”

  “I think you should call now.” Parker sat up, propped his elbows on his knees, then laced his hands. “That man shouldn’t be tied up at the camp house too much longer. He was injured, Caron. I cracked his ribs.”

  “Misty suffered almost nine days. She’ll be suffering a lot longer—maybe all her life. For all I care, he can stay there till his ropes rot.”

  Hearing the venom in her voice, Parker reconsidered disputing her. But he knew she didn’t mean it; it was emotion talking, not Caron. “Fine by me. I’ll call. I just thought you’d rather have him in jail. Forrester, too.”

  “I do want them in jail.” Caron jerked her hair back from her face.

  “Okay, then you call Sandy.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  Parker made the call.

  A half hour later, a battle-worn Dr. Z. came into the waiting room. Caron stopped. Parker walked over to her, curled a supportive arm around her waist.

  The doctor started to speak. Her voice cracked, and she paused to clear her throat. When she looked up at them, Parker’s stomach sank. The news wasn’t good.

  “Misty’s not responding to the medication,” the doctor said. “I desperately need to know what treatment has been successful for her in the past. We don’t have time to experiment with the various remedies.” Dr. Z. touched Caron’s arm. “You’ve got to reach her parents, Caron. Otherwise, Misty is going to die.”

  Chapter 10

  Caron and Parker sat on opposite sides of Misty’s bed. It was late, nearly dawn. The room was quiet. Misty was even more so.

  Caron met Parker’s gaze above Misty’s head, read the message in his eyes, and sent one back saying she’d try again. She closed her eyes, focused, strained to see something, anything, that would steer her to Misty’s parents. But no image came.

  She was too tired, too emotionally drained. Helpless and frustrated and worried sick that even though they’d found Misty she was still going to die, Caron cast Parker a bleak look and mouthed the words. “She’s fighting me, and I’m too wea
k.”

  The corner of Parker’s mouth twitched. He was having to work at it not to frown. “Misty, honey, if you were my daughter, I’d want to know you were safe. I’d be scared. Don’t you think your dad is scared?”

  The thought that he might be had Misty’s eyes clouding. “Can you tell just him?”

  Caron brushed her hand over Misty’s cheek, fearing she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. Were her suspicions about Misty’s mom valid? “Why don’t you want your mom here, too?”

  The clouded eyes shuttered, closing Caron out. “I was bad. She’s mad at me.”

  Caron softly stroked Misty’s hair. It’d take a week to get the dirt and tangles out, but until Dr. Z. said it was okay, Misty wouldn’t be getting a shampoo.

  Her voice and expression deadly serious, Misty looked at Parker. “I didn’t mean to be bad.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” He lifted her hand in his. It looked so tiny and pale and fragile against his huge palm. “Caron’s right, though. Your mom will be too happy to see you to be angry.”

  Someone rapped on the door. Caron looked at Parker, then at the row of windows beside the door, which gave a clear view into the hallway. They’d asked the staff to show themselves at the windows before knocking, but Caron didn’t see anyone. The hairs on her neck lifted.

  Parker cracked the door open, looked out, then stepped aside. “Come on in, Sanders.”

  Caron’s heart slowed to a canter. Logically, she knew Misty was safe here. Emotionally, however, she knew nowhere was safe—not until everyone involved in her abduction had been arrested.

  “I don’t want to disturb the kid.” Sandy’s voice carried into the room. “Have Caron come out.”

  The moment Misty heard his voice, she tensed. Perplexed, Caron looked down. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  Her gaze glued to the door, Misty didn’t answer.

  Sandy moved in the hall and Caron saw him through the window, chewing on his stubby cigar.

  Misty screamed. And, pointing a finger at Sandy through the glass, she kept on screaming.

  Taken by surprise, Caron tried to calm her. “Shh, it’s okay. That’s Sandy. He’s my friend.”

  Her eyes wild, Misty thrashed on the bed, trying to pull away from Caron. “He’s bad! He’s bad!”

  Caron tugged Misty into her arms and cuddled her close, feeling the rapid beating of her heart. A scrap of an image, quickly suppressed, flashed through her mind. Blood. Horror. Misty’s horror…

  Looking up over Misty’s head, Caron locked gazes with Sandy. The shield between them slid away, and in that shattering moment he confirmed her fears. Sandy had done something, something very bad.

  And Misty had seen it.

  It took a full half hour to calm Misty down. Seeing her that way had ripped Parker’s heart wide open.

  Caron came back into the room, looking as frayed as Parker felt. One glance at her and he knew that Sanders hadn’t explained a damn thing.

  “Sandy told me it was mistaken identity,” she said.

  “Right.” The look in her eyes held as much doubt and disbelief as his own. Parker dragged his hand through his hair, then sat down on the edge of Misty’s bed. “Okay, sweet stuff, it’s time to talk straight.”

  Misty shook her head. Dark circles smudged the skin beneath her eyes.

  He took Misty’s hand, cradled it in his own, and softened his voice to a whisper. “I know you’re scared, Misty. Caron and I have worked hard to help you, but we can’t help you anymore unless you let us. You’ve got to tell us what you know, okay? Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  The soft light from the wall lamp behind the bed pooled amber on the stark white sheets and shadowed Misty’s face. Parker hoped he was handling this right. The only little girl he’d ever been around was Megan. And they’d never been through anything like this. How frank should he be?

  He recalled a lesson he’d learned on his grandpa’s knee. Kids have to learn to lie. They’re born honest, and they stay honest—until somebody teaches them to lie.

  Caron stepped away from the bed and walked to the window overlooking the parking lot. When she pinched the blinds and looked out, Parker looked back at Misty.

  “Your folks are worried, honey. They need to know you’re okay. I think if you saw them, you’d feel better.”

  A huge tear slipped down to her cheek. Parker caught it on his finger. “Are you afraid of them?”

  “No.”

  Parker reached over and picked up the phone on the bedside table and passed it to Misty. “Call them, honey.”

  She didn’t take the receiver. She wanted to; her hand was twitching. But, for some reason Parker didn’t understand, she couldn’t do it. “I’ll dial it for you. Tell me the number, Misty.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?” Parker forced his voice to remain reasonable, his tone gentle. It was difficult. Caron had spoken to Mary Beth. Charles Nivens hadn’t found a scrap of information on Vanessa. The mystery woman Caron suspected was Misty’s mother was still at large…and a real threat to the child.

  “Because.”

  “Misty, I don’t know what else to say, but we’ve got to call. We need your medicine.”

  Caron let go of the blinds. They snapped shut, and she turned. “Enough,” she said through pinched lips. “Now look, Misty, I know you love your dad. I saw you two at the park. You were happy. He was happy.” Caron stepped closer to the bed. “But right now, your father isn’t happy. Right now, he’s scared to death you’re lying dead in a ditch somewhere. He’s hurt and worried and he misses you. Now you give Parker the number. And you do it right now!”

  Her eyes wide, Misty gave Parker the number.

  Parker dialed it. The authority in Caron’s tone had surprised him. It shouldn’t have; she was a teacher. But it did. And he suspected Misty’s compliance was more an instinctive reaction than a planned one.

  “Misty, what’s your dad’s name?”

  “Collin Phillips.”

  “And your mom’s?”

  “Don’t talk to her.” Misty frowned, and what little color she had left her face. “Talk to my dad.” Her voice was reed thin.

  Parker nodded and patted her hand. She was slipping away; he could feel it. “All right.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise.” Parker looked at Caron. She was shaking and her eyes were uneasy.

  A woman answered the phone. “Phillips residence.”

  “May I speak to Collin Phillips?” Parker asked, a knot forming in his throat. “I’m calling about his daughter, Misty.” This Christmas Eve call was going to net one very happy man…if Misty survived.

  “Who is this?” She sounded panicked.

  “Get Collin Phillips, please.”

  After a pause, a man came on the line. “Hello.”

  One word. Yet it conveyed so much. Caution. Wariness. Fear. Parker understood why. The man could hang up elated or devastated, and he knew it. “Are you Collin Phillips?”

  “Yes. What do you know about Misty?” Terror joined the other emotions in the man’s voice.

  “Is that my dad?” Misty asked.

  Parker winked at her. “My name is Parker Simms. My partner and I have found your daughter.”

  “Found her! You found Misty? Is she all right?”

  Choosing his words carefully, Parker answered, then asked about Misty’s medication and passed the information along to Caron, who left the room to relay it to Dr. Z.

  “We’re at the Zilinger Institute, Mr. Phillips,” Parker said. He turned his back and closed his eyes, hating to have to tell the man this. He whispered, to be sure Misty wouldn’t hear. “She’s critical.”

  “Daddy.” Misty tried to reach for the phone, but she was too weak to lift her hand.

  Tears burning his eyes, and the back of his throat, Parker propped the phone at her ear on the pillow.

  “Misty? Misty, is that you?”

  “Daddy,”
she whispered. It was a faint breath sound.

  “Oh, God! Oh, God! Are you all right, honey?”

  “Don’t cry, Daddy.” Misty sniffled. Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please don’t cry.”

  Parker turned away and swiped at his face. His chest felt as if someone were standing on it. Caron was leaning against the window, looking out. When had she come back into the room?

  The need to go to her, to touch her and be touched, ached in him like a raw wound. He lifted a hand to touch her shoulder, then hesitated; she would see his tears.

  Trust her.

  Yes. Yes. He lowered his hand to her shoulder. She turned and looked up; she was crying, too, but she gave him a liquid smile. Parker smiled back and pulled her tight against his chest in a hug. He wanted to tell her what he was feeling, all of the things that were welling up in his heart, but he could only manage her name. “Caron.”

  It was enough. She pressed hard against his chest and held him tighter. They stayed that way for a long moment, locked together in an embrace that no words could have explained. Then he eased back, curled his arm around her waist, and felt her arm circle his. Together they turned toward Misty.

  Dr. Z. was at the bed, injecting medicine into Misty’s IV. The worry in her eyes was still there. They weren’t out of the woods yet. But they were moving in the right direction.

  A discreet tap sounded at the door.

  Parker answered it, talked softly with someone for a moment, then motioned Caron into the hall. When she stepped outside, she saw Sandy.

  “Parker tells me you’re calling her folks.”

  Caron nodded bitterly.

  Sandy didn’t meet her gaze. “I thought you’d want to know…” His voice faded, and he looked at Parker. “We’re still groping in the dark on Vanessa.”

  “I think she’s Misty’s mother,” Caron said. “We’ll confirm that with her father as soon as he arrives.”

  Sandy looked at Parker, and if Caron hadn’t been looking directly at him, she would have missed his nearly imperceptible nod. “We can’t find a trace of Decker or Forrester, either, Caron.”

  “What?” Caron gasped.