Plain Cover-Up

by Alison Stone

  Nick stood up. “I don’t believe for a minute that you’ve done anything unethical or illegal. But I have to approach this situation objectively. Try to defuse it.” He put his hat on. “Clear your name.”

  Dylan crossed his arms. “Roger Everett is trying to muddy the waters after we reported him to the principal. He figures if he turns public opinion against you, people might forget to look at him.”

  Christina dragged a hand through her hair. “He’s delusional. Principal Acer can’t ignore our claims even if he does try to turn the blame around.”

  “No, but he might create enough diversion so people think you’re lying. Looking to retaliate,” Nick said. “This gives people a reason to not believe you.” Nick’s phone rang and he grabbed it off his duty belt. After a minute, he hung up. “I have to go.” He strode toward the door, then turned around. “You know how to reach me.” Then he lowered his voice and smiled at his sister. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Listen to your brother. It is going to be okay,” Dylan said.

  Christina shook her head. “People won’t believe him, will they?”

  Dylan patted her knee platonically. “Roger’s a desperate man. Basically, he had to respond in some way. His accusation against you will confuse people.”

  Christina exhaled sharply. “These accusations could ruin my career. Destroy the clinic, especially after the recent incidences of young people being drugged at parties. The residents of Apple Creek won’t look kindly on anyone who they think may have contributed to the downfall of the youth in this community.”

  “Have you contributed to the downfall of the youth in Apple Creek?”

  Christina snapped her head around to look at him, anger coming off of her in waves. “Of course not. But we have to figure out who stole the drugs from the clinic. That won’t help my case.”

  “Stop automatically thinking the worst.” Dylan flattened a hand to his chest. “Have you forgotten I’m a lawyer?”

  Christina laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “Have you ever practiced law?” She shook her head again and glanced toward the television screen, no doubt Roger’s accusations replaying through her head.

  “Um, I worked for a few months doing real estate transactions until I was admitted to the FBI Academy.”

  “Great.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, this time genuinely.

  “I’m a smart guy. The first thing we’ll do is hit Roger Everett with a slander suit. A person can’t publicly accuse someone. And he does not have the truth on his side.”

  “This is all crazy, but I don’t think we should react yet. I’m afraid a lawsuit will fuel the fire.” She rubbed her temples. “I have to think.”

  * * *

  Christina took a sip of her tea, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat. Franny had always offered her tea and a cookie when something had gone wrong at school or when the mean girls had been especially mean or when her heart had been broken.

  Christina had consumed a lot of tea and cookies when this man sitting next to her had broken her heart.

  After her nerves settled, she put down the cup on the saucer. In the other room she could hear Franny running the water and loading the dishwasher. She hadn’t realized until now how such mundane household sounds could be so comforting. Why had she stayed away from this place for so long? Perhaps it was a mix of yearning and nostalgia. She longed for a different childhood, with a mom who stayed home and baked cookies, but instead she had been given a driven mother and father who traveled the globe building an empire, but who always gave back with generous hearts. And her parents had ensured that she and her siblings had a loving influence at home.

  Christina shifted to look at Dylan, anxiety bubbling up inside her. “I’m at a loss. I usually bury myself in work when I’m stressed.” She pushed to her feet and adjusted her shirt over her waistband.

  Dylan stood and looked down at her. “I’m sorry. It’s tough.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “I’m not going to let that...let that...” She struggled to tone down her anger and think of an appropriate and suitable word to describe the man who had once again hijacked her life. She had regained control of the reins before. She’d do it again.

  Roger Everett would not win.

  Christina strode across the room and grabbed her purse from the foyer table. “It was a mistake to close the clinic for the day. It’s not fair. He’s not going to keep me away from my job.” Her mind raced. She couldn’t think clearly. “It sends the wrong message.”

  “Wait. It’s only for the day. Georgia’s been working long hours. She needs a break, too. If someone has an emergency, they can go to the hospital.”

  “But...” A million reasons it would be preferable for patients to come to the clinic instead of the ER ran through her head, cost being part of the equation. She was so tired she couldn’t articulate the words.

  “You can’t do everything. We’ll take each day as it comes.” Something in Dylan’s tone made her stop and turn slowly on her heel. Franny walked into the room, paused, apparently assessing the thick tension hanging in the air, then muttered something and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Christina set her purse down and walked slowly toward Dylan. “I have to go. It’s who I am.” Her heart beat loudly in her ears. It felt like one of those moments when she was about to hear something she didn’t want to hear, learn something she could never unlearn.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Dylan stood as if rooted to his spot. “I wouldn’t forgive myself.” The pain that flashed across his face broke her heart.

  She took a step closer to him but something kept her from reaching out, from touching his arm. “Believe it or not, I’m a grown woman. I’ve managed to make it this far on my own.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes momentarily. She was the first to break contact. “There’s no reason you should feel so...” She didn’t know the word she was looking for. Controlling? Possessive? Territorial? But all those words had such negative connotations and she felt in her bones that Dylan’s actions stemmed from a place of love.

  Love. She let that thought sink in.

  She closed her eyes briefly, trying to settle her conflicting emotions. Did Dylan care for her that deeply? She couldn’t get sucked in. She’d be crushed when he decided to go back to the FBI.

  Dylan shifted his feet and rubbed his hand across his stubbled jaw. “You’re right. I push too hard sometimes. It’s my need for control, I guess.” He smiled—a sad smile.

  “That’s what makes you a good agent,” she said, confident that he must have been a great FBI agent. “It’s the reason you’ll eventually go back.” She knew in her heart that it was just a matter of time before he went back.

  “I should have been a better agent.” Dylan stared off in the middle distance.

  Christina tucked her hands into her pockets, trying to keep from fidgeting as she waited for the man she once loved, the man she once thought she had a future with, to continue.

  “My partner, Special Agent Reed, died in the line of duty because of me.” His voice grew quiet. “It was my job to show her the ropes, to protect her. But I sent her to talk to a confidential informant alone and she was murdered in cold blood.” His voice was oddly steady, as if he had been over the story a million times in his head. And beaten himself up over it with every rehashing.

  “Agent Reed was killed doing her job. You can’t take the blame.”

  “I was the senior agent. I should have kept her safe.”

  “Like you’re supposed to keep me safe?”

  Dylan tipped his head, but didn’t say anything.

  “Why did you come to Apple Creek?” Christina’s chest tightened. How had she gotten the nerve to ask him the very question she’d wondered about from th
e first day she realized he was in Apple Creek? The first time her heart rate had quickened when she recognized his broad shoulders, the familiar way he rubbed the back of his neck, his penchant for apple pie and ice cream, never to be called à la mode.

  “I came to Apple Creek because I had connections with the university. I wanted to return to a time when I still had hope for the future. A time when I thought I could do anything.” Her heart shattered in a million pieces for him. She knew what it meant to be broken. “And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I came back for you.”

  The steady strum of her heart beating in her ears made her dizzy. She pressed her lips together and smiled. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss across his cheek.

  Christina pulled back and Dylan watched her expectantly.

  “Dylan, you are a good man. But I am not the woman I was when we met in college. And I cannot fix the hurt inside you. I don’t have it in me. You have to find a way to do that yourself.” She shrugged as she took a step backward. “You see, I’m already busy trying to fix me. And God knows, I’m a work in progress. You have to find healing inside you.”

  Dylan rubbed the unshaven stubble on his jaw. “It’s been a long few days for everyone. I respect that. But please, allow me to keep you safe while I am here. Roger’s too much of a loose cannon to let our differences put you in danger.”

  She studied him for a long moment and lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”

  Christina had only recently come to terms with her past. Only recently admitted to those whom she loved that she had been attacked. She wasn’t ready to open her heart.

  She first had to put together the pieces of her life. A life that was imploding at this very moment.

  But she couldn’t be foolish. She had to stay safe.

  Christina strode toward the door and scooped up her purse. She turned around when she reached the door. “You coming?”

  Half of Dylan’s mouth quirked into a grin. “I told you I was a good lawyer.”

  Christina cocked her head. “How’s that?”

  “I crushed in debate class.”

  Christina laughed, feeling the weight of the absolutely crummy day lifting. “Was Bodyguard 101 one of the classes you excelled in?”

  Dylan opened the door for Christina and gave her a weary look. “Let’s hope you never have to find out.”

  THIRTEEN

  A sheriff’s cruiser sitting in the healthcare clinic’s parking lot was not totally unexpected. However, the sight of it made Dylan realize Christina wouldn’t be able to go through any part of her day without a reminder of the events hanging over her head. Not that she would forget.

  “I thought your brother was headed over to talk to Roger,” Dylan said, as he slammed the gearshift into Park.

  Christina pushed her door open. “That’s not my brother’s cruiser, it’s his boss, Sheriff Maxwell,” she said, sounding weary. “Maybe Nick’s still tracking down Roger.”

  Dylan pushed his door open and canvassed the parking lot. Long shadows from the towering trees cloaked the far corners of the lot. “Come on.” He moved in close to Christina and ushered her to the door, remembering the shock of the arrow vibrating in the tree near her head.

  Christina looked up at him while they both quickened their pace toward the door.

  “You really don’t think Roger would try anything, do you? Not with the sheriff here.” Her tone held an air of disbelief and frustration.

  “He’s desperate.”

  “Well, hopefully Nick tracked him down already.”

  She yanked open the door and came up short. “Hello, Sheriff Maxwell.”

  “Hello, Dr. Jennings.” The sheriff stood up from the blue plastic chair and offered his hand to Christina.

  The sheriff then turned to Dylan. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Professor Dylan Hunter.”

  The sheriff seemed taken aback, then realization dawned. “Ah, you’re the FBI agent that Nick said was keeping an eye on his sister.”

  “Something like that,” Christina muttered. “But I like to think I can look after myself.” She immediately regretted the edge to her tone. The sheriff was simply doing his job.

  “Hello, Dr. Christina.”

  Christina’s attention was drawn to Georgia, sitting across from the seat the sheriff had vacated, twisting her hands in her lap.

  “Why are you here?” Christina asked, confusion clouding her brain. After everything going on this morning, Christina had told Georgia to close the clinic for the day.

  Georgia opened her mouth to speak and the sheriff interrupted her. “I contacted Georgia to meet me here. Considering the allegations.”

  “Okay.” Christina bowed her head and tucked a strand behind her ear. “You have to know I’m not pushing painkillers. No part of my practice is illegal.”

  “Listen, Christina, I’m not the enemy. I’m here to clear things up.” The sheriff sat back down, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Have a seat.”

  Christina sat down and Dylan moved toward the wall, leaning one shoulder against it.

  “Drugs are a big issue in Apple Creek,” the sheriff said. “It’s important that I take the allegations Roger Everett made against you seriously.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Her face started to tingle and tiny dots danced in her line of vision.

  “You know about a young woman who had been drugged on campus a few weeks ago?” The sheriff interrupted her thoughts.

  Christina nodded, anxiety tightening its fist around her throat.

  “She had been high on a drug that is normally prescribed for ethical reasons. I can’t discount the fact that Roger’s claiming your clinic was offering prescriptions by less than ethical means.”

  “He’s lying.” Christina sought assurance first from Dylan, then the sheriff. “Mrs. Everett is very ill. She needs pain medication. I only offered her a prescription after I consulted with her doctors in Buffalo.”

  “I’ve known you and your brother for a long time. I want you to tell me exactly what happened when Linda Everett came in.”

  “I’m bound by doctor–patient confidentiality. You know that.”

  The sheriff paused for a minute. “Are you prescribing prescription painkillers illegally?”

  Dylan levered off the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to answer these questions.”

  “No, I want to. I’ve done nothing wrong,” Christina said adamantly, heat firing in her cheeks. “I’m an ethical doctor. I keep the medicine cabinets locked. I know the dangers of drugs when taken inappropriately. But recently, I have learned some antianxiety meds went missing.”

  “Oh?” The sheriff let the single word hang out there.

  “Who has access?”

  “Well, Georgia and I do. I trust Georgia completely.”

  “Thank you,” Georgia said, continuing to nervously twist her hands in her lap.

  “I find it hard to believe you’d do anything unethical,” the sheriff said. “Let’s focus on the missing drugs. Who else has access?”

  The rustling of the door handle drew their attention. Dylan stepped forward, looking like he was ready to slam it shut again. He moved in front of the opening, blocking Christina’s ability to see who was at the door.

  After a brief moment, Dylan stepped aside and Cheryl and Naomi entered the clinic. Christina got to her feet, feeling a bit like she had been caught doing something wrong. She supposed that was how most people felt after they had been questioned by the sheriff.

  “Can I help you, Naomi?” Christina asked.

  Naomi took a step back, her long skirt fluttering around her boots. “I came to clean. I heard you were closed for the day.”

  Christina furrowed her br
ow, trying to dismiss the suspicion that seeped into her bones. It was Naomi’s turn to look confused. “I called earlier to see when would be a good time to come in and Georgia told me.”

  Georgia nodded.

  Naomi held out her hand. “Cheryl gave me a ride from the end of my road. I didn’t want to deal with any grief from my parents.”

  Cheryl shrugged playfully. “We enjoy hanging out.”

  Naomi dragged her hand down the string on her bonnet. “Maybe after I’m baptized, my parents won’t be as strict. They’ll know I’m committed.”

  The sheriff stood and the two newcomers looked at him with suspicion. “Is something going on?” Cheryl asked, stuffing her hands in her pants pockets.

  “Do you both have access to the clinic during off hours?”

  Pink colored Naomi’s cheeks. “I clean a lot when Dr. Christina’s here, but sometimes I do it after she’s closed the clinic.”

  “And you come with her?” The sheriff gave Cheryl a pointed glare.

  “I hate to be here by myself, especially at night,” Naomi said. “It’s creepy.”

  Cheryl shifted her stance, a sense of unease pervading the small space. “Yep, I’m her taxi.”

  “Nothing else?” the sheriff asked.

  “Like what?” Cheryl bit out, suddenly getting defensive.

  “Gaining access to drugs or old prescription pads.”

  Cheryl jerked her head back and frowned. “Never. So not cool.”

  Goose bumps raced across Christina’s skin. Something in the defiant expression of the young girl set off her internal alarm. And based on the hard set of Dylan’s jaw, he had noticed it, too.

  * * *

  Cheryl jammed her fists under her armpits and a muscle worked in her jaw. “I’m not going to stand here while you accuse me of doing something I didn’t do.”

  Dylan held up his hands, trying to defuse the situation. “No one is accusing you of anything. Take it easy.”