Shades of Truth

by Sandra Orchard

  “That’s great news.” Ethan stood as the doctor began wrapping a tensor bandage around her foot. “It looks like you’re in good hands now.” He pressed a note into her hand, and the warmth of his touch and quiet “call me” let loose the butterflies again.

  Darryl opened the door for him and then glared at her over the doctor’s head.

  She glared right back. She had a few questions of her own she wanted answered. Until she talked to him, she hadn’t dared tell Ethan that her brother had been at Blake’s.

  The instant the doctor left with orders to stay off her feet for a few days, she hopped off the examining table and closed the door. Then she looked Darryl square in the eye and asked, “Did you shoot Blake Owens?’

  “Me? How could you think such a thing?” he blurted, but the panic shadowing his eyes belied the pseudo-denial.

  She poked a finger into his chest. “Because you were the last person who talked to him. Argued, actually. Threatened.”

  “You were there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know he was fine when I left.”

  “But did you come back?”

  “No!” His shout rattled the cabinet doors. His voice dropped to a growl. “I told you to stay away from him. It’d be dangerous, I said. This ringing any bells?”

  His face was crimson. She hadn’t seen him this furious since he caught Nate two-timing her. And she wasn’t sure she believed him. He was too overprotective for his own good.

  A knock sounded on the door. And then a nurse handed Darryl a pair of crutches. “You can sign for these at the desk.”

  Handing the crutches to Kim, he motioned her toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

  “We can’t leave without visiting Dad.”

  “Right, of course,” he muttered. His gaze darted from one hall to the next as he protectively shadowed her to the elevator. Instead of making her feel safe, his furtive moves scared her. Apparently, he was as worried as Ethan that someone was out to get her.

  The doors opened and the hospital’s palliative-care counselor greeted them with a look of concern. “What happened to you?”

  “I sprained my ankle. Nothing serious.” If she ignored Ethan’s fear that someone was out to get her.

  “Oh, that’s a relief. Going up to see your dad?” The fiftysomething wheelchair-bound woman was as sweet as her name—Joy. Whenever she visited Dad, she asked lots of questions about Hope Manor, which, of course, never failed to lift his spirits.

  “How’s Dad doing today? Have you seen him?” Kim asked.

  “Yes. He was in good spirits, but…” Joy hesitated. “A gentleman stopped in. At first, your dad didn’t appear to recognize the man, but then he became quite agitated and asked me to leave.” Joy wheeled out of the elevator. “I’m relieved to know you’re heading there. I was going to find your mom.”

  “She isn’t with him?”

  “I spelled her off so she’d go to the cafeteria and get some supper.” A twinkle lit Joy’s eyes. “She can’t live on muffins alone.”

  Kim chuckled. Mom’s habit of baking when stressed had kept the cancer ward well supplied with muffins.

  Darryl rushed Kim into the elevator. “Come on. I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “What’s going on? Do you know who this guy is?”

  Darryl punched the button for the fourth floor. “How am I supposed to know that?” he grunted, but the nervous bounce in his stance shouted definite suspicions.

  “I don’t know,” she said sarcastically. “You seem to know a lot of things you’re not telling me. Like why did you think Blake would bother me again?”

  The blood drained from Darryl’s face. “I—”

  The elevator doors whisked open, cutting off the explanation.

  An elderly couple joined them in the elevator for the rest of its climb to the fourth floor, leaving Kim to worry over the meaning of Darryl’s pasty complexion.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” he hissed as he maneuvered past the couple. Then he strode ahead, every line of his body rigid.

  A powerfully built, silver-haired gentleman wearing an expensive suit and self-satisfied smirk stepped out of their father’s room and breezed past Darryl without seeming to notice him. As Darryl turned to scrutinize him, the man gave her the kind of patronizing nod she imagined an aristocrat might deign to bestow upon one of his subjects.

  By the time she glanced back to Darryl, he’d disappeared into their dad’s room.

  Kim wavered at the doorway. Brightly colored flowers from church friends filled every surface. Their fragrance mercifully banished the institutional odor, but they couldn’t mask the rhythmic rasp of Dad’s oxygen machine or the pallor of his translucent skin. He’d lost so much weight that his once-round cheeks had become sad-looking hollows.

  Pained by the sight, she turned away and tried to picture how he looked before the cancer, but instead of an image of her healthy father, one of Ethan lying in a hospital bed recovering from a gunshot wound rose in her mind.

  She rested her head against the door frame and drew in a deep breath. Why was she thinking about Ethan when she’d come here to see Dad?

  “Kim,” Dad exclaimed and promptly started coughing. The strain of the effort turned his pale complexion pink.

  Kim propped her crutches against the wall and hopped to his side. She gave him a kiss on his papery cheek and then held his water straw to his mouth.

  He took only a sip before pushing it away. “You hurt your ankle,” he said, breathlessly. His eyes slipped shut. Fluttered open.

  Kim straightened his bedsheets, wishing the pain meds didn’t make him so sleepy all the time. “I’m fine.”

  Darryl squeezed her arm and whispered close to her ear, “I need to talk to Mom. I’ll be right back.” He was out the door before she could ask why.

  Dad patted her hand. “Tell me about this new man the manor hired.”

  “His name is Ethan, and he seems passionate about wanting to make a difference.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Dad glanced at the oxygen machine next to his bed and she could read his unspoken I wish I could in his eyes.

  “Dad, your vision for Hope Manor won’t be forgotten. You know that, right?”

  With his eyes shut, he shook his head.

  “Dad, I promise you, we’ll carry on your work.”

  “It’s not that.” His fingers worried the edge of his blanket.

  Kim sat next to his bed and cradled his hand between hers. “What’s bothering you? Is it the man who just left?”

  “No—” He choked on the word and broke into a coughing fit. With each inhalation, his chest rasped louder.

  “It’s okay, Dad. Try to take deep breaths.” She offered him water, but he couldn’t stop coughing long enough to swallow. The heart machine readout fluctuated wildly. She yanked on the call bell.

  Tara, Dad’s favorite nurse, rushed into the room. She checked his airway and listened to his breathing, but Dad grew more and more agitated.

  Kim watched helplessly as Tara injected a needle into his IV.

  A few moments later, Dad’s eyes fluttered shut, and Tara tucked the sheets around him. She gave Kim a sympathetic look. “Perhaps you should let your father rest now.”

  Kim kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back to see you tomorrow, Dad,” she said, then quietly shut the door behind her. Focused on straightening her crutches, she turned straight into Aaron.

  He caught her upper arms. “Whoa, there.”

  “Oh! Sorry. I didn’t see you.”

  Still holding her, he smiled. “I’m not complaining. I’d hoped to find you here.”

  She scanned the empty hall looking for Darryl. “Why? Is something wrong?”

&
nbsp; “No. Why would anything be wrong?” He repositioned her crutch and gave her shoulder a gentle rub. “I stopped by your house to make sure you were okay.”

  “That’s sweet of you.” She couldn’t remember him ever being quite so attentive, or maybe she’d just been too preoccupied to notice. Or maybe her awareness of Ethan’s solicitousness drew it to her attention. “The doctor said my ankle’s sprained. I need to stay off my feet for a couple of days.”

  Aaron matched her awkward gait down the hall. “And how’s your dad this evening?”

  “A little unsettled.” She snuck a sideways glance at Aaron. Muscle-bound, blond, tanned, he was quite good-looking, in a youthful, beach-bum sort of way. He cared about her father, went to church, helped with the young people’s group, had a steady job. Exactly the kind of guy any girl would be thrilled to have on her arm.

  So why didn’t her stomach turn somersaults over his attention as it had with Ethan’s?

  Oh, brother, less than eight hours ago she’d insisted to Ginny that she didn’t have time to date, and now she was obsessing over a little intestinal gymnastics. Or lack thereof.

  She shook the notion from her head. “Did you happen to see Darryl on your way up?”

  “No, sorry. Did you need a lift home?”

  “That’s okay. Darryl said he’d be right back.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’d be happy to drive you.”

  Suddenly, Aaron’s attentiveness felt a little too…cloying. “That’s okay, really. My brother will be looking for me.”

  Aaron’s attention flicked past her shoulder, and alarm skittered across his face. “Okay, then, if you’re sure. Take as much time off as you need to rest that ankle,” he said. Then, turning abruptly, he disappeared out the stairwell door.

  Kim turned to see what had prompted Aaron’s sudden departure.

  Two uniformed officers bore down on her.

  SIX

  Ethan shrank into the shadowy alcove opposite the hospital stairs. He itched to follow Aaron Sheppard, but he couldn’t be sure the pair of cops flanking Kim’s mom weren’t on the drug ring’s payroll, too.

  When he’d spotted Sheppard’s Mini Cooper swerving into the hospital parking lot, he’d worried the manor’s interim director was up to no good, and he’d trailed him inside. Sheppard had skirted immediately to the back of the building and charged up the stairs to the cancer ward. Clearly, he frequented the ailing director’s bedside often.

  Not unreasonable, considering Sheppard was the dying man’s replacement.

  Then again, Ethan couldn’t discount the possibility that the drug ring’s infiltration went right to the top.

  The prospect set his teeth on edge. If her father was part of a drug ring, Kim and her brother couldn’t possibly be ignorant of the fact.

  And where was Darryl, anyway? He was supposed to be protecting Kim.

  “Here’s my daughter,” Mrs. Corbett said to the officers as she reached Kim’s side. She fussed over Kim’s ankle and Darryl’s news about the car until one of the officers cleared his throat. She patted Kim’s arm. “I’ll be in with your father, dear.”

  The two officers—no distinguishing features, average height, average build, short dark hair—frowned at Kim.

  Ethan couldn’t see her face from his vantage point, but her white-knuckled grip on her crutches betrayed her nervousness.

  One officer wrote furiously in a small black notepad as Kim responded to their questions, but the stony expression of the interrogating officer betrayed nothing.

  The officer’s gaze flicked to her leg.

  She must’ve told him about being chased by the vandals. If those boys picked up her phone and located her house as she feared, he didn’t want to think about what they might do to her next. Ethan had hoped to find them before the police. Not that he had a clue where to begin looking.

  Kim’s shoulder muscle flinched in response to a question. Ethan prayed they weren’t baiting her. They grilled her with question after question as if she were a suspect rather than a victim. He supposed from their perspective that was a reasonable assumption. But he didn’t have to like it.

  “Is Blake going to be okay?” Ethan heard her ask, before her voice faltered.

  Ethan knew her concern was genuine. But the officer ignored her question.

  “A black truck was noticed fleeing the scene around the time of the shooting,” the man said. “Did you happen to see the driver?”

  Ethan leaned forward, watched her over the top of the magazine he held, feeling like a spy in a B-grade movie. She hadn’t told him about a truck, but from the way her fingers flexed then tightened around the grip of her crutch, she’d seen one, all right. What else had she neglected to tell him?

  After a long pause, she said, “I do remember a truck. But it left before the shooting.”

  The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Are you certain about that?”

  “Yes,” she said adamantly.

  A little too adamantly.

  The suspicious glint in the officer’s eyes suggested he’d noticed, too. But “Okay” was all he said.

  The other officer flipped the notebook shut. “We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions. You can pick up your car from the impoundment lot tomorrow.”

  Kim nodded.

  The men sauntered around the corner, but Kim’s mom joined her before Ethan could reveal his presence.

  “Our ride’s here,” her mother said, and Kim’s arms went rigid, her fists white.

  “Where’s he been?” she hissed.

  “Running an errand.” Mrs. Corbett rested a hand on Kim’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, let’s just go.”

  Interesting.

  As they moved toward the elevator, Ethan slipped into the stairwell, then raced to the lobby. He watched them step off the elevator and followed at a discreet distance. They exited through the side door, where a black truck idled at the curb.

  A bitter taste coated Ethan’s throat. Kim may not have seen the driver outside Blake’s house, but she knew who he was.

  Her brother.

  Okay, time to take the gloves off. If Kim didn’t trust him enough to tell him the whole truth, she needed to know he’d figure it out one way or the other.

  The moment Kim and her mom climbed into the cab, Ethan rounded the front of the truck and yanked open Darryl’s door. “Were you at Blake Owens’s house this afternoon?” he asked, point blank, scrutinizing Darryl’s involuntary responses for signs of deception.

  “What business is that of yours?”

  “Ethan, what are you doing?” Kim asked, her tone panicked.

  Ethan stopped the rejoinder he’d been about to utter. It was a good question. What was he doing?

  He took a breath, regained his composure. Here he was, standing in the middle of a public parking lot demanding answers from three potential suspects. Real professional. He couldn’t have picked a better way to blow his cover if he’d tried.

  “Who is this young man?” Mrs. Corbett demanded.

  “Ethan Reed,” Darryl ground out from between clenched teeth. “He works at the manor.”

  Yeah, and being there, being thrown back into his past, had to be what was throwing him off his game.

  “I’ll explain later,” Kim said, shushing her mom’s questions as she climbed out of the truck. She tugged him aside. “What are you doing here?”

  “Watching your back,” Ethan growled.

  Her eyes widened. Then her look of surprise softened to an appreciation that rasped at the edges of his annoyance.

  “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was there?” he demanded.

  Her eyes flashed. “Let me see.” She tapped her finger to
her cheek in mock contemplation. “Maybe because I knew you’d think the worst. Maybe because I wasn’t about to snitch on my brother before I knew what really happened. Maybe because I’ve known you less than a day!”

  He let out a puff of air. “Okay, but hiding information from the cops will land you in more trouble than you want, Kim. Believe me.”

  “Darryl left before the shooting. Don’t you think I would’ve run to his truck if he’d still been there when those vandals started chasing me?”

  “So why not tell the police?”

  “Because they would’ve thought I was covering for him. Just like you did.”

  “What was I supposed to think? You didn’t give me all the facts.”

  “If the police find out Darryl was there—and why—they won’t bother looking for anyone else.”

  Ethan had to admit she had a point. Darryl had motive and opportunity. His prints were in the house. The police would nail him.

  “And the press will crucify Hope Manor,” Kim added.

  “You could’ve told me.”

  “Now that you know, what will you tell the police?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want anything to happen to you any more than Darryl does.” He searched her eyes for some sign of recognition that they could be on the same side. “Trust me.”

  Kim’s gaze strayed to the staff-station window, where Ethan was supposed to be filling in the daily logs. Caught watching her, he gave her a lopsided smile and shrugged.

  She looked away. He was proving to be much too big a distraction. She’d be better off focusing on her job instead of thinking about how his black polo shirt made him look tailored, yet strong, and a little bit mysterious in a dark-hero kind of way.

  It was bad enough she’d had to spend three solid days with the man teaching him their protocols for handling issues with residents. Darryl could just as easily have done the classroom training.