by Rita Herron
“Shh, just rest,” he whispered. “You’re going to be all right.” She closed her eyes, almost as if she trusted him, and succumbed to the fatigue. Then her slender hand curled in his lap and he gathered it to his chest, rubbing it in his own to warm her. She whimpered softly, and he blinked against the unwanted emotions churning through him.
The ambulance screeched to a stop and the paramedics rushed out. They immediately took over. “I’m fine. Just take care of her,” he ordered when one of the men wanted to examine him. He remembered the doctor’s warnings about his recent eye surgery. The water could pose a problem , yet he hadn’t given a thought to his own life when he’d dived in to rescue Sydney. He hadn’t had a choice. Still, he’d call his physician when he returned to the bed-and-breakfast.
Another siren wailed, then everything happened in a blur. The police arrived and the paramedics placed Sydney on a stretcher. Collin moved close and took her hand. She gazed at him, her pupils still slightly dilated. He squeezed her hand. “They’re going to take care of you now.”
She nodded weakly. He grimaced at the blood matted in her hair and the dirt streaking her lovely cheeks. Her eyes drifted shut, and he struggled against the urge to stroke her face.
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked.
The paramedic nodded. “Yeah. We’ll take her in for observation and tests. The doc might want to take some X rays.”
Collin ran a hand through his own wet, tangled hair. He wanted to go with her, but he had no right. He didn’t even know her.
“Take care of her. I’ll question her later,” the police officer said.
Collin felt oddly shaken when the ambulance drove away. A tall, heavyset cop sidled over to him, a small notebook in hand. “I’m Sergeant Raeburn. Your name?”
“Collin Cash.”
“You got any ID?”
Collin reached into his pocket, then remembered he’d dumped its contents on the seat, so he walked over to his Bronco. Suddenly exhausted, he sank onto the seat and handed the policeman his driver’s license.
The man studied it, then him. “You’re from Charleston? What’re you doing out here, Mr. Cash?”
“Vacation,” Collin replied, deciding this wasn’t the time to spill his whole story. “I recently had surgery and need time to recuperate.”
“You wanna tell me what happened here tonight?”
Collin described exactly what he’d seen, avoiding any details about his encounter with Sydney in the graveyard. “So you don’t know Mrs. Green?”
Collin shook his head.
“Didn’t see any other cars around, any reason she might have been driving so fast?”
“No. She swerved to avoid a stalled truck in the road, then veered toward the water as if her car was out of control.” He thought back to the last few minutes before she’d crashed. At the graveyard she’d been upset, distraught, emotional, but still...
“I’ll have the car towed in and checked.”
Collin nodded.
“You staying in town?”
“Yeah. At the Beaufort Bed-and-Breakfast. I’m going there now to clean up.”
Raeburn caught his elbow. “I might need to talk to you later.”
“Sure.” In fact, I might need to talk to you, too--ask you what you’ve found out about Doug Green’s murder. But first he wanted to check on Sydney.
“It’s a good thing you were behind her,” Raeburn commented. “Must have been Mrs. Green’s lucky day.”
Collin stared at the sheriff, disturbed by his casual tone. “I’d hardly call having an accident and almost drowning lucky.”
Raeburn shrugged. “I meant it was a lucky coincidence you came along.”
Collin didn’t like the man on sight. And he wasn’t about to explain that it hadn’t been a coincidence at all.
He needed to go back to the B-and-B. Instead, he climbed into his car and headed toward the hospital, telling himself he simply wanted to verify Sydney would be okay.
But deep down he had a terrible feeling he was lying to himself. He was a loner, a man who needed no one, a man who wanted no one to need him.
Which made him even more confused about the loss he’d felt when the doors of the ambulance had closed, taking Sydney from his sight.
SYDNEY TRIED TO OPEN her eyes, but fatigue clawed at her limbs and muscles. She snuggled beneath the blankets, vaguely aware she’d been thoroughly examined by doctors and nurses, dragged through X rays and bathed by a stranger. She was so tired she thought she might sleep for days.
But the memory of the accident and the scent of saltwater invaded her mind. The terror she’d felt when she lost control of the car. The water crashing around her, suffocating her, choking her. She jerked her eyes open, hating the fear bubbling inside.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” A man’s soft, husky voice startled her and she searched the shadows, finally discerning the tall figure as the stranger she’d seen in the graveyard. Collin Cash. Fear once again knotted her stomach. Just who was this man? And what was he doing here?
Then guilt attacked her. He’d saved her life. She should be grateful, not suspicious. Damn Doug for making her so distrustful.
“The doctor said you’re going to be fine. A few cuts and bruises, a minor concussion and a little water in your lungs. You just need to rest.”
Sydney nodded, feeling the pathetic sting of tears in her eyes. Furious with herself, she blinked to stern their flow, then flinched when Collin raised his hand and wiped the moisture away. His intense dark gray eyes studied her.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said, her throat aching with every word.
Collin’s frown deepened. “Shh. Don’t talk.”
She opened her mouth to speak again but coughed, and he shook his heat “I said don’t talk. You need to rest.” The look of concern disappeared. His expression grew blank. “The police are going to want to question you tomorrow about what happened with your car.”
She tensed at the thought of Raeburn. Flashes of the horrible day bombarded her—being questioned about Doug’s murder, learning about his betrayal, then the accident...
“I’ll check on you later,” Collin whispered. “Try to sleep now, Sydney.”
She fisted her hands around the sheets as he closed the door. Collin knew Doug. Who was he and why had he come to Beaufort? On the heels of her suspicions, guilt warred with her distrust. He’d saved her life. He’d been her knight in shining amour
No.
There were no knights in shining armor. Not in real life. In real life, men told lies. No matter what Collin Cash had done, she didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone else. She wanted to sink into sleep. To forget about Doug’s deception.
Because if Collin had known her husband, he couldn’t be trusted, either.
COLLIN’S HEAD throbbed as he drove back to the inn, his vision blurring. Thankfully Sydney was all right
You can reject the corneas at any time. Darber’s words had haunted him, so he’d finally agreed to a checkup at the hospital before he left. He felt reasonably sure he hadn’t damaged his eyes too badly tonight. Only time would tell.
His drenched clothes had dried. The stiff fabric chafed his skin and he smelled like fish. He needed a long, hot shower and a bourbon. Both would have to wait.
Because more than anything, he needed answers—needed to know what the hell was happening to him. The vision at the graveyard had completely unnerved him. Had he regained his eyesight only to lose his mind?
As soon as he reached the bed-and-breakfast, he phoned Dr. Darber. “Yes, I’m using the antirejection drops.” He explained about his unplanned excursion in the ocean. The doctor listened quietly while he relayed the bizarre episode in the graveyard.
“I wasn’t dreaming, Doctor.” Collin’s fingers tightened around the phone. “I tell you I was wide awake.”
“Are you telling me you saw a ghost?” the doctor asked in a skeptical voice.
“No.” Collin paced the length of the
Victorian bedroom, his six-foot-two frame grossly out of place among the ornately carved furniture and lacy comforter. “I’m not sure what I saw. But I know it was real.”
“But you were shot just over a year ago.” Darber’s tone sounded patronizing this time. “Perhaps you’re confusing the incidents in your mind.”
“I was shot in the head, not in the heart. And I was outdoors.”
“Are you sure you didn’t doze off and—”
“I was not asleep!” Collin raked a hand over his stubbled jaw in frustration. “That drug you gave me must be causing me to hallucinate.”
Silence stretched taut across the line. Finally Darber said, “It’s possible, but highly unlikely.”
“Even though the drug is still experimental?”
The doctor sighed heartily. “Yes. I’m sure the anesthetic combined with the drug caused some of your strange dreams during and immediately following the surgery, but the effects should have subsided by now. That is, unless...
“Unless what?”
“Unless you’re drinking alcohol.”
“For God’s sake, I wasn’t drinking,” Collin snapped.
“You said yourself you were tired. You were in a graveyard. Maybe you...you know...”
“Let my imagination go wild?” Collin huffed in disgust. “I’m not imagining this, Doctor.”
“Let me know if it happens again. And be sure to keep your follow-up appointment.” He paused and Collin hoped he was thinking of some reasonable explanation for the strange visions. Instead, he hastily said goodbye.
Collin squeezed the handset as the line clicked into silence. Rubbing his temple, he shuffled into the bathroom, stripped off his filthy, damp clothing and turned on the shower. The hot water felt heavenly, but while he showered, he couldn’t forget the image of Sydney plunging into the water. Or the fear that had gripped him when he’d thought she might die.
He staggered, feeling dizzy. Worried he might collapse, he turned off the water, toweled off, then stretched out on the bed completely naked, hoping the headache pounding at the base of his skull would dissipate with a few hours of sleep. And praying it didn’t mean his body was rejecting the corneas.
Maybe the doctor was right Maybe he’d imagined the whole episode earlier when he’d seen the gun. Stress, post-traumatic stress at seeing a weapon so similar to the one that had blinded him—something like that. Maybe he should consult a shrink.
Finally accepting the flimsy reasoning, he closed his eyes and drifted into an exhausted sleep. But instead of seeing murder in his dreams, he saw Sydney. Beautiful and sexy, with her long dark hair fanned out over white sheets. A dark green satin gown with spaghetti straps revealing full breasts and porcelain skin. He could almost feel her warm breath caress his neck as she leaned over to kiss him. She looked so sad, so incredibly sweet, so vulnerable. He wanted her...needed her...had to have her...
He moaned and awoke with a start, then blinked at the suffocating darkness of the room. For a moment the panic he’d felt during his blindness seized him. His breathing became erratic, his palms sweaty. He rolled sideways and turned on the lamp, exhaling sharply in relief when light spilled into the room and he realized he could still see. Thank God. He’d rather die than live in that dark world again. And he wouldn’t allow himself to become dependent on anyone ever again.
He left the light on and closed his eyes, telling himself over and over he wouldn’t get involved with Sydney Green. He’d needed people in the past year, needed them to teach him how to survive in a world of darkness, needed them to drive him places, to shop for him, to guide him on a simple walk around his neighborhood, to tell him whether his damn clothes matched or whether he’d worn a white sock with a brown one.
When he’d finally gotten his sight back, he’d wanted to call someone to share his good news. He’d thought about calling his old girlfriend, Debbie, but had instantly squelched the idea when he remembered her reaction to his blindness. He’d needed her to stand by him after the shooting, to love him in spite of his inability to see. But she hadn’t. She’d found someone more virile, someone who didn’t need a cane and a guide to find his way to the bathroom in a public restaurant.
Yes, he’d needed people. And he’d hated every minute of it. He absolutely would never let himself want or need anyone again. His partner had been suckered in by a beautiful woman and died because of it, in the very shooting that had taken his eyesight.
He gave his pillow a firm punch and put Sydney Green just as firmly out of his mind. He’d solve this murder case, then go back to Charleston.
He wouldn’t get personally involved with Doug Green’s wife. After all, she might be a murderer.
SYDNEY AWOKE the next morning, her throat raw, every limb in her body aching. The memory of the wreck, the nightmarish seconds before she’d passed out, returned in vivid detail. And along with them came images of Collin Cash saving her life, of his attempts to comfort her afterward.
Despite it all, she wasn’t staying in the hospital a minute longer than necessary. If he came back, she would be gone.
A knock at the door startled her. She half expected, half feared the man would appear. Instead, her good friend and neighbor, Kelly Cook, rushed in, carrying a bouquet of flowers. “I couldn’t wait to see you for myself.” Kelly hugged her. “I was so worried when I heard about the accident.”
“Thanks for the flowers.” Sydney tried to sit up but winced when her muscles protested. “Where’s my godchild?”
“I left her with the nurse downstairs. You know how picky the nurses are about letting children in the rooms.”
“I know, but I’d love to see her.” Children in general cheered her up, and Kelly’s baby, Megan, was a bright spot in any day. She loved the little girl like her own.
Kelly sat down in the chair beside the bed, her blond ponytail bobbing. “I can’t tell you how I felt, Syd, when I first heard the news about your accident. I couldn’t believe it. What happened?”
The sheets rustled as Sydney’s fingers tightened around them. “I don’t know. I lost control. The car sped up and I couldn’t stop. It was awful.”
Kelly’s hazel eyes darkened in horror. “You mean your brakes failed?”
“I guess so. I kept pumping them but they wouldn’t work.” She shivered. “It all happened so fast.”
Kelly patted her arm. “Thank heavens, it’s over now, and you’re okay. That’s all that matters. The nurse said they’re letting you go home today.”
“Yes,” Sydney said in a weak voice. “I can’t wait to leave this place.”
A man cleared his throat from the doorway.
Sydney groaned as Sergeant Raeburn lumbered in.
He scrutinized her from head to toe. “How’re you feeling this morning, Mizz Green?”
“I’ve been better,” Sydney said, guarding her expression.
“Sergeant, it was awful, wasn’t it?” Kelly used her hands to punctuate her words. “Sydney’s brakes wouldn’t work.” She turned to Sydney. “Didn’t Doug keep the car serviced?”
“Usually. But he’d been traveling a lot before...” Sydney shrugged and bit her lip. “It might have been overdue. I’m not really very good at mechanical things.”
Raeburn made a clicking sound with his cheek. “Is that right?”
“Yes. I don’t know what went wrong.” Sydney resisted the urge to squirm under his perusal. “The brakes have never failed before.”
He jotted something in his notepad. “The wrecker service towed it in. We’ll check it out.”
Sydney suddenly remembered the gun on the seat of her car. Where had it come from? What if the police found it? What if they thought—
“I’ll let you know what we find out.” Raeburn repeated that irritating clicking sound as he strode from the room.
Sydney’s mind raced with questions about the gun. Maybe they wouldn’t find it. Maybe it had been washed out to sea.
Kelly smiled reassuringly. “I brought my car. As soon as the
doctor releases you, I’ll take you home.”
“It’s Saturday, Kel. I have a shoot this afternoon.”
Kelly dismissed the idea with a wave. “I’m sure whoever it is wouldn’t mind rescheduling.”
“I know. But after all that’s happened, I need to feel some sort of normalcy. I’ll call Marla and see if she can come later today,” she said. “Working might help me forget the accident.”
“You’ve been through a lot lately, Syd.” Kelly patted her arm sympathetically. “Promise me you’ll rest first. And if you don’t feel up to working, you’ll cancel.”
Sydney’s emotions rose to her throat, “I promise. Hey, maybe you can bring Meg by and I’ll take some photos of her, too. We haven’t shot her portrait yet.”
“Maybe,” Kelly said in a noncommittal voice. “But I don’t want you to overdo things.”
“I won’t. It’ll be fun.” Sydney squeezed Kelly’s hand, grateful for her friendship. She’d felt so alone the past few months, even before Doug’s death. Now, after learning about Doug’s betrayal, knowing he hadn’t wanted a child with her, she felt even more alone. Had Doug ever loved her at all?
COLLIN SLEPT FITFULLY through the night, finally rousing himself from his tortured dreams to find his headache had subsided. He shoved away the tangled covers, then realized in disgust that he’d slept the whole night through with the light on—like a damn baby.
Scrubbing his hand over his face, he ignored the pain in his sore muscles as he rose. He had too much to do to wallow in bed.
He showered and dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, determined not to think of Sydney Green as a woman, but as a lead—even a suspect