Sobs rose in her throat. She heard moaning and realized it was coming from inside her. She knelt and pressed one ear to his chest, praying to hear his heart beat.
She did.
She screamed his name.
He moaned.
She crouched, cradling his head in her lap, and gave in to the sobs that rose inside her. Through her tears, she called the name over and over of the one friend she loved so much. “Pippin.”
A siren wailed in the distance.
“Pippin.” The effort of speech, mixed with her hot tears, brought on a choking fit. Tears streamed down Caroline’s face, not just from the smoke but tears of anguish for the dog, for Ken, for Porter, for all of them.
The sirens got louder.
Which masked the other sound at first.
Then it grew louder. Caroline held her breath, listening intently, praying she would hear it again.
And then she did.
Barking.
Pippin raced around the corner of the flaming cabin, yipping for all he was worth.
He made a beeline for Caroline.
CHAPTER 46
The storm passed, turning the town into a shimmering landscape that winked blue and silver beneath a moonlit sky.
The view from the second-floor window of Sky County Medical Center was of a world transformed, of calm after a storm. Or so it seemed to Caroline from her seat in the visitor’s chair near Ken’s hospital bed.
The last several hours had passed in a blur. She got her arm tended to and tried to explain events that defied explanation to the county sheriffs who videotaped her statement. She answered questions as best she could. Such as, did she set out to kill her husband up on the mountain?
No.
Was Ken Kincaid involved in any plan to kill her husband?
No.
Had she expressed the desire to Ken Kincaid or to anyone else at any time that she wished her husband dead?
No.
And, most shocking of all, did she know anything about the human remains inside of a storage locker held by her husband in Eckington, a neighborhood in Washington, D.C., she had heard of but never visited?
Other questions were not asked. The kind that made her duck her head in shame and stare down at her hiking shoes, covered in gray ash. Such as, why had she married Porter in the first place? How could she have loved him? These questions were left unspoken, but she saw them in the sidelong glances of the EMTs who rushed them down the mountain in the county’s all-terrain SUV, siren blaring and lights flashing, and again on the face of the Sky County sheriff who videotaped her statement with an unwavering stare.
At the hospital, they gave her hot coffee and a blanket while she relayed for the camera the bizarre facts of her marriage to Porter, and the events that had taken place at the cabin.
The law enforcement officials treated her fairly, faces impassive as they asked questions and recorded her answers. Reciting the plain truth, saying these things out loud, made Caroline realize how complete had been her descent into a life of utter madness.
She responded in a voice she barely recognized, flat and matter-of-fact. It was time for the truth to come out. She saw the curiosity in their eyes, mixed with revulsion, and hung her head in shame. But she forced herself to go on. Her days of telling lies were over.
The interview ended, and she was allowed to see Nan and Gus.
Nan threw her arms around Caroline. “You put this thing behind you now and move on.”
Any reservations Caroline had about seeing Ken’s father melted away when she faced him.
Gus grabbed her in a bear hug.
Overwhelmed with regret, Caroline couldn’t say anything at first. She had stayed with Porter for reasons she didn’t fully understand, telling herself that at least they weren’t hurting anybody but themselves. Seeing Ken’s father now made her realize that, too, was a lie.
Gus placed his hands on both her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes.
She saw no resentment in his gaze. Only concern.
“You’ve been through a lot, young lady. You saved my son’s life. He’s going to be fine.”
She shook her head in protest. “It’s all my fault.”
Gus gave her shoulders a squeeze. “What happened up there was someone else’s doing, and that’s over and done with now. The important thing is you’re okay and so is my son.” Gus’s voice broke, and he steeled himself before continuing. “Now you put this behind you.”
His words were spoken so matter-of-factly that Caroline couldn’t argue. “I’ve got a lot of work to do on myself,” she admitted.
Gus said nothing, just patted her once more.
That had been an hour ago. Nan and Gus had decided to visit Maebeth Burkle down the hall, with Gus grumbling that half of Storm Pass was out of commission today. The nurse promised to fetch them at the first sign that Ken was awake.
A small sound indicated this was happening right now.
Ken groaned and rolled his head from side to side. His eyes sprang open. He smiled at Caroline. “Hey.”
His voice was barely more than a hoarse croak, but the sound of it melted away some of the terror she’d experienced this day. She smiled. “Hey, yourself.”
He cleared his throat and grimaced.
Caroline handed him a glass of ice water with a straw and held it while he took a few small sips.
A look of cheer came over his face as he realized he was able to move, to swallow. He raised one arm, the one without the IV tube, and flexed his fingers. He looked at her and smiled. “Caroline.”
The sound of her name on his lips made her blush despite everything.
“Suits you better than Alice,” he said.
Caroline pressed a hand to her mouth to try to stop the tears that welled up inside her.
“Sshhh.” He tried to lift his head from the pillow but couldn’t.
She frowned. “How do you feel?”
“Like a bad hangover.” He grinned. “Better with you here.”
“They said you’re going to be fine. Thank God.” Caroline’s shoulders shook as a great sob heaved inside her.
Ken frowned. “Don’t worry.”
A nurse walked in.
“You’re awake,” the nurse observed.
Ken grinned. “I am.”
“A lot of people have been waiting for this.” The nurse pressed a button on the intercom and paged the doctor on call, stat. She got busy next taking Ken’s blood pressure and pulse. “Your vitals look good, Mr. Kincaid. How are you feeling?”
“Like elephants sat on my head.”
The nurse chuckled as she entered her readings. “We’ve got you on a mix of fluids that will help. The doctor should be along in a minute.” She looked at him. “I promised your dad I would call as soon as you opened your eyes. And the sheriff, who’s waiting to take your statement. I’ll make those calls, but first tell me if you need anything.”
“No. I’m all set.” Ken’s eyes were on Caroline. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Kincaid.” The nurse turned to Caroline. “And how about you? Everything okay?”
Caroline nodded. She sat with one hand over her new cast.
“How about some juice and a turkey sandwich?”
Despite everything, Caroline’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast this morning at Nan’s, and that seemed a lifetime ago.
“Okay, thank you.”
From the bed, Ken protested. “How ’bout me?”
The nurse smiled. “Not till the doc gives you the all-clear. But I’ll see if I can bring you some more crushed ice.”
“You’re on,” Ken said.
She turned to Caroline. “I left you an overnight kit in the bathroom.”
Caroline nodded again, aware that her clothes reeked of smoke. She had cried so much over the last several hours, she was afraid to look in the mirror.
The nurse lowered her voice. “There are a couple of news crews outside. We’ll get you out throug
h the ambulance bay when you’re ready to go.”
“Thanks,” Caroline replied.
The doctor came in next. He was young with a scrubbed face and cheerful eyes. He gave Ken’s hand a vigorous shake. “You look a heckuva lot more like your picture in Sports Illustrated than you did when they brought you in. I used to watch you play on Monday night football. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Pleasure’s mine,” Ken said hoarsely. “Thanks for fixing me up.”
“No problem.” The doctor flipped through Ken’s chart, studying the printout of Ken’s vital signs. “Wow,” he said, glancing up. “Your vitals are pretty good, considering you nearly died today. I heard professional athletes have a lower pulse rate at rest than the rest of us. And now I know it’s true.”
Ken watched him. “Just what, exactly, have I been through?”
The doctor pulled up a chair. “For starters, you were administered a honkin’ big dose of Pavulon.”
Ken frowned.
Caroline felt her stomach lurch.
“That’s the designer name. Technically, it’s called pan-curonium bromide. It’s a muscle relaxant that’s mixed with other drugs during surgery to induce a state of general anesthesia. It brings on paralysis,” the doctor said cheerfully. “Works like a charm, no?”
“Yeah,” Ken replied, still frowning. “But I could see and hear things.” He looked at Caroline.
“That’s because you didn’t get the other drugs mixed in,” the doctor explained.
Caroline dropped her gaze to the linoleum floor, thinking of what Ken had witnessed inside the cabin.
The doctor continued. “Things would have seemed fuzzy and out of focus, like a VCR tape that came off track.”
Ken nodded. “Everything seemed far away.”
“Yup,” the doctor said. “Classic presentation of pure Pavulon. Lately it’s gotten some play on the news. It’s being abused on college campuses and in bars.”
Caroline’s mind spun with images she’d tried to bury. She remembered lying in bed, wanting Porter to stop but unable to protect herself. The first time it happened they hadn’t even been married. She’d woken the next day, cringing when memories came tumbling back, hating herself for what had happened, chalking it up to too many glasses of red wine. She shuddered now.
The doctor closed his chart. “The good news is Pavulon doesn’t have any lasting side effects. The bad news is you were given a dose strong enough to knock out two men.” He gave Ken a sober look. “You are one strong individual, Mr. Kincaid. Thanks to your athletic training and sheer size, you have nothing to worry about. Other than a wicked hangover.”
Ken winced. “You can say that again.”
“Some of that aching head is the result of your companion bouncing you down those steps.”
Companion. The word hung in the air as they both turned to look at her. Her life, Caroline knew, defied easy description. She risked a glance at Ken.
He winked.
The doctor continued to watch her. “And you are stronger than you look.”
For the first time in her life, Caroline knew that statement was true. She nodded.
“She doesn’t know her own strength,” Ken said.
“You saved his life,” the doctor said simply.
Caroline could think of nothing to say, considering the fact she felt responsible for putting Ken’s life at risk in the first place.
“Guess that means I owe you,” Ken teased.
“Now, that’s dangerous talk,” the doctor said with a chuckle. “You won’t catch me talking that way to my wife.”
Wife. As though she, Caroline, was capable of a relationship that was normal. She felt her cheeks flame.
Ken laughed.
“On that note, I’ll leave you.” The doctor stood. “We’ll keep you here tonight for observation. You look ready for some real food, so I’ll write the orders. But I can’t vouch for the cooking, okay?” He smiled.
“Sounds good.”
“And as for Xena, the Warrior Princess…” The doctor turned to Caroline. “You’re good to go. But you’ve been through a lot. You take it easy, okay?”
Caroline nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’m off to my rounds. I’ll check back a couple times during the night. Can’t wait to tell my son I met Ken Kincaid.”
Ken flexed his fingers again. “The pleasure’s all mine. Bring your son in. I’d like to meet him.”
“That’d make his year,” the doctor replied. “As for now, I’ll tell the sheriff you’re awake and ready to give a statement. I’ve held him off as long as I can.”
With that, he left.
Caroline looked at Ken, suddenly shy at finding herself alone with the man she had nearly died with.
Ken patted the bed. “Hey, come on over so I can talk to you.”
She stepped to the side of the bed and stood, too emotional to sit next to him.
He patted the mattress again, refusing to take no for an answer. “Come on, I won’t bite.”
She sat, careful to avoid the tubing in his arm. She stared down at the linoleum floor tiles, not brave enough yet to meet his gaze.
“So,” he said softly, and something in his voice reached out to her.
She looked into his eyes, bracing herself for the kind of look you’d expect from someone who was about to walk away.
But she saw only tenderness. “You okay?”
She didn’t deserve it. Tears sprang up inside her. She’d thought she had cried herself out, but she was wrong. After years of holding back all her emotions, now it seemed she couldn’t stop crying.
Ken reached for her hand, the one without the cast, and held it. He did not try to silence her or say anything at all, a fact she appreciated.
After a minute or two she was done. She sniffed loudly, looking around for something to wipe her nose with.
He offered his arm with the tubes, grinning.
She couldn’t hold back a giggle. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
He repeated his question. “You okay?”
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Caroline,” he said again, still smiling. “You know, I’m just crazy about that name.”
She couldn’t hold back a smile herself.
“So, what’s up with your hair? I take it you’re not a true blond?”
Now Caroline laughed harder. “My hair’s brown. With really, really bad highlights, I guess.”
“What a relief. I’ve never had much luck with blonds.” Now Ken was laughing, too, the sound rumbling up deep inside his broad chest.
It was infectious. As crazy as it was to joke around about hair at a time like this, it felt good just to share a laugh with him.
He grew quiet. “Your hair is your business,” he said.
And the way he said it, this simple fact, settled something between them. “Yes,” she agreed, solemn now. “It is.” Ken Kincaid was her…what, exactly? Companion?
Ken settled that question with a small movement of his arms, both the good one and the one with the IV tube taped to it. The gesture was small but there was no mistaking his intention.
Caroline gave in, leaning forward so those strong arms could close around her, gathering her up against his chest.
He was warm and solid.
She could hear his heart beating.
He planted a kiss on her hair and then another and held her even tighter, and Caroline knew in her heart she could stay this way for a long time.
But there were heavy footsteps in the hall, more than one pair, and so she pulled away.
The door opened and the sheriffs entered.
It was time for her to go. She told Ken she’d be back in the morning.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. His tone was light but the expression in his eyes told her he meant it.
Something that had lain crushed inside her unfolded its wings and took flight.
Nan and Gus were in the waiting room. They had visited with Maebeth,
and pronounced her on the road to recovery.
Nan gave Caroline an appraising look. “You could use a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.”
Gus pressed the keys to his pickup into her hand. “You go on. We’ll get a ride with Ted.”
Caroline accepted the keys gratefully.
“The dogs will be glad to see you,” Nan said. “Pippin’s in the truck and Scout’s probably sleeping near a heat vent at home.”
Caroline’s heart leaped at the mention of her dog. She didn’t remember much about the ride down the mountain in the Sky County SUV, except for Pippin whimpering in the back.
She searched for the right words now. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Gus’s voice was gruff. “You just run along and take care of yourself.”
“He’s right,” Nan said, ruffling Caroline’s hair before giving her a small push toward the door.
Caroline was too worn out to do anything but follow their advice.
A security guard brought Gus’s pickup around to the ambulance bay, as promised, so she could avoid the small band of reporters waiting at the main entrance.
Steering with her good arm, she drove through Storm Pass to Nan’s place. Everything gleamed silvery white under the full moon. Main Street was quiet, empty at this hour. The buildings, constructed for miners in search of fortunes long since found and spent, rested under a blanket of winter white. Tomorrow would bring another sunrise, and with it the fresh possibilities of a new day.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My fabulous and daring agent, Stephanie Cabot, and her team at The Gernert Company, who took a chance on me. Carrie Feron and her brilliant team at HarperCollins, especially Tessa Woodward. Trish and cousin Maggie, world’s greatest cheerleaders. Aunt Kay and Uncle Joe, for a sunny place in winter to dream up this book. Kate, the world’s greatest camper. John, for teaching me what it looks like to never quit, never give up. Jim and Dore, for helping me on my way. Jeannie Arlin Koster, for fluency in French. Therese McGratty, world’s best neighbor. John Fundukian, who knows about handguns. Andrew Baxley, who knows his way around Washington, D.C. Dr. Swami Mamboni, who dreamt up a cocktail with a heckuva kick. Chip Ber-schback, Jenny Emmons, and Dr. Kathleen Moore, who do heroic works. Tim and Jodi (you know why). Rand, for showing me Pagosa Springs (heaven on earth) and making all my dreams come true. And Buddy, just for being my buddy.
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