Under Currents

by Nora Roberts

  “I’d sign up for that. I’m not what anybody’d call a delicate-type flower, but I’d like to learn some real self-defense. No telling where my work takes me. And my daughter, Reanne? She’s got her real estate license now, just started working with Charmaine. You know Charmaine.”

  “Yes, I do. She helped me get this place.”

  “Well, my Reanne’s hardly as big as a minute and as pretty as strawberry shortcake. I wouldn’t worry so much if she knew how to defend herself.”

  When Darby finally steered Rochelle toward locks, they agreed on dead bolts, front and back. Then Micah arrived and set off another spate of conversation.

  Thinking of the work still on her plate, she managed to nudge him inside when Rochelle started drilling.

  “Okay, well, what I figure is I just need a basic alarm deal. Something to scare off anybody who tries to get in.”

  “I could do that.” Micah scratched at his goatee. “And Zane would have my ass. He’s pretty freaked, Darby, so you gotta cut him a break.” He held up both hands before she could object. “First that asshole Bigelow goes after you, and now some other asshole breaks into your house. The guy’s entitled to a break, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What I’m going for here is a nice compromise.” He added a winning smile. “That’s what life’s about, am I right? My man Zane, he’d like to see you with the works, like video surveillance, a motion detector—”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I get it, I get it. You just want noise to scare off the assholes. So I’m saying, let’s meet in the middle. I can give you the noise—somebody tries to compromise the locks or breaks a window, tries to bust in the door, alarm starts screaming. Zane says, if you were sleeping, that might not wake you up.”

  “I don’t sleep that solid! I … crap. Maybe, maybe not.”

  “So I add a couple bells and whistles. I can fix it up so the alarm triggers the lights. House lights up. And the alarm signals Lee’s phone.”

  “I don’t want to bother Lee with—”

  “Compromise. Odds are word’s going to get around you’ve got a system—in fact it’s gonna get around ’cause I’m going to mouth off about it. I can’t see anybody trying to get in again. So it’s compromise time. Otherwise, Zane’s going to badger you until you cave to shut him up. Lawyer, right, they’ll argue you brainless.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I want a Coke. Let’s get a Coke.”

  She walked back to the kitchen, opened the fridge.

  “Hey, it looks good in here. Man, if these colors don’t wake you up in the morning, nothing will. I like it.”

  “Me, too.” She handed him a Coke. She’d calculated a ballpark for the basic she’d aimed for. Now she studied Micah as she chugged Coke. “What’s the estimate for the compromise?”

  When he named a price, she sighed. “Micah, that’s under what I figured for the basic deal. Come on.”

  “You get the friends and family discount. It’s how I roll. Plus, I need one of those trees like you got Zane for his office. It’s cool. Cassie’s gonna make us a nice big pot for it.”

  She let out another breath. “Looks like we’ve got a deal.”

  “Solid.” He gave her a fist bump. “You know what else I’d do, living back up here?”

  “What?”

  “You ever thought about getting a dog?”

  She poked a finger in his chest. “Yes! But then getting the business going, and I spend a lot of time at Zane’s.”

  “We had a dog when I was a kid. I think Zane loved that dog more than I did, and we were all crazy for Betsy. He wanted a dog, but that was a big no in his house, so he’d come over to hang with Betsy as much as hang with me.”

  “Really?”

  “He made some noises after he came back about getting himself a dog, but said since he was gone all day, it didn’t seem fair. You getting one? That sounds like another compromise. So happens I got a friend who fosters dogs and cats.”

  With another winning smile, Micah drained his Coke.

  PART FOUR

  HEALING TRUTHS

  Healing is a matter of time,

  but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity.

  —HIPPOCRATES

  This above all:

  to thine own self be true.

  —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Zane drove up the long, winding road toward home figuring he deserved a very large drink, considering not only the day he’d put in but the evening he’d have to spend on insane party preparations.

  Even as he made the last turn, the wild, deep-throated barking tore through the quiet. Something bounded around from the back of the house, a blur of black-and-white speed.

  And teeth, Zane noted as it bared them when he parked.

  He took a good long look from the pathetic safety of a convertible with the top down as Darby came on the run.

  “Zod! Stop.” And clapped her hands twice.

  The thing that might be a dog stopped barking, looked back at Darby with a face that appeared to have been smooshed together by a strong, jagged vice.

  “Sit!” she ordered, and it did, sort of wagging a stub of a tail. When she leaned down to give it a pet, it stared up at her with huge, protruding eyes full of adoration.

  “Is that a dog?” Zane asked as he—slowly, carefully—got out of the car.

  “Yes. He doesn’t bite. He was just letting me know someone was coming. I didn’t mean to do it,” she continued in a rush. “I swear on all that’s holy I only meant to take a look, then depending, maybe we’d have a conversation. Then he … hell.”

  “You’re sure it’s a dog?”

  “Of course it’s a dog. He’s General Zod.”

  “From the Phantom Zone by way of Krypton?”

  “Vicky’s kids named him.”

  “Vicky.”

  “You went to school with her. Micah—it’s really his fault.”

  “Okay.” Crouching, Zane took a longer look. The smooshed face was mostly white, like the stubby tail. The rest of him, about twenty-five pounds of compact muscle on legs slightly less stubby than the tail, was a streaky mix of black and white. The bulbous eyes gleamed like saucers full of oil.

  “This is one homely dog.”

  “I know. I thought, barking dog, another security measure, and I’d been thinking about getting a dog once I had time to train one. A puppy maybe that I could train from the ground up not to dig or run off. Then Micah brought up dog, and how he had this friend who fosters. I was just going to check it out.”

  “Zod.” Watching the dog, Zane patted his knee. The dog trotted right over, licked his hand with a wide, wet tongue. “Security measure?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, as you’ve already seen, he barks like a maniac—but stops when you tell him to stop. That was a key. And he doesn’t bite, he’s good around kids—Vicky has two sets of twins. “

  As Zane scratched Zod’s pointy little ears, the dog moaned as if in deep, desperate pleasure. Those weird eyes gleamed as he rested his chin on Zane’s knee.

  “See! He does that! Looks at you like you’re the center of the world. And Vicky said he’s never dug in any of her flowers. He’s house-trained, good with other dogs and people. He sort of tries to herd them, but he’s gentle. He likes riding in the truck. That was another requirement because he’d go to work with me. He did really well when I took him on the job today—and I should have talked to you first.”

  “We weren’t allowed to have pets when I was a kid.”

  “Micah told me.”

  “I couldn’t get a dog in Raleigh, living in a condo, at work more than I was home. I figured when I got one, maybe a Lab or retriever. You know…” He opened his arms to indicate size. “A dog.”

  After rubbing his way down the strange muscular body, earning more grateful moans, Zane rose. “General Zod,” he muttered, and had Zod wagging all over.

  “Vicky’s had him about three months. The peopl
e who owned him decided they didn’t want a dog after all. He was about a year old, so they took him to the pound. He was on, you know, death row when Vicky rescued him. It’s what she does. I’ll take him out and feed him and all the stuff when I’m here.”

  Zod plopped down, rolled on his back in the grass.

  “Why should you get all the fun?”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Why would I be? Jesus, he’s what my grandmother would call ugly as homemade sin. I kind of like that about him.” He bent, rubbed the wide head. “Kneel before Zod!”

  With a laugh, Darby threw her arms around Zane, had the dog worming his way between them, then Zod lifted his head high, let out a long howl.

  “What the hell kind of dog is he?”

  “She wasn’t sure. Maybe some bulldog, maybe some beagle, maybe a bunch of a lot more. I was just showing him around, trying out the woods for his personal business.”

  “Good idea. Let’s get a drink and walk the dog.”

  “He has a quirk,” she warned as they walked around the house with Zod between them.

  Amused, Zane watched the dog manage a kind of prance on those weird legs. “Darlin’, he is a quirk.”

  “He steals any article of human clothing that ends up on the floor. He doesn’t chew them, just hordes them in his dog bed. He likes to sleep with a sock or a T-shirt that smells like people. He’ll even get something out of the hamper if he can manage it. If you try to take it back before morning, he howls until you give it back.”

  “I can handle that one.” He looked down at her and the dog between them, and felt pretty good about it. “Anything else?”

  “Well, you don’t want to say t-r-e-a-t unless you’ve got one handy because he goes a little nuts.”

  “Have we got any?”

  “Vicky gave me a bag. I put a couple in my pocket in case I needed to lure him off the lawn into the woods.”

  “Okay then. Treat.”

  For an instant, Zod froze—the world’s homeliest dog statue—then to Zane’s complete delight bounced a good foot in the air like a dog on springs, his eyes wild and wide with mad glee. When the treat didn’t magically appear, he continued to bounce, managed an ungainly flip in midair.

  “Circus dog. Let him have it.”

  Obliging, Darby tossed one. Zod snatched it, ran in circles, then gobbled it.

  “He’s ugly,” Zane decided, draping an arm around Darby’s shoulders, “but he’s sure entertaining.”

  And the boy inside the man reached into Darby’s pocket and, grinning, said, “Treat!”

  * * *

  Just after dawn, with a day of party preparations ahead of her, Darby headed to the job site. A couple of hours, she calculated, would finish up most of the work ahead of schedule, give her canine companion more experience on the job, and get her back to Zane with more than enough time to set up for the evening festivities.

  Zod sat beside her in the truck, his pointy little ears vibrating in the air blowing through the open windows. As she turned away from town, took the quiet road beyond the lake that led into the hills, she decided she and Zod made a pretty lucky pair.

  They’d both found their place.

  Behind them, the sun rose up, shedding light on what promised to be a pretty damn perfect summer day.

  “Lots of kids later, Zod, and dogs, too. We’re going to have one terrific Fourth of—”

  She slammed on the brakes. As Zod yipped in surprise, she swung to the side of the road. She’d seen the woman, bruises covering her face, rush into the trees in a limping run as the truck approached.

  “Wait,” Darby said as much to Zod as the woman, and jumped out of the truck. “I won’t hurt you! You need help. I could see you’re hurt.” Pushing back her instinct to rush forward, Darby stood beside the truck.

  She’d only gotten a glimpse, but she’d seen fear in the blackened, swollen eyes.

  “Let me help you. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I’m Darby. Someone hurt me once, and I needed help. Let me help you.”

  She heard the rustle, made herself stand still. “Or I’ll call someone for you. I’ll call whoever you want, and stay here until they come.”

  She caught another glimpse—thin, bruised face, long dishwater blond hair. “I can’t go the way you’re going. They might see me.”

  “We’ll turn around and go the other way. Anywhere you want. Look, how about if I turn the truck around now? I’ll turn it around so we’re going in the right direction. You’re hurt. I can’t leave you here alone. I’ll just turn the truck around, okay?”

  With her heart hammering, she got back in the truck.

  Don’t run, she thought, please don’t run, as she made a slow, careful U-turn.

  “I don’t know you.”

  “I’m Darby. Darby McCray. I moved to Lakeview last February. I can call someone and wait right here if you don’t want me to drive you somewhere.”

  She came out cautiously, with those battered eyes tracking from Darby to the dog.

  “His name’s Zod. He’s awfully sweet. He won’t hurt you.”

  To make sure he didn’t bark, Darby stroked him while the woman’s eyes darted back up the road. With that limping run, she dashed to the truck, pulled herself inside.

  “Can you drive away from here?” The words poured out in a shaking rush. “Just drive away?”

  “Sure.” Nice and easy, Darby thought. Keep it nice, easy, calm. “I can take you to the clinic,” Darby began as she drove. “Or the police, or—”

  “No, no, no.”

  “Okay, don’t worry. We won’t go anywhere you don’t want. Do you have family?”

  “I can’t go there. They’d find me there.”

  “All right.” As Darby spoke, her voice soft, Zod licked at one of the woman’s shaking hands, then laid his head in her lap.

  She began to weep.

  “You can go home with me, or…”

  With that shaking hand, the woman reached in her pocket, drew out a creased business card. “Can you take me there? To him?”

  When she scanned the card, Darby let out a breath. “Are you Traci, Traci Draper? Don’t be afraid,” she said quickly when the woman grabbed the truck handle as if she’d fling open the door and jump. “I know Zane. He’s a friend. He told me he was worried about you, and why. I can take you to him. He’s—we’re…” How to say it? “We’re together. He won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Traci gathered up Zod, rocked, and clung to the dog. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re doing it. You’re getting help.”

  “If they find me … Why are you turning here!” Panic pitched her voice high. “This isn’t right.”

  “It’s where Zane lives. He’s not at the office in town now. It’s too early, and it’s a holiday so he’s still home. I just came from here. He’s at home. It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  Reassure, connect, and take it slow, Darby told herself.

  “I met your mom, and your sister. They’re awfully nice.”

  “He said he’d kill them, kill them and me if I tried to go to them. He’ll kill them.”

  “We won’t let that happen, Traci. We’ll stop him. We’re going to stop him. See, that’s Zane’s car. We’re going to go inside, and you can tell him what happened.”

  Clutching the dog tighter, Traci twisted to look behind the truck. “Clint will try to kill him if he finds out I came here.”

  “Don’t worry. Nobody knows you’re here. We’re going inside,” she said after she parked. “And we’re going to figure out the best thing to do.”

  She got out, hurried around to help Traci out of the truck. “Zane may not be up yet, but I have a key. I stay here sometimes.”

  With Zod leading the way in his happy prance, she guided Traci to the front door, unlocked it, dealt with the alarm.

  “That was quick.” Wearing only cotton pants and carrying a mug of coffee, Zane wandered out of the kitchen. “Christ,
Traci.” He rushed forward, slowing when Traci cringed back against Darby’s supporting arm.

  He gentled his voice. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Let’s get you back, get you some water. Maybe some coffee.”

  He walked ahead of them. He’d not only survived physical abuse, but had prosecuted abusers, interviewed their victims. She might not want a man to touch her or come too close.

  Relieved that Darby seemed to understand, he split off to get the water, to grab a T-shirt out of the mudroom while she guided Traci to the great room sofa.

  Zod, eyes full of love, laid his head on the sofa next to Traci’s leg.

  “He—he’s a nice dog.”

  “He really is. Do you want some coffee?”

  “Just the water please. Thank you. I don’t know what to do.”

  “We’re going to figure that out,” Zane told her as he brought the water, offered it. Then offered an ice bag. “Where else are you hurt, Traci?”

  “He hit me in the stomach a lot, and when I fell, I banged up my knee. It hurts, and my arm where he grabbed me. He got mad last night. He was drinking and he got really mad. He didn’t like what I made for dinner, and his mama said I only worked in the garden for an hour. They watch me.”

  Even though she gripped the glass with both hands, it trembled as she brought it up, took slow sips.

  “He said I was lazy and no good, and he started beating on me. And I thought this time he might just kill me. And he made me have sex with him and it hurt, everything hurt, and he hit me again because he said the sex was bad and how I was just a whore anyway.”

  When fresh tears began to spill, Darby put an arm around her.

  “I thought if I don’t just die I gotta get out.”

  “Is he home now?”

  Traci lifted her blackened eyes to Zane, shook her head.

  “I couldn’t’ve gotten out if he’d been home. He left real early to go hunting with his brother and his daddy. If I’m not out in the garden working in an hour or so, or hanging out the wash, his mama or his sister-in-law will come over looking for me. They watch me from their houses, and they tell him if I don’t do what he says, or if I talk to anybody.