Blindsighted Read online

  Jeb said, “I’ll tell you what, Sara, if you ever looked at me the way you’re looking at my boat right now, I’d have to marry you.”

  She laughed at herself, saying, “It’s a very pretty boat.”

  He pulled out a picnic basket and said, “I’d offer to take you for a ride, but it’s a bit nippy on the water.”

  “We can sit here,” she said, indicating the chairs and table on the edge of the dock. “Do I need to get silverware or anything?”

  Jeb smiled. “I know you better than that, Sara Linton.” He opened the picnic basket and took out silverware and napkins. He had also had the foresight to bring plates and glasses. Sara tried not to lick her lips when he pulled out fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, corn, and biscuits.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked.

  Jeb stopped, his hand on a tub of gravy. “Is it working?”

  The dogs barked, and all Sara could think was, Thank God for small favors. She turned back to the house, saying, “They never bark. I’ll just go check.”

  “You want me to come, too?”

  Sara was about to tell him no but changed her mind. She had not been making that part up about the dogs. Billy and Bob had barked exactly twice since she had rescued them from the racing track in Ebro; once when Sara had accidentally stepped on Bob’s tail, and once when a bird had flown down the chimney into the living room.

  She felt Jeb’s hand at her back as they walked up the yard toward the house. The sun was just dipping down over the roofline, and she shielded her eyes with her hand, recognizing Brad Stephens standing at the edge of the driveway.

  “Hey, Brad,” Jeb said.

  The patrolman gave a curt nod to Jeb, but his eyes were on Sara.

  “Brad?” she asked.

  “Ma’am.” Brad took off his hat. “The chief’s been shot.”

  Sara had never really pushed the Z3 Roadster. Even when she drove it back from Atlanta, the speedometer had stayed at a steady seventy-five the entire way. She was doing ninety as she drove the back route to the Grant Medical Center. The ten-minute drive seemed to take hours, and by the time Sara made the turn into the hospital, her palms were sweating on the wheel.

  She pulled into a handicap space at the side of the building so she would not block the ambulance doors. Sara was running by the time she reached the emergency room.

  “What happened?” she asked Lena Adams, who was standing in front of the admitting desk. Lena opened her mouth to answer, but Sara ran past her into the hallway. She checked each room as she went by, finally finding Jeffrey in the third exam room.

  Ellen Bray did not seem surprised to see Sara in the room. The nurse was putting a blood pressure cuff around his arm when Sara walked in.

  Sara put her hand on Jeffrey’s forehead. His eyes opened slightly, but he did not seem to register her presence.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Ellen handed Sara the chart, saying, “Buckshot to his leg. Nothing serious or they would’ve taken him to Augusta.”

  Sara glanced down at the chart. Her eyes wouldn’t focus. She couldn’t even make out the columns.

  “Sara?” Ellen said, her voice filled with compassion. She had worked in the Augusta emergency room most of her career. She was in semiretirement now, supplementing her pension by working nights at the Grant Medical Center. Sara had worked with her years ago, and the two women had a solid professional relationship built on mutual respect.

  Ellen said, “He’s fine, really. The Demerol should knock him out soon. Most of his pain is coming from Hare digging around in his leg.”

  “Hare?” Sara asked, feeling a little relief for the first time in the last twenty minutes. Her cousin Hareton was a general practitioner who sometimes filled in at the hospital. “Is he here?”

  Ellen nodded, pumping the cuff’s bladder. She held up her finger for silence.

  Jeffrey stirred, then slowly opened his eyes. When he recognized Sara, a slight smile crept across his lips.

  Ellen released the blood pressure cuff, saying, “One-forty-five over ninety-two.”

  Sara frowned, looking back at Jeffrey’s chart. The words finally started to make sense.

  “I’ll go fetch Dr. Earnshaw,” Ellen said.

  “Thanks,” Sara said, flipping the chart open. “When did you start on Coreg?” she asked. “How long have you had high blood pressure?”

  Jeffrey smiled slyly. “Since you walked into the room.”

  Sara skimmed the chart. “Fifty milligrams a day. You just switched from captopril? Why did you stop?” She got the answer in the chart. “ ‘Nonproductive cough prompted change,’ ” she read aloud.

  Hare walked into the room, saying, “That’s common with ACE inhibitors.”

  Sara ignored her cousin as he put his arm around her shoulders.

  She asked Jeffrey, “Who are you seeing for this?”

  “Lindley,” Jeffrey answered.

  “Did you tell him about your father?” Sara snapped the chart closed. “I can’t believe he didn’t give you an inhaler. What’s your cholesterol like?”

  “Sara.” Hare snatched the chart from her hands. “Shut up.”

  Jeffrey laughed. “Thank you.”

  Sara crossed her arms, anger welling up. She had been so worried on the drive over, expecting the worst, and now that she was here, Jeffrey was fine. She was inordinately relieved that he was okay, but for some reason she was feeling tricked by her emotions.

  “Lookit,” Hare said, popping an X ray into the light box mounted on the wall. He gasped audibly, saying, “Oh my God, that’s the worst I’ve ever seen.”

  Sara cut him with a look, turning the X ray right side up.

  “Oh, thank God.” Hare sighed dramatically. When he saw she wasn’t enjoying his sideshow, he frowned. The thing that made Sara both love and hate her cousin was he seldom took things very seriously.

  Hare said, “Missed his artery, missed his bone. Cut right through here on the inside.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Nothing bad at all.”

  Sara ignored the evaluation, leaning closer to double-check Hare’s findings. Aside from the fact that her relationship with her cousin had always been riddled with fierce competition, she wanted to make sure for herself that nothing had been missed.

  “Let’s turn you over on your left side,” Hare suggested to Jeffrey, waiting for Sara to help. Sara kept Jeffrey’s injured right leg stable as they turned him, offering, “This should help bring your blood pressure down a little. Are you due for your medication tonight?”

  Jeffrey supplied, “I’m late on a few doses.”

  “Late?” Sara felt her own blood pressure rise. “Are you an idiot?”

  “I ran out,” Jeffrey mumbled.

  “Ran out? You’re within walking distance of the pharmacy.” She leveled a deep frown at Jeffrey. “What were you thinking?”

  “Sara?” Jeffrey interrupted. “Did you come all the way over here to yell at me?”

  She did not have an answer.

  Hare suggested, “Maybe she can give you a second opinion on whether or not you should go home tonight?”

  “Ah.” Jeffrey’s eyes crinkled with a smile. “Well, since you’re giving a second opinion, Dr. Linton, I’ve been experiencing some tenderness in my groin. Do you mind taking a look?”

  Sara offered a tight smile. “I could do a rectal exam.”

  “It’s about time you got your turn.”

  “Je-e-sus,” Hare groaned. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds alone.”

  “Thanks, Hare,” Jeffrey called. Hare tossed a wave over his shoulder as he left the room.

  “So,” Sara began, crossing her arms.

  Jeffrey raised an eyebrow. “So?”

  “What happened? Did her husband come home?”

  Jeffrey laughed, but there was a strained look in his eyes. “Close the door.”

  Sara did as she was told. “What happened?” she repeated.

  Jeffrey put his hand to h
is eyes. “I don’t know. It was so fast.”

  Sara took a step closer, taking his hand despite her better judgment.

  “Will Harris’s house was vandalized today.”

  “Will from the diner?” Sara asked. “For God’s sake, why?”

  He shrugged. “I guess some people got it into their heads that he was involved with what happened to Sibyl Adams.”

  “He wasn’t even there when it happened,” Sara answered, not understanding. “Why would anyone think that?”

  “I don’t know, Sara.” He sighed, dropping his hand. “I knew something bad would happen. Too many people are jumping to conclusions. Too many people are pushing this thing out of hand.”

  “Like who?”

  “I don’t know,” he managed. “I was staying at Will’s house to make sure he was safe. We were watching a movie when I heard something outside.” He shook his head, as if he still could not believe what had happened. “I got up off the couch to see what was going on, and one of the side windows just exploded like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Next thing I know, I’m on the floor, my leg’s on fire. Thank God Will was sitting in his chair or he would’ve been hit, too.”

  “Who did it?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, but she could tell from the set of his jaw that he had a good guess.

  She was about to question him further when he reached his hand out, resting it on her hip. “You look beautiful.”

  Sara felt a small jolt of electricity as his thumb slipped under her shirt, stroking her side. His fingers slipped under the back of her shirt. They were warm against her skin.

  “I had a date,” she said, feeling a rush of guilt for leaving Jeb at her house. He had been very understanding, as usual, but she still felt bad about abandoning him.

  Jeffrey watched her through half-closed eyes. He either did not believe her about the date or he would not accept that it could have been anything serious. “I love it when your hair is down,” he said. “Did you know that?”

  “Yeah,” she said, putting her hand over his, stopping him, breaking the spell. “Why didn’t you tell me you have high blood pressure?”

  Jeffrey let his arm drop. “I didn’t want to give you one more fault to add to your list.” His smile was a little forced and incongruous with the glassy look in his eyes. Like Sara, he seldom took anything stronger than aspirin, and the Demerol seemed to be working fast.

  “Give me your hand,” Jeffrey said. She shook her head, but he persisted, holding his hand out to her. “Hold my hand.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because you could’ve seen me at the morgue tonight instead of the hospital.”

  Sara bit her lip, fighting back the tears that wanted to come. “You’re okay now,” she said, putting her hand to his cheek. “Go to sleep.”

  He closed his eyes. She could tell that he was fighting to stay awake for her benefit.

  “I don’t want to go to sleep,” he said, then fell asleep.

  Sara stared at him, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. She reached out, smoothing his hair back off his forehead, leaving her hand there for a few seconds before putting her palm to his cheek. His beard was coming in, a speckled black against his face and neck. She brushed her fingers lightly along the stubble, smiling at the memories that came. Sleeping, he reminded her of the Jeffrey she had fallen in love with: the man who listened to her talk about her day, the man who opened doors for her and killed spiders and changed the batteries in the smoke detectors. Sara finally took his hand and kissed it before leaving the room.

  She took her time walking back up the hallway toward the nurses’ station, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. The clock on the wall showed she had been here an hour, and Sara realized with a start that she was back on hospital time, where eight hours went by like eight seconds.

  “He asleep?” Ellen asked.

  Sara leaned her elbows on the counter of the admitting desk. “Yeah,” she answered. “He’ll be okay.”

  Ellen smiled. “Sure he will.”

  “There you are,” Hare said, rubbing Sara’s shoulders. “How’s it feel to be in a real hospital with the big doctors?”

  Sara exchanged a look with Ellen. “You’ll have to excuse my cousin, Ellen. What he lacks in hair and height he makes up for by being an asshole.”

  “Ow.” Hare winced, pressing his thumbs into Sara’s shoulders. “Want to fill in for me while I run out for a bite to eat?”

  “What’ve we got?” Sara asked, thinking that going home right now probably was not the best thing for her.

  Ellen gave a small smile. “We’ve got a frequent flier getting fluorescent light therapy in two.”

  Sara laughed out loud. In the obscure language of hospital lingo, Ellen had just informed her that the patient in room two was a hypochondriac who had been left to stare at the overhead lights until he felt better.

  “Microdeckia,” Hare concluded. The patient was not playing with a full deck.

  “What else?”

  “Some kid from the college sleeping off a long one,” Ellen said.

  Sara turned to Hare. “I don’t know if I can take these complicated cases.”

  He chucked her under her chin. “There’s a girl.”

  “I guess I should go move my car,” Sara said, remembering she had parked in the handicap spot. As every cop in town knew the car she drove, Sara doubted she was likely to get a ticket. Still, she wanted to walk outside for some fresh air, take some time to collect her thoughts, before she went back in to check on Jeffrey.

  “How is he?” Lena asked as soon as Sara walked into the waiting room. Sara looked around, surprised to see the room was empty but for Lena.

  “We kept it off the radio,” Lena provided. “This kind of thing…” She let her voice trail off.

  “This kind of thing what?” Sara prompted. “Am I missing something here, Lena?”

  Lena looked away nervously.

  “You know who did it, huh?” Sara asked.

  Lena shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

  “That’s where Frank is? Taking care of business?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He dropped me off here.”

  “Pretty easy not to know what’s going on when you don’t bother to ask,” Sara snapped. “I guess the fact that Jeffrey could’ve died tonight is lost on you.”

  “I know that.”

  “Yeah?” Sara demanded. “Who was watching his back, Lena?”

  Lena started to answer, but she turned away before saying anything.

  Sara slammed the emergency room doors open with her hands, feeling anger well up. She knew exactly what was going on here. Frank knew who was responsible for shooting Jeffrey, but he was keeping his mouth closed out of some obscure sense of loyalty, probably to Matt Hogan. What was going through Lena’s mind, Sara could not begin to guess. After everything Jeffrey had done for her, to have Lena turn her back on him like this was inexcusable.

  Sara took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she walked around to the side of the hospital. Jeffrey could have been killed. The glass could have sliced through his femoral artery and he could have bled to death. For that matter, the original shot could have gone into his chest instead of through the window. Sara wondered what Frank and Lena would be doing now if Jeffrey had died. Probably drawing straws to see who got his desk.

  “Oh, God.” Sara stopped short at the sight of her car. Lying on the hood of Sara’s car was a nude young woman with her arms spread out. She was on her back, her feet crossed at the ankle in an almost casual pose. Sara’s first instinct was to look up to see if the woman had jumped from one of the windows. There were no windows on this side of the two-story building, though, and the hood of the car showed no signs of impact.

  Sara took three quick steps to the car, checking the woman’s pulse. A fast, hard beat came under Sara’s fingers, and she muttered a small prayer before running back into the hospital.

  “Lena!
”

  Lena jumped up, fists clenched, as if she expected Sara to come over and start a fight.

  “Get a stretcher,” Sara ordered. When Lena did not move, Sara yelled, “Now!”

  Sara jogged back to the woman, half expecting her to be gone. Everything was moving in slow time for Sara, even the wind in her hair.

  “Ma’am?” Sara called to the woman, raising her voice loud enough to be heard across town. The woman did not respond. “Ma’am?” Sara tried again. Still nothing.

  Sara assessed the body, seeing no immediate signs of trauma. The skin was pink and ruddy, very hot to the touch despite the night cold. With her arms out and feet crossed as they were, the woman could’ve been sleeping. In the bright light, Sara could make out crusted blood around the palms of the woman’s hands. Sara lifted one of the hands to examine it, and the arm moved awkwardly to the side. There was an obvious dislocation at the shoulder.

  Sara looked back at the woman’s face and was startled to notice that a silver piece of duct tape had been wrapped around her mouth. Sara couldn’t remember if the tape had been there before she had gone back into the hospital. Surely she would’ve noticed it before. Something like a taped mouth wasn’t easily overlooked, especially when the tape was at least two inches across by four inches long and dark silver. For just a brief second, Sara felt paralyzed, but Lena Adams’s voice brought her back to reality.

  “It’s Julia Matthews,” Lena said, but her voice sounded far away to Sara.

  “Sara?” Hare asked, walking quickly over to the car. His mouth dropped open at the sight of the nude woman.

  “Okay, okay,” Sara mumbled, trying to get herself calm. She shot Hare a look of sheer panic, which he returned in kind. Hare was used to an occasional overdose or heart attack, nothing like this.

  As if to remind them both of where they were, the woman’s body began to convulse.

  “She’s going to be sick,” Sara said, picking at the edge of the tape. Without pausing, she ripped off the tape. In one swift motion, she rolled the woman onto her side and held her head down as she vomited in fits and starts. A sour smell came, almost like bad cider or beer, and Sara had to turn away to take a breath.