Approaching Menace (13 page)

Since his back muscles stiffened, she released her hold.

Colin let go a deep breath and surprised her as his arms came up around her neck.

She struggled to withhold tears. Her brother did not try to hold back his rasping cough while he held tight, and she clasped his slim body, feeling its tremble.

An hour later she watched him looking peaceful in sleep. Josie left his bedroom and in the kitchen considered her options. Foremost came what she’d planned back in Nashville. She wanted to become a fashion designer.

Months ago, when she and Andrew spoke of getting married, he’d said he supported her passion. If she wanted to study designing, he would relocate with her near a school that offered a degree. He could get a job as a bank teller almost anywhere, and with all the praise he’d been getting from his supervisors, he might soon be able to move up in the ranks of banking.

But becoming a fashion designer was no longer feasible. Josie needed employment. She needed it now. And her job had to be in or near the town of Windswept. A saddened laugh escaped her lips when she envisioned Sylvie being in full charge of Colin, putting his concerns before her own. If Josie had any idea of how flighty their mother had become, she would have come home sooner. Now that she was back, she could not, would not leave her brother. But she needed more time with Andrew.

Drifting outside, she gazed at the sky that now bore only the bruised colors of evening.

* * *

Josie appeared to be looking at gray clouds but did not seem to notice them. She appeared deep in thought.

What was she thinking?

The man watching tried to make out her mood. Not quite fearful. But her pondering gaze made her seem to be considering some concerns.

The evening made it more difficult to see her clearly, yet the man smiled, lifting his new purchase. The binoculars allowed him a near enough view.

Humid air made her curls springy. Her lips squeezed together but her eyes were what he aimed for.

Her focus was up.

Josie’s eyes, those golden-brown beacons that often spread so wide her stalker thought he could see inside her through the pupils, appeared to be reaching for some answer. She wasn’t checking the weather.

Turning her head toward her house and cocking her small chin, she could have been studying some object. But a scrutiny of her face told him that what she investigated was inside her.

Her left hand went to her blouse. Her fingers moved, lingering on its buttons.

You know I’m watching.

And you want me.

Now!

His stomach convulsed with quivers and the binoculars bumped his eye sockets. The urge hit him to rush out to her now, to do what he’d done before. But she would be better. Much better.

Only Josie could show him the ultimate vision.

And now she was waiting. Teasing. Tempting him.

The message returned. That last doctor, in Natchez, spoke the words. “Don’t. Whenever you get the urge, tell yourself no! I won’t do it.”

The man watching her heard the inner voice: “No, no, no!”

Yes, he would.

But at the moment, her mother and the boy were inside the house.

He could deal with them. He could kill those two with no problem.

But he didn’t want to, not unless it became a necessity.

Once he and Josie got together, he wanted no interruptions. He would have her all to himself.

Trembling, he studied her. With her head bent but chin lowering, she was searching. Not for some answer to life’s problems, but for him.

“I’m right here, Josie,” he whispered. “You only have to wait for me a little while longer. And then you and I will be together.”

* * *

The man ignored the voice back across the room. Remembering Josie on the lawn, he lifted the edge of his coat and slid his hand to the inside pocket. Glancing down, he smiled while he fingered the scarf, imagining how it would look around her neck.

“You aren’t getting your money’s worth.” Dr. Hanover’s comment made his client shove back the fabric and close his coat. He’d been annoyed for having to come here again, and now the doctor interrupted his contemplation. Anger swelled in his head. He planted his palms on the cool window frame and gave his back to Malcolm Hanover.

Moments lingered.
Tick-tock
he could almost hear the clock on Hanover’s desk counting, but Hanover’s fingers tapped louder on the wide official desktop.

Mr. Hanover, don’t be so nervous
.

The man staring out the window wanted to turn the volume on that sound system to full blast. It would drown out the tapping that kept him in tune to the present. To the shrink’s waiting.

He wanted instead to picture Josie as he had the evening before, especially when she gave that small flash of apprehension. She had seemed to be looking at him through the tunnel of his glass.

She gave that small shiver.

Her hand dropped from her blouse and she glanced around, seeming to notice where she was.

And then she dashed inside.

Dull thuds replaced the fingertips against fine wood. Hanover was thumping his pipe instead of that finger.

Thump thump thump
.

The thumping stopped. Hanover was probably packing the pipe with the intent gaze on his sweet tobacco. His index finger would take care of stray brown strands. The pipe would now clench in his teeth where it would balance. Soon it would sway down to the right corner of his mouth and he’d have that expression, the sad yearning to light up. But he could not. Not while his client was in here.

Dr. Hanover was surely counting the moments until his patient left. Then he could rush away to wherever he smoked and ignite that pungent tobacco.

His client stared out, again fingering the silken fabric. He twisted, tightening it into a nice rope. Like Hanover, he looked forward to soon reaping his reward.

“I prefer for my clients to talk. And I’ve begun to tire of staring at your back.” Hanover paused, probably expecting his customer to face him. “I feel I’m stealing your money.”

The client grinned.
As if you’d care
.

The polished shoes moved and the client readjusted himself enough to watch Hanover approaching.

The doctor stopped at the fern masses, inspected a basket, and plucked what must be dry leaves. He dropped them to a basket and lifted his face to his client.

“Let’s start with this. Some murderers change. Of course we know you were cleared of those charges. Technicalities.”

“Yes, cleared,” the client reminded, blood thumping in his head.

“But the other problem, we know. You had the original therapy and now—”

With quick movement, the client crossed to the sound system. He slammed down the button that raised the volume, making bass and percussion resonate against the dark panels.

Hanover stopped. Eyes wide, he stared at his patient.

* * *

In the dialysis center’s waiting room, Josie peered through the door pane to where efficient nurses monitored adult patients.

She was staring at the empty brown reclining chair when nurse Karen Kinchen broke into her reverie.

“The doctor’s ready,” said the woman with soft silver waves and a pink face with little makeup. “But I really hate to wake Colin.”

Josie noted Kinchen’s stance, proficient as ever while she held Colin’s folder. Today Colin’s favorite nurse wore navy slacks, a denim shirt with short sleeves, and small gold earrings. Again Josie was happy those working here wore natural clothing instead of white uniforms because they looked to be ordinary people, not the lifesavers they actually were. If anyone thought of them as lifesavers, they would have to admit the patients’ lives were at stake.

Colin dozed on the sofa in a half-sitting position with his arm crooked around a small pillow.

“I hate to wake him, too.” Josie nudged his arm. “Hey buddy, time to get up. Dr. Hagger’s waiting.”

Colin’s legs shifted. He opened his eyes and then squeezed them shut. His eyelids separated and he frowned at the women and his surroundings. Wobbling steps took him to the door marked Bathroom.

“How’s his cough?” Kinchen asked.

“Better I think,” Josie said.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll be able to get on the list soon.”

“God, I hope so. Colin needs to get a kidney.”

The door opened and he emerged, zipping his jeans. More alert now, he headed down the hallway.

The nurse leaned toward Josie. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

“I’ve crossed everything I possibly could.”

Colin asked the nurse, “Which one?”

“Door number two.”

As Colin headed there, Josie quietly told Kinchen, “We didn’t see Evan out there.” She indicated the room where she’d watched patients. “He’s usually having treatment when we come, and Colin was looking forward to seeing him. He loves the way little Evan’s face lights up when they talk about sports.”

Kinchen’s face paled. “Evan reached end-stage.”

Josie’s neck jerked like a springboard. She watched her brother stop before going in through the door. He’d heard.

The nurse’s chin quivered. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

Horror exploded through Josie’s mind. She watched her little brother lift his head, trying to be brave, as he walked into the waiting room.

Chapter 9

Later in the evening Josie heard Andrew’s bike roar into the driveway. She dashed out and grabbed the spare helmet before he had time to turn off the key. “I need to ride.”

Without question he waited for her to climb on. She circled her arms around his waist and he started off. No matter where, Josie needed to move.

A mist settled on them while Andrew swooped toward the outskirts of town. He pressed forward and she leaned, needing the wind to sweep away her thoughts. The bike clamored too loudly for speaking, but she didn’t want to talk now. Andrew veered off the exit down to the old highway, and she gazed at the gulf, her grip tightening around him, telling him thank you.

Andrew clinked his helmet back against hers.

A fat sun squatted on the rear of gathering waves and a fog made the sky’s pink and gold quiver. Josie drank in the sight. She watched foamy raised fingers trickle across aqua waves and rush shoreward. The scent of salt spray reached her, and she welcomed the flurry of wind while resting her chin on Andrew’s shoulder.

They traveled west on the Emerald Coast, passing through Fort Walton and Destin. Josie ignored the grand old houses she normally paid heed to and remained facing seaward. The pure white beaches, broad sky, and nonstop water gave her hope. Not those closed lighted homes, where healthy families probably dwelled.

After a while she was lulled. But Andrew continued westward.

New apprehensions struck Josie. Was he going all the way to Mississippi? The casinos, all strung along the coast like Christmas decorations, had been his undoing. Internet gambling had first snared him. And then one by one the casinos drew him into their pretty webs.

How hard it had been to unravel him from their tables. Queasiness jumped through Josie’s stomach, reminding. He’d been struck by the fever, and she and others worked feverishly during and after all those sessions. One day at a time. Sometimes, they could take only one hour.

She felt his bike slowing. He pulled into the parking lot of a burger joint.

They both yanked off their helmets. “Hello,” Andrew said once they dismounted. “How are you today?”

She kissed him and smiled. “Much better now, thank you.”

He led her inside, bought two ice cream cones, and guided her outside.

While they sat nibbling their favorite snack, Josie stared at the water that had turned as black as the sky. “The other boy died,” she said. “Evan, the only other kid at the center.”

Andrew stopped eating. Beyond him Josie spied an American flag still up and flapping. “When Colin heard that,” she said grimly, “he trembled.” She recalled how he had then stepped into the examination room, not mentioning a thing to her.

“When Dr. Hagger came in, Colin asked when the funeral would be. It had already taken place. He stared at the floor a moment and then acted as though nothing had happened.”

“Did you try to talk to him?”

She nodded. “On the way home I told Colin he’d lost a good buddy. But I reminded him that Evan’s condition had been worse than his. Everyone knew things could be bad.”

Andrew’s eyebrows rose.

“They couldn’t find the child a kidney,” Josie said. She stared at the water. Night calmed the waves, quelling their roar, sending them in like small roller coasters. “They kept us in the center awhile to give Colin a dialysis treatment.”

Josie looked at Andrew. “Because Colin’s respiratory problems have gotten worse.”

It was good that while Josie rode with Andrew, Sylvie was taking Colin to a movie. It was 3D, and parts of it might frighten him, but he wouldn’t show or admit it. For a while, he would live in another world, and his spirits would lift. And spending time with their mother would be positive for him.

They were asleep when Josie got home. Sylvie’s door was shut, her room dark.

Colin’s door was open. Josie went in and stood beside him. A glow from the hall fell on one cheek. He looked rested and peaceful. She fought the urge to touch him but couldn’t resist. She traced her fingers along his cheekbone.

Colin let out a sigh. His head rolled, so that his arm released his pillow. A grimace found his face.

What is his dream of?

Surely he was envisioning the child who’d been his companion during his many trips to the dialysis center. Evan, six years old, had always seemed smaller and frailer than other kids his age. Evan perked up around Colin. But now Evan was dead.

Tears sprang to Josie’s eyes. She backed away from her brother’s room.

In the morning Josie slunk through the hall to her table. There her mind might seek answers for Colin’s problems, which included her own. She needed a job to help pay for expenses. Colin needed a kidney.

Soon.

Simply one kidney. How hard could that be to find?

But first his respiratory system must get better.