Atonement (26 page)

“You do realize there are wild dog packs in here?” Con threw over his shoulder at Cassy.

“You brought a gun, right?”

He had, but he didn't think a small-caliber pistol was going to stop pissed off dogs. During turkey season one year, a hunter had told Con about killing eight dogs in a pack, but the things had just kept on coming until he shot the lead male. That story had stuck with Con and made his blood run cold now.

Nic was out here, defenseless, hurt, and out of her mind. And it was highly likely she carried the scent of blood. A surefire way to drag a wild dog out into this kind of weather.

A sharp bark pulled him up short. He blocked Cassy's progress and listened.

“I hope to hell the sheriff is coming up that trail with something to help us get her out of here,” Cassy muttered.

“Shhh.”

There was a low growl, followed by a series of barks.

“Damn it.” Con broke into a sprint.

He crashed through the brush and entered a small clearing that had been mashed down by something. His light passed over the area and picked up three sets of glowing eyes.

“Oh bloody hell.”

Cadno was standing over Nic's body, snarling at the threats.

“Are you armed?” Con called back at Cassy.

She came alongside him, her weapon raised and directed at the glowing eyes. “How do you suggest we get her out of here and not get attacked?”

“I only see three, and I have no idea if they're dogs or not. Could be possums for all I know.”

“Cadno thinks differently.”

“They're not attacking him.”

“Then shoot one and see what happens.”

Con's body hummed with frantic energy. Did he dare fire at one?

Over the sound of the rain, he heard chattering and then the rustle of animals moving away. His flashlight caught a ringed, bushy tail as it hustled away. The fight leached from his body, and his arms sagged.

“They were raccoons,” Cassy said in relief.

“Oh, thank the blessed saints.” Con holstered his sidearm and moved to Nic. “Great job, boy.” He rewarded Cadno as the dog stepped over Nic and laid next to her.

She was covered in mud, and her hair was a wild mess half pulled back in the band. He spotted some tears in her clothing where she most likely had caught it on the underbrush. Feeling for a pulse, Con was relieved to find a steady one. His nimble fingers danced over the back of her hand and along her face until he discovered the large bump on the left side of her jawline where it merged with her neck. That tree branch must have connected with her somehow; perhaps it knocked her out of the saddle. Con lifted her eyelids and ran his light over her eyes—the pupils were dilated and not responding well.

“Looks like she has a concussion. We need to get her out of here.”

“Can you carry her?” Cassy held out her hand for his flashlight.

“As far as I need to.”

Cradling Nic's body in his arms, he hoisted her. She was heavier than he expected. Shane better be hauling it up here, because Con wasn't sure he'd be able to carry her the whole way back to the house.

With Cadno at his side and Cassy leading the way, they left the clearing and navigated their way back to the trail. Tucked safely against his chest, Nic moaned. The sound eradicated the last of Con's fears. She would be fine—she'd wake with a massive headache and probably some nausea—but she'd be fine.

When she was better and able to handle it, he'd chew her out for taking off like that. This was not trusting him to help her through her inner turmoil.

• • •

Light pierced Nic's eyes as she came out of the darkness. She winced at the probing fingers along her neck.

“Remove your hands, or I'll break your fingers.”

“Good to know you're still a shining example of being a hardhead.”

Squinting at the figure hovering above her, she made out Dr. Drummond's features through the blurry haze. What was he doing here?

Wait—where was she?

The last thing she recalled was stumbling through the timber and falling. Before that, she was bashed in the face by a tree branch. But she couldn't place why she'd been in the timber in the first place.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Nic Rivers.”

“What day it is?”

“Saturday.”

Drummond nodded. “The month?”

“October. Is there a point to this?”

“Deputy Rivers, I'm checking the severity of your concussion.”

Concussion? That tree branch did smack her a good one. When the doc's fingers hit on another tender spot she slapped his hand away. “Stop it.”

“Not until I'm satisfied that you don't have any internal bleeding. Can you tell me what happened?”

And that's where things got tricky. “Uhh, not really.”

Drummond's eyebrows lifted as he pulled back. “Nothing at all?”

“I recall getting hit by a tree branch, but no idea where I was or how it happened. Then glimpses of me staggering through the timber in the rain before falling down.”

“What do you remember before that?” The events at the parade and watching Walker kill himself flooded her mind. Closing her eyes, Nic burrowed deep into the uselessly flat pillow and turned her face away from the doc.

“I'm not talking about that.”

“Then you remember the parade?” Con's rich voice moved through her like a blast of warm air.

He sat in a chair feet away from the bed; his damp hair clung to his head. Mud speckled his clothing, arms, and face. His blue eyes held her gaze.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Whaddya think, Doc? She need an MRI?”

“Not from what I can tell. I'll keep her overnight for observation.” He began typing away on his laptop. “We'll get a room set up and get you moved there shortly.” With that, he swept out of the small room.

Nic moved to sit up. “I don't need to stay ... ” The world spun out of control, and she flopped against the pillow.

A warm hand settled on her bare arm. “Dizzy?”

The spell brought another memory forward. Someone had been taunting her. That person was the one who hit her with the branch.

“My gun.”

Con's features twisted in confusion.

“I lost my gun. I shot it, and it's why Whiskey ran off.”

“Why did you shoot your gun?”

“Someone was stalking me in the timber. I panicked and misfired, scared the crap out of my horse.” She clamped her mouth shut. Had she just admitted to accidentally discharging her firearm?

“How do you know someone was there?”

“I saw him. He was taunting me. Saying shit like, ‘Thou shalt not kill.' I think he hit me with the branch.” A headache bloomed behind her eyes. Damn, it hurt.

“Relax, Nic, or it'll just get worse.”

“Con, you believe me, right?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

He caressed her cheek with a knuckle. “It rained hard; we had a difficult time finding you, which we did only thanks to Cadno. If someone was out there, we didn't see any signs.”

“My gun is out there. That should be proof enough.”

“I'll let Shane know, and we'll look for it.”

God, she hoped they did. And maybe they would find traces of whoever was out there with her. She'd seen her attacker, felt him flip her over, then bash her with the branch. The rain might have washed away the sign of their struggle, but there had to be something left behind somewhere to prove he'd been out there. Tracks or something dropped along the way. The only way into those woods was by ATV, horse, or on foot. One thing, anything, to figure out who it was and connect that person with the suicides.

“Listen to me, Nic.”

A strange emotion flickered in Con's eyes, stirring up unwanted feelings.

“Cassy and I were more worried about what you were doing out there alone, with a gun. With everything that happened today, you running off like that made us think the worst.”

“I had to get away and decompress. I took the gun to ward off any wild dogs stupid enough to come after me, that's it.”

His Adam's apple bobbed. That hesitation and the screwed up expression on his face gave it away. It cut deep, right to the marrow. He'd thought she'd gone off to kill herself?

“Are you kidding me? You'd consider that after what I watched Walker do?”

“You haven't exactly been in a stable mindset the past few days. Hell, you about did the deed right in front of me last night. What did you expect me to think?”

“That I'm not that selfish. Oh, sure, I'll jump in the sack with you, get my itch scratched, and then off myself just for the hell of it?”

At her crude words, he pressed his back into the backrest. “When are you going to stop throwing daggers and face up to what's in front of you?”

“I don't know, maybe never.” The retort left her mouth so quickly she didn't bother to stop and think. She had to get him to leave; she didn't want him to see how his presumptions hurt.

Con rose from the chair, then stood there, staring at her like she'd grown another head, yet silent. She didn't know how much longer she could hold back the urge to sob. There was no way in hell he was going to see her cry. It would give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under her skin.

“I'm going to see what's taking them so long to get you a room.” He fled, letting the door swing shut on its own.

Nic's body sagged into the stiff ER bed. The headache turned into a raging migraine. When she closed her eyes to block out the light, tears squeezed through and trickled down the side of her face.

Damn him for making her feel like this. She wasn't supposed to care about anyone, ever again. But he'd managed to find the key and unlock that hidden door. Now her heart was involved.

And if this whack job had set his eyes on her, Con's life was in danger.

Unable to trust that she wouldn't try to make a break for it, Con stayed at the hospital to keep tabs on Nic. As the night crept along, she slept undisturbed, even when the nurses came to record her vitals. Perhaps Dr. Drummond had slipped Nic a sedative to keep her calm. With all that culminated over the day, it was a miracle she slept so soundly. Although Con couldn't remember a moment when she woke from a nightmare the night before while she was with him. Could it be that, in her unconscious state at least, she was comfortable and safe with him?

Wincing, he adjusted his body to find a relaxing position. Obviously the hospital chairs weren't meant for comfort. Where Nic slept like the dead, Con couldn't get any shut-eye. His mind whirled with unanswered questions and lingering worry over her.

She'd had every right to be mad at him for thinking the worst of her reasons for taking off into the woods. What he couldn't figure out was why her reaction to his assumptions tonight was different than when she stood at the bluff. He'd seen her inch toward that edge, her body leaning forward, like she wanted to jump. He knew what he saw. But then she'd denied his accusations that she was thinking of committing suicide. Tonight she lashed out in anger. That wasn't the reaction of a person ready to end her life.

The hospital bed rustled as Nic rolled onto her side. Except for a single probe attached to her finger, she wasn't hooked up to any machines. Though Con didn't think an IV line would hurt her any. Far as he could observe, she hadn't eaten a bite since their shared breakfast before she bolted home to change into her uniform.

Yawning and stretching, Con peeked at his watch. Another hour approached, and the next nurse would be in to chicken-scratch Nic's progress. Damn, he needed to get some sleep. He let his head recline against the overstuffed headrest and closed his eyes.

Think good thoughts, relaxing thoughts.
Like how good Nic looked naked. Or how her laugh made him feel younger than his thirty-eight years.

The soft whoosh of the door opening and closing brought him to full awareness. He was startled to see that he'd dozed for a half hour. So, why was the nurse late … ? Con tensed at the size of the figure standing over Nic's bed. Ready to tackle the man, Con hesitated as the other turned enough for him to glimpse his face in the room's dim lighting.

“Mr. Rivers, sir, what are you doing here?”

Keeping his hands clasped behind him in a posture that told of his many years as a marine officer, William Rivers didn't divert his attention from his daughter. In the glow of the lights Con swore he saw anguish covering the general's face.

“When she was born, I stood watch over her tiny body while she slept. Every time she hesitated to take a breath, my heart stopped.”

He reached out and gently brushed back a lock of hair from Nic's cheek. Con waited with bated breath to see if Nic woke, but she never stirred.

“Her mother teased that, given half a chance, I would have put Nicolette under lock and key and allowed no one but myself and her mother near her.”

Slowly, Con got up from the chair and inched closer to the bed. “What changed all of that?”

William returned to his rigid posture. “Denise's death.” He looked at Con, his movements sharp and precise, like a robot. “You watch over her like you mean to protect her from all harm.”

“She's had no one for a long time. I felt it my duty to be here.”

“Having no one was of her own doing. She was the one who pushed us away.”

Con bristled at the man's callous attitude. “And why's that,
sir
? What could have possibly been the motivation for Nic to leave her family behind and pretend as if they didn't exist?”

The hard-ass general who commanded men and respect was revealed in that moment.

“That, Detective, is none of your concern.” William about-faced and began to march out of the room.

“When she wakes, I'll be sure to mention that you paid her a visit.”