Body Search (15 page)

“Did he say anything?” Dale snapped, clearly frus
trated with the vague description. When she shook her head, he cursed. “What the hell did he want?”

“What do you think he wants, Dale?” Tansy demanded, her temper spiking. “He wants you or me dead. Or maybe he was willing to include Hazel on his list. Are you the target? Is this about your parents? If so, why hasn’t he gone after Trask? Or is this about the outbreak? How much do we really know about this developer fellow? He’s the only outsider on the island.”

“I—” Dale started to answer automatically, then paused, considering. “You know, those are good questions.”

Questions they hadn’t asked or answered before because they had been so busy arguing emotions.

Suddenly it was overwhelming. The plane crash and the house fire, the outbreak and the attack on Hazel. Tansy didn’t understand what was happening, and what little she knew about the island, or her partner’s place on it, had come from carefully hoarded details or information from the others. Dale had told her nothing. And because of the things he hadn’t told her, someone wanted her dead.
She didn’t understand.
Her temper bubbled higher. “How can you expect me to do my job if
you won’t tell me what’s going on?
”

Dale held out a hand. “Tansy, calm down. We need to—”

“Tell me!” she interrupted. “Tell me about your island, and about the people on it.” She was getting
louder and she didn’t care. “Or would that violate the ‘nobody gets close to Dale Metcalf’ rule? You bring me here, you put me in danger, and now you won’t tell me what’s going on. Damn you, I deserve better!”

When she stopped, breathing hard, Tansy realized all three of them were staring at her in silence. Even the wind had died down, leaving the plywood-shrouded room echoing with quiet. A fierce red heat burned its way up her throat as she heard her own words vibrate on the still air.

God, she sounded just like her mother.

Who were you with this time, Richard? Where were you? How can you do this to me over and over again? Tell me… I deserve better!

Only, her mother had always shouted those questions at her daughter, or into an empty room. She’d never asked her husband. She’d never dared.

Well, Tansy dared, all right. She narrowed her eyes at Dale. “And don’t even
think
about walking away or changing the subject this time, Metcalf. Don’t try it.”

He stared back at her, and for the first time since before they’d become lovers, Tansy felt as though he was actually
looking
at her. Actually seeing her. She felt a quick moment of hope, then he turned away and muttered. “I didn’t want you here in the first place.”

Her heart sank and her brief, righteous anger spluttered and died. They were back to this, then. “Okay. Fine.” She jutted her chin out. “I’m out of here on the first plane that lands after the storm.”

It was a lie. She would never leave her partner in danger. She’d stay on Lobster Island as long as he did. She’d watch his back and trust him to watch hers. But in her heart, she finally gave up on him. On them. She might love a man who didn’t love her enough. But damn it, she would keep her pride.

Dale stared at her for a tense moment, his eyes, as always, unreadable. Finally, he cursed and turned to Trask. “Take Hazel home with you,” he commanded, “Tansy and I will stay with the patients.”

“She won’t come with me,” Trask grumbled, and Tansy saw a flash of hurt in his eyes. “She hates my house.”

Dale blew out an exasperated breath. “Hazel? I don’t want you staying alone, until the storm passes and help arrives.” He jerked his chin toward the room next door. “With the sheriff and the mayor both on respirators, we don’t have any official, legal backup, understand? We have to look out for each other, which means you’re going home with Trask.”

Hazel shot the older man an irritated look that was foiled somewhat by the bruise spreading out from beneath the ice pack. “I don’t hate your house, Trask. I hate the furnishings. I hate that you haven’t changed a thing in fifteen years. It’s like you’re still waiting for her to walk through the door and pick up where she left off.”

Trask stalked to the open door and glared out into the eerily lit parking lot. “I’m not waiting for Suzie to come home.” He cracked his work-gnarled knuc
kles. “I know she’s gone. But I’m a poor man. I don’t have the money for foolish things like redecorating.”

“I know you, Trask,” Hazel replied quietly. “If you wanted to change things, you’d find a way.”

When he didn’t respond, her eyes welled with quickly hidden tears. Tansy felt an answering tug in her chest and suddenly needed to escape Dale’s presence. She needed time alone to think. She cleared her throat. “I’ll take Hazel to her place. Dale can monitor the patients.”

He shook his head in quick, definitive denial. “No. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He turned to his uncle. “Trask, you take Hazel to her house. Tansy and I will stay with the patients.”

“But, Dale—”

“No buts, Tansy. I mean it.” His blue eyes were hard, implacable. She flinched under their impact. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. That makes you my responsibility.”

“That’s bull and you know it,” she answered automatically as her stubborn, foolish heart clenched in her chest. She didn’t want to be his responsibility. She wasn’t sure
what
she wanted from him anymore.

“Bull or not, that’s the way it is.” He gestured Trask and a reluctant Hazel out the door. When they were gone, the room was silent, save for the sigh of the wind outside. Dale stood in the doorway, the yellow light of Eddie’s makeshift hospital room lighting one side of him, the flickering, parking lot neon
lighting the other. The anger in the room dissipated quickly, leaving another energy behind.

After a long moment, Tansy turned away. “Why don’t you check on the other patients? I want to set up another run on the chromatograph.” They still hadn’t confirmed the nature of the toxicity. Too many other things had interfered. She tried for a smile. “If we make it out of here, this outbreak should be written up for the journals, at any rate.”

“You’re right,” he answered quietly. He crossed the room to stand behind her, a breath away, and she knew he wasn’t talking about the experiment now. “You’re right about all of it. I should have told you about this place a long time ago. I should have told you about my parents, and about Trask and Churchill.”

Tansy concentrated on donning a pair of surgical gloves and preparing a sample of Eddie’s blood for testing. Part of her leaped gladly that he was
talking
to her, finally talking to her. But the smarter part of her said it was too little, too late. “Why didn’t you?”

He blew out a breath, but he didn’t move away. “I don’t know. It was just…easier to tell myself that you wouldn’t understand Lobster Island.”

“Because my parents had money.”

He turned her to face him, and the familiar warmth radiated from the place where his fingers touched her skin. “Be realistic, Tansy. You deserve marble bathtubs and silk sheets, not this place.” His gesture encompassed the paper-thin walls and the surplus carpeting.

She didn’t bother to point out that he was fifteen years and two university degrees removed from the poverty, nor did she remind him that they’d spent most of their time together on assignments in sorrier places than the motel. She simply linked her hands around his wrists, where they rested on her shoulders. “We’ll never know, will we? You never gave it a chance.” Seeing cool wariness creep into his eyes, she sighed. “No, don’t worry. I’m not asking you for more. I’m finally accepting that you can’t give it to me.”

“Meaning?” His eyes were chilly, but behind the mask, she thought she might have seen a hint of panic.

No, that was her imagination, Tansy decided over the knell of her heart. This is what he wanted. She stuck out her chin. “Meaning I’m done. You’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the sorts of emotions that Trask has gone through. Fine. You’ve got your wish. As soon as HFH can get a plane here, I’m gone. I’ll tell them to find you a new partner—preferably a man.”

His eyes darkened. “Tansy, I never meant to—”

“I know,” she interrupted quickly before her resolve could give. “It’s okay.” And to show just how okay it was, she leaned up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, intending to show him that it was truly over between them.

The action was a terrible, terrible mistake.

Her mind was trying to say “goodbye,” but her body gave a great, joyous cry of welcome when their lips touched. Dale started in surprise, and the sweep of heat warned Tansy that she had wandered back
into her mother’s world of chemistry over common sense. She started to pull away, but was too late. Dale’s fingers dug into her shoulders once before he slid his hands down to gather her close.

In an instant, her goodbye became the sort of hello that had blinded her to reason so many times before. When his quiet, desperate groan shivered through her, she opened her mouth to him, and tried to keep her heart locked tight.

His taste brought memories that were instantly swept away by the newness of it. The coarse wool beneath her fingertips was unfamiliar, as was the faint rasp of stubble across her cheek. Unfamiliar, and wildly erotic.

She murmured something needy. Her head shouted for her to push him away, though her arms urged him closer. His tongue swept inside her mouth and desire swirled, fierce and fiery, only fanned higher by the gusting wind outside and the grumble of thunder overhead.

Or perhaps that was her heart.

In the field, Dale had been an inventive, uninhibited lover. At home, less so. But the man she kissed now was neither of those people. He tasted of primal, uncivilized urges. She murmured agreement when his fingers dug tighter into her shoulders.

And a small voice behind her said, “Ma? Pa? DJ?”

IT TOOK PRECIOUS SECONDS for Dale’s eyes to focus on the boy in the motel bed and comprehend that—
wonder of wonders— Eddie was awake. It took longer for him to force himself to let go of Tansy.

Ever since he’d realized, in the middle of an earthquake relief effort four months earlier, that he’d go mad if anything ever happened to her, he’d tried to hold her at arm’s length. Then she’d kissed him, and all rational thought had fled, and with it, all of his reasons for keeping her away. His heart still beat a heavy tattoo, and his chest still swirled with a poignant combination of greed and regret. It wasn’t just lust. No, that would be too easy.

It was Tansy. And that was the most complicated thing in the world.

“Ma?” At the sight of two near-strangers, little Eddie’s face crumpled. “Pa?” He darted blue-eyed glances at the shabby motel room, with its plywood covered windows, and cringed away from the respirator, which sill rested near his bed. Finally, he locked wide, frightened eyes on Tansy and whispered, “You’re the ghost lady. Am I dead?”

“No, Eddie, you’re not dead.” Tansy dropped her arms from around Dale’s neck. Dull red climbed her cheeks. “You’re fine.” She perched on the edge of the boy’s bed and brushed a strand of blond hair off his forehead.

“Where’s my ma and pa?” the boy demanded, his voice growing rapidly stronger. “Where’s DJ?” Worry clouded his face. “They’re okay, right?”

“They’re fine,” Tansy assured him. “They’ll be here in a minute.”

Her gesture sent Dale for the door. He was glad to escape the room, and the pressure on his chest. He had always been strangely unsettled to see how good Tansy was with children and to think that she must want her own. Once, he’d told himself it worried him because he didn’t like kids much. But in all honesty, he loved the little monsters. He just didn’t want his own. It had been hard enough to lose his parents.

He didn’t want to imagine losing a child. Or a wife.

He took one last look back at Tansy, who was bent over Eddie, listening to him while checking his vitals. Then he turned and walked out into the rising storm, and shut the door behind him.

A voice spoke from the shadows near the jeep. “Dr. Metcalf? Is everything okay?”

Dale jolted and spun, remembering Hazel’s attack and knowing that Tansy was alone in the motel room with a sick little boy. “Who is it?”

A figure stepped into the washy neon light and held out a hand. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Nat Roberts.” He was wearing a white shirt atop navy trousers and black shoes. A dark blue zip-up jacket was slung over his shoulder.

He was dressed in black,
Hazel had said. Or perhaps navy?

Dale ignored the hand. “No, everything’s not okay. Dr. Hazel was attacked about an hour ago. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Roberts scowled. “Not you, too? And here I thought since you’d spent some time on the main
land, you’d be above the islanders’ conviction that I’m the boogeyman.” He snorted. “It’s not my fault the lobstering’s gone bad. I’m their ticket off this miserable rock, not that any of them will thank me for it.”

Dale wondered at Roberts’s lack of surprise. Then again, given the island grapevine, it was just as likely he’d heard of Hazel’s attack secondhand, even this late at night. Still, the developer had said it himself—anything that was bad for the lobstering business was good for him. The storms. The disease. All of it.

Apparently taking the silence for suspicion, Roberts sighed. “I have an alibi. I was visiting a few of the more stubborn holdouts.” He patted his back pocket. “I have signed agreements from two of them. Three others slammed their doors in my face, but they’ll come around. Face it, this island’s dying.”

A week earlier, Dale might have cheered to learn that Lobster Island had sunk into the ocean. Now, he narrowed his eyes. “Nobody and nothing is dying on my watch.” Except maybe the mayor, who was reportedly one of Roberts’s biggest foes at the town meetings that had been called to discuss the buyout. “Who signed tonight?” When Roberts hesitated, Dale ground out, “This is your alibi, buddy, not mine.”

The developer muttered an unkind word and offered the signed papers. Dale flipped through them and froze at the second signature.