Desperate Rescue (15 page)

R
elief drenched her. She heaved out a much-needed sigh and felt her shoulders droop.

Beside her, Eli went rigid, cool. “Are you sure?”

Reading lifted his eyebrows, his grim expression changing to uncertainty. “Not sure, yet. The coroner is taking the body down to Fredericton for an autopsy. What you can do to help prove it’s Noah is to give a sample of your DNA. We can match it, if you both have the same parents.”

“We do. Where do I go to give a DNA sample?”

“We’ll make the arrangements for a mouth swab.”

“How long will it take to find out for sure?”

Reading shrugged. “Local DNA analyses are done in Halifax. But it could take weeks to confirm it. I’ll see what I can do to speed things up.”

Eli’s expression turned as grim as Reading’s had become. Kaylee stood. “But it’s a good chance that it was Noah, right?”

“Yes.”

Reading’s statement confirmed it for Kaylee. She drew in her breath. With Noah dead, there was no need for Eli to stick around. She may as well get the rest of the difficult stuff over with. It was better than brooding on things that could never be. She looked at Reading. “You wanted to interview me? I’ll do my best this time.”

They all sat down. She began. “I was sitting in my living room, flicking through the TV channels. It must have been the top of the hour because the shows were starting. That’s when I first heard a noise.”

Reading leaned forward. “What kind of a noise?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. A clicking sort of noise, but not like the back door opening or closing. That door squeaks. This was more like electronic clicks.”

“Where did they come from?”

“The kitchen. I thought at first that I should call you. Or Eli.”

Reading wore a question on his face. “You didn’t call me.”

Eli shook his head. “You didn’t call me, either.”

“No,” she corrected. “Then I thought that it might have been the refrigerator making noise because the back door didn’t open. I was alone. Or so I thought.”

“What happened next?”

She grimaced. “Someone was there in the kitchen. I think whoever it was had been hiding in the house.”

Eli shot a frown toward Reading. Kaylee easily guessed the men’s thoughts. For the last day, they’d let it be known she’d be alone tonight. They should have cleared the house first. Was it even procedure to do so? She didn’t know. Nor did she want to point out such an obvious error in case they hadn’t done it. These men already knew what should have been done.

Too late to be concerned about that.

“I remember walking into the kitchen and seeing movement—” She stopped, realizing she didn’t know what happened next.

Frustrated by the sudden gap in her memory, she sat back.

“The electronic clicks, then—” she whispered, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her right ear.

Eli leaned over. “You heard them again?”

She tunneled her hair with her fingers, cringing when she brushed against the scrape on her forehead. “Arg! This is crazy.” She looked up, blankly. “I should be able to remember.”

Eli was about to answer when Wilcox spoke. “You heard the clicks, then walked into the kitchen. Close your eyes, picture it in your head.”

She tried. “I don’t remember.” Stricken, she searched the men’s faces. “Wait! I heard the clicks the first time, then again after I’d listened for a bit,
then
I walked into the kitchen, saw him—”

“Him?”

She blinked. “I think it was a him. Tall, slim, a blur, really. I—” She sank back in her seat again. “I’m sorry. I remember something blue and…”

Reading leaned over. “And what?”

“The next thing I remember, I was outside. Eli was carrying me.” She let out a frustrated noise. “Blue?”

“What was blue?” Eli asked.

She perused his clothing. They all smelled slightly of smoke and some chemicals, probably the result of her house burning. But Eli wasn’t wearing blue. He had on a tan-colored shirt and dark green pants.

“Have you been wearing that all evening?”

He cast a look down at his clothing. “Just this with my light green jacket.”

“Do you remember what Noah was wearing when you saw him in the backyard?” Reading asked.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, then brightened. “Blue! He was wearing blue!”

Reading smiled. “Good. Now, do you remember how you hurt yourself? What you hit to make those marks? Was it soft, rounded, hard, pointed?”

“Hard. I think I hit the corner of the wall where the front hall meets the living room.”

“Do you remember thinking that you were going to fall? Or reaching out to stop yourself? Do you remember being scared?”

“Yes! I was scared. I remember the wall and thinking I was going to hit it! I pushed out my arms and then I hit the floor. Yes, I turned quickly. It’s a laminate floor and it’s slippery.” She smiled, thankful something was coming back to her. “That’s how I hurt my hand. I tried to catch myself, but I ended up hitting my head on the wall and my hands on the floor by the corner.”

Reading found a slip of paper and a pen. “Draw a plan of your house. Show me where the wall is in relation to the kitchen.”

She took the pen. Her hand shook as she sketched out his request. The front door led straight down the hall into the kitchen. The wall on the right ended a few feet past the front door. “There’s this old mat. I remember thinking it had moved away from the door. It always does. I slipped on the mat and went headfirst into the wall.”

“Which means you were running away from the kitchen.”

Amazed, she nodded to Reading. He was good at coaxing out information. “Yes. I must have been. I saw something that scared me. It had to be Noah. There isn’t anyone else who would have me tearing to the front door.” She thought hard for a moment. “But that’s all I can remember, I’m afraid.”

Reading reached to pat her hand. “You did very well. Sometimes we need time to process a traumatic experience before we can recall it. We can try again later.”

He stood, along with Wilcox and Eli. Wearily, she rose, too. “Can I see my house? Can I even stay there?”

With sympathy, Reading shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Not only is it a crime scene, but it’s probably going to be condemned.” He checked the time on his wristwatch. “Later this morning, you may be allowed to retrieve some things, but I suggest, since it’s after midnight, you find another place to stay.”

“Another place?” She looked blankly around until his words sunk in. “I suppose Lois may be able to put me up for a few days….”

Reading answered with another shake of his head. “Her house sustained some damage, as well. The fire inspector will have to check it out before she’s allowed back in. She’s gone over to our place. My wife came and got her a few hours ago.”

“You can stay up in the motel.” Eli looked at Reading. “It has good security.”

Reading agreed. “Yes. It’s a good place. The owner just renovated and changed all the locks. He installed some security cameras, as well. I can get him out of bed to get you a room, if you like.”

“Thank you.” She watched him and Wilcox leave. It felt so unreal. Not like a dream, but part of an illusion, a daydream gone crazy. Sometimes while she was trapped at The Farm, she would fall into musing of things that she could have been doing, except they would invariably lead to sadness. The same sensation lingered today.

Eli took her arm and she let him lead her out of the tiny room. His grip was firm, comforting in a way, but she felt too stiff and robotic to move fluidly with him.

Reading caught up with them at the station’s front door. “Mr. Nash, I’ve got someone to take that DNA sample now.”

Kaylee tried to focus on the conversation. Reading stood beside another officer. That man held a long cotton swab in his hand. Eli nodded and opened his mouth.

The man swabbed in the inside of Eli’s cheek. Over and over again, it seemed. They wanted a good sample. They wanted proof that it was Noah in that fire.

When the officer was finished, Eli took Kaylee’s elbow again.

They drove to the motel in silence. As they arrived, the owner was just unlocking his office door. He offered his condolences and even promised to keep the reporters away from her if she liked.

She tried to register for the room, but her hand shook too much to write. The owner took the pen, saying that she could finish filling out the registration later. With a grateful nod, she thanked him.

Eli dug out his wallet, the same battered leather she’d seen that first day they’d met. He handed the owner his credit card for the man to take a swipe.

Outside, she thanked him. “I don’t have a credit card yet, but I’ll get you the money. I promise.”

“Forget it. All I want you to do is sleep.” He walked down the strip of rooms to stop at hers, and unlocked her door. After turning on the main light, he handed her the key. “My room’s two doors down. Call me if you need anything.”

She blinked. “I don’t even have a toothbrush.”

He smiled. “We can worry about those details later today. Just remember, Kaylee, you’re okay. All that was lost were just things.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

As if it snapped her out of her confusion, she held his hand firmly. “I guess I still need to process this. I’m sorry I haven’t been much help tonight. I was downright nasty to you back at the police station.”

He rubbed his face. “You weren’t nasty. You were being honest. It was me who wasn’t.”

“No, that’s not true.” She shut the door to keep the heat in. The night, while not as cold as it could be, chilled her. The jacket she wore was borrowed from the neighbor across the street. It hung on her frame and offered little insulation. She drew it closer to her.

“Kaylee,” he began before she could speak, “everything you did was understandable. And I wish I could say the right thing to make you feel better and help you help the police. But I couldn’t. That’s why I prayed.”

It helped, she thought. But apart from a little peace, what else could it give her? Eli needed to find Phoebe; God would approve of that. Any prayer to Him she might say would only be to ask Eli to stay and that would hardly be God-consented, right?

It wasn’t going to happen anyway. “Well, thank you for all you’ve done. It’s over now. Noah is dead and…and I’m dead on my feet.”

“Take those painkillers. I’ll check on you after lunch.”

He didn’t move. A crease formed between his brows and his mouth opened slightly. A second later, he bent down and touched his lips to her cheek. A part of her wanted to cling to him, but he lifted his head too soon for her to react. She offered him a brief twitch of her lips and pushed open the door behind her. Without another look back, she bowed her head and closed the door.

Lord, give her a good night’s sleep. Give her peace and strength.
After his hasty prayer, he strode quickly down to his room.

He stopped at the door and found his attention sliding along the cool frontage to Kaylee’s room.

Would she sleep soundly? He’d once heard a pastor say that God relentlessly pursues those fighting the leading of the Spirit. The only relief they got was sleep and, like wild children, they slept soundly.

Noah used to sleep well, like the dead, their mother would say. A scoundrel during the day, a baby at night.

Her words were loving, long before he took her daughter and disappeared, leaving her deeply hurt.

Did Noah still sleep soundly? Probably and probably only a few hours a night. In some of the training he’d taken while working for the police force, he learned about the psyche of people like Noah. They slept well, though only briefly, and thrived on this routine.

Eli stood silently for several minutes, his key still in his left hand, his right one lightly resting on the door handle to his room.

Did Kaylee also sleep well? Was it her only peace from the Lord’s constant pursuit?

Suddenly unwilling to hear an answer, he thrust the key into the lock and plowed inside.

The next morning came too early for him. A quick glance to the digital clock and some mental math told him he’d only managed four hours’ sleep. He’d laid awake for at least an hour, praying, mulling over his brother’s death. Trying to sort out his reaction to it. Only after realizing no reaction was coming, did he fall asleep.

Something had awoken him. It was a light knock on the door, he realized. Tossing off the covers he called out, “Just a sec.”

Hastily dressed, he opened the door. Kaylee stood there. She looked tired, resigned almost.

“Sorry for getting you up so early, but Reading called. A patient had to be air-evacuated to the Halifax Infirmary, and they sent yours and Noah’s DNA down with him. A technician was able to tell something about the mitochondrial DNA—they’re both the same.”

He stifled a yawn and nodded to himself. “Mitochondrial DNA is passed down from mothers to their children. That means it’s Noah.”

There lingered a long pause as both absorbed what it really meant. Finally, Kaylee added, “I also wanted to let you know that I’m going to walk down to the house. To see if I can get in and get some things I need.” She shrugged. “If there’s anything worth salvaging. The fire department called me this morning to say that the fire inspector is on his way.”

“You won’t be allowed in. They won’t risk your safety or the security of the scene. It’s a crime scene, now. What did you need?”

Her expression turned vague. “Clothes, if I have any left, and maybe some toiletries. I know they can be replaced, but only if you have money. Which I don’t.”

“They’ll probably only let you in for prescription medicines.”

She sighed, pulling up on the borrowed jacket’s collar. “I thought you would want to know where I was. Go back to bed. You look as tired as I feel.”

“No.” He pivoted, grabbed his jacket and followed her out. “We’ll take the car. I don’t feel like walking and I imagine you don’t, either.”

He shot her a sidelong look as he slipped on his jacket. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I expected.”

He shouldn’t have asked. Her answer wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Fishing out his keys, he led her to his car. All the way to her house, he tried to force her answer from his mind. Should he be getting involved with a woman who fought God’s interference in her life so constantly?