Run to Me (27 page)

‘And what else have you forgotten to tell me?’

He angled the rear-view mirror to better see her face. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. They’ll all be in the living room. We’ll go in the back and I’ll take you up the kitchen stairs. No one will see
you.’

‘You can’t be sure of that.’

‘All right, I can’t. But even if they do –’

‘No. No way. Take us back to your office.’

Chase turned around. ‘And what then? Are you going to let me leave again?’

‘No, Jesse needs you.’

‘Well, then you don’t eat. And what’s more, what do you think my father will do when I don’t come home tonight?’

Shyler hesitated. The man seemed sincere, but had he planned
all this? ‘You’ll just have to call him and give him some excuse.’

‘I could. But wouldn’t it be easier to just stay here?’

The simple statement silenced her for a moment. She looked down at Jesse, cradled against her, then closed her eyes. She almost wished the enemy would come. There could be no end to this short of that ultimate confrontation. And as stressful as all this was on her, it had
to be ten times worse for a child.

‘Think about it,’ Chase said. ‘If someone’s after you, wouldn’t it be better to have people around?’

‘
If
someone’s after us? You think I’m imagining there are men trying to kill us?’

His expression grew earnest. ‘Shyler, I was at your cabin, remember? I have no doubts at all that the threat against you is absolutely real. I also think you shouldn’t have to
face it alone.’

Wrapped in the blanket from the sick room bed, Zack found himself bundled from the car towards the doctor’s house, up a ramp and through the back door. Without pause he was ushered through a cluttered kitchen – dishes in the sink, counters strewn with utensils and plates – and up a narrow staircase off the eating area.

He held his breath as long as he could but by the time they reached
the second floor he just had to inhale. And there it was. Nothing bad. Nothing even anyone else would notice. Just the smell of strangeness. Another strange smell from another strange house.

As they walked along the hallway the scents of coffee and food from downstairs mixed with the woodsy smell of the floor, the faint drift of soap and men’s deodorant. Why did these things always hit him so
hard? He knew without doubt that if he ever went blindfolded into one of his old foster homes he’d be able to tell which one it was just from the smell.

Of all of them, Shyler’s cabin had been the best. That remote but soul-warming little cottage had smelled of homemade soup, pine, wood smoke and . . . her. And though he’d spent the least
amount of time there of anywhere he’d lived in the last
three years, somehow that was the smell he missed now.

At the end of the passage the doctor opened a door on the left. ‘This is one of the spare rooms. The other is just across the hall. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be right back.’

Zack stood with Shyler’s arms wrapped around him in the middle of the room. There wasn’t much in it besides a bed, a night stand, some drawers and a chair. Before
they’d even moved from the spot, the doctor returned, setting some clothes and towels on the bed.

‘The bathroom’s next door if you want a shower. I’m sorry, I know these clothes won’t fit either of you but they’re all I have. If you give me yours I can wash and dry them in an hour or so.’

They stood staring back at him.

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.’

‘Where are you going?’ Shyler said,
not quite masking the fear in her voice.

‘Downstairs to get some food. I’ll just be a minute.’ His words didn’t alter her worried expression. ‘Did I lie to you about the men at my office? Did I tell anyone you were hiding there? Did I call the police?’

She looked away.

‘I didn’t then and I won’t now. Even though I think the best thing would be to call the police, I won’t because you don’t want
me to. Obviously you have your reasons. I trust that they’re good ones.’

His voice was a whisper, his tone earnest. Arms around her waist, Zack felt Shyler’s body relax.

‘Go ahead,’ she answered.

The door closed gently and they were alone.

Zack stood unmoving. He didn’t want to do anything else, just stand there with his cheek against her chest. In the sudden
silence he could hear her heart
beating. He closed his eyes to block out everything else.

‘Well, how about we get you freshened up?’ she said after a moment.

He didn’t answer.

She cupped his cheek. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah.’ Zack stepped back, knowing in that instant the spell was broken. ‘Come on, then. You’ll feel better once you’re clean. And a cool bath might help bring your temperature down.’

She led him next door and settled
him onto the edge of the tub. In silence he watched her put in the plug, turn on the water and adjust the temperature. It was strange having someone look after him again. He hadn’t really thought about it up to that moment – probably because he’d been too sick and scared.

Suddenly he wasn’t that sure he liked it. It had been all right when he was little but he was almost eleven now. And for much
of the last three months at the Learys’ he’d been left in charge of Reece and Corey. Why would he need anyone to take care of him?

Shyler left the room and returned with the items the doctor had given them. He watched her go through them and set aside things for him to wear. Remembering how he’d thrown his arms around her neck back in the sick room suddenly made him cringe. What a baby! He never
should have done that. And he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been sick!

He pushed to his feet. ‘I can do that.’

‘I know you can, sweetie. It’s all right, you rest.’

‘I don’t want to rest.’ He snatched the sweatshirt out of her hand. ‘I said I can do it.’

Shyler blinked at him. ‘Jesse, what is it? Are you –’

‘Yes, I’m all right! I just want to do it myself, okay?’

‘Sure, honey, if that’s what
you want.’ She managed a smile
and backed from the room. ‘I’ll be next door in case you need me.’

Uncertain what Shyler and Jesse might like, Chase prepared a variety of sandwiches – two ham and cheese, one egg salad, a tuna and lettuce and a peanut butter and jelly. What they didn’t eat he surely would. He was just slicing them all into wedges when his father glided into the kitchen.

‘Hey there,
I was wondering where you’d got to. Haven’t seen you since breakfast. Did you find your friend?’

Chase pulled a platter from under the counter and set it on a tray. ‘I did but that’s not what took me so long. I stopped at the office on my way home and got hung up – there was an accident at one of the logging sites.’

‘Anybody seriously hurt?’

‘Had to send a couple cases to PI. They were pretty
banged up but they’ll recover. It could’ve been worse.’

‘That’s good anyway.’ Allen sat eyeing the massive platter his son was arranging. ‘That all for you or are you hiding someone up in your bedroom?’

Chase let out a laugh. ‘Guess I’m pretty hungry. I missed lunch.’ He opened the fridge and pulled out a container of apple juice.

‘Well, the group’s just having coffee and nibbles.’ Allen nodded
towards the living room. ‘Why don’t you come in and join us?’

‘Thanks, but I’ve already made this.’

‘Bring it in and eat it with us. Then have dessert. Between six women they made enough to feed an army.’

‘I’ll be fine with this. Thanks anyway.’

Allen wheeled closer and lowered his voice. ‘Actually you’d be doing me a favour. It’s getting a bit tense in there.’

Chase set three glasses on
the tray and began pouring juice. ‘What could be tense about a book club? I thought you said it was just six women.’

‘Just? Are you kidding? They’re all trying to out-do each other with the food. They’re hovering around me like . . . like they expect me to sample it all and then pick the winner. I feel like first prize at a bake-off competition.’

‘That’s what you get for being the only eligible
male over fifty in a small town.’

‘So what do you say? You going to help your old man out, or what?’

‘Sorry, Dad, I’ve got a few things to do upstairs.’

Allen slumped back with a hearty sigh, his gaze falling on the three glasses of juice. Arching a brow he regarded his son. ‘Thirsty as well as hungry, eh?’

Chase pursed his lips around another smile, picked up the tray and stepped around him.
‘Good luck with your lady guests.’ He headed for the stairs.

Shyler sat in the upstairs window seat, rifle resting across her lap. She would have preferred a view of the road, but at least she could see the back yard from here – lawn bathed in moonlight surrounded by trees, garage, porch, a bit of the driveway. She’d spot it if anyone slipped from the woods and tried to break in through the kitchen. She only hoped the activity downstairs – the
club meeting that, according to Chase, was going on far longer than usual – would be enough to deter someone coming in the front.

She eyed Jesse asleep in the bed. The most recent addition to her list of concerns was her son’s increasingly belligerent behaviour. After finishing his bath, he’d returned to the room and climbed into bed, refusing any help from her. And when Chase had brought up
the tray of sandwiches he wouldn’t let the doctor take his temperature or even look at him.

His use of bad language didn’t bother her. The fact that it was so out of character did. Was his behaviour simply a delayed reaction to all they’d been through? Or was it the fever? It had started so suddenly. Did it mean his infection was getting worse?

Out in the hall the floorboards creaked. Her body
tensed, then relaxed again when a familiar figure appeared in the
doorway – Chase, in a red flannel shirt and jeans, his hair still wet from a recent shower.

She sat a moment just taking him in. She’d only ever seen him in white before – the medical coat he wore at his office, the sweater he’d had on all that day. Somehow the red shirt made his eyes bluer, the plaid adding sharpness and breadth
to his shoulders. Combined with the jeans’ stone-washed denim, the effect was more rugged outdoorsman than doctor.

‘May I come in?’

She shrugged. ‘Your house.’

‘True, but you’re the one holding the rifle.’

Another time she might have smiled. She wanted to smile, wanted to get to know this man. This man she could almost come to trust. But with the risks so great she couldn’t let herself. ‘Therefore
a wise person wouldn’t provoke me.’

He gave a soft chuckle. ‘I promise to be on my best behaviour.’

Silently he crossed to the bed and sat on the desk chair he’d brought in earlier. So gently he didn’t disturb Jesse’s sleep, he inserted a thermometer into his ear.

Shyler waited. Jesse had had more medicine with dinner, his second dose since leaving the cabin. His temperature then – two hours
ago – had been a hundred and two. One degree higher than when they’d first reached Chase’s office. Was it too soon to hope there had been a change? Had she been wrong? Should she have let him be taken to the hospital?

Chase removed the thermometer and read it. Though she scrutinised his face, she couldn’t read his thoughts. She forced herself to stay where she was till he picked up the chair
and brought it over to sit before her.

‘No change,’ he whispered.

She bit her lip.

‘It’s too soon to expect one, really, so don’t lose hope. As long as his temp doesn’t go any higher there’s still a chance the medicine’s working. We should have a better idea in the morning.’

She nodded. If they survived till then.

At the thought, a wave of dread crashed over her. She slumped under the weight,
exhausted to the point of feeling physically ill. Even if they made it through the night, what then? Where would they go? When would it end?

‘Why don’t you get some sleep?’ Chase said. ‘The bed’s all made up across the hall. I’ll stay with Jesse.’

She drew herself up. ‘I’m fine right here.’

‘How did I know you were going to say that?’ He opened the black case he held on his lap. ‘Well, as long
as you’re staying, how about you put the rifle down and let me take a look at that arm?’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ She turned away, stared out the window.

‘At least let me change the dressing. You won’t be much good to Jesse if you end up with an infection as well.’

Shyler focused on the lawn below, keeping her injured limb tucked to her side. When she felt Chase’s hand settle over hers she glanced
back around.

For a moment she found herself held by his gaze, his eyes both kind and gently coaxing. She must have communicated something in return without even realising it, for with no further comment he drew her arm towards him and began unwrapping it.

She gave up the fight. He was right – she couldn’t allow herself to get sick. Not while Jesse was still in danger.

He swabbed the area and
inspected the wound. ‘Well, the good news is you didn’t tear out any stitches. What you’ve got is a fresh laceration. A simple bandage is all it needs.’ He got out the tape and a pair of scissors then opened a packet of sterile dressing.

He squeezed antiseptic cream on his finger and began spreading it over the cut. ‘You know, it would’ve been a lot less painful if you’d just brought Jesse in
to see me.’ His gaze lifted briefly, confirming he’d figured out why she had cut herself.

There seemed little point in denying it now. ‘I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘You went to my cabin and you have to ask that?’

‘So you thought I was one of the men trying to kill you?’

‘Well no, I . . . I . . .’

He held up a hand. ‘It’s all right, I understand. Trust must be hard to come by in your situation.
Whatever it is.’

Frowning, she leaned back; vaguely disturbed, yet not sure why.

‘So you know who they are.’

She blinked at him. ‘What?’

‘The men who came after you. Out at your cabin.’

A chill shivered along her neck as she recalled the man peering up at her from the ladder of the loft. No, she hadn’t recognised
him
but . . . Suddenly there were other faces. Scarred and battered. Savage
and leering. Fish Hook. Puppet. Scarecrow. Beret.