The answers he sought weren’t in that bottle. He was beginning to despair that the answers weren’t to be found anywhere.
He tossed the bottle into a recycle bin and shut off the lights. Maybe sleep would find him if he went to bed.
It was worth a shot—and if sleep eluded him, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night staring at the ceiling, anxious and afraid that Devin was long gone, no matter what he managed to shake out of Samuel Grayson.
It was starting to feel familiar.
Darcy couldn’t believe how enamored the community was of her father. Maybe she was immune to his charm. She saw a man manipulating a flock of sheep to his benefit and scooping up the riches they plunked at his feet. Darcy saw beyond the fit, handsome, charismatic character who spouted platitudes that espoused loyalty and the need to be the best version of themselves by following his dictates, whether they were in the form of the menu plan or exercise regimen. Frankly, Darcy found Samuel’s spiel intrusive and ridiculous. Particularly the $25 bottle of water. For all she knew, this “special tonic” could be bottled outside from a hose in Samuel’s backyard.
“Isn’t he amazing?” breathed Pam, in awe after Samuel had left the stage and people started to rise from their seats, the sound of laughter and gaiety filling the auditorium with a din of murmured voices. “I love these nightly meetings. They’re so inspiring. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh yes,” Darcy said, nodding. “So, every night people do this?”
“Yes. It’s about faith and loyalty. Backbones—”
“—of a strong community,” Darcy finished for Pam, earning a delighted grin. “Yeah, that’s what he said, so it must be true. He obviously knows what he’s talking about.”
“You’re catching on fast. Do you want to meet him?” she asked, her eyes lighting up. “I know he’ll want to meet you. Maybe if you’re lucky…you might catch his eye.”
Ugh.
Darcy hid the immediate queasiness in her stomach. “Oh, I’m not ready to meet Mr. Grayson just yet,” she protested, feigning a case of jitters as if Samuel were a celebrity and she were seeking an autograph. “Soon, though. I definitely want to meet him.”
Pam sighed as if disappointed. Maybe she hoped to earn brownie points of some sort by dragging a newbie over to Samuel for inspection. The thought was sobering.
Darcy made a show of checking her watch and then said, “Oh! I’d better get my tonic water before they’re sold out for the evening. So nice to meet you, Pam. I hope to see you around.”
“Likewise, honey! And don’t you worry, I think you’re going to fit in just fine around here. You’ve got the Cold Plains spirit. I can tell.”
Darcy forced a smile. She didn’t know about that, but there was certainly something she shared with Cold Plains…the DNA of its self-proclaimed messiah.
Edging her way past the crowd, she made a stop at the tonic-water booth, made her obligatory purchase even as she winced at the exorbitant price and wondered if Rafe was there.
Seeing nothing but a sea of unfamiliar faces, she found herself a bit relieved that she didn’t see her new boss milling about with the rest of the sheep. She wanted him to be better than the rest of these people who mindlessly ate the manure that Samuel shoveled their way. She knew it wasn’t a guarantee that he wasn’t on the same bandwagon just because she didn’t find him here, but she wanted to believe that he was different.
Rafe…the handsome doctor with a secret in his smile and a sadness to his eyes.... Darcy had to stop herself when she realized she was thinking too much about her boss. Capping her water after a quick sip, she started for the door but was waylaid by a big, burly man in uniform with hard, watery blue eyes and big meat-hook hands, which looked as if they could crush her windpipe without him breaking a sweat. For that matter, he looked the kind of person who could take a life without thinking twice.
“New to Cold Plains?” he asked, trying for a smile, but the effort only served to make him appear to be grimacing. As if realizing he wasn’t a natural at the smile, he replaced it with an expression of gruff courtesy. “Police Chief Bo Fargo. Nice to meet you. If you have any questions or trouble, don’t hesitate to ring my office. Mr. Grayson has charged me with keeping the peace around our nice town, and so far, everything’s been working out just right.”
“It’s a great town,” she murmured in agreement, anxious to get away from the man. The way his stare roamed her body—not in a lecherous but, rather, clinical way—gave her the willies. “Nice to meet you, Chief Fargo. Everyone has been very kind and welcoming. Thank you,” she said, moving toward the door.
“Have you met Mr. Grayson yet?” he asked, knowing courtesy would prevent her from just turning and leaving as she wanted. “He takes a special interest in newcomers, particularly ones as pretty as you.”
“Is that so?” she asked, playing along to see where he was going to take the conversation.
Encouraged, he nodded with a slow smirk as if she were playing right into his game. “Mr. Grayson would most definitely like to welcome you to Cold Plains. I could arrange a meeting. Would you like that?”
Darcy made a show of being flattered and even giggled a little for good measure. “Maybe another time? I want to look my best when I meet him.”
“Of course,” Chief Fargo said, his grin widening as if in triumph. “I’ll be seeing you then.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will.”
She gave him her best flirty smile and slipped from the building, eager to get away from the chunky cop and his leering stare, but most important, desperate to get away before someone else tried to put her in bed with her
father.
Chapter 9
B
o entered the dressing room off the auditorium stage and found Samuel in his usual state of dress after a meeting, which was to mean, undress. Bo wasn’t a man who enjoyed the sight of another naked man, but Samuel seemed to relish putting people in his sphere of influence off-kilter, so he made no move to grab the robe that was within reaching distance. Instead, he let all his parts hang where they would and dared Bo to say something.
Sometimes Bo tired of Samuel’s little head trips and wished he could call him on them, but he wisely shelved his grievances and got to the point. He’d instructed Brenda to wait for him at her place and he was eager to join her.
“I think tonight’s meeting was very productive,” Samuel said, eschewing the tonic water he foisted on everyone else to sip at a glass of white wine from an expensive Italian label. “What did you think?”
I think you talk too much and you’re weird.
“Good,” he agreed, getting straight to the point. “There’s a newcomer that might interest you. She seems to fit the criteria of what you’re looking for.”
At that Samuel perked up, keen interest in his eyes. “Please, share.”
“She’s young, in her twenties, pretty.”
“And?”
“And she seems eager to meet you. Impressed by your speech tonight, I think,” he added, embellishing a little before sharing the information he’d gleaned. “Her name’s Darcy Craven.”
“Darcy Craven,” Samuel said, rolling the name on his tongue, as if testing it, before smiling. “I like it. Tell me more.”
“I don’t know much, just that she’s got a nice figure and a pretty face. Were you looking for much else?”
Samuel sighed as if the world offered so little that he’d take what he could get, when in fact, Samuel lived like a sultan, complete with the harem of beautiful women. “No, I suppose that’ll do well enough. Yes, please arrange a meeting between myself and the lovely Ms. Craven. Of course it’s my honored duty to welcome all newcomers to Cold Plains.”
Particularly the women, Bo added silently but nodded his understanding. “I’ll see to it.”
Samuel’s smile was just this side of lecherous as he no doubt reveled in the heady excitement of something new to play with, a new body to discover.
The following day, a casual comment by a patient gave Rafe the in he’d been waiting for since arriving in this town.
“They just don’t have enough doctors on staff at the clinic,” Mary Lou Griggs complained to Rafe as he took her pulse for a routine checkup. “I tell you, they ought to hold a job fair or something to draw attention to the clinic. I’m sure anyone would be willing to move here once they saw how great it was to raise a family and put down roots.”
Rafe nodded. “So what makes you say the clinic is short staffed?”
“Well, I went for my weekly checkup with the nutritionist—have you met her yet? She’s brilliant, if a little strict, but you can’t argue results. I’m down two sizes. Anyway, I waited in line for an hour before anyone could draw my blood to test my glucose levels.”
Rafe covered his disappointment by shrugging with a mild smile. “Well, you probably just hit them on a particularly busy day. And besides, doctors aren’t the ones who would be drawing your blood. Those are lab techs.”
“Oh, I know. That was just one example. But you’re right, they probably need more lab techs, too. No, the real thing, no offense, Dr. Black, is that I always go to the clinic for treatment of my sciatica because they’re more holistic in their approach than you. I’m not a pill person,” she added, almost apologetically, as if she’d insulted Rafe somehow with her admission.
“I don’t much like pills myself,” he said. “But sometimes they are a necessary evil to the treatment process. However, if you’ve found an alternative method to ease your pain, I’m happy to hear it.”
A smile bloomed on Mary Lou’s face. “I’m so glad to hear that, Dr. Black. And here I thought you were so old-fashioned when it came to holistic health. I don’t know where I got that idea. You know, you ought to volunteer at the clinic every now and again. A friendly face is always nice.”
“Aren’t there friendly faces at the clinic?” he asked playfully to mask his true motivation.
“Oh, of course,” Mary Lou amended hastily, shooting him a quick look. “I just meant, well, you’re so personable, I always feel like I’m visiting a friend instead of seeing a doctor. Because, you know, doctors can be a little standoffish at times. It’s that doctor-patient thing, I suppose, and the need to retain a little distance.”
Rafe nodded and said, “Well, we all have different methods. But I think you’re right. Volunteering at the clinic sounds like a good idea. I’m still fairly new to the community, and that seems a good way to get to know people.”
“Oh yes. I think everyone goes to the clinic at some point in their lives if they live in Cold Plains. I mean, the health exam alone would put you there, right?”
He agreed. “Everyone undergoes the health exam. Even I did.”
Mary Lou did a quick, flirty appraisal, which coming from the middle-aged woman nearly made Rafe shift in embarrassment, and said, “I’m sure you passed with flying colors. You’re as handsome as the devil.”
Rafe laughed and murmured appropriately humble remarks before steering the conversation back to her health concerns, but his mind was elsewhere. When he’d first arrived in Cold Plains, his first stop had been at the clinic to inquire whether there were any openings—and this was before he’d discovered there was rumor of a secret infirmary—but he’d been politely turned down. He figured it was because he hadn’t been vetted yet in the community’s eyes, but that was months ago. And now, it seemed they needed a few extra hands. Perhaps he could land some pro bono work, gain some goodwill and possibly find an opportunity to nose around places he’d been previously shut out of.
By the end of the day, he was still preoccupied with his plan of attack when Darcy stopped him as he locked up and started to head for his car. “Dr. Black…” she ventured, appearing unsure. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
He stopped, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she assured him, but her expression remained pensive. “Can you tell me what this health exam is all about? Last night at the meeting, I was told all newcomers have to undergo a series of tests.”
“It’s just a standard battery, nothing to be alarmed about,” he said. “It’s more of a precautionary measure.”
“Precautionary against what?”
Such an innocent question, one he had no answer for without revealing his own fears and suspicions. Tread carefully, his mind whispered, but there seemed true apprehension in her eyes. “I’d like to say you don’t have to do them—by law, no one can make you do anything—but if you’re interested in becoming a permanent resident of Cold Plains, you’ll find an easier go of it if you’ve been cleared by the clinic.”
“Isn’t that discriminatory?” she asked.
Extremely.
He shrugged. “It’s the Cold Plains way.”
A flash of distaste rippled over her expression and made him wonder, not for the first time, where her loyalties lived.
“I could go with you,” he suggested. “I have to swing by the clinic myself.”
“What are you going for?” she asked.
He smirked at her seeming inquisitive nature and answered with a shrug. “I’m checking into some volunteer positions. I’ve heard the clinic is short staffed and I want to help.”
“You’re so busy with the practice. You think you’ll have time to volunteer?” she asked, mildly incredulous. “Do you have something against enjoying a private life?”