Hummingbird Lake (36 page)

“That’s better.” He went back for another kiss, this one enthusiastic and long enough to cause some catcalls in the theater.

“Why don’t we go home?” Sage suggested when they finally stepped apart.

“Sounds great.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “Let me take care of something here real quick and then we’ll go.”

He steered her toward the registration table. “Hello, Marlene. I have an entry for the local artists competition.”

“You do?” Sage was surprised. She hadn’t noticed him working on anything before he left town.

“Since I couldn’t put my hands on you, I put them to work thinking about you.” He set the bag down, reached inside, and drew out a cloth-draped shape. He removed the cloth to reveal the graceful figure of a woman with wings on her back and a butterfly in her palm.

“That’s fantastic, Colt,” Marlene said. “It’s Tinker Bell.”

“No.” He grinned down at Sage. “I call it
Paradise.
”

“Well, I thought for sure Marcus would win with his photograph of the mountain lion at the edge of Hummingbird
Lake, but with your
Paradise
, you’ll give him a real run for the money.”

“Excuse me?” The question burst from Sage’s mouth.

“Nothing personal, Sage. Your little dog painting is nice, but this …” She gestured toward the carving. “This is powerful.”

“Powerful.”

“Delicate, but at the same time, strong and beautiful. Powerful.”

“Thanks, Marlene.” Colt filled out the registration form, took a folded check from his pocket, then handed both items to Marlene. He winked at Sage and asked, “You ready?”

She stared at the carving. “He’s powerful,” she muttered. Her foot started tapping. “She got an Angel’s Rest medal.”

“A blazon,” Colt corrected. When Sage lowered her brow and glared at him, he said, “C’mon, Cinnamon. Lighten up.”

“I hate it when people say that to me.”

He actually had the gall to laugh. “You’re not afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”

If Sage were a cartoon figure, steam would have been coming out of her ears. “Afraid of competition? Me?”

Colt shrugged. “I didn’t think so. Maybe you simply don’t agree that my pixie is more powerful than your Snowdrop.” To Marlene, he asked, “Who are the judges this year?”

“I’m one of them,” she replied, her smile bright.

Sage focused on the carving. It was beautiful. She knew it represented her. Delicate but strong. That’s how he saw her. He carved this because he wanted her to realize how he saw her. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

His innocent look didn’t fool her. “You’re trying to
goad me into taking another step along Recovery Road, aren’t you?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“You think that I’m too competitive to hand you the blue ribbon by keeping my most powerful work in reserve.” She gestured toward his carving. “That is your way of issuing a challenge to me.”

“Honey, if I wanted to challenge you, I’d say it. When have I ever held back from saying anything to you?”

“You’re sneaky smart, Colt Rafferty.”

“You’re paranoid. C’mon, let’s go. I have a to-go order placed at the Bristlecone, and I brought a sublime bottle of wine with me from California. I’ve been dreaming of watching the sunset from Reflection Point since my second day away from town.”

Sage took one last look at the carving, then turned and left the building with Colt. They picked up his order at the Bristlecone and headed for the lake. But as they discussed his trip and she caught him up on the happenings in town, her thoughts drifted to his carving. While they ate their dinner and enjoyed the wine that proved to be as good as he had promised, she pictured the Angel’s Rest necklace hanging around her sister’s neck. When they walked hand in hand down to the end of the point to watch the sunset, Sage watched a yellow butterfly dance on the air, then alight on the trunk of a fallen tree, and her thoughts returned to her painting of Snowdrop. Of Colt’s carving. Of her sister’s necklace.

He did distract her completely while he made slow, sweet love to her, but when he drifted off to sleep, she lay awake thinking.

At two in the morning, she slipped out of bed and went into her studio.

Colt opened his eyes and smiled into the darkness.

* * *

The summer arts festival opened to fanfare, funnel cakes, and a fish tank for the under-ten set. Spruce Street was closed to traffic and square white tents lined the space from First to Eighth, displaying the wares of artists and artisans from across the nation. On the south side of First Street, in the grassy park area where Angel Creek made a bend around the town on its way to Hummingbird Lake, a large tent had been erected to display the contest entries.

Colt sat on a park bench along Angel Creek that offered a view of the front of the contest tent, eating the breakfast burrito he’d purchased from one of the food vendors after separating from Sage at the front door of Vistas. It was nine forty-five. Contest entry closed and judging began in fifteen minutes. He expected Sage to show up any minute now.

It hadn’t missed his notice that she’d left the cottage with a portfolio this morning. He’d almost asked her what was inside, but instinct told him to keep his lip zipped. Encouragement or pressure or even goading wouldn’t help her to take the next big step in defeating her monsters, he knew. It had to come from inside her, and he was betting she’d pull it off.

At twelve minutes to ten he spotted her. She carried the dark brown cardboard portfolio she’d brought from home with her this morning.

“Attagirl,” he murmured to himself. When she hesitated at the opening of the tent, he quietly said, “You can do this. You’re strong.”

She moved forward, stopping at the registration table. He saw her set the portfolio on the ground, wipe her palms against her slacks, then speak to the woman at the table.

He groaned to himself when she suddenly shook her head and turned away, then started to leave. “Ah, Cinnamon. Buck up. You can do this.”

As though she’d heard him, she halted. He saw her shoulders lift as she drew a deep breath, then fall as she exhaled in a rush. She pivoted, marched back to the tent, set down her portfolio, and whipped out a painting. Done in shades of black and red. A nightmare painting.

“You go, girl,” he said, grinning. He polished off his burrito, licked his fingers, then stood. Good thing he’d shopped for an engagement ring while he was on his trip. Looked like he’d need it sooner rather than later.

Colt took a leisurely route back to his office. He browsed the booths, bought a birthday gift for his mother, and indulged in a second breakfast burrito since the first had been so tasty. He arrived back at his office shortly before his scheduled conference call at ten-thirty, and by eleven-thirty, he had another road trip scheduled and a fishing trip with Gabe Callahan arranged up on a private stretch of land above Heartache Falls where the trout were said to compete with Taylor River rainbows. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said to himself, though his pulse sped up at the possibility.

At lunchtime, he exited the office building and sauntered back over to Spruce. When he arrived at the tent where Sage had items from Vistas on display, he was surprised to find her huddled up with Sarah, Nic, and Ali. All four women had concerned looks on their faces. “What’s up?”

“Some man is going around town looking for Marcus Burnes and making crazy accusations,” Sage said. “He talked to me about fifteen minutes ago. I didn’t know what to tell him.”

Sarah said, “I sent Lori and Chase to the sheriff’s office looking for Zach. Then a few minutes ago, Marlene ran by here in tears.”

“What was this guy saying?”

Sarah gestured toward one of Burnes’ photographs that Vistas had on display. “He claimed that Marcus
Burnes isn’t his real name, that his real name is Donald Bebe and that he jumped bail in Oregon on …” She winced as she finished, “Child pornography charges.”

Colt’s brows winged up, and he looked at Sage, who said, “I didn’t do a background check or anything on him. I bought his photographs. He never claimed any formal training, so it never occurred to me to check.”

“Who is the guy making the claims?”

“He said he’s the father of one of the abused boys,” Ali said. “Someone he knows was here earlier this summer and he said he picked up a brochure about the arts festival. It has one of Marcus’ photos on the cover. Donald Bebe had a legitimate business as a nature photographer, too. The father said he recognized the work and came to Eternity Springs to have him arrested.”

Sage nibbled at her bottom lip. “I hope it’s all just a mistake.”

“Me too,” Sarah said. “Child porn is …” She shuddered.

“Evil,” Sage said, her tone flat.

“Well, this is all conjecture and gossip,” Ali said. “We’d be wrong to condemn the man until all the facts are known.”

The women looked at one another, then all looked at Colt. Sage said, “Go find out the facts for us, Rafferty.”

“Hey, it’s none of my business. Why don’t we—” He broke off abruptly at the sound of the screams.

The gunshots had him tackling the women, forcing them to the ground in search of cover.

Gunfire.

Screams.

Jesus loves me, this I know
.

Bang. Bang. Bang
.

The darkness threatened, black fingery shadows reaching toward her like B-movie monsters. She started
to shake and shiver and shudder like aspen leaves in a gale, but Colt’s voice reached through the fear.

“Hang in there, Sage. It’s okay. We’re okay. This is Colorado. We’re in Eternity Springs. You’re home.”

Eternity Springs. Not Africa. Eternity Springs
.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, and the same time Ali said, “The kids! Where are Chase and Lori?”

“Stay here,” Colt demanded. “I’ll find out.”

Even as he stood, Sage heard the calls. “Doctors. We need doctors.” As Sage climbed to her feet, Chase Timberlake ran up, saying, “Ms. Reese. Come quick. Lori’s been hurt.”

All three women gasped and the Vistas tent emptied, the women on Colt’s heels, running north on Spruce toward the crowd gathered at the Sixth Street intersection. As they arrived, Sage heard her sister’s voice firing off orders like a battlefield medic.

Rose knelt on the ground beside Lori. Her leg was bleeding. Zach Turner barked orders into a phone, cradling a bloody arm. Shoulder wound, she deduced. Marcus Burnes was on his side with what appeared to be a chest wound. A stranger sat restrained by Mayor Townsend and two others. He was crying, his face drained of color. “I didn’t mean to hurt the girl. Dear God, forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt the girl.”

“Somebody get my sister!” Rose shouted.

Sage moved forward. “I’m here. What do we have?”

“Leg wound, in and out. She’ll be okay. Same for the sheriff. Burnes is bad. He’ll bleed out without your help.”

Burnes. The child pornographer. “What about the doctor at Angel’s Rest?”

“Oh his way,” Zach Turner said, “but it’ll take him a few minutes to get here. Helicopter is on the way for Burnes.”

A child pornographer. An evil man.

Another evil man.

“You do it, Rose. I’ll take care of Lori. Nic, you want to see to Zach?”

While the veterinarian hurried over to the sheriff, Sage’s sister glared at her. “You’re the surgeon. You have a surgeon’s hands. He’s bleeding out.”

Jesus loves me, this I know
.

Another evil man.
Dear Lord, why?

Sage’s heart pounded. Her mouth went dry and her hands trembled violently. She shut her eyes.

Time hung suspended as a kaleidoscope of memories whirled through her mind. Africa. Her father. Standing outside the hospital in Dallas. Paintings in red-and-black.

Another evil man.

And I am neither judge nor jury.

Sage blew out a breath and twisted her head around, locating Colt. “I have to help him.”

“Of course you do, sweetheart.”

Stepping forward, someone slapped some latex gloves into her hands. She pulled them on, knelt, and set about saving the dying man’s life.

An hour later, having turned over her patient at the hospital in Gunnison, Sage ducked into their physicians’ locker room for a shower and changed from bloody clothes into a pair of clean blue scrubs. She exited the hospital and discovered Colt sitting on a wooden bench, waiting for her.

“How did you get here?” she asked. “It’s a two-hour drive.”

“A friend of Gabe’s has his own bird. The guy who owns Eagle’s Way.”

“Jack Davenport.”

“Yeah, that’s him. He was in town, so Gabe called him and he brought me down. I thought you might need
me.” He paused, gave her a thorough once-over, then added, “I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

Sage smiled and took hold of his hand. “Oh, I need you, Rafferty. I definitely need you. But I don’t
need
you.”

“That makes total sense.” He touched her cheek. “You look good in scrub blue, Dr. Anderson.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think it really suits me. Prints hide paint splashes better than solids.”

“Ah.”

“I called home. Sarah told me Lori’s okay, and they were able to treat Zach’s wound at the clinic, too.”

“So I understand.” He hesitated a moment, then said, “The father has been arrested.”

“Yes, and Marcus Burnes will be, too, as soon as he’s out of surgery. Sarah told me the sheriff’s office verified the shooter’s claim. Marlene is brokenhearted.” Then, ready to have the unhappiness behind her, Sage asked, “So, Rafferty, how are we getting home?”

“Well …” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Celeste called and asked a favor. Seems she’s had her motorcycle here in the shop, and she asked if we’d ride it back for her. Would you mind?”

“Her Gold Wing?”

“Yep. She also said there’s something for you in the tour pack.”

“I’d love to ride her Gold Wing.”

He grinned, and those devilish dimples of his winked at her. “Good, because I already had it brought over. So, you ready to go?”

He held up the keys. She laughed, swiped them out of his hand, and started for the motorcycle. “I’m driving.”