Authors: Kathryn Long
"Could you tell how tall he was?" When she looked confused, he moved to demonstrate. He positioned himself behind Jess and placed his arm around her neck. Immediately she tensed, though he wasn't sure if it was because his movement reminded her of the attacker or if just being close to him caused her discomfort. Quickly, he dismissed the thought from his mind to concentrate on this situation.
"Now, did it seem like his grip was positioned like this? You know, his arm resting down? Or did it seem like he was reaching up?" He immediately released her, sensing how uncomfortable she felt.
"I think more like reaching up … So that must mean he's more on the short side, right?" She grinned up at him, seemingly proud of her deduction.
Daniel had to admit he was glad to see her smile. Her unstable mood from earlier really shook him up. More than he realized. Again, he felt upended. He wasn't used to having these feelings for anyone. It's like he wanted to protect her from the whole world, to keep her safe and happy. What was happening to him? He was dumbfounded and really ill-equipped to handle it.
"Okay. Now we may be getting somewhere." He tried another question. "What about his voice?"
"What about it? I told you it was low and hoarse sounding."
"Yes, but did he have an accent maybe? Or some other distinctive speech?" Daniel tried.
Jess frowned as if remembering something, but then shook her head. "No. I don't think so. No. Nothing," she declared confidently.
Daniel became quiet for a moment. What else could he ask? It seemed like they had dead-ended, up against a brick wall. Then, suddenly he considered something. "What about his walk? After he left, do you remember hearing his steps? Anything unusual there?"
"Really, Daniel," Jess objected. "I don't think I could remember a detail like that." She sighed, feeling useless at this point and so very tired. "I would just like to go back to the ranch and sleep. I feel so exhausted." Her shoulders slumped as she ran her fingers through her hair. "So tired."
"Of course," Daniel hurried to apologize. "I wasn't thinking. Sorry, Jess." He put his arm around her to give support while walking her to his truck, and for once Jess didn't cringe. In fact, he was pleased to notice that she leaned into him, relaxing in his embrace.
Once they reached the vehicle, he opened the passenger side to let her get in. "What about …?" she began, but he cut her off.
"You are too shook up to drive. We'll come back for your car tomorrow," he offered in no-nonsense terms, so she wasn't about to argue.
All the way back to the ranch she slept against his shoulder. It was disconcerting at first, the closeness of her, but soon he was deep in thought over the evening's events. Whoever this abductor was, he realized, might have been at the meeting. How else would he have known about Daniel's so-called meddling? He shuddered to think how desperate this man must be to have roughed up Jess like that. And it frustrated him to know they were nowhere near identifying him. The one thing he was certain of left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever he or they were hiding was something they felt worth killing for. Daniel urgently needed to find answers. Before anyone else got hurt. Or killed.
He shuddered once again, the cold feeling still gnawing at his insides. How could this happen in Chickasha? Where people never locked their doors at night? Where the most important news of the day was the crop and livestock prices? And where the closest people ever got to death was old age, not murder? He pressed down harder on the gas pedal and set his jaw in rigid determination. He would keep on meddling. It was really his only choice.
Chapter 24
He had watched from the end of the block, remaining hidden behind a tree, as Daniel had helped Jess into his truck and drove away. His eyes glared with a cold, empty stare while the creases around his mouth left deep impressions as he frowned. Had it worked? His little scare tactic? He could only hope. Lucas had told him to tie up loose ends with Caleb, but he assumed that meant Daniel, too. He frowned uncomfortably as he remembered the abduction of Jess. He felt disgusted to realize he had felt excited during the experience, delirious with power, that control over another human being. It wasn't like him. And he wasn't fond of the person he seemed to be anymore. Sighing deeply, he recognized the need to focus on the mission, what was necessary to be accomplished, and not this type of human weakness, some sick obsession. He shuddered and tried to clear his mind. Then, smiled once more. Maybe when this whole deal was over he could finally realize his own dream, what he always wanted in life, the only thing he could remember wanting. His eyes softened at his own thoughts, the images coming to him. They relaxed him. And with that thought, he walked off toward his car.
As he reached the parking lot he was surprised to see Lucas leaning against his Lexus. "Well, I'll be damned," he exclaimed. "Sure wouldn't have expected you to be greetin' me."
"Don't flatter yourself," he growled. "I just wanted to check on what, if any, progress you've made concerning our, ah, problem." He ended his words with an inquisitive stare, which implied he was waiting for answers.
"I reckon there's a lot of progress," he boasted, then proceeded to recall this evening's events. When he finished, he paused, waiting for Lucas' praise. However, the look on Lucas' face didn't quite seem ready to go in that direction. Quite the opposite, he was beginning to fear. He braced himself for what came next.
"What the hell were you thinkin’?" he yelled. "You know Daniel Ross as well as I do. He won't take a threat lyin' down. In fact he'll snoop around even more!" Lucas paced back and forth, his fury building. "And you attackin' his lady friend like that will make him angrier than ever."
He walked over to his car and jerked open the door. Then, he turned to convey his own threat. "You just better pray I'm wrong. Otherwise …" He didn't finish the sentence, but the serious implication was there. He quickly drove out of the parking lot, gravel spitting out from the tires and spraying everywhere, leaving the other man just standing there trying to recover from the verbal bashing.
He rubbed his chin as he stood there in thought. Could he be that wrong? He certainly hoped not. In fact, he was praying hard and fast that he would be right. His once confident mood now turned foul. He was so angry, he felt like going out to Emma's ranch, finding Daniel and pummeling his face in. He gritted his teeth, then spat on the ground. A sinister snarl formed on his lips. Yes, he'd like to take that Daniel, and maybe even Lucas, and … He left that desire and the parking lot almost as quickly as Lucas had. Only his destination would be the nearest bar. He had a dangerous thirst to quench. And he had to take care of it now. He hoped it would dampen his anger before he'd go off and do something stupid.
He spit on the ground again as he stepped up to the entrance of Stumpy's. "Should've never got mixed up with that lunatic," he mumbled as he entered the bar.
The smoke filled room was nearly empty, but it was early yet. Most would come sauntering in around ten p.m. He went over to sit at his usual table to drink and wait. Maybe they’d get a card game going. That would put him in a good mood, since he usually won. He smiled to himself and downed his first whiskey, and to watch for the boys to come in.
Chapter 25
They stood and watched Fred, an intense, detailed look, taking in every movement no matter how slight. The doctors, nurses, Emma, and even Mac.
"I’m tellin’ you, I saw his eyelids flutter," Emma insisted, a stubborn expression fixed on her face. "Just once, but it was there."
"Emma," Doc Willis addressed her. "It might just have been a reflex, nothing more."
"No. I think he’s tryin’ to wake up," she argued. "Fred’s a fighter." She leaned forward as if willing him to open his eyes. She kept on praying silently, asking for a miracle. It had been three weeks. And she knew, from what the doctors had been saying, the longer he stayed in a coma, the less likely … She couldn’t bear to finish the notion. Getting up from her chair, she began pacing the room.
"Maybe we should just let him get some more rest," Mac suggested, looking around at everyone.
Emma was just about to say that Fred has had more than enough rest, when a moan broke the silence. Her eyes flew back to her dear friend, as did everyone else’s.
"Mac. Oh, Mac," Fred groaned as he tossed his head back and forth. His expression seemed troubled, almost tortured. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped, totally silent and unmoving. His face had softened, peaceful-like once more.
Emma looked back at Mac who seemed as perplexed as she herself was. He shrugged his shoulders at everyone.
"I don’t know what to say." His words finally broke the silence.
"It was probably just hearing your voice," one of the interns suggested. "Sometimes a familiar voice or some sound will pull someone to the near conscious level, and then it happens."
Emma became impatient. "Well, does it mean he’s gettin’ better?"
"Not necessarily," he answered cautiously, knowing that’s not what she wanted to hear. "But perhaps stimulating him could make it better." He suddenly became excited about his own advice. "Like music, playing his favorite tunes or reading aloud from his favorite books, things like that."
Emma was caught up in his enthusiasm. "I know exactly what to bring in. In fact, I'm goin' home right now to get some of those things." With that she jumped up and left the room. Everyone seemed to be smiling, their spirits lifted as they found new hope.
Everyone, that is except for Mac. He just stood there, now left alone in the room, staring at Fred. He frowned as he contemplated Fred's words. Maybe he worried too much at their implication. His reverie, though, was soon interrupted as he heard his name being paged to room 401. He hurried from the room with only a quick glance back at Fred as if to reassure himself that the patient wasn't staring wide-eyed at him, watching him.
He nearly ran into Caleb as he turned down the hallway, startling both himself and the sheriff who extended his arm, his hand braced against Mac's chest.
"You seem in a powerful hurry there, now don't ya?"
"They just paged me, Sheriff. Got to get downstairs and see what it's about," he explained.
Caleb noticed how Mac seemed a bit nervous and distracted. To the sheriff it implied rather suspicious behavior, and seemed, at the very least, mighty peculiar. But he couldn't hold the man back from doing his job. "Well then, you better get goin'," he said, removing his hand from Mac's chest and stepping aside.
Mac mumbled a thank you and continued his fast pace toward the elevator. Fortunately, he didn't have to share the elevator stall with anyone. He couldn't handle that right now. He tried to shake off his uneasy feeling. It wasn't like him to get so rattled. He had to think of Emma, to be strong for her when she might need him. A comatose man saying his name was nothing, he reminded himself. Fred probably was dreaming about old times, he and Fred fishing along the river perhaps. Mac smiled as he recalled those outings. They certainly had some fun back then. Sure, he admitted, they'd had their rifts. Like the time he and Fred had argued about Emma. But it was nothing. Mac knew their friendship could survive just about anything. He relaxed once more as his reminiscing continued to fill his mind with warm images. When the elevator doors slid open, Mac walked out, leading his steps toward the entrance to 401, almost hypnotic, not fully conscious of his movement, still thinking of river trout, beer, and fires lit on the bank, as he entered the room.