Mean Streak(77)

His cell phone rang, interrupting him. He pulled it off his belt, read the caller’s name, and muttered with irritation, “Seriously?” He answered. “What is it?”

He listened for several seconds, then said, “I have no idea. Yes, I’ll ask her right now. Uh-huh. Okay, good-bye.” He clicked off. “That fat detective. Knight.”

“What did he want?”

“He asked if you had the hiking trail map you used on Saturday.”

“It’s zipped into the inside pocket of my jacket.”

He got up and moved to the narrow closet where he’d earlier stored her duffel bag. Also in it was the plastic bag containing her running clothes and other belongings, which she’d given over in exchange for the hospital gown. He brought the bag back to the bed and dumped the contents.

“This blue jacket?”

She nodded, then leaned her head back and gazed at the acoustic tiles in the ceiling. “Jeff, why did you announce at the press conference that you planned to go to Haiti with me?”

She had been disinclined to watch it, but a nurse who’d been in the room at the time of the broadcast had excitedly turned on the TV. A portion of it had aired live, a leading segment of the evening news.

He said, “I wanted to go on record that I’m turning over a new leaf.”

“It’s an admirable gesture. But I can’t see you enduring the heat and the squalid accommodations. Doling out toothbrushes to children and instructing them on their use? It just isn’t you.”

“But I want it to be. I want to become more involved in the things you’re involved in, and… Are you sure that map was in this pocket?”

“Yes.”

He turned it inside out and showed her. “Not here. I’ve checked all the other pockets, too.”

She raised a shoulder. “That’s where I remember putting it. Did Sergeant Knight say why he wanted it?”

“Something about investigators retracing the route you took on Saturday. Said the map you used might come in handy. I’ll call him later and tell him we can’t find it.” He began stashing the items back into the plastic bag. “Who repaired your sunglasses?”

I can be dexterous when dexterity is called for. Feeling the heat of guilt staining her cheeks, she looked away. “One of the nurses, I suppose. There were several in the ER who helped me undress.”

“Good thing you’ve got a change of clothing to wear home tomorrow. These look and smell a little worse for wear. Are you sure you don’t want me to toss them?”

“No. They’ll wash.”

“All right then.” He replaced the bag in the closet and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Now,” he said, taking a deep breath, “where was I?”

“Making a fresh start.” Before he relaunched the discussion, she said, “But do you mind terribly if we start tomorrow? There’s so much for us to talk about, and I’m too exhausted tonight. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have realized.” He lifted her, hugging her against him. He ran his hands up and down her back, stroking her bare skin through the opening in the hospital gown.

“There were times during the past few days when I was afraid I’d never hold you like this again. I’ve missed it…missed this…missed you.” He kissed her temple, then her cheek, and then her lips, softly and chastely. Lowering her back onto the pillow, he said, “Now rest.”

“I will.”

“If you change your mind about wanting something to eat, wanting anything, promise you’ll call me.”

“I promise. Rest well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early. I can’t wait to quit this town.” He blew her a kiss at the door.

After he left, despair descended on her like some dark, malevolent bird, its wings widespread, covering her completely. Would she always feel this miserable with guilt over the lies she had told and continued to tell?

Throwing off the light blanket, she got out of bed. Pulling the IV pole along with her, she went over to the closet and took out the plastic bag that contained her belongings. She pulled from it her left running shoe, and from beneath the inner sole of it, she took out the map.

Knight had forgotten to get it from her before he left. As soon as she was alone in the room, she had retrieved the map from her jacket pocket and put it in her shoe, the only place she could think of to hide it until she was away from the hospital where she could safely throw it away.

She wasn’t really concealing anything. She’d been truthful about the name of the trail she’d taken, if not specific about the narrower paths she’d branched off onto, some of which deviated from the trail she’d marked.

All the same, she would hang onto the map, not wishing to make it easier for investigators to retrace her exact route and possibly find something left behind, a clue as to her rescuer’s identity or the location of his cabin.

Sam Knight, despite his “aw shucks” manner, was still a lawman. Unanswered questions and missing details nagged him. He’d led her to believe the case was as good as closed. But if that were true, why was he interested in seeing the map? Why were investigators still searching the trail?

The detective remained curious about her Good Samaritan.