The Return(78)

I moved closer, keeping my voice low. “She was the one who broke into my grandfather’s house. She also stole my grandmother’s social security number. And she’s very sick. Having to deal with a sheriff is probably the last thing she wants.”

“You know I’m going to have to speak with her about this, don’t you?”

“Good luck,” I said. “She may not speak to you at all.”

“And why is that?”

By then, the older man was nearly within hearing distance. Another neighbor, too, had appeared and was heading our way. When I saw a third door open and yet another woman emerge, I leaned in.

“Please,” I pleaded. “It’s no one else’s business. I’m saying this for Callie’s sake, not mine.”

“I can’t just let you walk away. People saw you trespassing.”

“Then put me in your car. You can bring me to mine.”

“Where’s yours?”

“Up the road. You can’t miss it. I think the folks around here would be happier if I got in. Like I was in trouble.”

“You are in trouble.”

“I don’t think so.” When she didn’t respond, I turned toward her car, noting that all three neighbors had congregated a short distance away and were casting wary glances at me. “If you’d like, we can speak at the station.”

I walked past her and slid into the back seat of the cruiser before Natalie could stop me. For a few seconds, she continued to stand outside the car before finally approaching the gathered neighbors. I watched as the old man began motioning toward me, clearly exercised. Natalie nodded, saying little as the man went on, and after a few minutes, she returned to the car and got in.

As Natalie started the engine and pulled onto the main road, her eyes flashed to the rearview mirror. I could see her irritation at being put in a situation she clearly wished she could have avoided. “Which way to your vehicle?”

“To the left,” I said. “A couple hundred yards.”

“I should just bring you to the station.”

“Then how would I get my SUV?”

I heard her sigh. It took less than a minute for her to reach the spot where I’d parked. When I tried to get out, I realized that the door was locked. Natalie graciously stepped out and opened the door for me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“What’s going on?” she asked, crossing her arms. “I want the full story.”

“I’m thirsty,” I said. “Let’s go to my house.”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s getting warm out here and it’s going to take a while.”

“What’s the girl’s name again?”

“Callie.”

“I know that much,” she said. “What’s her last name?”

“That’s what I was trying to find out.”

*



Natalie followed me back to the house and turned up the drive, eventually coming to a stop beside me. I got out of the car first but waited for her and we approached the house together. I remembered doing the same thing after we’d visited the beehives and I felt a sudden stab of loss. We had been drawn to each other and fallen in love, only to have her end it. What had I done wrong? Why hadn’t she given us a chance?

I led the way inside to the kitchen, taking down two glasses from the cupboard and turning to her. “Tea or water?”

Her eyes flickered to the porch, which looked different than it had the night of our dinner. “Homemade sweet tea?”

“What else?”

“Yes, please.”

I filled our glasses, then added ice. Handing her a glass, I motioned at the porch.

“Can’t you just tell me what’s going on without making an event out of it?” she demanded, clearly exasperated.

“I just want to sit down,” I said. “Don’t make it into something that it isn’t.”

On the back porch and thankful for the shade, I waited for her to join me. After a few beats, she reluctantly took her place in the other rocker. “Well?” she asked. “This better be good.”

I related everything from the very beginning, finishing with the hospital and an attempt to locate Callie’s family by looking for clues in the trailer. Through it all, Natalie remained quiet but attentive.

“You really think she might die?”

“She will die,” I said. “Medicine and transfusions can help in the short run, but in her case, it will eventually be fatal. It’s actually the same disease that killed Eleanor Roosevelt.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I didn’t want to get her in any trouble and for now, she has to remain in the hospital no matter what. Besides, if she won’t speak to the doctors, she probably won’t speak to the police, either.”

She considered that. “Did you find any clues in the house?”

“Not much,” I said. “Probably because of the fire, there wasn’t a lot there. I did find a Georgia Bulldogs sweatshirt and a calendar with scenes of Georgia, though.”

“Do you think that’s where she’s from?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s not much.”