SB03 - The Defender's Duty Page 11

  She could make a run for it. With or without stitches, her hand would eventually heal.

  Then again, she didn’t have a car and she didn’t have any money. At least she didn’t think she did. She dug in her pocket, found a dollar fifty in change and a few pieces of colored lint. Not enough for cab fare, but it would get her a chocolate bar if she could find a vending machine.

  “Lacey Carmichael?” A dark-haired woman hurried toward her. Five-five. Late fifties. Slim, attractive, well put together. Not dressed in a nurse’s uniform or wearing a stethoscope. That had to be a good thing.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought so. You look just like Jude described, but since you were coming out of the room the nurse said you were waiting in, I wasn’t sure.” She smiled, her eyes deep-blue and vaguely familiar.

  “You’re a friend of Jude’s?”

  “Of sorts. I’m his mother.” She smiled again, and Lacey suddenly knew why her eyes looked familiar. Aside from the color, they were just like Jude’s. The same shape. The same amusement dancing in them.

  “His mother?” She sounded like a parrot repeating every word, but Lacey’s brain didn’t seem to be functioning well.

  Had Jude sent his mother to make sure she was okay?

  The thought was disconcerting.

  And touching.

  “Yes. He’s been held up at the crime scene.” Her gaze dropped to Lacey’s hand, and she shook her head. “Such a terrible thing. I can’t believe you were attacked so brutally.”

  “It was terrifying, but Jude and I are both okay. I guess that’s all that matters.”

  “It is, and I think we should all be thanking God for your safety. Things could have been much worse. So, tell me, were you heading anywhere in particular?” She raised a dark eyebrow, smiling again.

  “The nearest vending machine. I need a chocolate fix.”

  “Then I’m just in time. Come back in the room. I’ve got some chocolate bars in my purse.”

  Chocolate was great. Escape would be better. “Actually, I was also thinking about grabbing a cab and heading back to the duplex.”

  “A grand escape?”

  “I’m not sure how grand it would have been, but that was the plan.”

  “I’d offer you a ride, but Jude asked me to make sure you got the treatment you needed. I wouldn’t be any kind of mother if I let him down.” She smiled sweetly, but Lacey suspected there was a will of steel behind her charm.

  Obviously, Jude had come by his strong personality naturally. “I guess I’ll settle for the chocolate, then.”

  She followed Mrs. Sinclair back into the triage room, wrinkling her nose as the antiseptic smell enveloped her again. “I’ve never liked hospitals.”

  The confession slipped out, and Jude’s mother nodded sympathetically. “Me, neither. Unfortunately, with five very active kids in the house, I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in them. Jude’s broken bones alone had us in the emergency room five times. That’s not counting wounds that needed stitching, poked eyes.” She sighed and dug into her purse, pulling out two chocolate bars and handing one to Lacey.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  “Becca. That’s what my friends call me, and I’m sure after a few hours bonding in this room, that’s what we’ll be.”

  “I guess so. I’m sorry Jude asked you to come here. I was really fine by myself.” Although she couldn’t help being glad for the company and for the distraction it offered.

  “Don’t be. I could have said no if I’d wanted to. Is there anyone you want me to call? Family? Friends?”

  “No. Thank you, though.” Even if Lacey’s mother lived locally, there was no way she would bother coming to sit by Lacey’s side. Which seemed even sadder than usual, considering the fact that Jude’s mother, a total stranger, had dropped everything to be there.

  “Jude said you don’t have family around. Are they far from here?”

  “Yes.”

  “That must be hard, being so far from people who love you.” Becca’s eyes were filled with compassion, and there was no way Lacey planned to tell her the truth. That there was no one who came even close to loving her the way she’d always dreamed a family should.

  “I’m used to it. I’ve been working as a home-care aide for ten years. Traveling is part of the job.”

  “You must meet a lot of interesting people.”

  “I do. That’s one of the best parts of the job.”

  “And what do you do when you’re not working? Explore new places? Get involved in community activities? Attend church?”

  Uh-oh. Lacey knew where this was going, and she didn’t like it. Becca was feeling her out, trying to see if Lacey was good enough for her son.

  A petite, dark-haired woman appeared in the doorway, saving Lacey from having to respond. “Becca Sinclair, please tell me you’re not interrogating an injured woman.”

  “Interrogating is such a harsh word, Honor. I prefer to think of it as showing interest in her life.” Becca smiled sheepishly, but the twinkle in her eyes said she wasn’t at all sorry.

  “Whatever you want to call it, you should be ashamed of yourself.” There was a hint of Irish brogue in Honor’s voice and a warmth in her eyes that belied the sternness of her tone. “You’ll have to excuse Becca,” she said to Lacey. “She is very protective of her family.”

  “As are you.” Becca smiled and hugged Honor. “I take it my son asked you to come here, too.”

  “Asked? Demand is more what Jude did.” She smiled at Lacey. “I’m Honor Malone.”

  “Lacey Carmichael.”

  “Jude said you’d been injured. A knife wound?”

  “It’s nothing serious.”

  “Well, I’ll have to look at it, seeing as how Jude asked so nicely.” She leaned over Lacey’s bandaged hand and started unwrapping it.

  “That’s really not necessary, Honor. I’m sure the doctor will be in shortly.”

  “Probably, but I’m a nurse, and I promised Jude I’d take a look. I can’t break my promise and get in bad with a future in-law.” Her eyes widened, and she put a hand over her mouth. “That’s supposed to be a secret until tomorrow.”

  “A secret? Why would you keep such wonderful news from me?” Becca jumped to her feet and wrapped Honor in another hug.

  “Grayson was planning to tell you tomorrow when we stopped by after church. He’ll be disappointed that I’ve spilled the beans without him.”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And what I know is going to keep me floating on air for a week.” Becca beamed with excitement, and Honor laughed.

  “I guess since I already slipped, I could show you some fabric I was looking at for linens for the reception. I’ve got a few swatches in my bag. Go ahead and get them out.” She spoke as she turned back to Lacey and continued to unwrap the gauze bandage.

  “Congratulations on your engagement. Grayson seemed like a great guy when I spoke to him.”

  “He is. One of the things I love most about him is that family is his top priority—but then, that’s the way all the Sinclairs are.”

  Becca pulled scraps of fabric from Honor’s bag. “Honor, these are absolutely stunning.”

  They were.

  Pale peach, subtle lavender, sage-green.

  The kind of colors Lacey might choose for her own wedding if she ever got married.

  “Aren’t they? Candace helped me pick them out.”

  “Your sister-in-law has wonderful taste. Have you chosen the colors for your bridal party?”

  “Candace has. She’s fallen in love with one of the dresses she saw in a bridal magazine. It’s deep chocolate-brown. I hadn’t the heart to say no. We’ll do a sash in one of the linen colors. I think it will be lovely.”

  “What about Lily? How does she feel about a brown dress? I’m sure your little one has a strong opinion about it.”

  “Little one?” Surprised, Lacey met Honor’s gaze.

  “I have a four-year-old daughter f
rom a previous marriage. My husband was killed in Iraq several years ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “I am, too, but God put Grayson in my life, and I couldn’t feel more blessed. Sometimes our deepest sorrow leads to our greatest joy.”

  “You’ve got such a wonderful attitude, Honor, and I feel blessed to have you as part of my family. I couldn’t ask for a more wonderful daughter-in-law.” Becca patted Honor’s shoulder, a half smile on her face.

  She looked gentle and sweet, the kind of woman anyone would be fortunate to have as a mother. The kind of woman Lacey had wished her mother was when she’d been a kid and still young enough to dream.

  She was an adult now, but there were times when she still longed for the connection she’d never had, still wished she could go back home, look in her mother’s eyes and know she was loved.

  “I see my mother and Honor are keeping you entertained while you wait.” Jude’s deep voice interrupted the quiet flow of words and pulled Lacey from her melancholy thoughts. Her pulse leaped, her heart jumping to attention, telling Lacey something she didn’t want to hear but couldn’t ignore.

  She was attracted to Jude in a way she’d refused to allow herself to be attracted to anyone else in a very long time.

  “It’s a good thing, seeing as how long it took you to arrive.” Becca smiled and placed a kiss on her son’s cheek. “How are you, Jude?”

  “Better.” He wrapped her in a bear hug, kissed the top of her head and let her go. “Thanks for helping me out.”

  “You’re my son. No thanks are necessary. Lacey is a wonderful young lady. As a matter of fact, I was just going to invite the two of you for lunch at our place tomorrow after church.”

  “Sorry, Mom. Grayson and Honor are stopping by after church tomorrow. We’ll have to make it another day.”

  “Why not just all get together at the same time? I’ll invite Piper and Caleb and Tristan and Martha. Honor, you can bring Lily and Candace. Unless that will interfere with your plans?”

  “That would be perfect, Becca. I’ll tell Grayson that we’ll all meet at your place tomorrow.”

  “And you’ll be there, Jude?”

  Jude hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll see you all tomorrow after church. Lacey, it was wonderful to meet you. I only wish it had been under better circumstances.” Becca took Lacey’s hand and squeezed it gently. “If you need anything, please call. Now that all my children are grown, I’ve got way too much time on my hands.”

  “Mom, you’re busier than most women I know who are half your age.” Jude walked his mother to the triage room entrance, waving as she walked away.

  “I do like your mother, Jude. She’s so sweet about getting her way.” Honor laughed as she rewrapped Lacey’s wound. “As for Lacey’s hand, it still needs some stitching, but should heal just fine.”

  “Thanks for coming to take a look.” He smiled, but his eyes were on Lacey.

  “We’re as good as family, so like your mother said, there’s no need to thank me. Now, if you two will excuse me, I’d better get back home.” Honor left the room and disappeared around the corner. Lacey and Jude found themselves alone in what had once been a decent-size room but now seemed too small.

  “How’s the hand?” He crossed the room and stood so close Lacey could smell the winter cold he’d brought in with him, fresh and clean and so much better than cleaners and bleach.

  “Great. As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking I’m not going to need stitches. Let’s go.” She scooted off the gurney and stood.

  “I don’t think so.” He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her so effortlessly, Lacey wasn’t even sure how it happened. One second she was standing. The next she was sitting again.

  “Hey!”

  “We’re staying until the doctor comes.”

  “You could have just said so.”

  “I could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” He grinned, but Lacey didn’t miss his wince of pain or the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Are you okay?” She touched his arm, felt the corded muscles beneath his shirt and pulled back, surprised at his strength and at her own visceral response to it.

  “No worse than I’ve been before.”

  “Maybe the doctor—”

  “How about we talk about something else?” His eyes flashed with irritation, and Lacey understood. Physical pain wasn’t something that could be shared. Talking about it didn’t make it go away, and it didn’t make it better.

  “I guess you managed to convince Officer McKnight that you weren’t an abusive boyfriend.”

  “It didn’t take long. Once my brother’s name came up, McKnight got a whole lot more cooperative.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Grayson is a district attorney.”

  “I didn’t realize that.”

  “Fortunately for me, McKnight did. We started searching for our perp a few minutes after you left. By that time, it was already too late. He was long gone. And the only evidence he left behind was the knife.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you wanted this to be an end to your nightmare.”

  “I did, but I’m not giving up hope. He’s out there, and he’s getting impatient. That’s going to be his downfall.” His smile was tight and hard, and Lacey could imagine him confronting murderers, facing them down, pushing for confessions.

  “What I don’t understand is where he came from. We were alone. Then we weren’t. I know he wasn’t in the parking lot when we pulled in. It was empty.”

  “McKnight and I followed his tracks a quarter of a mile through the woods to the road we drove in on. We figure he had a car there, had probably followed us all morning, saw the opportunity and took it.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel very safe.” Lacey shivered, wishing she had the coat the police officer had taken from her before they’d gotten into the car. Evidence, he’d said. Lacey didn’t know what kind he hoped to get. Human hair? Clothing fibers?

  “It’ll be okay.” Jude eased down beside her, his hip pressed close to hers, his arm around her waist, pulling her in, offering comfort and expecting nothing in return. Lacey let herself relax into the moment, leaning her head against Jude’s shoulder, letting their silence fill the room, fill her until she couldn’t remember why she should keep her distance.

  A quick rap on the door was like a splash of ice water in the face, and Lacey jumped off the gurney, her heart slamming in her chest, her mind screaming that she’d made a big mistake. Leaning on Jude? Allowing him to comfort her?

  What had she been thinking?

  Nothing. That’s what.

  “Ms. Carmichael?” A tall, austere-looking man entered the room, his white lab coat opened to reveal creased black slacks and a white dress shirt. He pushed a small cart with one hand, the gauze and needles on it giving Lacey a good idea of what she was in for.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Dr. Gilliard. I hear you grabbed the wrong end of a hunting knife.” His dark gaze dropped to her hand, then shifted to Jude who was leaning against the far wall. “Are you her husband?”

  “I’m a friend.”

  “I see.” Dr. Gilliard glanced at the chart he was holding. “Well, how about I take a look and see what we’re dealing with. Have a seat, Ms. Carmichael.” He gestured to the exam table, and Lacey forced herself to sit. What she really wanted to do was run. Not from the doctor, but from Jude.

  He watched as the doctor unwrapped her hand and revealed the still seeping wound, his gaze steady and unwavering, his attention completely focused.

  Lacey wanted to ask him to leave, but that would say something she’d rather not reveal—that Jude made her nervous, uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

  “Wiggle your fingers for me.”

  Lacey did as the doctor asked, wiggling her fingers and opening and closing the hand, watching as blood seeped down her palm.

  “Good.
Looks like you’re in luck, Ms. Carmichael. You missed serious damage by millimeters. We’ll just get you stitched up and get you out of here.”

  “Want me to hold your hand?” Jude moved closer, reaching for her hand and holding it tight. Lacey could have told him there was no need. She wasn’t afraid of needles or stitches or gaping, bleeding wounds. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure she felt pain the same way other people did. A psychiatrist client she’d once worked for had told her that years of abuse could numb a person emotionally. What the psychiatrist hadn’t seemed to know was that it could also numb them physically.

  Lacey could have told Jude that, sent him away and let her hand lie cool and limp by her side as the doctor pushed the needle into her cut. Could have told him, but didn’t. There was something too comforting about his touch, something too real and vital and wonderful.

  She glanced his way, and he smiled, his eyes filled with compassion and concern and tinged with a touch of something deeper, more complicated. Lacey’s heart jumped in acknowledgment.

  Be careful, Lacey. Boys only want one thing. When they get it they’ll push you out like yesterday’s garbage and leave you to rot alone.

  The voice whispered from the past, and Lacey shivered.

  “It’s okay. In another minute you won’t feel a thing.” Jude spoke close to her ear, his words warm as honey.

  She wanted to tell him how wrong he was. That what she felt was a soul-deep pain that she could never quite get rid of. But the words stuck in her throat, and she just smiled and nodded and sat silently as the doctor finished stitching her wound.

  It didn’t take long, but by the time the doctor finished, Lacey felt as if she’d been sitting for hours. Her body was stiff, her mind numb, and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to do nothing more than sit in front of the television watching a mindless sitcom. A little comedy would cheer her glum mood. A mood that had more to do with Jude than she wanted to admit. Getting involved with him would be a mistake. A big one. He was a good guy. A great one. But relationships had never been Lacey’s thing. She knew too much about how quickly they could go bad to ever want to take a chance with one again.