Die Before Nightfall Page 11

  He had a point. Raven eased back up and leaned back against the cushions as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She floated for seconds half-conscious, then felt Shane’s hand on her arm, anchoring her.

  “You need to take better of yourself.” His voice was a growl, but Shane’s hand was gentle against her arm, skimming over the cool flesh there, as he urged her to lie down.

  “I do take care of myself.”

  “Yeah? So when was the last time you ate a meal? When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”

  She wouldn’t lie, so she didn’t answer.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “There are plenty of people who work hard. Who eat when they have time. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Nothing wrong with it if the person enjoys what she’s doing. If she takes time to renew herself when she needs it. Seems to me, you don’t do either.”

  “You don’t know me well enough to make that judgment.”

  “Maybe not, but I know what I see. I see this—” He ran a finger beneath Raven’s eye. “And this—” Ran it down her cheek. “Too much color in the one, not enough in the other. You’re running yourself ragged, and what I want to know is why.”

  “I’m a nurse. It goes with the territory.”

  “I don’t think so. Even the most dedicated professional can take time for herself if she wants. You don’t. There must be a reason.”

  “Not one I want to talk about.”

  Silence stretched between them. Then Shane sighed. “Drink your water, it’ll put some color back in your cheeks.”

  He started to walk away, and Raven knew she didn’t want to be left alone. Not with the grief and horror of the dream still fresh in her mind.

  “Have you ever lost someone you loved?”

  Shane stopped, turned back. “Loved? My father, I suppose. Though we didn’t have much of a relationship.”

  “I have. It’s a hard thing to get over.”

  “You must have loved your husband a lot.”

  “No. Not Jonas. Maybe when we first married, but later, things went bad.”

  “Then who?”

  “Micah. My son.”

  A son? He’d imagined a lot of things about Raven; none of them had to do with her having children.

  “You had a son?”

  “Just for a few hours. He was born too early.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Raven shrugged, but Shane knew it cost her to pretend indifference.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “Before your husband died?”

  “Yes. Micah died a month before Jonas’s illness was diagnosed.” She sat up, pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees. She looked young and vulnerable, and Shane wanted to take her in his arms and protect her from all the things that tormented her. He listened instead, watching as Raven stared out the window and continued to speak.

  “I didn’t go home after I was released from the hospital. Didn’t see my husband for five weeks. Then he called me. Said he had an inoperable brain tumor and he wanted to make amends—to ask forgiveness for what had gone wrong in our relationship. I went home to care for him.”

  “That was a selfless thing to do.”

  “No. It wasn’t. I wanted to die after I lost Micah. Caring for Jonas gave me something to do. Someone to be besides the woman who lost her child—” Her voice broke and she raised a shaky hand to brush hair from her cheek.

  “So you were the nurse.”

  “It was better than the alternative.”

  “How long did you nurse your husband?”

  “Almost two years. He died three years ago. In the winter.”

  She shivered, as if reliving the day, and Shane grabbed the quilt from the back of the couch and draped it around her shoulders. “You okay?”

  “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

  Yet she still dreamed of it. Shane didn’t point that out. There was something else, some other part of the story that she wasn’t sharing, and he wanted to know what it was. Now wasn’t the time to push for answers, though, not with Raven’s eyes challenging Shane to question her story, to give her reason to run again. He brushed curls from her cheek, tucked them behind her ear.

  “Drink your water.”

  She sipped, then took a deeper swallow, color blooming on her cheeks and tingeing them with rose.

  “I read some of Abby’s file. She’s on several medications.”

  So, it was back to business. Shane could deal with that. At least for now. “That’s right. I have a chart with doses and times.”

  “Good. We’ll put that on a white-board and hang it on the refrigerator. Med, dose, time in permanent marker. Whoever administers the medication can sign for the day and hour.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “It’s effective. Protects against overdosing or missing meds altogether.” She leaned forward, grabbed the folder from the ground and stood. “Do you mind if I bring this home, go over it there?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  Shane didn’t bother arguing. “Do you want a ride home?”

  “I’ll walk. It’s such a beautiful day. Abby should be outside. I’m sure she’d enjoy a walk.”

  Was that how Raven dealt with her grief, by pouring all her energy into someone else? “I’ll take her out. Maybe we’ll come for a visit later. I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

  “I’ll be home. Trying to hang laundry without dragging it in the dirt.”

  “I’ve got a dryer.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but this is a matter of pride now. I can’t let the blasted line beat me.” Real humor gleamed in Raven’s eyes, and Shane caught a glimpse of the woman she might have been before she’d lost her son.

  And her husband.

  Though it appeared Raven didn’t regret his death nearly as much. That seemed at odds with what Shane had seen. Raven was the kind of person that bled a little with each death, each lost soul, each bad ending. So what had happened between her and Jonas to make her speak of his death so emotionlessly?

  Shane thought about it as he walked Raven outside. Thought more about it as he watched her walk away. Her husband must have wounded her deeply for Raven to have turned her back on him.

  And in the end, she hadn’t completely turned away. She’d nursed him through his illness, staying with him despite her need to escape the relationship. Regardless of what she’d said, Raven’s actions had been selfless. And that, in Shane’s opinion, was true love. A love that gave even when it received nothing in return. A love that continued even when the feeling was gone, layered by resentment and swept away on waves of regret.

  A love Shane wouldn’t mind experiencing. A love he wouldn’t mind giving.

  The thought made him pause, his hand on the office door. Love. The emotion was something he hadn’t had much experience with. He’d dated plenty during high school and college, but had never felt more than affection for any woman. Post-college days had been full of writing, his relationships brief—a few dinners, movies, maybe the theater.

  He’d been content with the arrangement.

  Was he still? Shane wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling that things were changing, and changing fast. Whether he liked it or not.

  Chapter Eleven

  Raven didn’t go straight home. Maybe she should have, but she wanted to walk off some of her tension and force the nightmare to the back of her mind. In the cottage, surrounded by four walls and loneliness, that would be difficult. But outside, with grass rustling beneath her feet and birds flitting from tree to tree, she could focus on the glorious creation around her and keep her mind off other things.

  Like Micah. Like Jonas. And like Shane…

  Raven could admit it to herself. Being around Shane made her feel more alive than she had in a long time. She wasn’t sure she liked the feeling. Living meant feeling pain, disappointment and unhappiness. Those were thi
ngs she’d left behind after Jonas’s death. Things she figured she could spend the rest of her life doing without. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to enjoy what God gave her, or that she didn’t cherish the hours and minutes of her days. But those hours, those minutes, were gifts she gave to other people. Gladly. Without regret. She wanted nothing in return, accepted nothing in return.

  Shane wanted to give. Raven could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. His passion for life, for the good and bad of it, was clear in his writing. He wouldn’t be afraid to dream of happily-ever-afters, even if he’d never had one of his own.

  But Raven was afraid—afraid that another bad ending would be more than she could bear.

  “Too beautiful a day for frowning.”

  Raven whirled toward the voice, then smiled as she caught sight of Sam Riley.

  “You’re right. How are you, Mr. Riley?”

  “Sam. And I’m doing fine, but you seem a bit peaked. Heard what happened.”

  “Happened?”

  “The car. Some kid joyriding, I hear.”

  “That’s what Officer Marshal said. I haven’t heard anything different yet.”

  “Yet?” Sam fell into step beside Raven, linked an arm through hers and began to walk. “Now, what else could it be? Seems to me, kids have been pulling pranks like that for years. Won’t change, no matter how much the law might want it to.”

  “I’m sure that’s all it was. Officer Marshal just wanted to be sure it was an accident.”

  “I may be old but I’ve still got a brain in my head. If it wasn’t an accident, then someone tried to kill you or Abby.”

  Spoken aloud the suspicion sounded absurd. “Like I said. The police are just checking out every angle.”

  “What angle?”

  “Officer Marshal said someone might have motive for hurting Abby.”

  “Not someone. If Marshal’s accusing, he’s talking about Shane.”

  “The police just need to—”

  “Not the police. Marshal. He and Shane have been feuding since high school. Some fight over a girl, I think. Can’t remember all the details.”

  “That was a long time ago. I doubt there are still hard feelings.”

  Sam stopped short and peered down into Raven’s face. Then he shook his head. “Don’t kid yourself. People around here have long memories.”

  “Like with Thea Trebain?”

  “Yeah. Just like that. Let’s walk some more.”

  For a moment Raven considered refusing. There’d been something in Sam’s tone that set alarms off in her mind. Then he raised an eyebrow, his features relaxing into a smile.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

  “You seem upset that I mentioned Thea.”

  “Not upset, just curious. Wondering what a young gal like you is doing worrying about ancient history.”

  “Not worrying. Wondering. You’ve got to admit it’s an intriguing tale.”

  “Now, see, that’s just it. It’s not a tale at all. When you say Thea’s story is an intriguing tale, you forget the humanity in it. That people mourned her. Grieved for her.”

  “And you were one of them.”

  Sam turned away, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his emotion. “We were friends. I would have been more, but she never wanted me. Always loved someone else.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He turned, the smile back on his face. “I married Anna instead. We had a real love, the kind built on friendship and shared dreams. I knew long before Thea disappeared that we wouldn’t have been happy together. My feelings were a childish crush. Nothing more. That doesn’t mean I want people to take Thea’s disappearance lightly.”

  “I don’t. I’m sorry if you felt that way.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a grumpy old man—just like my granddaughter is always saying. Come on. Gotta get back to the house before Tori finds out I’m gone.”

  “You’re not supposed to leave the house?”

  “Doctor appointment later on. Missed the last one and Tori’s on the warpath.”

  “Are you ill?”

  “Nah. A little trouble with the blood pressure that’s all. I take my medication, I’m fine.”

  “Can I ask you something, Sam? Something about Thea?”

  “Guess that depends on what it is.”

  “What do you think happened? Really.”

  “Don’t think. Know. She’s dead. Has been since the day she disappeared.”

  “But how can you know that?”

  “Thea was a lot of things—hardheaded, stubborn, too pretty for her own good. But she wasn’t a coward. No way she’d run from her problems.”

  “Problems?”

  “You mean no one’s told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  “Thea was having an affair. Or so the story goes.”

  “So it isn’t a fact?”

  “Didn’t say that, did I? A story always has a grain of truth. Thea was having an affair. Some say with a married man. Some say with an out-of-towner. Some say he was black. Some say he was white.”

  “What do you think? You were her friend.”

  “I think there was only one man Thea ever loved. If she had an affair, it was with him.”

  “Who?”

  “Daniel Meade.”

  “Abby’s brother? He was married.”

  “Married with a son and three daughters. Adam was maybe seventeen or eighteen at the time. The girls, a few years younger.”

  “Did they know about the affair?”

  “Who knows? Thea’d been away for years. Left town after Daniel married and didn’t return until her mother fell ill. Must have been fifteen or sixteen years later. Most people ’round here had finally stopped talking about the relationship the two had had before Daniel married. When Thea came back, rumors started flying again. I’d be surprised if Daniel’s kids didn’t hear something of it. But did they think he’d have an affair with her? That I can’t say.”

  “How about his wife? Did she know?”

  “If she did, I doubt she cared. Allison was a cold woman. Still is.”

  “So why marry her?”

  “That’s something only Daniel could say. Though I’d venture a guess his father had something to do with it.” Sam stopped speaking and raised an eyebrow. “You’re awfully curious about something that happened before you were born.”

  “I’ve heard Thea mentioned several times. I guess I just wondered what happened to her.”

  “You and everyone else. Wish I had a real answer, but I don’t.”

  “Thanks for sharing what you do know.”

  “No problem. Hey, how’s the puppy working out?”

  “Merry’s great. Come to the house if you want—you can visit.”

  “Nope. Tori’ll have my head if I miss my appointment again. Got to go.” He saluted and turned away.

  Raven watched him go, wondering about the things he’d told her. How accurate were they, colored as they were by Sam’s skewed perspective? Daniel and Thea had both been his friends. Could he see their human frailties through the love he so obviously had for them?

  Raven didn’t know and wasn’t sure she should care. Yet the story of Thea Trebain haunted her. Abby had been deeply affected by her friend’s disappearance. Did she know something, something that perhaps her best friend and her brother had revealed to her? A secret meant to be kept, but now being revealed? And would that revelation ease Abby’s mind, or stir up old demons?

  Raven shook her head at the thought, pushed open the cottage door—and stepped into chaos. Fabric trailed along the floor. The couch was flipped over, the cushions slit and leaking stuffing. Framed pictures lay in beds of shattered glass. Shredded books were scattered like confetti around the room. A creak broke the silence. The sound soft, subtle and out of place. Raven froze. Her breath was shallow and quiet, her ears straining to hear above the sound of her own heartbeat.

  Was that the quiet padding of feet sh
e heard? And where was Merry? She’d yet to make an appearance—no whining, barking or paws scratching against the kitchen floor to say she was all right. Raven swallowed down her fear and took a step into the room. A loud crash sent her jumping back.

  She didn’t wait to hear more. She raced out the door and across the yard, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. The driveway seemed too long; the road stretched endlessly. Raven didn’t look back, didn’t dare turn to see if someone was coming after her. She just raced back the way she’d come, back toward the Montgomerys. Back to safety. Back to Shane.

  A hard knock on the door jerked Shane from his work, dragging him back from his mystical fictional world into reality. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go. The knock sounded again, and he knew he’d lost the flow of the story. Irritated, he shoved away from the desk and stalked to the door, swinging it open with enough force to send it crashing into the wall.

  “What! I’m trying to work…” The words died as he caught sight of Raven. Her face was white, her eyes frantic.

  Shane tugged her inside the office, ran his hands along the cold flesh of her arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Someone’s at the cottage. Trashed it.” She panted the words out, her hands trembling as she pressed them against her stomach.

  “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” The thought made Shane go cold with fear and rage.

  “No. I didn’t actually see anyone. Just a lot of damage.”

  “Sit down. I’ll call the police.”

  For once she didn’t argue, didn’t try to maintain control. She just sat silent and pale as Shane made the call.

  “They’ll be here in a minute.”

  “I need to go back.”

  “The dispatcher told me we should wait here.”

  “Merry’s missing. What if…?” Her voice broke and her eyes filled, though no tears fell.

  “Who’d hurt a puppy?”

  “Someone who would break into a house and trash it.”

  She had a point, but Shane didn’t say so. “Don’t worry. She probably ran and hid.”