Fated Hearts (7 page)

This time she took a step back. She didn’t know anything about this man other than that he didn’t approve of her. “Are you threatening me?”

“No. Are you an idiot?” Her mood shifted from mild trepidation to indignant in the blink of an eye. She didn’t answer but knew she glared. “Must be,” he answered on her behalf.

“You’re insulting. And why should you care about my safety? You don’t want me here.”

“My wife does care and want you here. And your disregard for your own safety scared her. If you’re not an idiot, you are selfish and inconsiderate.”

“Hi, pot, it’s nice to meet you. My name is kettle.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“How about that? We have something in common: I don’t trust you either.” She didn’t appreciate the guilt nagging at her. She hadn’t considered the fact that Maggie was worried about her and not the property. In fact, Aidan hadn’t glanced at the cabin as far as Henley could tell. He was here in his hiking boots as protection while she waited on Carter. She wondered how much, if any, of his bluster was for show.

Henley reached out a hand and touched his arm below his pushed up sleeves. Thank God, he was as mellow a read as Maggie had been. She could feel his love, his worry, his mistrust, his fear, his need to protect. The man wanted to keep his family safe from her and at the same time wanted to keep her from harm. She cocked her head at the instinctual chivalry. Most of the negativity she’d been harboring toward him fled. Her friend had been right: Aidan Gael was worth knowing. She removed her hand.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like him. Or trust him.

“You love them very much,” she said. He slowly nodded, his gaze cautious. “I’m sorry I worried Maggie. It wasn’t intentional. It’s been some time since anyone has cared enough to worry. And I’ve been on my own long enough now that it didn’t occur to me anyone would.”

“That’s sad, Henley.”

“Only if you let it be. I don’t.” She shrugged. “I like being alone.”

“Fair warning: the longer you’re here, the less Maggie will let you be alone. And I’m speaking from experience.” He smiled, genuinely, but not at her. The memory clearly featured his wife. Henley felt herself warming to the man. His smile faded as they both turned toward the sound of a car nearly crashing through the wilderness.

“Sweet baby Jesus, what the hell is he thinking going that fast down the drive?” Henley asked.

• • •

He couldn’t explain it. Didn’t want to examine it, either. But when Maggie called and told him there was possibly a break-in at the cabin, he’d panicked. Carter drove as quickly as safety allowed, took the turn onto the stoned driveway faster than he should have, and now moved too fast down the wooded drive. When his headlights flashed on the two people standing next to the car he had delivered that morning, he saw crimson blood pooling on dirty pavement. He shook off the memory, if not the fear. His first major incident as sheriff, and he was on the verge of … something. A half a heartbeat later, he recognized Aidan and eased up on the gas pedal. Henley wasn’t in immediate danger.
And he didn’t have to handle this alone.

“Are you okay?” Carter shouted at Henley as he hurried from his Jeep. He stopped inches from her and fought the urge to shake her. Embarrassment flooded him when she took an involuntary step back, her backside sliding up against the car. He’d frightened her.

“Yeah, man. She’s good.” Aidan regarded him. Carter ignored the weight of his friend’s speculation and kept his gaze on Henley. Based on their reactions, he must’ve looked as crazed as he felt.

“Doc?”

“I’m fine, Carter. I didn’t go in. No one has come out.” She paused. “I locked that door.”

“I know you did.” He glanced around and then asked Aidan, “You walked?”

“Yeah. Figured Henley had driven and you would be doing the same, so I took the shortcut through the woods. I didn’t see anyone. And I haven’t gone in either—that’s your job.” Aidan smiled.

“Get back in the car while I do my job.” Now that Carter knew she was okay, that the situation wasn’t as critical as he’d thought, he was back in control, and his training and experience took over. “Lock the doors, too. Keep your phone handy. Aidan, you come with me, but I want you to wait outside until I say it’s clear. If I have a problem, I’ll holler, and you signal Henley to call Doug.” He leveled a look at them both in turn. “No one but me goes inside until I say.”

After Henley locked herself in the vehicle, he moved toward the cabin, his hand on his sidearm. Aidan followed closely. Carter knew it was too much to hope that Aidan wouldn’t keep his own counsel.

“What’s going on with you and the dispatcher?” Aidan’s voice was pitched low, but in the quiet twilight, Carter felt as though the question had been shot at him like a cannon blast. He didn’t answer. Aidan shrugged as if he didn’t care.

Carter nodded. “This is close enough. Wait for my word.”

He ascended the few steps onto the porch with caution and halted beside the open door. He heard nothing but the sounds of the forest and his own even breathing. Carter’s heart pounded with adrenaline, but his hands were steady as he freed his flashlight from his belt. He stepped into the doorway and shined his light in a wide arc. Seeing nothing on his initial scan, he flipped the switch for the overhead. He moved through one room at a time, checking everywhere a person could hide. With the cabin being an intimate space, the search didn’t take long. He stepped back out on the porch and hollered, “It’s safe.”

Henley let herself out of the car, her purse and a shopping bag in her hands.

“Any chance of you not mentioning my emotional state when I arrived to Mags?” Carter asked Aidan in a confidential tone. “I don’t want her to worry or for anything to get back to the family that will cause them to jump to conclusions.”

“Little to none, brother. Little to none.” When Henley reached the bottom of the stairs, Aidan still grinned at him. “Since the sheriff has this in hand, I’ll be making my way home. Maggie’s probably frantic by now.”

“Thank you, Aidan.”

“No problem, Henley. Good night.” They stood in silence as he slid into the shadow outside the perimeter of the porch light and, with little disruption to the forest, disappeared.

“That man moves like a wraith,” Henley noted. “Fast too. I’d barely disconnected with Maggie.”

“I need you to come in and see if anything’s missing,” Carter redirected her attention. He followed her in, closing the door behind them. She spent a few minutes scanning the living room. She went up to the loft while he moved into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. He was pouring two mugs when she joined him.

“It looks like most everything is there.”

“Most everything?”

“I keep the place neat, ’cause that’s how I am, and my stuff together, out of habit. The only thing I can’t find is a necklace. Not expensive, no sentimental value. I’m not sure when I wore it last. But I don’t see it. I could’ve just lost it.”

“Or someone could have taken it.” He watched her add cream and sugar to her cup. He sat. He wasn’t ready to leave. Not without answers.

“Who could it have been?”

“Kids, maybe. But there’s beer in the fridge, electronics, and the place wasn’t trashed or vandalized, so I don’t think it was. We get people hunting around here when it isn’t hunting season and despite the private property signs that are posted. But for what purpose?” He blew over the surface of his coffee and took a long sip. “It feels personal, Doc. Taking a trinket, leaving the door open. Terror tactics. Subtle ones, but still. And I think you know who it is.”

“I don’t know,” she answered by route, instinctually lying. But the moment the words left her lips, she realized it wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know. She clasped the hot mug in both hands, stared down into the light coffee she hadn’t drunk. A week ago, an hour ago, she would’ve said it was all in her mind, but she’d locked that door. Henley had no idea whom it might have been.

“Don’t give me that. You’ve been on the run, right? I know it’s not from the law. An abusive husband? Boyfriend? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Henley, please.”

“I’ve been running from myself.” She set the mug down hard and stood. She strode to the window and stared out into the blackness. The ease she’d felt here had been tarnished—now the dark seemed threatening. And the cabin felt perilously close to that threat. How much should she tell him? Without turning, she began with the least painful part of her past.

“After the coma, I had a hard time, emotionally. I had to do something that gave me an element of control again; I’d lost so much of myself. Getting my medical degree and training in psychiatry helped put me back together. I dedicated most of my life to my profession, to helping other people who weren’t able to help themselves. And I was good at what I did, or at least I believed I was making a difference and that gave me purpose. I identified myself by what I did, valued myself by those I helped.”

“I don’t think that’s unusual. I’m a cop, and that’s more than just a job. It’s a large part of what makes me
me
.”

“And that’s healthy, Carter. But for me, being a doctor, helping people, wasn’t a large part of who I was. It was all I was. I distanced myself, personally and socially, from the rest of the world. My entire existence revolved around my practice.” She had to keep her emotions in check; she required the clinical perspective to do that. She couldn’t fall apart. Not again. “About five years ago, I became emotionally invested in a patient’s recovery.”

“That’s bad?”

“Yes, that’s bad. Psychiatrists who take their patients’ problems on as personal crusades, instead of giving them the tools they need to heal themselves, become a hindrance to the very patients they’re trying to help.” She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she could ward off the chill she knew came from within. The cabin was warm, safe, and secure. “I failed my patient, miserably. He was just a boy, a confused, grieving boy, and not only did I fail to help him as he and his father trusted I would, I made it worse.

“It fractured my sense of identity. What if I wasn’t a good doctor? What if every perceived success my patients experienced was simply my ego? I didn’t trust myself. I started canceling patients; eventually I let my secretary go and transferred what remaining files I had to other doctors in the area. I retreated even more into my own head, and it wasn’t long before I fell into deep depression. Then the paranoia set in.”

“Paranoia?” he asked.

“I thought I was being followed. Sensed eyes on me everywhere I went. I was sure my office, my house, my car had been searched, though I had no proof and no one believed me. My family, having lived through the hard times following the coma, assumed the worst. But I knew,
I knew
, that someone was after me.

“I’d been careful with physical contact because of my ability, but with my own emotions on overdrive, the idea of being touched was terrifying. I developed a mild case of agoraphobia.”

“You’re afraid of rabbits?”

She laughed despite herself. She thought he intentionally misunderstood, that the question was meant to diffuse the situation. In fact, the unexpected laughter had loosened the knot in her stomach and eased the burning in the muscles at her neck.

“It means I was afraid to leave my house.” He nodded. “My parents are on the board of several charities, but their favorite holds an annual fundraising ball that my sister and I are expected to attend. It’s the only function they expect us at; we don’t even do Thanksgiving together. I’d started seeing a new doctor, and I’d reluctantly agreed to a drug regimen. I filled the prescriptions but couldn’t bring myself to take them. I can’t explain the level of fear and anxiety I experienced preparing for the ball that made me decide to try the pills.

“Instead of a calming effect, I was one of the lucky few to have an adverse reaction. I was manic by the time I arrived at the country club. The scene I caused was, as I read in the society pages, epic. I remember very little of it. I’ve never been sure if that was a blessing or a curse.”

“That’s what you thought your background check was going to reveal?”

She nodded and stared out into the darkness beyond the windowpane. It was easier to lie with a gesture. That wasn’t all she was afraid he’d find. “If you Google it, I’m sure it’s there.”

“Why did you run, Henley?”

“My family tried to have me committed, involuntarily, after the debacle. I couldn’t allow that, but I couldn’t prove they weren’t right about my mental state. My practice was already in tatters. I’d spent most of my savings keeping myself afloat those three years I spiraled out of control. I had no other ties. I knew it was crazy, but for some reason, that option felt like the only sane decision I could make. I threw what I could into my car and bolted in the middle of the night, like a thief. At first it was incredible; I hadn’t felt that real in years. For the longest time I drifted, like a wraith. A spooked, transparent version of myself. Then the paranoia would kick in, the darkness of depression quick behind it. Every stop, in every city, eventually I’d feel the eyes on me. The invisible breath of a predator I couldn’t identify on the back of my neck. When I didn’t feel safe anymore, and invariably that time would arrive, I’d pick a point on the map and drive.”

“And you broke down here.”

“And I broke down here.” She sat in the chair facing him and raised her eyes to his face, braced for the judgment she was sure she’d see.

“Anything obvious happen in the past, like the door being open, things missing, stuff like that?”

“Nothing like the door, but sure, little things have gone missing. But how do I know I didn’t just misplace or lose those little things?”

“Because someone very real broke in here today.” He kept his gaze direct. It calmed her, his cool, direct statement combined with the kind but no-nonsense expression on his face. Compared to the furious, terror-stricken man who had arrived on the scene, this was the real Carter. And he was all cop. “I want you to consider the possibility that you were being stalked in Cleveland. Take some time and try to think of who, back then, might have been following you; if anyone on your travels looked out of place or were somewhere they shouldn’t have been. Because, Doc, I’m not questioning your sanity.”