Freefall (17 page)

“What’s yours?” She slid her purse strap up her narrow shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you rather make that up? Isn’t that what you people do?”

“I’m not a rag reporter.”

“What, then?”

“An investigator. Like you, only impartial.”

He stopped walking. “Let’s see.”

She took out her identification.

He frowned. “Who’s paying the bill?”

She smiled without teeth.

“Then tell me this. Why are you investigating a hiking accident?”

“Accident? Funny how people get hurt around Gentry Fox.”

Not what he wanted to hear. Had he lost his impartiality? But if she’d injured her uncle, why go back for him? The amnesia seemed real, though a good actor could pull it off. He’d watched her transform in the time it took to round the hood of his truck.

He expelled a breath. The clock had tipped toward morning, and he was nearing exhaustion. Not a good time for judgment calls.

Bette slid her card from her wallet. “Maybe we can help each other.”

“We’ll see.” He took the card and left her standing in the hall, then let himself into the room. Gentry sat with her face in her hands. The expression she raised to him was so bleak, it tugged the doubt right out of his head. He walked over and set her Coke on the table, then laid the card beside it. “Anyone you know?”

FOURTEEN

Gentr y stared at the name on the card,
but nothing came to her. “Should I?”

Before Cameron could answer, the door opened. A doctor came in, sandy hair receding from a slack-cheeked face. His chin all but disappeared into his neck, but his eyes were sharp and aggressive. She jumped up and faced him.

His nostrils collapsed as he drew in his breath and spoke in a thin, nasal voice. “Ms. Fox, I’m Dr. Long. Your uncle has come through surgery but has not yet stabilized. I repaired injuries to the knee and ankle of his right leg, but the extensive damage and septic condition of the lower-left extremity could require amputation.”

She startled.
Amputation?

“That is a solution we hope to avoid, but the infection is severe and his condition critical.” His robotic delivery set her teeth on edge.

“Is he conscious? Can I see him?”

“He’ll remain unconscious until he’s stabilized. From recovery, he’ll be taken to ICU. Someone will let you know, but …” He tipped his head back and sighted her down the narrow barrel of his nose. “I won’t have a circus in there.” Understandable, considering the circus outside, but his expression suggested that, on top of everything else, this was her fault. Guilt hit her so hard she staggered.

The doctor’s icy manner started her meltdown as he left the room. Cameron’s hand on her shoulder undid her. She turned, and he pulled her into his chest. Uncle Rob critical and unstable? She had thought as soon as he reached the hospital everything would—
Amputation?

She refused to think of Uncle Rob without both strong legs. Uncle Rob unable to conquer a boulder field, to leap rock to rock across a stream, to set a pace only the hearty could match to reach a summit at peak light. If infection caused the loss, then it would be her fault for not remembering, for not finding him sooner.

Cameron’s
“I found him; he’s alive”
had been a clarion call to hope and expectation. A feast of relief.
Fait accompli
. Even her uncle’s dire condition hadn’t quenched hope as this surgeon’s words did now. She clenched her jaw and refused to surrender the field. “They won’t take his leg.”

Cameron’s face was grim. “There might be no choice.”

It hit her like a cold splash from the falls. She pulled away, remembering he scorned hope. “I’d ask you to pray, but you don’t expect anything.” She shook him off like an irritating fly and circled the room, issuing her own orders to God. Specific and vehement, she still couldn’t help feeling that Cameron was canceling her out.

Why was he even there? He didn’t know her, didn’t know Uncle Rob. He was an investigator like the woman on the card, Bette Walden, PI. She stopped short. A face flashed, the sharp, pale-eyed face of the woman, sneering,
“How convenient, Ms. Fox.”

She spun. “What did you tell that woman, that PI? That if I’d gone to the police, my uncle would be fine?”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’d have been identified. They would have known that first day he was out there.”

Cameron crossed over to her. “That doesn’t mean they’d have found him. You did that. And you couldn’t have done it sooner. You needed to heal.”

She pressed her hands to her face. “If it’s too late. If I’ve ruined his life …”

“You saved his life.”

She jerked her face up. “You don’t know him. He can’t stand to stay cooped up, to be constrained. What I’ve done to him is a crime.”

He took hold of her shoulders. “Don’t say—”

“Anything that can be used against me?” He had come to the island to investigate her. He’d admitted it. Just like that PI and the reporters—waiting, hoping for a scandal. “Anything damning enough—”

He gave her shoulders a shake. “Are you through?”

Her chest heaved. They were both ragged and sweaty, their scents mingling with fear and tension. “You’ve thought from the start—”

“Forget what I thought.” His mouth took control, kissing the words and thoughts away, then softening, giving back what he’d taken. That first sight of him had stirred something in her. She had fought even the thought of connection when she didn’t know who she’d lost, but now she couldn’t help responding so deeply it took her strength away.

He propped her against the wall and leaned on his elbow, looking frayed. “I didn’t plan that.”

“You want to forget it?”

“Unfortunately my mind’s a trap.”

“Must be nice.”

He cupped her shoulder. “It’s coming back, Gentry. You’re going to remember.”

“I’m not sure I want to.” Had she blocked things she couldn’t face? Mistakes she’d made and regretted. She looked away, beyond tired and incapable of reason.

“Look at me.” His voice was low and steady. “Whatever happens isn’t your fault. You’re Gentry Fox, not God.”

A short laugh escaped her. “That’s perspective.”

He needed it too—a step back, a fresh view of the whole situation. Things had gone a far sight from what he’d intended. He slid his fingers into her hair and tipped her face up. “You’re going to be okay.”

“And Uncle Rob?”

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll handle whatever comes.”

She released a jagged breath. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag.” He’d taken every step. “But it’s gotten crazy, and I don’t want Nica involved.” He rested his thumb in the soft depression above her collarbone. “No offense, but you can’t go back there.”

Her lashes dropped and lifted wearily. “We must have had a hotel or something.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t remember coming to Kauai or anything until after I went over the falls.”

None of the trauma. This or the one months ago. She was blocking things that hurt. He’d suspected that. “Who might know your itinerary?”

“Uncle Rob. He’d have made the plans; he always does. Maybe Aunt Allegra, though that’s another story. His housekeeper …”

“Who would you have told?”

“Probably no one.”

At his skeptical look, she said, “We started hiking together when I was a kid. He always made the arrangements and surprised me. As far as I know that hasn’t changed.”

“All right.” He looked at his watch. “In a few hours you can make some calls.”

She leaned her head against the wall. “In the meantime?”

His body liquefied. “Don’t look at me like that and ask.”

Her languid eyes reflected shade and mists and mossy alcoves. Her lips pulled into a slow smile. She was every inch Gentry Fox, but she was also the woman he’d fought beside on the mountain. What was he doing?

He brought her back to a chair, but she’d only been seated a few minutes when a hospital staff member came for her. Cameron escorted her but stayed outside the ICU. While he waited, he made some calls.

Not long after she’d gone in, Gentry came back. “They suggested I get some sleep. I think that translates into ‘give us room to do our jobs.’ ” She had to be dragging, but she didn’t show it to the press line who took her picture and murmured encouragement as they made their way to the elevator.

Badges and microphones identified the major news networks. Only local and reputable press had been allowed into the hospital in the middle of the night. He knew they were dying to press for details, and he couldn’t help thinking it was Gentry’s amazing comportment that kept them at a respectful distance.

Once the elevator doors closed them in, his own ordeal began. He did not repeat mistakes, and he didn’t break vows, even those made only to himself. No longer in the spotlight, Gentry leaned against the wall and handrail, eyes closed. She was comfortable with him, enough to let her guard down.

His throat tightened. Twenty minutes alone had cleared his head. He meant to keep it that way. His cell phone rang; hopefully TJ with answers. “Talk to me.”

“One Jeep Wrangler for two weeks. Her uncle wen give Hale Kahili for da address.”

Cameron silently cheered. He had hoped that information had been phoned in from the rental company when the police asked for information regarding Gentry and her uncle. It didn’t matter who had the itinerary if Robert Fox had left a paper trail.

“Hale Kahili.” He sent a peripheral glance over his shoulder.

“What’s that place going for these days?” None of his business, but Ginger House was one of the sweeter rentals on the island.

“Don’t know, brah. Seven, eight hundred maybe.”

A night. Only the best for this girl. The elevator dinged, but he held the Close button. “Can you get someone from the management company to open it up and meet us there?”

“Now?”

“Yeah now. And, TJ, you available?”

“For one bodyguard? Tink you want dat one.”

“Yeah, well … I’ve got cases waiting.” Cameron rubbed his face, sheer exhaustion weighting his limbs. “We’ll talk about it later. Just meet us out there, okay?”

“Okay, Kai.”

Cameron shoved the phone back into his pocket and turned. “Ready?”

Gentry nodded. He let go of the Close button and the doors opened. It was two-thirty in the morning, but there were still hangers-on. And these were less polite. He was getting the hang of moving through the strobe effect of the flashes, the hollered questions, the incendiary comments. If they were hoping to provoke an outburst in Gentry, they didn’t realize how spent she was. He got her into his truck, assuming they’d be followed. But it didn’t matter. On an island this size, she could no longer hide.

The drive to Hale Kahili took less than half an hour, paying no attention to the speed limit. Not huge; two bedrooms, kitchen, dining, living, lanai, the house commanded top dollar for its ocean and mountain views, sumptuous appointments inside and out, private pool, and flowering ginger gardens with lily ponds. A narrow path led to the private beach, but most of the cost was due to its seclusion. Robert Fox had been keeping Gentry from the limelight, but that was no longer possible.

They met the property manager at the front door. As the woman let them in, he watched Gentry for any spark of recollection, but saw none. Having ascertained that all was in order for Gentry Fox, the manager left them. Maybe she’d go back to bed; maybe she’d talk to the press who’d followed.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anything?”

Gentry shook her head. She crossed to the table where a creamcolored leather purse slouched. She opened and looked inside it, drew out a wallet and found her ID and credit cards.

Cameron slacked a hip. “Insurance?”

She flicked him a glance. “Of course.”

She wouldn’t have needed her purse on a hike into the heart of Kauai. Made more sense to leave it locked in the house than in the Jeep, especially if they’d intended to hike some distance from where they’d parked. Her uncle had probably driven. With the recent rains, the Jeep might not be immediately retrievable from its remote location—wherever that was—but he imagined things would be squared away soon enough.

Gentry yawned, all but dead on her feet.

“You need sleep.” He drew his keys from his pocket. “I do too.” Where was TJ?

Trancelike, she crossed the ceramic tile floor to the polished wood staircase. At the base she paused. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I won’t leave before TJ comes.”

Her face fell.

“He doubles as a bodyguard.” His size was usually enough to make someone think twice. If not, he put his muscle to use with seemingly little effort. Like on the football field where, just by flexing, he’d opened holes for Cameron to run through.

She relaxed. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay down here until he comes.” And try not to think about her up there, changing out of the soiled hiking clothes into something soft. “Go to sleep.” He almost closed the distance between them and took her back into his arms. But he didn’t repeat his mistakes.

He watched her climb, heard a door close upstairs to the left. He scratched his ragged growth of beard and took a seat on the soft suede sofa. After a minute, he removed his boots and brought his feet up. What was keeping TJ? He curled onto his side and closed his eyes.