MIND READER (35 page)

She stood dazed, not wanting to watch, but unable to
look away. The man was as big as Parker, street-tough and strong-willed. Entangled, the two of them fell to the ground
and separated. The other man scrambled to his feet.
Growling deep in his throat, he charged, and landed Parker
a devastating left hook to the chin that Caron knew would
have killed her.

The color drained from Parker’s face. Cold rage, as si
lent and deadly as a heart attack, settled like an aura around him. It terrified her...and the man. He began backing away.

Parker let out a cry that curdled her blood, then rammed
his fist into the man’s ribs. The man flew back, then crum
pled to the ground.

Parker dropped his fist and looked down at him.

It was over. Her heart in her throat, Caron carried Misty
out of the shed. Blood soaked Parker’s knuckles. His skin was dripping with sweat, and his chest was heaving as he
dragged air into his lungs. “Are you all right, Parker?”

He nodded and spit a blade of grass out of his mouth.

Caron looked down. The man’s face was distorted; a bruise already discolored his cut jaw, and his left eye was
swelling. His chest didn’t seem to be moving. “Is he...dead?”

“No. But when he comes to, he’ll have one wicked head
ache.” Parker drew in a deep breath that heaved his shoul
ders, and looked at Misty’s closed eyes. He lifted a blood-encrusted finger to her forehead, then smoothed back her
hair. “She’s hot.”

Awed that hands that had fought so brutally could now be so tender and gentle, Caron nodded. “She needs a doctor.” Not wanting to frighten the child, she let Parker see
from her eyes that the need was urgent.

Car tires crunched on the gravel in the drive.

“Get her out of here.” Parker pulled his keys from his
pocket and pressed them into Caron’s hand. “Check the
car. If I’m not there in three minutes, leave without me.”

Her mouth parted in protest. Parker pressed a fleeting
kiss to it and turned her by the shoulders. “Three minutes.”

Caron ran across the clearing and into the tall grass.
Spit upon worrying about snakes; bullets were more lethal.

It was so hot, so humid; in scant seconds she was pant
ing hard. By the time she reached the car, she was worried sick about Parker, fighting for breath and certain she
was going to throw up.

Caron set Misty down a fair distance from the car.
Wincing against the pain in her shoulder, she checked the
car over, as she’d seen Parker do. On finding nothing
wrong, she retrieved Misty, then settled her into the tiny back seat, checked her watch, and visually searched the
brush for Parker. No sign.

Stretching, she grabbed the thermos from the front seat and splashed tea into its top. Cradling Misty’s head in her hand, Caron put the cup to the child’s lips. Her coloring
was a pasty white. Bright red splotches stained her cheeks.
And her eyes were fever-glazed. She needed medical atten
tion—now. Caron forced her voice to be calm. “Try to drink this.”

The child dutifully swallowed, then fell back. Caron gently lowered Misty’s head to the seat, then raised up to
again check the brush. Still no sign. Where was Parker?

Misty’s leg was red and swollen. “What bit you, honey?
Do you know?”

“A spider.”

“The one that crawled up the shovel?”

The child nodded.

It had been a brown house spider—nonpoisonous—un
less...Caron frowned. “Are you allergic?”

Misty nodded.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Parker! Caron spun around and twisted into the passen
ger seat.

Seconds later, they were speeding down the road, a cloud
of dust about a mile high trailing behind them.

“She needs a doctor, Parker. Fast.”

“Dr. Z.?”

“Yes.”

His face was streaked with black soot. How it had gotten that way, Caron didn’t know, and she didn’t ask.

He smiled back at Misty. “Hi.”

Misty was too weak to speak. She lifted a limp finger.

Caron frowned and dragged her damp hair away from
her face. “What took you so long?”

His smile faded. “I torched the shed.”

“Parker! You deliberately destroyed evidence?”

“Yeah, I did. But I removed everything from the shed
first.”

“I’m glad it’s burning,” Misty said.

Caron held Misty’s hand and lifted her gaze. Flames licked at the roof of the shed, crept up the walls. Black smoke billowed in towers up to the sky, and in her mind, this fire mingled with Sarah’s. This building, too, would
burn to the ground.

Parker?

She slid her narrowed gaze to him, but he was watching the road. No, she told herself, Parker couldn’t have torched
Sarah’s building. He hadn’t even known Sarah James.

Or had he? Was
that
his dark secret? What he’d been
holding back?

Her heart thudded a low, wild beat. The guilt Caron had
so often seen and sensed in him, the reaction he’d had to being at the morgue. Had Sarah been the woman he’d
identified there?

No. No, he would have told her. She was letting her imagination run away with her. She’d confided Sarah’s story to him, and he’d comforted her. He would have told
her.

Like Mike and Greg had? Like her father had?

She shoved the ugly thoughts away. But a nagging doubt
slithered back and gnawed at her. Wanting to ease her
mind, she started to ask Parker, but his grim expression and
the jostling and bumping inside the car told her that
swerving through sandy dirt at high speed required his full
concentration.

The doubt raged. And she looked back. It all fit. His hatred for her at the beginning. His bitterness and lack of
faith, his cold disdain for her and her gift. His pulling away
every time she’d mentioned imaging.

He’d wanted to tell her the truth on the way to the camp. They needed to talk, he’d said. When this was over...
 
It all
fit. Drowning in a sea of betrayal, she silently cried.
No.
No, not him. Not Parker, too. I love him!

Stop it!

She had to stop this. He wasn’t like them. He wasn’t! He wouldn’t do that to her. She had to trust him. She had to
give him the benefit of doubt. She loved him; he deserved
at least the benefit of her doubt.

Hearing Misty groan, Caron looked back.

Misty’s lips were turning blue.

At 3:00 p.m. Dr. Z. came into the waiting room. Parker grimaced. The good doctor’s shoulders were slumped. Not
a good sign.

Caron jumped up from the sofa.

“She’s fighting,” Dr. Z. said, looking at Parker, “but it’s rough going. Her temperature is one o’ four, her breathing is labored—we have her on a respirator now—and she’s dehy
drated. She went so long without treatment that she’s having severe difficulty.”

The doctor rubbed her temple. “Caron, when did you
first feel the pain in your leg?”

Caron licked her lips. “I don’t know, exactly.”

“It was the eighteenth.” Parker put an arm around Caron’s shoulders. She looked ready to snap. “We were at
Shoney’s, remember?”

“That’s right, it was.”

“Then it’s been nearly a week since she was bitten.” Dr.
Z. shook her head.

Panic edged Caron’s voice. “She can’t die.”

When the doctor didn’t deny it, Caron’s tremors be
came full-fledged shakes. Parker tightened his grip on her
shoulder. “Dr. Z.’s doing everything she can.”

The doctor took Caron’s hand. “Parker is right. I am.
But I’ve never lied to you, Caron, and I won’t start now.” The doctor’s eyes looked faded and weary. “Misty is criti
cal. My best may or may not be good enough to save her.
Only time will tell.”

Caron slumped against his side. Parker had to do something, or she was going to fall apart at the seams. “Have
you contacted her parents?”

“Misty won’t tell us who they are.”

“Caron.” Parker waited until she looked at him. “You’d
better talk to her.”

Caron nodded, straightened, then crossed the hall and
went into Misty’s room.

Parker watched her go, damn worried himself. If anything happened to Misty, he wasn’t sure Caron could han
dle it.

Dr. Z. patted Parker’s hand. “I was wrong about you, Mr. Simms.”

He swung his gaze from Misty’s door to the doctor.

“Caron loves you.”

“I think you’re mistaken.” That denial had his heart feeling like a cold lump in his chest.

“No, I’m right.” The doctor cocked her head. “She isn’t suffering the same symptoms as Misty now.”

She wasn’t! He wrinkled a perplexed brow.

“Her emotions aren’t so focused. They’re split between
her concern for Misty and you.”

Caron couldn’t be in love with him. As much as he
wished Dr. Z. was right, she had to be wrong. Reasonable,
logical, but wrong.

“And you’re worthy of her.”

“I’m not fit to wipe her shoes.” A knot of emotion caught in Parker’s throat. “She...” He couldn’t make himself goon.

“She doesn’t know about you and Sarah. Or about Harlan.” Dr. Z. gave him a sympathetic nod. “Yes, I know. Sandy explained.”

Parker stuffed his fisted hands into his pockets. “Are you
going to tell her?”

“No, I’m not.” The doctor looked up at him through glasses with spot-speckled lenses. “You are. And I don’t
envy you the task.”

“She’ll be hurt.”

“Yes.” Dr. Z. nodded her agreement. “And furious.”
She started walking back toward the hallway between the
waiting room and Misty’s. “Stay close, Mr. Simms. If
things go badly, Caron is going to need you.”

Parker nodded, outwardly calm. But inside he was splitting in two. If things went badly, Caron wouldn’t have him.
And, more than anything in the world, he wanted her.

At three o’clock the next morning, Caron was still pac
ing. Sprawled in an upholstered chair, Parker watched her.
“Come on, honey. You need to try to rest.”

She walked to a potted fichus, pinched off a brown leaf, then paced back in the other direction to the door. “I can’t rest. Misty’s fighting for her life in there.”

Caron slumped against the doorframe and sent him a searching look. “Why won’t she talk to me? Why doesn’t she want her father here? She’s crazy about him, Parker.”

It was task time again. “Have you called Sanders?”

“No.” Caron shoved away from the wall and took up where she’d left off pacing. “I’ll call him in the morning.”

“I think you should call now.” Parker sat up, propped
his elbows on his knees, then laced his hands. “That man
shouldn’t be tied up at the camp house too much longer. He
was injured, Caron. I cracked his ribs.”

“Misty suffered almost nine days. She’ll be suffering a lot longer—maybe all her life. For all I care, he can stay
there till his ropes rot.”

Hearing the venom in her voice, Parker reconsidered disputing her. But he knew she didn’t mean it; it was emo
tion talking, not Caron. “Fine by me. I’ll call. I just thought you’d rather have him in jail. Forrester, too.”

“I do want them in jail.” Caron jerked her hair back from her face.

“Okay, then you call Sandy.”

She glared at him. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

Parker made the call.

A half hour later, a battle-worn Dr. Z. came into the waiting room. Caron stopped. Parker walked over to her,
curled a supportive arm around her waist.

The doctor started to speak. Her voice cracked, and she paused to clear her throat. When she looked up at them, Parker’s stomach sank. The news wasn’t good.