Two Family Home (15 page)

W
alker tried to convince himself that it was nice getting to sleep in his own bed again. It probably would have been nicer if he'd actually gotten to sleep. It had been a long time since his insomnia had hit. Months.

He didn't miss it.

It didn't help that he could trace his last bout with insomnia to right before he started sleeping with Lindsey, and that she was just next door, and that he really should talk to her anyway because he definitely owed her an apology.

Instead, he spent a productive night staring dumbly at the ceiling. The only thing that broke up the monotony was the occasional howl from Booger.

At least yesterday was over. He'd given Red an hour's head start, then called Ned Grubb over at Shady Grove. Walker had never been a great talker, but he thought he'd done a pretty good job convincing the owner that there was a possibility that the personal information of some of the residents had been compromised, without telling him how he knew. Well, he thought he'd been convincing until Will Brakefield showed up at his front door.

Since Red hadn't actually done anything—yet—there were no charges to press. And Walker didn't have proof that Red had actually taken anyone's data, and it was entirely possible that he wouldn't, since identity theft was a different game from art forgery. But Walker had seen that old chip on Red's shoulder when he left, and Walker knew that when Red thought he deserved something, he took it. There was no reason to think he might not at least try.

Walker half hoped he would try. With extra safeguards in place, Red would surely get caught, and then he'd be out of Walker's hair for another ten years. Or more.

But maybe Lindsey was right. Maybe Red had changed. Maybe he was only
thinking
of defrauding senior citizens out of their retirement savings, but wasn't actually going to go through with it.

That was some Lindsey-level magical thinking, there. The most Walker could hope for was that Red wouldn't try to steal anything, at least not for a while. By then passwords would be changed and alerts would be posted, and Red would realize the jig was up and that would be that. He could hope that Red would be satisfied taking the lion's share of Walker's savings and his only mode of transportation, and that would be it, at least for a while.

Now all Walker had to do was repair the damage Red had done.

Who was he kidding? It was he who'd done all the damage. Red might have been the wheel that set it in motion, but Red didn't put a gun to Walker's head and tell him to act like a total dick to Lindsey. The things Walker said to her—totally uncalled for. So what if she saw the good in people? So what if that good wasn't there? How had that hurt anyone?

Now that it was morning, what he really needed to do was go to Shady Grove and talk to Lindsey in person. But, of course, he had no way of getting there. He'd just have to wait until she got home. The groveling he was building up to was not something that could be accomplished on the phone.

So he locked himself in the garage, and he worked.

 

Lindsey was an idiot.

Ned said she was being too hard on herself, but Lindsey thought she wasn't being hard enough. She'd almost hired a known fraudster to work with a vulnerable population. She knew that senior citizens were particularly at risk for identity theft. She knew that, but she'd planned to hire Red anyway because she wanted him to be a good person.

Walker was right. She was naïve. She was a fool. The fact that Walker had stopped her from being an accessory to a crime didn't help.

“You got a burr under your tail?” Myron was standing at the door to her office.

“What?”

“It's an expression. You look pissed off.”

She sighed and waved him in.

“I am. At myself, mostly.”

“Because you let Red Smith dupe you?”

“Gosh, Myron, don't try to spare my feelings.”

“Eh, you caught it in time.”

“I didn't catch anything,” she reminded him.

“That's right. Walker did. He's not anything like his father, you know.”

Lindsey looked up, surprised. “I know that.”

“He's a good boy. He just needs to learn to trust himself.”

Great, now they were going to have a heart-to-heart about Walker.

What were the chances that Myron wouldn't notice her crying?

“Hey, now, none of that.”

Pretty slim, clearly.

“I'm okay,” she said as Myron shuffled around her desk. He pulled a tissue out of the box and handed it to her.

“What did that boy do?”

Lindsey was surprised by the anger in Myron's voice. She reminded herself that she needed to keep it professional.

“Nothing, really. He's just . . . he's very upset about what happened, and so am I. I'll be fine. Really. I promise.”

But she wasn't fine. She cried the whole way home, and she cried when she took herself to bed early. She was still sniffling when she heard Walker knock softly on her door, but she wasn't ready to talk to him yet, not like this.

She dozed for a bit, and when she woke up, she was sensible.

There was no reason to cry. She had nothing to cry over. She'd been dumped before. She'd ended much longer relationships than the one she had with Walker. She didn't even want to be in a relationship. She wanted to do things differently. She used to have boyfriends. She didn't want one now.

Totally different.

Dammit, her eyes were still leaking.

It was too confusing. She didn't want Walker, especially if he didn't want her. She should be grateful to him. He'd prevented her from slipping into her old pattern of pairing up with someone, and not having time for herself. He had actually done her a favor.

The wind slammed rain against her window. At least if she was sad and miserable, this would be the perfect weather for her.

But she was fine.

She hadn't even bothered changing out of her scrubs before getting into bed, and now she was up at 2
AM
listening to the rain, but that was just because she was fine.

She was going to need another minute or two before she could admit that Walker had broken her heart.

Her phone beeped, and she dug it out from under her pillow. Her ridiculous, traitorous heart thought for a minute that it might be Walker, calling to apologize and admit he was an idiot. She was ready to talk to him, now that she was sensible.

But it was the number for Shady Grove. She sat up, immediately alert. A phone call from a nursing home at 2
AM
could not be good news.

“Lindsey? I'm so sorry to wake you.” Hope sounded frantic and breathless. “Mr. Harris is missing. He's not over there, is he?”

“What?” Lindsey jumped out of bed and grabbed her socks and sneakers.

“I know he's friends with Walker. He was up reading a few hours ago, but when I did my last round, his bed was empty. We looked everywhere. He's not here.”

“Did you check the sun room?”

“Yes, and the kitchen and all of the other residents' rooms. Lindsey, he's not here.”

“He can't have left. Wouldn't the alarm have gone off?” She threw a fleece on over her T-shirt, then grabbed her raincoat out of the closet. Flashlight. She had a flashlight somewhere. Kitchen drawer.

“It must have shorted out when we lost power earlier . . .”

“Don't we have a backup? Okay, no, obviously not. Listen. I'm on my way in. Call the police, tell them everything you remember. When was the last time you saw him? What was he wearing? They're going to want to know all of that.”

“Lindsey, I'm so sorry. I checked on him. I swear he was in his room—”

“Hope, listen to me. Hope. Stop. Listen. Deep breath. Call the police. Answer their questions. Stay there and wait for them, okay? I'll be there in a few minutes.”

“Oh, god, Lindsey, what if—”

“Hope, no. I'll see you soon, and we'll find him.”

She hung up on Hope, and slammed the door behind her.

 

Walker was an idiot.

But breaking up with Lindsey was the smart thing to do. It never would have worked out. She was Mother Teresa, he was a con man's son. Even if he did give them a chance, sooner or later she would realize they were not meant to be together, and she'd go. And he wouldn't be able to blame her. But he could cut a little of that pain off at the pass.

He'd made the right decision.

Being right sucked.

He was startled out of his pity party by a knock on the door.

“Walker?”

Lindsey.

He thought about hiding in his room. She'd ignored his knock earlier, so now it was his turn.

Right, because she was so crazy in love with him that she needed to pound on his door in the middle of the night to declare her undying love.

Not that he wanted that.

And why wouldn't she just pound on the laundry room door?

While he tried to figure out what she was doing there, she continued to pound on the door and shout for him. There was only one way to find out what she wanted. He pulled the door open, and his heart stopped.

Something was wrong.

She was pale and disheveled, her hair spilling out from the hood of her raincoat.

“Is Myron here?”

“What?”

“Is Myron here? Just tell me.”

“No, of course not, it's the middle of the night.”

She cursed under her breath, and he knew it was really serious. “Lindsey, what's wrong? Come in, let's—”

“No, I have to find him. He's missing.”

“What? When?”

“Tonight. I don't know how long ago. A few hours, maybe. Is there anywhere in town that he would go? Favorite spots? Where did you take him when you guys went out?”

Walker started a mental inventory: the Duck Puddle, the Daily Drip, the high school. There were so many. “Give me your keys. I'll drive.”

 

They found him by the side of the road, where the shoulder sank down into a low ditch. It was dark, and Myron was barely conscious. They would have walked right by him if Booger hadn't suddenly gone nuts, running down the road as Walker chased him, then back and forth between him and what Walker soon discovered was his friend, his face twisted in pain. Walker cursed the time they'd taken to meet up at Shady Grove first, even though all that accomplished was Lindsey comforting a freaking-out Hope while Booger, who had jumped in the car back at the house, jumped out again, running loose inside, then tearing out the door and down the road.

Walker shouted. He slid down next to Myron, checked his breathing.

“My ankle,” Myron groaned, and Walker saw it, twisted at a strange angle in his slippers.

He tried to think. Booger was barking his head off and Walker couldn't think. He should lift Myron up. He could carry him back to Shady Grove. He wasn't that heavy. It wasn't that far. But as he put his arms under Myron's back, the old man shouted out in pain, then cursed at Walker.

“No! Don't move him.” Suddenly Lindsey was by his side, her pants covered in mud where she had slid down next to him. “Where does it hurt, Mr. Harris?”

“His ankle,” said Walker. She thrust her flashlight into his hands. “Hold this on him. Do you have your phone?” Walker nodded. “Can you hold the flashlight and call 911?” Walker nodded, then did as she asked, propping the flashlight under his chin while he dug his phone out and dialed.

“Mr. Harris?”

“Dammit, call me Myron!”

Walker laughed with relief. If Myron was cursing, he would live.

“Myron, I need you to be as still as you can.” While she ordered him around, she was pulling off her raincoat, laying it over him. “What happened? What were you doing out here?” Booger ran circles around them, stopping to lick Myron's head and whimper in concern.

“I just slipped, that's all. My damn ankle,” he said, ignoring her second question.

“Does anything else hurt? Hands? Arms? Head?” She took the flashlight from Walker and shined the light quickly in Myron's eyes.

“Get that out of my face! And get that dog off me!”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“How many am I holding up?” he grunted, then gestured in a very impolite manner.

“Twenty minutes or so,” Walker told Lindsey.

“Okay. God, that's a long time.”

“There's a fire in the next county.”

“I'd like to get him out of the mud. I don't want him getting hypothermia.”

Walker moved to get under Myron again. He would have carried him to the hospital, but Lindsey stopped him. “Wait.”

She ran into the woods and came back with two short, thick branches. “Take these for a second.” She tore off her sweatshirt, then took the branches back. “I'm going to make a splint, Myron. It will hurt for a second, but this will stabilize your ankle so we can move you, okay?”

Myron yelled in response as Lindsey gingerly lifted his foot and ran the sweatshirt underneath it. She wrapped the branches against his ankle, then tied it tightly. “Okay, can you lift him?” she asked Walker.

Finally feeling useful, Walker worked his hands under Myron's slim body. Lindsey held gently onto the ankle and Walker stood. “Careful,” she murmured. Once he got to the road, Walker wanted to run up the driveway to the nursing home. He could see the lobby lights in the distance, then a pair of headlights. Booger stood next to him, barking at the Shady Grove van.