“Main Street. In my truck. She won’t go to the hospital, but they’ve… Her skin. She’s feverish and…”
“Her skin? What’s wrong with it?”
“She’s been burned. Branded.”
“Hold on.” There was a pause while Luc heard voices on the line. A woman, followed by the sheriff murmuring. Finally, he came back on. “You know where the Nook is, Mr. Stanek?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a dermatologist there, a skin clinic. You see where I mean?”
“Ummm.” Luc squinted ahead. There. A small, official-looking sign just two doors up. CLEAR SKIN BLACKWOOD. He’d never paid attention to that sign before. Why would he? “Yes. Yes, near to the martial arts place and the café. I’m almost in front of it already.”
“Perfect. Wait for me. We’ll meet you in front.”
“Wait.” Luc stopped the sheriff before they hung up. “This isn’t an official call, okay? She doesn’t want the police involved.”
The man exhaled audibly before replying. “Fine. See you in a few.”
It felt like forever, but only ten minutes passed before he caught sight of the black SUV in the rearview—the third vehicle to come through what was generally a busy road. No lights, no sirens. Good. They parked, and a small woman got out, bundled up in cold-weather gear, while Abby had only a blanket. He should have wrapped her up better.
Luc got out to meet the sheriff and the woman next to the passenger side of his truck, blocking the door for a moment. Stupid, he knew, but he needed something first.
“I promised her no authorities.”
The woman nodded and turned to the sheriff. “I’m fine, Clay. You go.”
“Hang on.” Navarro nodded toward Abby beyond the fogged-up window. “She unconscious?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let me help you get her in.”
“I’ve got her,” Luc insisted, feeling…not ownership. No, no, that was the last thing Abby needed. But responsibility, certainly. She washisto carry. He’d carried her this far, and he wasn’t about to allow someone else to do it. He opened the door and slid his arms beneath her body. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled at him blearily, which was good. Conscious was good.
She murmured, “You’re my bringer of light,” and Luc fretted even more.
“Would you mind watching the dog in the backseat?” he threw over his shoulder to the sheriff before turning to walk behind the woman.
Nobody spoke, and when the man followed them in, dog clicking at his side, Luc couldn’t muster the energy to protest.
22
Clearly not an emergency clinic, Luc thought as he helped Abby through the door, into a small waiting room. He caught flashes of things: dried flowers, decorating magazines. Klimt posters on the walls.
The person leading the way was still too bundled up to identify.What if I don’t trust her? What if Abby doesn’t?
At this point, it probably didn’t matter. It was this or the hospital.
They were led through a door, where the woman switched on some lights. Her boots squeaked down the hall, leading him the few meters to a door. An exam room, where Luc felt out of place, too big and in the way.
I should go.
The person unwrapped herself from all the winter gear—red scarf, tan coat, hat, and sunglasses. What emerged was a smallish, blond woman. When she slid into her white lab coat, she looked like someone playing doctor.
“I’m Georgette Hadley.” Calm, even tone. Luc’s breathing was choppy in comparison. “I’m a doctor. You’re Luc.” She turned to Abby with a smile. “What’s your name?”
Abby smiled back, and he almost screamed. What was this? A fucking tea party?
