Helen, having run to the linen closet in the upstairs hallway, returned with a blanket.She threw it over his lap, reaching for his belt, having flashbacks to a naked Bryan all over again.Her mind raced as she pulled off the wet pants and socks and wrapped his lower half in one blanket.She sat him up, removing the coat and sweat-soaked shirt underneath, thinking he'd worked up the sweat when walked a ways in that foul weather.A second blanket went over the broad shoulders and wide chest, and she removed the snow-soaked hat to reveal blonde hair.
“Help me get him closer to the fire, ladies,” Helen asked.
Bella took a leg, Tiffany the other, and Helen his upper body.It was a struggle, but they moved him closer to the hearth’s warmth.Helen grabbed for his pants and located his wallet.She found a few credit cards, a couple of business cards, and a Texas driver’s license.
“Amarillo, Texas,” she said.“The business cards match the license for a Donovan Liam Turnbull.He's a branch manager for a regional bank in Amarillo.”
Mustang was still on the line with the phone in her pocket.She held up a finger and walked to the kitchen to start the kettle to make Donovan a cup of warmwhat the fuck do you wantto loosen his lips.In the kitchen, she said into the line, “Baby, I don't even know.Can't hazard a guess, but you have the info; take a look Trooper Neary.”
“Roger that,” he said, ending the call.
True enough, she could probably find out more on her Technician laptop if she fully knew how to use it, but this task gave Mustang something to do besides worry about her and a strange man that appeared at the doorstep in the middle of the night.Helen felt like Bella; she didn't like men in the house, especially men she didn't know.She returned from the kitchen a moment later to find Bella and Tiffany staring at the man as the color began to return to his face.
Helen moved in, placing the warm cup to his lips, opening his mouth, and pouring in the liquid.His eyelids fluttered as he reached for the cup.He sipped at the liquid, slowing opening his eyes to look at the three women staring at him.He mumbled, “Thanks.”
“Mr.Turnbull, did your car break down along the road?”Helen asked.
“No,” he said in a husky voice.“Had to leave it and walk.Tracking me.I took an Uber as far as I could and walked the rest of the way.”
Helen's senses were heightened.“Who is tracking you and why are you here?Are you lost?”
“Not lost,” he said, shivering.“Need help.”
“For your car being tracked?”
“No, my life.She's taken my life.I need help,” he said.
Helen looked at Tiffany, who was looking at Helen.They both looked back at the man.
Tiffany, finally locating her words, asked, “Help from whom and for what?”
“You,” he said, looking at Sour Grapes.“I came to find you.”
He passed Helen the cup and fell over onto the floor.His eyes were closed but he was breathing.No one knew what to say.
Bella said, “I don't like this.”
“Neither do we, Ms.Bella,” Helen said.“Why is he looking for you?Is he looking for the lady who lives in this house and teaches online classes, or is he searching for the Technician?”
“If she, whoever she is, is tracking him, Mr.Turnbull is looking for the Technician,” Tiffany replied.“But the question is, for what?”
