- -
- 100%
- +
Logan stepped into the growing silence. “Avery, this is Sheriff Middleton—Ross.” He grasped Avery’s elbow and half turned her. “And this is my brother Pierce. He’s the middle brother.”
“You’re the hired girl from Houston?” Ross asked, studying Avery intently.
Avery was relieved that he scooped up her hat and held it out to her. It gave her somewhere to look besides his eyes. Take the hat, Avery, before he thinks you’re brain damaged or that you’ve got something to hide. “Thank you,” she said softly as she held the straw cowboy hat in both hands, barely stopping herself from tearing it into tiny shreds. She stood perfectly still under the sheriff’s piercing green gaze.
“It’s a little hotter here then around the coast. Takes some getting use to. You don’t sound much like you’re from Houston. Where ’bouts in the city did you live?”
“Come on, Ross,” Logan grumbled good-naturedly, “you take your job too damn seriously. Avery has no earthly reason to kill off my stock. Instead of standing here shooting the bull with us and overworking your brain, you might take that sample you insisted on having to the lab.”
Ross laughed, then flipped a half-full specimen bottle in the air and neatly caught it. “You better have a closer look at those kids, Logan. I’ve warned you about taking juveniles in. My sister hated them here, you know.”
“Yes, Ross. She told me enough times and so did you. But I didn’t agree with Becky or you then, and I haven’t changed my mind. I’ll tell you this just once more. Despite all the trouble they’ve gotten up to, Ross, those four young men would never deliberately hurt an animal. Not even if they had a reason to hate me, which they don’t.”
“If you say so.” Ross touched the tip of his hat, looking at Avery. “You be careful, you hear?” He gave Logan and Pierce a kind of arrogant salute as he strolled away. Pierce called after Ross and followed him out of the barn.
Avery had observed the interchange and was confused by the mixed signals, wondering if it was a man thing and she’d just imagined it. But she had a strong feeling that Logan, and perhaps Pierce, didn’t have much use for Ross. And the sheriff was a puzzle. He didn’t seem much fazed by the urgency of the situation.
She suddenly had a headache and said the first thing that popped into her mind. “The gene pool isn’t too deep here in Haven, is it?” Logan stared at her. “Well, there’s no doubt that Jessie and Ross are related in more ways than one—as are you Monahans.”
Logan threw back his head and laughed. He must have needed such a release after all the tension and horror of the day. He caught sight of Tanner approaching. “Little brother thinks I’ve lost my mind, Avery. Maybe he’s right.” He shook his head.
“I saw Pierce before he left,” Tanner told him. “He said to tell you he was going to take a specimen to another lab in San Antonio rather than wait to hear what Ross has to say. He’s got a couple of calls to make before he can leave, but more than likely he’ll head out this evening. He also said to tell you he’ll call just as soon as he gets the results.”
Whatever Logan was about to say was cut off by the sharp sound of tires skidding on the gravel driveway and the repeated blast of a car horn.
Logan froze and was pitched back in time. He could clearly hear the scream of brakes, the sound of metal twisting around metal. He thought he could feel the vibration of the impact shimmying through his body. The knife-sharp pain of his memories seldom left him, and he’d often thought that his own death would have been preferable to living through what came next....
He felt Tanner touch his shoulder. Mercifully, the nightmare ended, and both men set off at a run for the barn door.
Avery still wondered at Logan’s reaction to the sound of the car. What hell had he relived? Could it have been his wife and son’s accident? She hurried from the barn herself, only to be pulled up short as a young black woman and what appeared to be her daughter rushed toward Logan. The child had something wrapped in a pink blanket cradled in her arms. She was crying so hard she could barely talk.
“Doc Logan,” the child finally managed to gulp as she held out the blanket. “Sugar’s hurt bad.”
The mother stepped forward. She wasn’t in much better shape than her daughter. “One of the neighbor’s dogs attacked Sugar when she and Annie were in the front yard.”
“Did the dog bite Annie, Rosemary?”
“No, thank heavens.”
Logan went down on his knees. He didn’t try to take the injured animal from the child’s arms, but gently folded the blanket back to reveal a small poodle, the white woolly fur stained with blood.
“I’m sorry, Logan, but Annie wouldn’t hear of taking Sugar to anyone else. She insisted we bring her here.”
Annie gave a hiccupping sob. “Jamie always said you were Dr. Dolittle—you talked to sick animals and made them feel better. Please make Sugar better, Doc Logan.” She hiccupped again. “Please.”
The mention of Jamie’s name twisted the knife of pain in Logan. As hard as he tried to cut himself off from all reminders of Jamie, his son’s friends weren’t going to allow him that little luxury.
“Annie,” he said, “Sugar and I need two very important things. First, you must be brave. Second, you have to let me hold Sugar.” He met the child’s gaze, swallowing visibly around the lump in his throat. “You and your mom can come to my office and wait while I examine her. But I can’t help her if I can’t see where she’s hurt, Annie.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.