Double Blind. Hannah Alexander
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would one day lead to beauty. She was possibly in her early teens, with the developing contours of a woman. Tears streaked her cheeks as she flung herself into Doc’s arms. “She’s out on the highway. We’ve got to go get her!”
Sheila saw Doc’s expression harden, and his arms went rigid in the act of encircling Tanya. He raised his gaze to meet Canaan’s.
Canaan nodded as he walked toward them, his sober face pained as he flicked a quick glance at Sheila, then looked back at Doc. “Looks like someone hit her with a car. We’ll take the pickup out and load her.”
“No need. I’ll take care of it,” Doc said.
Canaan’s attention shifted again. “Hello, Sheila.” He took her hand and squeezed it. His hand engulfed hers. “I’m sorry this has happened on your first day.”
Sheila didn’t speak, didn’t return the pressure of Canaan’s hand. She stood perfectly still. That dog in the desert…
No. She hadn’t lost her mind.
But a whisper of foreboding settled on her.
Doc released Tanya and turned to Sheila, brows lowering with obvious puzzlement at her silence.
“Wh-what color was it?” Sheila asked Canaan. “What kind of…dog?”
“She was just a big white mutt,” Canaan said.
“Kind of like a German shepherd?” Sheila asked.
“So did you see the dog?” Canaan asked.
“Well, I thought I saw something in the desert as I drove in, but I didn’t see anything on the road.” She thought again about the blowout…and the big rock on the shoulder of the road. “I had some trouble with my Jeep, hit a rock or something, but—” She hesitated, then shook her head. “The animal I saw was out in the desert, not under the wheel of my car.”
Tanya turned narrowed eyes toward her in accusation.
Sheila shook her head, still thinking about that rock. It was white, shining in the sunlight. The dog had been white.
Canaan glanced toward the front of Sheila’s Jeep. Instinctively, she looked, as well. All she saw was the dent that had been there for several years. No blood, nothing to indicate impact with the hapless animal.
Tanya glared at Sheila. “You just got here, didn’t you?”
Sheila nodded.
“Moonlight was a fresh kill.” The words coming from the girl held an ominous quality. “I think you killed her.”
Sheila shook her head. Surely she’d have seen some evidence…would have seen the dog, if she’d hit it. But she’d been too busy fighting her steering wheel, then changing the tire in record time. The noise she’d heard couldn’t have been the sound of the tire hitting an animal…could it?
But she hadn’t actually walked down the road to make sure that what she had taken to be a big rock was, indeed, a rock and not the lifeless form of a dog. It hadn’t even occurred to her at the time. Why should it?
Tanya’s small fists flexed, her jaw jutting out as she gnashed her teeth. “It’s what we can expect from a biligaana! ”
“Hold it right there.” Doc put a hand on Tanya’s shoulder. “Enough of this. You know better.”
Tanya jerked free of Doc’s hand. “But look at her! She acts guilty.”
“Stop it, Tanya,” Canaan said. “Quit while you’re ahead and go to your dorm.”
The girl stared at Canaan, rebellion in every line of her face, anger dark in her eyes. She turned to Doc, as if for help.
“You heard Canaan,” he said, then turned to Sheila. “Of course, you wouldn’t have—”
“How do you know?” Tanya demanded.
“Okay, that does it.” Canaan stepped forward, took Tanya by the shoulders and aimed her in the direction of the dormitories. “You need a lesson in the value of silence.”
“I’ll take her.” Doc moved quickly. “She can help me take the tire to the shop and dispose of the dog. That’ll take some of the pepper out of her today.”
With a shrug, Canaan stepped aside. “Sure, but what about tomorrow? And the next day?”
Doc nodded grimly. “I’ll let you worry about that. You’re the principal now.”
Sheila braced herself once more. This was quickly developing into the horrible experience she had feared, though not for reasons she ever imagined.
Canaan listened to Doc’s footsteps echo around the curve of adobe buildings and mingle with Tanya’s low, urgent voice as she did her best to convince her mentor of who knew what.
And then Canaan turned to look at Sheila, who was also watching Doc and Tanya, her eyes troubled, confusion in every line of her face.
He hadn’t expected to remember her so well—hadn’t known that twenty-four years could seem like mere days in his memory. Yes, she was an adult now, but she was still Sheila…and he could still read her.
He hated to treat his old friend, whom he’d once loved like a sister, like a crime suspect, but he needed to know what was going on. And something was definitely going on.
“What do you mean, you didn’t see her?” he asked gently.
His question dragged her attention away from Doc and Tanya. “What?”
“You obviously saw the dog, and you haven’t out and out denied hitting her. Do you think it’s possible you hit her? Maybe didn’t see her in the road because of the glare?”
“I…uh…I told you I saw something.” Her face had grown pale. “Just not on the road.”
“I didn’t see any skid marks on the pavement,” he said, trying hard to keep any accusation out of his voice. “But I did see tire tracks in the sandy shoulder. I thought it looked as if someone went to extra lengths to make sure the animal was dead.”
That brought some color back to Sheila’s face. The bright sunlight also exposed tiny lines of worry around her eyes and accentuated the downward turn of her lips, making him further regret this line of questioning. He knew she would never intentionally run down an animal, but he needed to know what did happen, especially now.
She looked away and took a slow, deep breath. “Right. Guess I’ve not made myself clear, but do you mind if we continue this grilling inside? It’s been a long, hot trip from Missouri.” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped back into the apartment, stood by the door until he stepped in, then closed it. “Have a seat. I want something to drink. You?”
He shook his head and sat on the love seat. She was stalling, bumbling around in the small kitchen, searching for glasses, testing the tap.
He watched every nervous move, his concern deepening. “There’s cold water in the fridge,” he said at last.
She ignored him and filled her glass with tap water.
“It’s not an option.” He continued watching her, remembering her occasional stubbornness when they were children. “It’s the only drinking water you have. It’s brought in once a week. That’s never changed.”
With a sigh, Sheila emptied the glass into the sink, set it on the counter and strolled back into the living room, obviously trying hard to look unflustered. “Guess my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
He waited and watched as she sat across from him in a straight-backed chair. Wasn’t she going to explain about the dog? This was the friend he’d loved when they were children, a champion with a tender heart. How many times had he thought about calling her in Missouri, just to see how she was doing? But he never had. How many times, driving east during his medical training, had he considered