In Close. Brenda Novak
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night.”
Isaac wondered what that smile meant. He got the impression she was making fun of herself and Lila, as if book group was the most exciting thing they ever did.
“Isaac says you have a bump above your ear. Would you mind letting me take a look?”
When she hesitated, he added, “Your other option would be to have us call the helicopter so you can be transported to the hospital.”
“No, there’s no need for that.” She winced as she attempted to sit up, but he pressed her back.
“All you have to do is relax.” Hunt unwound the gauze and gently prodded the area behind her left temple. Fresh blood gushed out of a small cut. “Scalps are notorious bleeders,” he murmured. “This could use a couple stitches, but it isn’t a concern. I’m more worried about the possibility of a concussion.” He rested a hand on her arm to get her to focus on him, probably because her gaze kept straying to Isaac as if she thought he’d done this to her. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She seemed distracted by his presence so Isaac retreated a few steps and leaned against the wall, where he could observe from a distance.
“I was trying to get some…some paintings of my mother’s.”
Paintings? Unless whoever pushed her down had stolen them, she hadn’t been carrying any paintings. Some file folders had spilled on the floor. That was what she’d had with her, but when Isaac opened his mouth to correct her, she shot him a look that shut him up.
“I didn’t know I wasn’t alone until I was leaving,” she said.
“You went to get these paintings at night?” Dr. Hunt wasn’t questioning her veracity, but he obviously thought there were better times for such an errand.
“I didn’t care that it was dark. I had a flashlight.” She sent another warning glance at Isaac, but he’d gotten the point. She didn’t want the doctor to know what she’d been doing at the cabin. Why, Isaac couldn’t even guess. But as far as he was concerned, it was no one’s business but her own. He let it go.
Hunt passed her a clean bandage, which she held to her head. “And someone was waiting for you or…what?”
Seemingly relieved that Isaac was staying out of it, she finished in a rush. “I can’t say for sure. All I know is that a man came at me, knocked my flashlight to the ground and shoved me so hard I fell.”
“Any idea what you might’ve hit on the way down?”
“The corner of the table in the entryway, I guess. The entire bottom floor is filled with furniture.” She cleared her throat. “Everyone feels it’s the perfect place to store whatever they don’t want anymore.”
It wasn’t the storage that bothered her; it was how easily others could deposit their cast-offs, forget the past and move on, because she couldn’t do the same. Isaac understood. He’d known Claire since they were children and empathized with what she’d been through. He’d lost his mother, too. She might have driven off on purpose, but he’d had to face life without her. He’d been searching just like Claire—the biggest difference being that he hadn’t had a stepfather to rely on. Fortunately in recent years he’d had the money to hire private investigators. Without so much as a birth certificate, it hadn’t been easy to figure out where he came from.
Hunt checked for other injuries. “You know where you are now, don’t you?”
A nostalgic expression appeared on her face. “This used to be my parents’ bedroom,” she said as if she was seeing it through much younger eyes. “My bedroom was across the hall. So was Leanne’s. When we moved to town, we sold it to a family who later went to Spokane. You remember Rod Reynolds?”
“I do.” Almost twenty years older than they were, Dr. Hunt had left for college about the time Isaac had been abandoned at Happy’s Inn, just before first grade. But Hunt hadn’t stayed away for much longer than it took to get his medical degree. He was familiar with most of the people in Pineview and their backgrounds.
Especially Isaac’s. But then…everyone was familiar with the story of the little boy who’d been left, with nothing but the dollar he’d been given to buy candy, at a roadside café.
Distracted by a bowl of water on the nightstand, Hunt pointed to it. “This from you?” he asked Isaac.
The pink tinge to the water had no doubt prompted the question. “’Fraid not. You’re the one who said head wounds bleed a lot. Apparently, that’s true.” Isaac could’ve done a better job cleaning Claire up if he’d shaved her hair at the site of her wound, but he was pretty sure that would only make her hate him more.
Hunt frowned at the bloody rag Isaac held to his injury. “Chest wounds can bleed a lot, too.”
Now that the doctor wasn’t so worried about Claire, he wanted to get started on Isaac. Isaac could tell.
Claire could tell, too. She began to insist he look after Isaac, but Isaac waved away her concern. “Finish here first.”
With a muttered curse at Isaac’s stubbornness, Hunt used a penlight to check Claire’s pupils. “What did you do earlier today, Claire?”
“What do you mean?” Like the doctor, she’d grown preoccupied with Isaac’s wound.
“I’m just asking about your day in general.”
“Oh.” Her forehead creased as if she didn’t see the point of further questioning, especially when someone else was bleeding, but Hunt was only being thorough. “I worked.”
Isaac wondered if she still regretted being unable to attend university. She’d talked about college just after high school, back when David was gone and they were seeing each other. During that time, she’d been treading water with a dead-end job managing Stuart’s Stop ’n’ Shop. But Leanne had been going through a series of operations, which her doctors hoped would restore some mobility, and Claire wouldn’t leave her. “Can you remember who you saw?”
“Let’s see…I did a cut and color for Joyce Sallow, a trim for Larry Morrill and a highlight for Alexis Rodgers.”
“You were busy. Where’s your sister tonight?”
“At the fireworks show. See? I’m fine. Just…shaken up. And my head’s killing me but that’s to be expected,” she added. “Take care of Isaac.”
“I will in a minute. And I’ll give you something for the pain, too.” Hunt recorded her blood pressure and heart rate. Then the doorbell rang and Isaac stepped out to answer. Sheriff King had arrived.
Not surprisingly, Myles’s first thought was for Claire. But Isaac’s injury didn’t go unnoticed. “What happened to you?”
“Collateral damage,” he replied. “She’s in here.”
Going along with the diversion, Myles followed Isaac into the bedroom. Claire was his wife’s best friend; he was obviously more concerned about her. But Isaac had a feeling they’d return to the subject of his injury at some point, if only to see how it related to the attack at the cabin. King was nothing if not thorough. And Isaac wasn’t the most trusted man in town.
“She’ll be fine,” Hunt said as they entered. “I’m going to sew up this cut. That’ll take care of the bleeding. She should be watched, just in case she has a slight concussion. But this isn’t serious.”
“Good. Can the stitches wait until I have a word with her?” the sheriff wanted to know.
“Are you up to talking with Sheriff King for a few minutes?” Hunt asked Claire.
Claire continued to hold the bandage to her head. “Of course. Whatever will help. I want the person who did this caught.”
When King asked for a few minutes alone with her, the doctor and Isaac left the room. Then Hunt