Countdown to Death. Debby Giusti
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“I’ll drive your car,” he said, then glanced at the older woman. “Bett, you take Shelly home in the SUV.”
“I hate to impose after all you’ve done,” Allison insisted, not wanting to be a pest.
His lips eased into a smile, but his eyes were serious. “I need to make sure nothing else happens to you tonight.”
Bett and Shelly pulled onto the two-lane street, heading home, as Luke settled Allison into the passenger side of her car and slipped into the driver’s seat next to her.
The cloud cover broke, exposing a crescent moon and stars twinkling in the sky. Venus, named after the goddess of love, hovered low on the horizon, reminding him of the Greek mythology he’d studied in college. He shook his head ever so slightly. Probably the close proximity of an attractive woman that had him thinking of love.
Or maybe it was due to the sweet floral scent that lingered in her car and contrasted sharply with the acrid smoke that clung to his clothes.
Today’s weather report forecast the first October frost, and over the past few hours, the temperature had dropped to near freezing. Luke reached for the heater control and turned to his passenger, still wrapped in a blanket the EMTs had given her. She looked bone-tired.
“Cold?”
She rubbed her arms and nodded. “Maybe a little.”
He adjusted the thermostat until warm air flowed from the vents.
“I’ve got a cell phone, if you’d like to call family to let them know you’re okay.”
“Mine’s in my purse.” She patted the small shoulder bag still draped around her neck. “I’ll call my laboratory manager tomorrow in case the fire makes the Atlanta news.”
“Where do you work?”
“Magnolia Medical. It’s a health-care facility. Clinical labs, physical and occupational therapy, that type of thing. I’m in the research branch.”
After the endless battery of tests Shelly had been put through, medical personnel didn’t rank high on Luke’s list of important people. Bett had insisted extended therapy in Atlanta would help. He’d never told his aunt, but he wondered if Shelly’s recovery had been delayed because the specialists had pushed her too hard.
“Surely you’re not here because of your research?” he asked, surprised by the edge in his voice. “Something to do with the local wildlife?”
She turned to stare at him. “Why do you ask?”
He could see the question in her blue eyes even in the dim reflection of light from the dashboard controls.
“A couple guys were talking while you were being treated by the doc. They said you stopped by the Roadside Grill on your way into town and quizzed the waitress about the wild game on the menu.”
“Folks in Sterling like to talk.”
“It’s a small town.” He shrugged. “News travels.”
“I didn’t expect them to serve venison,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “PETA or anti-gun?”
“Pardon?”
“Sounds like you’re against hunting.”
“I never said that.”
“But you insinuated it. At least that’s what the men led me to believe.”
“And you believe everything you hear?”
She had him there.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said.
“And so am I.” She pulled her hair back from her face and sighed. “The fact is, I’m working on a laboratory test to ensure the safety of our blood supply. It’s in the developmental stage, and I picked up some unexpected results.”
“If they have to do with the deer population, you might want to notify the game warden.”
“It’s a little too early to involve him. At this point, the results of my test are questionable.”
“Then you don’t think there’s a problem with the venison?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Neither did he. Allison looked as confused as she sounded.
What had he read about diseases humans could get from deer? He thought of the article he’d written on hunting safety. “Only thing that comes to mind involving infected venison is chronic wasting disease. We’ve never had a problem in Georgia.”
Allison’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mention the name of the disease.”
“No, you didn’t. But I wrote an article for a hunting magazine a few months back on the danger of infected game.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You’re a journalist?”
“Actually I run a manufacturing company and do a little farming on the side. In my spare time, I pen articles for a regional hunting magazine.”
“Time-out, okay?” She put one hand over the other to form a T. “The doc gave me a muscle relaxer that’s making me talk too much. Do me a favor and let’s change the subject.”
Typical for medical types. Throw out information, then refuse to discuss the situation fully. Shelly’s doctors had done the same thing numerous times, causing Luke undue frustration.
Although frustration wasn’t what he was feeling tonight. More like concern.
He didn’t know a thing about the woman sitting next to him, but he knew about the danger wasting disease posed to hunters. Even if they didn’t eat the infected venison, handling the carcass—especially if they had cuts on their hands—could increase the risk of exposure. Yet Allison had admitted her results were questionable.
He made a mental note to call the game warden in the morning. Luke hadn’t seen any sickly animals on his property, but it wouldn’t hurt to notify the authorities to be on the lookout.
They rode in silence for over a mile until Allison tilted her head back against the seat. “Your aunt seems like a nice lady. What about the rest of your family?”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Bett’s helping me raise my sister.”
“So Shelly’s not your daughter?”
The look on her face caused him to chuckle. “Do I look like an old married guy?”
“No, but—” She smiled. “I told you I’m not thinking straight. And your parents?”
“They’re both dead.”
He heard the finality in his voice, and to her credit, Allison didn’t push for more information. Instead, she mumbled a few words of sympathy and closed her eyes.
Pretty, even with the soot that smudged her face. No matter why she’d come to Sterling, Luke would let her stay in the cabin for a day or two while she tracked down the information she needed. She’d probably be on her way by the end of the week.
Doubtful she’d disrupt his routine in that short time. After all, he’d worked too long to build a protective cocoon where his sister could live without being reminded of the past. Despite the doctors’ prognosis, Luke believed Shelly would eventually have a breakthrough. He wouldn’t let anything set her back again.
Even an attractive scientist who seemed to need protection herself.
Allison knew when to keep quiet. The tone of Luke’s voice had made it clear his parents’ deaths were off-limits as a topic of discussion. She understood limits. She’d placed boundaries on her past as well.
Besides, she didn’t feel like talking.