Double Blind. Hannah Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ Rock Lake, listening to his giggling nieces, Lucy and Brittany, at play by the water. He’d never have dreamed he would love babysitting so much, but those two little charmers captured his heart the first time he met them last year.

      A movement caught his attention from across the lake. Blaze Farmer was paddling a canoe from the boys’ ranch on the other shore, about a quarter mile away. Preston knew it was Blaze because it was time to exercise the horses, and also because Blaze was the only Hideaway citizen with skin the color of espresso.

      When Preston’s sister and brother-in-law had left him in charge of the place for two days, he had not agreed to do all the chores, keep the horses watered and exercised, the chickens fed and eggs collected. Blaze was in charge of that, for which Preston was deeply grateful. Keeping up with a nine-and six-year-old was enough to keep him occupied.

      He appreciated that occupation right now. It couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d been able to do little besides worry about Sheila and brood about their situation. He’d searched the Web countless times for the diseases endemic to the Southwest. That had been a mistake. Squirrels in the Grand Canyon carried fleas that carried the plague. Although anthrax had not been mentioned as a concern at the school at this point, he’d discovered that this nasty little killer could be found in the wool of sheep, which were raised on Navajoland.

      He’d harassed nearly every medical person in Hideaway, including Graham and Willow, with questions about hantavirus. This, of course, was fruitless, because hantavirus was not endemic to Missouri, and those who worked in the Ozarks focused on Ozark illnesses.

      Hantavirus was the deadly virus that most often occurred in the southwestern part of the country. Deer mice were carriers of this strain of hemorrhagic fever. The droppings from these mice spread the disease through the air.

      Though Sheila had assured Preston before she left that the buildings at the school were new and closely monitored for rodents, he knew all the monitoring in the world couldn’t catch everything.

      But his real fear wasn’t over the diseases in the area. Yes, the principal had died from the effects of a microogranism, but Sheila’s mother had not, and neither had the Hunts. Preston couldn’t help connecting the deaths of Sheila’s mother and Wendy—both of whom worked in the school clinic. He might be stretching it a bit, but he couldn’t shake his worry.

      The canoe was almost to the lake’s halfway point—a distance of about six hundred feet—and Blaze waved. As Preston waved back, the cell phone chirped from his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the number. Sheila. At last.

      He flipped open the phone, eager to hear her voice, yet determined not to let on how badly he missed her, or how much he worried. “Are you there yet?”

      “I’m here.” She sounded tired…and something more.

      Sheila Metcalf was an eternally upbeat person who tended to lift the spirits of others—without irritating. Many perky people got on Preston’s nerves, but for as long as he had known Sheila, her presence had soothed him. Their relationship hadn’t always been comfortable, but being in her company was like a good day of fishing on James River.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      The barest of hesitations alerted him further. “It’s been a long drive,” she said. “It’s hot, and I’m tired.”

      “What happened?”

      “What makes you think—”

      “Did you find any sick people?”

      “I just got here—how am I supposed to have done that?” The fatigue in her voice had quickly turned to irritation, not a usual response from her.

      “Did you have trouble on the road?” he asked.

      No reply. Which meant she’d had trouble on the road.

      “Did the Jeep break down?” he asked. “I knew you should have taken mine.”

      The continued silence disturbed him. He watched as Blaze moored the canoe to the small dock about a hundred feet down the gentle slope of hill from the house.

      Lucy and Brittany ran to greet their good friend. Brittany hurled herself into his big, strong arms while Lucy hung back, suddenly shy. Lucy adored Blaze Farmer; she had informed Preston that she was going to marry Blaze when she grew up. Preston had a feeling Lucy might have some competition.

      The handsome young college student could have an active social life if he weren’t so busy, completing three years of study in two years, helping out at the boys’ ranch that he called home, working part-time at the hospital for his foster mother, Dr. Cheyenne Gideon, taking care of most of the animals in town—Blaze intended to become Hideaway’s first full-time veterinarian.

      Just watching the kid work made Preston tired.

      “There was something in the desert.” Sheila’s voice was shaky as it reached Preston over the receiver.

      His full attention snapped back to her. “Something like what?”

      “It looked like an animal running toward the road, maybe a dog. A German shepherd. I saw it as I drove, and then it just seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke.”

      Preston waited, tamping down on his alarm while the thought of rabies crossed his mind. He was losing it.

      “It drew too much of my attention,” she said. “Next thing I knew, I was off the road. I heard a pop-thud. I had a blowout from hitting a rock, had to change the tire, but if I hit a dog during all that mess, I’d have surely known it.”

      He frowned. “What?”

      She sighed. “There was a dog found dead on the side of the road near where I had the blowout, and it seems I’m now being blamed for hitting it. Some kind of school pet, I guess.”

      “Why does everybody seem to think you hit this dog?”

      “I think it’s because they want to believe it.”

      He really didn’t like the sound of her voice. He hadn’t liked this journey from the beginning, but telling her that right now wouldn’t help. “So why are you suddenly doubting yourself?” he asked gently. “You’d have known if you hit a dog. In fact, you’d have jumped to the dog’s aid, tried to resuscitate it and barring that, you’d have hauled the poor creature into your Jeep and taken it for help.”

      There was a sigh, and then silence.

      “Sheila?”

      “Thanks. I needed to hear that. It’s just so…so upsetting to be suddenly accused of this…this awful thing barely minutes after arriving here.”

      “Bad omen, huh?”

      There was a short silence, then a sniffle.

      He really, really didn’t like this. He stood up, ready to pack immediately and fly to Arizona. Sheila always had both feet solidly planted on the ground…and now she was talking about disappearing dogs, and crying because she thought people didn’t like her?

      “Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “You’re not sick, are you? Because you don’t sound like yourself.”

      “Don’t СКАЧАТЬ