Lancaster County Target. Kit Wilkinson

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      FOUR

      Abby rushed for the open door, but Blake grabbed her arm and pulled her back. After the day they’d had, he wasn’t too sure running out into the darkness after the unknown was a good idea. Better to fix whatever had been done to the electricity. It would be much easier to spot the intruder with the floodlights on.

      “I thought I told you to stay put.”

      “I didn’t want to stay back there in the dark by myself.”

      Blake couldn’t argue with her reasoning, even though he was pretty certain he’d never met anyone as hardheaded as Abby Miller. In any case, he’d spotted her circuit-breaker panel a few feet from the door. The door to the panel had been opened as if someone had been making adjustments.

      “Maybe the power wasn’t off after all. Looks like someone’s been messing with your breakers. Here, take this.” He handed the flashlight to her. “Shine the light this way.”

      Blake opened the metal panel. As he’d suspected, the main breaker had been turned off. He flipped it back to the “on” position. Abby was right beside him, turning on both the inside and outside lights. The backyard lit up. Together they scanned the area from the back stoop. Blake saw open fields, a run-in shed and a horse grazing in a large paddock. No intruder.

      “I guess we surprised whoever it was and he left.”

      “I hope so,” Blake said. “But let’s check the rest of the house anyway.”

      Room by room, Blake followed Abby through the house. Nothing looked out of order. When they reached the foyer again, Blake noticed an interior door that in the darkness he hadn’t seen behind the front entrance. The sign on the door read Abigail Miller, R.N. and Certified Midwife, Consultation, Mondays and Wednesdays 12–4. “Impressive.”

      “Thanks. I went all-out when I designed the clinic. I wanted to bring the best to Willow Trace.” She walked past him. “And this door was locked when I left for the hospital this morning. I’m certain of that.”

      Blake followed her into the clinic and saw that Abigail had built a state-of-the-art facility inside the old cottage. It had been thoughtfully and tastefully done and unlike the rest of the house, which had been so simple and plain, everything here spoke of modern medicine and technology. In its usual state, it was unquestionably very impressive. Right now, it looked like a disaster area. Abby gasped as she staggered forward. Broken glass crunched under her feet. The examining area had been trashed. Boxes of supplies had been strewn across the space. All the shelves had been stripped and their contents spilled all over the table, counters and flooring.

      Tears streamed down her face. He could tell she was trying to wipe them away before he could see, but they wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. And this is so unbelievable.... Two weeks ago, I decide that my calling is nursing, that I don’t want to give it up. I told my family. My father. He’s so upset with me. I had such a peace about it...but now? My wonderful clinic that I created just a few years ago has been ruined and I...don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

      Blake knew she wasn’t really talking to him, just venting aloud her frustration and fatigue. His heart felt heavy for her. He felt as if the very center of his life had been destroyed, too, when his parents died in that plane crash. He and Abby definitely had something in common—they were both struggling with their direction and their families.

      He looked at her standing there sobbing. He had to do something. He couldn’t just go on as if she were fine. She was a patient, after all. If a patient were crying, he would give them a hug, right?

      Slowly, Blake put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. To his great astonishment, Abby turned into his chest and wept against his shoulder. Blake didn’t know what to do. Keep hugging her? Push her back? He didn’t move. But he couldn’t help but catch the soft floral fragrance of her hair and her skin. After a moment, he unfroze himself, slid his hands to her shoulders and pushed her back.

      Abigail’s embarrassment was evident in her flushed cheeks and splotchy neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart on you. I’m not usually this...this...”

      “You have every right to fall apart.” He grazed her cheek with the back of his СКАЧАТЬ