Shades of Truth. Sandra Orchard

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СКАЧАТЬ crackly voice shouted, “Yard. Now,” over Darryl’s walkie-talkie.

      Kim scooped the ice bag off her foot. “Go ahead, Darryl. Ethan and I can handle the incoming.”

      Ethan reached to help her up, but she brushed his hand aside, as if her injury was of no concern.

      “When an incident with a resident escalates,” she explained, leading the way through the maze of corridors, “you shout now and your location into your walkie-talkie to summon help. It doesn’t happen that often, but between my taking up yours and Darryl’s time and Tony off, we’re a little short staffed.”

      “Who’s Tony?”

      “One of our full-timers. He called in sick just before his shift this morning.”

      This morning, huh? Ethan made a mental note to look up Tony’s address and pay him a visit. Check out his taillights. “Has he worked here long?”

      “Since the place opened.”

      “That long? He must’ve been upset when the board hired a new guy as deputy director instead of promoting senior staff.” Maybe upset enough to look at making some money on the side with a homegrown drug ring.

      She shrugged, but her puckered brow suggested the possibility bothered her. Or was it the manor’s uncertain future?

      “Here we are.” She unlocked the admission room connected to a sally port—an entrance rigged to secure the outer door before the inner door opened.

      The musty odor that seeped into the corridor resurrected memories he’d willed himself to forget. He braced his hands on the door frame, one foot bridging the threshold, the other cemented to the hall. He felt sixteen again, teetering on the edge of a sinkhole that threatened to swallow him from the inside out. The humiliation of being restrained. The loneliness as weeks passed without a visitor. The remorse that gnawed at him day and night.

      “Ethan? Are you okay?”

      Kim’s voice jerked him back to the present. “Yes.” He gave his head a hard shake. “Yes, I’m fine.”

      “Is it your hand?”

      “What?” He pulled his hand from the door frame and looked at the bandage. Come to think of it, it was throbbing.

      “Maybe you should have the nurse—”

      “It’s fine.” He stepped into the room and moved toward the window overlooking the attached garage. If he expected to gain her trust, he needed to utilize every available minute, not fuss over a couple of puncture wounds.

      “Sounds like my bigger concern should be how long my new job’s gonna be around.” He propped his hip on the side of the desk. “Maybe I should help you with your petition.”

      “Really?”

      “Sure.” The sun seemed to rise in her eyes, and Ethan regretted that his offer had more strings attached than a trussed-up turkey. “Although I am curious why your brother is opposed to the idea. Is that what had him so riled back there?”

      Kim sank wearily into the chair. “I don’t know. He used to talk to me, but lately …” Her gaze shifted to the thick-paned window. “I guess we all deal with grief in our own way.”

      “I heard your father has cancer, and that it’s bad. I’m sorry.” Hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck, Ethan reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Darryl will come around. You’ll see.” The slight relaxing of her muscles beneath his fingers left him fighting the temptation to let his hand linger. He took a step back. “So, who do we have coming in?”

      “Um, I think it’s Mel.” She double-checked the sign-in book. “Yes, Melvin Reimer.”

      “What can you tell me about him?”

      “He’s fifteen. A good kid, really. Comes from a stable family, but he had a hard time making friends at school.”

      “Let me guess. He got sucked into a gang.”

      “Yeah, but I’ve been urging him to get out.”

      “The gang’s not going to let that happen.”

      “It’s not their choice. It’s his. And he’s matured a lot in the months he’s been here, which is only one example of why it’s so important to do everything we can to make sure the government doesn’t shut us down.”

      Ethan chose not to dispute the Pollyanna view. Her optimism was kind of refreshing. “Did Melvin have a parole hearing this morning?”

      “No, a group conference between his family and the victim’s. This was a big step for him. He wanted the opportunity to apologize, ask for forgiveness and achieve some sort of reconciliation.”

      “Wow, that takes guts.”

      The rumble of the garage door rattled the windows. A police cruiser pulled inside. After the door closed behind the vehicle, the officer extracted a tall, lanky kid from the backseat, his hands and feet shackled.

      Kim pushed to her feet, a proud smile curving her lips. “The kids call him Beanpole.”

      “What’s he in for?”

      She jabbed the button that opened the admission room door. “He got drunk, stole a car and smashed through a neighbor’s living-room window. Wounded their four-year-old daughter.”

      Ethan swallowed the sour taste that rose to his throat as the kid shuffled across the cement, his head down. “Today’s meeting must’ve been tough for … everyone.”

      “Yeah, but you know what they say. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

      “Like the car that almost took you out this morning?”

      She waved off the question and turned to the kid coming through the door.

      Ethan kneaded the tension at the back of his neck. His protective instincts had kicked into high gear the moment he’d heard her scream, and they hadn’t let up in the hour since. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a more stubborn woman. Some guy had tried to run her off the road, and she acted as though it was no big deal.

      The question was, why? Because Ethan’s gut told him she couldn’t be more wrong.

      At the sight of her friend Ginny pulling up to the curb, Kim walked out the staff exit, hyperaware of Ethan’s nearness. He was being so sweet—offering to help with her petition, sympathizing with Dad’s condition, seeing her to the car—that she didn’t know how to act. Was he interested in her?

      Or was he just a supernice guy?

      At least she managed not to limp. She’d probably break out in a silly grin if he actually offered her an arm to lean on. And the curious glint in Ginny’s eye didn’t help.

      With how kind Ethan had been, Kim felt guilty for not admitting that she knew who almost ran her down. But Blake had spent sixteen months at Hope Manor. If the police hauled him in for dangerous driving, not only would the news fuel СКАЧАТЬ