Panther On The Prowl. Nancy Morse

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ see things differently when he found out what a scoundrel Craig really was. She had to get word to him that she was all right without arousing his suspicions. She shuddered to think that Craig probably already had manpower at work to find her. Oh, God, what a mess.

      She lay there, not daring to move, as if the slightest movement would signal her presence to the outside world. She could tell by the warm breeze that wafted through the air that it was light outside. Daylight had always brought a sense of reassurance. When she’d been a little girl afraid of the dark, her father’s soothing voice had calmed her fears. Then one day it was gone, the voice, the stroke of his finger across her cheek, the tender kiss on her forehead. After that, the only thing that made her feel safe was daybreak, telling her that she had made it through another dark and lonely night.

      It was easier to face things in the light of day, but for Rennie there was no light beyond the swath of bandages. Locked in her blindness, the awful memories seemed only that much more real.

      The powerful effect of the infusion that John gave her last night had worn off sometime before daybreak. But now, no longer lulled into a state of painlessness, she was acutely aware of every ache in every muscle. Even the mere act of breathing hurt.

      “Can I get you more tea?”

      She didn’t know he was there until he spoke in that deep, regretful voice. The air in the room was suddenly filled with him. How long had he been there, waiting in silence for her to surface? Could he read her thoughts as easily as he read her pain?

      She turned her head toward him. In a ragged, untested voice, she said, “Maybe later. What time is it?”

      “A little past three. Are you hungry?”

      “I’d forgotten there was any such thing as food.”

      “You should eat something if you want more tea later. That infusion can be rough on an empty stomach. Yesterday you were too out of it to notice.”

      Rennie struggled to recall yesterday. God only knew how utterly pitiful she must have seemed to him. Too embarrassed to ask what she might have done or said, she stammered, “Was I— Did I—”

      “You didn’t reveal anything I shouldn’t know. So…do you want some soup? I have chicken noodle, tomato and minestrone.”

      “I thought you said we were out in the middle of nowhere.”

      “We are. Why?”

      “I guess I’m just surprised that you can cook.”

      “Because I’m a man or because I’m an Indian?”

      “Neither. I just didn’t think there was any electricity.”

      The edge in his voice softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. You learn pretty fast about preconceived notions when you’re Indian.”

      Rennie sat up in bed, wincing from the pain. “It must be like growing up wealthy. You never know who loves you for yourself or for your money.” She realized she had spoken her thoughts out loud and glanced away, muttering, “Or so I’ve heard.”

      The examples were different but the underlying emotions were the same, and it made John uncomfortable to think that there existed something like that in common between them.

      “There’s a generator out back,” he said.

      “In that case, I’ll have the chicken noodle. It’s my favorite.”

      He frowned as he walked to the kitchen. It was another thing they had in common, not that there weren’t a million other people with the same taste in canned soup. Still, it made not liking her that much harder.

      From the other room Rennie ventured, “You asked if there was anyone I want to contact.”

      He forced the cylinder of soup from the can into a saucepan. “Is there?”

      “Yes. But I’m afraid my cell phone is buried beneath the wreckage. Do you have a telephone I can use?”

      The spoon clicked against the sides of the pot as John stirred the soup. “What sort of work do you do?”

      “I’m a professor of anthropology.”

      “Sometimes,” he said, “the farther we get from civilization, the more civilized we feel. Out here you’ll find no e-mail, no voice messaging. Just an endless stream of rushing water to answer to. But I do have a cell phone for emergencies. I’ll get it.” He turned the soup to a slow simmer and went to get the phone. “Here you go.” He touched the phone to her hand and stepped away.

      The tonal beeps came slowly as Rennie felt her way across the keypad as she dialed the senator’s private number.

      “Hi, it’s me. I know I should have called sooner, but I’ve been busy. Actually, I decided to take some time off. I’m staying with a friend. You can’t reach me, but I’ll be in touch.” She hung up, feeling guilty for the evasion, but at least he would know that she was all right without knowing where she was.

      “Out here you may not need one, but thank goodness for the answering machine.” She handed the phone back to him. “Thank you, John.”

      He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue as if they’d known each other for years. He wasn’t aware that they were friends, yet somehow he liked the idea of that, as well. His throat went dry. “It’s no big deal.”

      “I meant for asking no questions.”

      “Oh.” He shrugged. “I figure if there’s anything you want me to know, you’ll tell me.”

      He went back to the kitchen and ladled the soup into a bowl. Thinking that she might still be too weak to get out of bed, he dragged the chair close to the side of the bed and placed the bowl on the seat. He put the spoon in her hand, his strong fingers closing around hers and enveloping her hand in the warmth of his before it pulled away.

      Rennie was jolted by the unexpected heat that raced up her arm to flush her cheeks with color. She spoke up nervously. “Aren’t you eating?”

      “There’s only one chair. I’ll wait until you’re finished.”

      She slid over on the bed and moved her bowl to one side of the chair seat.

      John placed a second bowl of soup next to hers and sat down reluctantly beside her on the edge of the bed. He tried to ignore that warmth of her arm that barely brushed his sleeve.

      “When you’re up to it,” he said, “I’ll walk you around so you can get the feel of the place. If you’re hungry, help yourself to whatever there is.”

      “You’re assuming I can cook.”

      “I’m assuming you can open a can of soup or boil water for spaghetti. That’s all you’ll find.”

      “I’m good at spaghetti. In college I lived on it. It’s inexpensive and filling.”

      “You don’t strike me as the type who’s had to live on a budget.”

      Rennie wasn’t surprised that СКАЧАТЬ