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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
REED HELD THE door open and ushered Sierra into his little flat. She limped past him and went straight to the couch and sat down. His pulse still raced whenever he thought about her phone call two hours ago. Telling him she’d crashed her car. And he was still berating himself for not going out to her earlier this morning, when she’d first called him about her chickens. It was stupid. He’d known something was off, could feel it in his gut, yet he’d let his brain and work dictate his actions. Had thought she’d be okay.
“Thanks, Reed. For everything.” She grimaced, as she re-adjusted her position on the couch. The doctor said it was only bruising on her chest and ribs, from the seatbelt. Nothing was broken. “I didn’t expect you to take me to the ER, but thank you anyway.”
“You needed to get checked out. What if you had a broken rib and it punctured your lung? Or internal injuries you didn’t even realize were there?” He didn’t add the part about his own culpability. How, if he’d come out to get her, this would never have happened. He’d driven her straight to the hospital in Kingscote. Which wasn’t so much of a hospital but a small health clinic, run by a couple of nurses and one doctor. But they’d been efficient and professional, arranging X-rays and other tests to make sure Sierra was fine. Her knee was also bruised and possibly twisted, so they had strapped that and told her to keep it iced for the next twenty-four hours.
“Well, thank you again.” She lay her head back against the couch and he saw a flash of vulnerability cross her face as she closed her eyes. A small cut split her eyebrow from where the airbag had violently inflated, which the doctor had covered with a couple of butterfly-strips to hold it together. And her temple and brow above the cut were starting to turn gray with a bruise. The doctor had asked her about the scar just beneath her hairline as he was dressing the cut. He’d lifted her hair to take a closer look, but she’d shut him down, saying it was nothing, really, just an old scar that didn’t bother her anymore. Reed had stored that bit of information away for later. It was obvious to him at least that it wasn’t nothing, and he meant to ask her about it when the time was right.
Her normally lush, vibrant lips were pulled together in a thin line, and her cheeks were ashen and hollow. Perhaps it was the injuries that made her look more vulnerable. Whatever it was, Reed knew he had to do something. He’d been holding back, had wanted to do it ever since she’d first called him early this morning. But when he’d picked her up from the crash site, he’d been so worried about her injuries and the state of the car, his professional side had taken over, making him brusque and efficient. And in the hospital, they’d been surrounded by nurses or other patients. But now…Now they were alone.
He sat down beside her and gathered her gently into his arms. And just held her. Careful not to squeeze too tight in case he hurt her ribs. At his touch, Sierra tensed, but then quickly melted into his arms. He heard a tiny sigh escape her lips. She was wearing a zippered fleece today that hugged her body more than the normal oversized hoodies she preferred. She was thin beneath his biceps, he could feel the bones of her shoulders digging into him.
They sat like that for many long moments. He liked the feel of her in his arms, small and fragile, but there was a strength inside her as well. What they were doing here was not sensual at all. It was quiet and life-affirming. Intimate.
Finally, she stiffened slightly, and he knew their peaceful interlude was ended. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I needed that.” He got the feeling it’d been a long time since she’d been held.
“There’s plenty more where that came from.” He gave her a quick smile as he gathered himself and stood up.
He hated to say this, but reality was still calling. “I have to go back to work for a few hours.”
“Oh. Of course you do. I didn’t mean to be so selfish.” Sierra went to stand, and he laid a steady hand on her shoulder.
“But you’re going to stay here, where I know you’ll be safe. I’ll be home in a few hours. You will stay here, won’t you?” He phrased the last bit as a question, but he wanted to growl it out, demand that she stay so he knew where she was.
Sierra hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind.” He thought a flash of relief showed in her eyes before they darkened again. “I’ve got something I need to tell you about, anyway.”
“Yes, there are lots of things we need to talk about,” he said gravely, thinking back to her car, smashed by the side of the road. He hadn’t said anything to her yet, didn’t want to traumatize her even further. And he’d need to get confirmation from the wrecker. But it looked to him like the lug nuts on her wheels had been tampered with. Loosened. It was the only explanation for the way her right wheel was only just hanging onto the hub. Her left wheel was loose, too. Someone had meant for her to crash. The same person who’d killed her chickens, if his hunch was right. And that hunch was also telling him it was the same person who’d broken into her house and stolen her laptop. They had to be all connected, but he wasn’t sure how, or why, yet. But he would figure it out. And he wasn’t letting her out of his sight until he did.
“I’ll organize to get your car towed.”
She glanced up at him. “I know I sound like a broken record, but thank you, Reed.” His chest expanded at her gratitude. It was nice to be able to do something to help her. It alleviated some of the guilt about not going to her right away this morning. Some, but not all.
“I’ll get you a spare sweater. That one’s got blood on it.” He pointed at the drops of blood from her head wound. She glanced down in surprise, as if seeing them for the first time.
“That would be good.”
As he rummaged in his closet, his phone beeped in his pocket. Another text coming in. It would be either Eric or Don trying to track him down. Time to get back on the job. He found the sweater he was looking for, a dark-blue, zip-up hoodie, exactly how she liked them.
“I’ll be home by dinnertime, I promise,” he said, handing her the sweater. “Just make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge, and tea and coffee on the counter.” He dithered by the doorway, unsure if he should leave her alone. She was hurt. Injured. And he wanted to stay with her.
“Go, Reed. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.” She finally gave him his first proper smile for the day. The one where the corner of her mouth lifted a fraction, giving him the crooked smile he’d become intrigued by and he knew she would be okay. For now.
He grabbed his police jacket from the peg in the hallway and shut the door behind him. Fumbling for his phone, he tried to put the jacket on at the same time as reading the first text. There were four from Eric, each one becoming more urgent. He stopped mid-stride. Damn, this wasn’t good.
He punched in Eric’s number and held the phone to his ear.
“It’s Reed. What’s going on?” he said, dispensing with any niceties.
“You need to get back to HQ. The Sarge’s asked us all back there ASAP.” Eric’s normally jovial drawl was tight and tense as he snapped the words out. “Those bloody mainland cops have just arrested Tom Hubbard. Said they got a tip-off from the public that he had photos of kids on his computer. They’re getting a warrant to search his house as we speak.”
“Damn,” Reed muttered into the phone. This island community was starting to show the strain of a missing girl and now the discovery of the bones of another dead child. He’d seen it happen before. They were beginning to implode, starting to look suspiciously sideways at their neighbors and friends. They needed to do something to nip this in the bud, before it became full-blown hysteria with everyone accusing everyone else. Reed didn’t know Tom Hubbard, but he remembered he was the head of the volunteer SES brigade. He’d been coordinating all the search and rescue efforts.
“Do we know if there is any truth to the allegations?”
Eric’s voice was low, and Reed could imagine his face looking a little like a beaten puppy. “I hate to say it, but there may well be. We’ll know more as soon as we get the warrant. You need to get back to the station. Now. The Sarge wants at least one of us to be in on the interview when the mainland boys bring him in.”
“On my way.” Reed ended the call and unlocked his police vehicle. Could it be that easy? Had they found a pedophile on the island? The pedophile? Wasn’t it always the way, these people put themselves forward as a pinnacle of society, painted themselves as irreproachable, while underneath that facade of integrity they were really just monsters? Could this possibly be the guy who’d taken Jessica?
