Page 74 of High Frequency

I guess that’s a no.

Dan

It didn’t take her long to fall asleep.

The clock on my dashboard says nine fifteen when I turn onto the driveway to High Meadow.

She was poked and prodded, X-rays were taken, and the ultimate diagnosis is a second-grade torn ligament. Sloane’s going to be in a walking boot, at least until she sees the doctor for a follow-up in two weeks. She was also given some pain meds and a prescription for more, for which we stopped at the drugstore on the way out of town.

She wasn’t happy to be told she’d need to take it easy and wouldn’t be driving for the immediate future. Understandable, since it’ll likely make doing her job difficult, but I can’t say I’m too unhappy about it. At least she’ll be safe sticking around the ranch.

We both made some phone calls while waiting around the hospital. I was able to connect with JD, who said the window contractor is coming back in the morning to finish three upstairs windows, but the downstairs is done. It was a reminder for me to turn on the GoPro cameras with my app.

Sloane updated her mom, and called Sheriff Ewing who let her know the forensic team had arrived. Apparently, they’d come with floodlights so they could get started right away. I know Sloane is itching to get back out there, but I don’t think she’ll make it tonight. She doesn’t even wake up when I pull up in front of her cabin and turn off the engine.

“Hey.” I tap her on the knee. “We’re home.”

She grunts and rolls her head the other way, so I get out and round the truck to open her door. Next, I stick my head in the door and brush her lips with mine.

Now she cracks an eyelid.

“Come on. Let’s get you inside and in bed.”

The corner of her mouth pulls up in a crooked smile. “Yeah?”

I chuckle, she almost sounds drunk.

“Don’t get any ideas, Sleeping Beauty. No sleepovers tonight. You have your mom waiting inside.”

Her nose scrunches up, suggesting that reminder doesn’t make her happy.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make up for it another time,” I promise.

Instead of helping her out of the truck so she can walk under her own steam, I decide to capitalize on the fact she seems in a pliable mood. I slip an arm around her and one underneath her knees, lifting her out, with the romantic notion of carrying her inside.

Even though I’m in decent shape and have a good half a foot on her, Sloane isn’t a petite woman, and this may be a bit more of a challenge to pull off than I anticipated. But Isobel is already waiting in the doorway, watching, and I’m not about to fall down on the job in front of her.

I do my best to make my trek to the front door look effortless, and Sloane seems to buy in, as she snuggles her head against my shoulder.

“Why don’t you bring her straight through to her bedroom. I already put the baby’s crib in mine,” her mom suggests with a smirk.

I do believe the woman has an evil streak.

And it may well be genetic.

When I—as carefully as I can muster—lay Sloane down on her bed, she grins up in my face.

“An A for effort, but you may need a few ibuprofen after that.”

“Why don’t you hire someone?”

This from my sister, who called as I walked in my door. She wanted to know about the progress at the house and I mentioned we’d had a bit of a setback.

“I have the week off. I’ll get back on track.”

Although, her comment does give me an idea.

“I can’t wait to see what it looks like,” Lindsey continues. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to get out there before Thanksgiving.”

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