“No buts. Just keep it. Please. For my sake if not yours.”
She opened her mouth again but then shut it. Instead, she stared out the window and frowned when she saw the wood covering the front window of Gilbert’s house.
It had been quite the night.
After typing the name of the nearest urgent care clinic into his GPS, Tex pulled away from the curb. His mind drifted back in time.
“Do you still hate needles?” he asked her.
“You remember that?” She let out a self-conscious laugh.
“It’s hard to forget. You literally did anything you could to avoid them. You even told the doctor once that you’d take your chances with anemia rather than face a needle.”
“Some things you never grow out of.” She glanced at the bloody napkin around her finger and frowned again. “Are you sure butterfly bandages won’t work?”
“You need to get that cleaned out. The last thing you want is for infection to set in.”
She didn’t argue.
Silence hung between them for a few minutes.
Then Tex said, “I can’t stop thinking about that brick being thrown through Gilbert’s window. Now that you’ve had some time to think about it more, do you have any idea why someone would have thrown that brick into his house? I mean, you’re his neighbor. Maybe he’s said something to you . . .”
“No, I really don’t know.” Chelsea shrugged. “Nor do I know who it was intended for. What if it’s you?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Do you have an enemy who might have followed you here? It sounds like you might encounter lots of dangerous people in your line of work.”
He shrugged, unable to refute the statement. “I definitely do. But I’ve got a pretty good sense for things, and no one followed me here. I would have noticed. Unfortunately, one of the hazards of my job is that I always have to be on guard.”
“Well, whatever’s going on, I hope the person behind this backs off. You know this area as well as I do. It’s usually pretty safe.”
“So nothing’s really changed since I left?” Tex stole a glance at her.
His question had deeper meaning. He wanted to know what had changed with Chelsea.
His impression was that Chelsea wasn’t married. Had she ever been married? She was certainly pretty enough and nice enough to be married. But he didn’t want to ask. The question seemed too personal.
“No, not much has changed.” Yet her voice sounded strained as she said the words. “Life has gone on.”
Why did he feel as if there was an underlying meaning to her words?
They pulled up to the urgent care and parked. A few minutes later, they were inside.
The place was surprisingly empty of patients. Gel stickers that spelled “Merry Christmas” had been stuck to the window, and soft holiday songs played overhead. The smell of rubbing alcohol mingled with Lysol and peppermint—an unusual combination.
The nurse called them back almost straightaway.
Tex thought about letting Chelsea go into the back by herself. But, without asking if it was okay, he decided to go with her instead.
And he was glad he did.
When they got into the small exam room, a familiar face waited for them there.
Patrick Day.Dr.Patrick Day.
He was no longer the gawky string bean he’d been in high school.