Page 12 of Claws and Feathers

The truth was, he had no answers for her. Not yet. He had a physical description and a stolen van. He was hoping forensics would point him in a clearer direction.

Abby shifted under the bed covers, her tongue poking out to moisten her chapped lips. “It was dark,” she said dolefully. Tears began to coat her eyes. “It was always so dark.”

Damn. There was a crack in her voice – a splinter. There was a pertinent sadness emanating off her, cutting through him like a hot knife. It was twisting, digging, slicing into him, finding his most tender and vulnerable parts. Cooper reached for her hand again, his need to comfort her trumping his logic. She startled for a moment, then softened. “Abby… are you okay?”

He recoiled at his own question. What a ludicrous thing to ask of a trauma victim only a few hours into her recovery. What he meant to ask was:Are you in there? Are you still with me?

Will you somehow, someday, be okay?

Abby blinked at him, then removed her palm from his grip. He watched as she raised her hand ever so slowly, and lightly tapped her knuckles against the wall.

Once. Twice.

Cooper smiled.

Chapter four

It was a beautiful May morning. May had always been her favorite time of the year – it represented hope.

Abby needed hope. She craved it. She wanted it to seep into her skin and bury itself in the marrow of her bones. She wanted to bathe in its delicious sunshine and calming breeze, and let it wash away the cynical visage she had spent years meticulously creating. She wanted to soak up its possibilities.

It was also somewhat ironic that it was May. Abby considered it to be a month of change – rebirth. It was that glorious flower poking through mounds of dirt, searching for a ray of sunlight to help it bloom.I’ve waited all winter for you,people would say.Abby was that flower. Abby was May. Her life had been one, long winter.

And the last few weeks? Well, it was a winter she would likely never escape.

Abby encircled her arms around herself, feeling oddly cold despite the warm sun shining down on her as she stood on Daphne’s porch. She’d been getting stronger. The hospital had released her the night before, and Daphne had stayed up with her until sunrise. Abby recalled glancing out the window at three A.M. and spotting Cooper’s patrol car parked in front of the house. It had made her smile.

“Abby! Get your bony butt back inside. What if he’s out there? What if he sees you?”

Abby whirled around, watching as Daphne tapped her foot impatiently from the front door. “I – I just needed some fresh air.”

Was this her life now? Unable to go out into the world? Forever shrouded in fear? She pushed her freshly washed hair behind her ear and sighed.

“Girl, you’ve only been out of the hospital for twelve hours. He could be waiting to nab you at any moment,” Daphne insisted. “Come inside. I made French toast.” She paused. “I mean, I didn’t have any eggs to make the batter, so it’s basically regular toast. But I have cinnamon.”

A smile touched Abby’s lips, but it didn’t quite stick. “I’ll be right in.” She gazed out at the gravelly road in front of her, wondering how her life had gotten so off course. Crow’s Peak was supposed to be a new beginning – a fresh start. Instead, it had almost destroyed her.

Abby was about to turn back inside when wheels crunching against rock caught her attention. She noticed Cooper’s vehicle make its way up the hill. He parked behind Daphne’s yellow Beetle in the driveway, then stepped out and approached her.

Her cheeks flushed in remembrance of her reaction to when he’d carried her out of that van. She’d latched on to him like a desperate child. Abby had been in shock, unsure of much of anything. All she’d known was that Cooper McAllister had been the first kind face she’d seen in weeks. He was warm and strong. His arms had held her so carefully; so tenderly. She’d forgotten what that had felt like.

Cooper headed up the cobblestone walkway, his radio going off as he stopped in front of her. His khaki uniform shirt was tucked into dark slacks, and a pistol was situated in a holster around his waist. He removed his sunglasses and Abby nibbled on her lip, momentarily thrown back in time. He was once again carrying her to safety, his face full of worry, and his eyes full of…something.

His eyes held that same look now when they met with hers.

“Good morning, Miss Stone.”

Abby frowned, oddly put off by his choice of greeting. She crossed her arms over her chest. “So formal,” she said stiffly.

He glanced down. When he lifted his eyes, whatever thatsomethingwas had vanished. Cooper seemed to ignore her statement as he scratched the back of his neck. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I didn’t sleep at all.” Abby fidgeted with the sleeve of her t-shirt, curious as to why he was acting different. He was closed off. This wasn’t the same Cooper from the rescue mission and from the hospital. “You must not have slept much either. I saw your patrol car parked outside the house all night.”

“Part of the job,” he said. Cooper tapped his thigh, and his car keys jangled in his pocket. “I wanted to stop by and let you know that I’ll be alternating shifts with Officer Walker. He was the one who questioned you that first night.”

“I remember.”

Officer Walker was a by-the-books cop. He was friendly, yet stern. He’d grilled her on all the gritty details of her harrowing ordeal – all that she could remember, anyway. Abby’s memory had never been the best, and the traumatic circumstances had made her brain all muddy. She feared she’d given the police little to go on.

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