Page 15 of Mountain Rescue
He’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to go away, though, and she really did want to know how he’d gotten that recent scar, so that was the deal—you show me yours, and I’ll show you mine. She hoped he refused since that would give her an out.
“My team was ambushed, and I was taken prisoner. My captors weren’t happy with me when I declined to answer their questions.”
Dear God, he’d been tortured? “Oh.” That was such a stupid response, but she didn’t know what to say. What else had been done to him? Was that why she couldn’t read him? Because he’d learned to shut down to survive?
His laugh was harsh. “Yeah, oh.”
“Wait. That was you on the news a few weeks ago?” She hadn’t been paying much attention to the news but had glanced up from the book she was reading when a segment came on about a SEAL who’d been rescued. The news camera had been at a distance, filming the man as he deplaned. She remembered thinking the man was walking as if he was in a lot of pain. Now she wished she’d paid more attention to the story. How long had he been a prisoner?
“That was me. I should have never been on the news, but a nurse in the German hospital ratted me out to her boyfriend, who happened to be a reporter, who tipped off his network about a SEAL who’d been rescued. So, who’s Robert?”
Talk about whiplash. She had more questions, lots of them, but sensed he’d said as much as he was willing to. Guess it was her turn. “I don’t want you playing hero, Dallas. The police are involved, and they can deal with Robert.” If they ever found him.
“That’s good, but obviously, since you’re hiding, you’re afraid. I have no intention of going looking for the man, but what if he does show up here? I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“You could go stay with Jack and Nichole or find another cabin.”
“Negative.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Robert killed his wife, and I’m the only witness.”
“Whoa. Wasn’t expecting that.” He pulled his chair around so that he was facing her. “Tell me everything.”
“Okay, but for the record, I’m not happy about this.”
“You’ll get over it.”
To stall, she finished her coffee. When she couldn’t think of anything else to delay her story, she said, “His name’s Robert Hargrove. His public story is that he made all his money, and he has lots of it, in the tech industry. Two years ago, I met his wife at my yoga class. Her name was Henrietta, but everyone called her Henri. She was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. We became friends.” Tears burned her eyes, and she stared down at the hand Dallas put over hers.
“Hey, take a minute. You want another cup of coffee or a beer?”
“Definitely a beer.”
“Back in a sec.”
He was giving her time to get her emotions under control. “You’re a sweet man, cowboy,” she whispered to the night.
When he returned, he handed her a beer and a roll of toilet paper. Puzzled, she glanced at him. “Um, what’s this for?”
“I couldn’t find any tissues, so next best thing.”
Definitely a sweet man. “Oh, thanks.”
“You okay to finish?”
“I want to get this over with.” She waited for him to sit. “So, I’d see Henri at yoga, and one or two times a month, we’d meet for lunch, sometimes at her house... I guess I should say mansion. I met Robert when I went to Henri’s for lunch. From the first, I didn’t like him.” How could she explain the malicious vibes she felt coming from the man without telling Dallas she was an empath?
“What about him didn’t you like?”
“It’s hard to explain. He was...solicitous, I guess that’s the right word, with Henri, but I didn’t see love in his eyes when he looked at her. He was polite to me, at first anyway, but there was just something cold and arrogant about him.”
“Did he ever hit on you?”
“Not in the beginning. We maybe had lunch at Henri’s three or four times the first year we were friends, and I didn’t see much of him. I was thankful for that. But one time, near the end, Henri was sick when I arrived for our lunch. I wanted to see her for a few minutes, maybe see if she needed anything. Robert wouldn’t let me, said she was too sick. He stated he was having lunch with me. Didn’t ask, more like gave a command. He put his hand on my lower back and tried to steer me toward the pool deck where Henri and I always ate.” She shuddered at the memory of having that hand touch her.
“What did you do?”
“I told him I wasn’t feeling so good either, that maybe I’d caught whatever Henri had. He laughed, and Dallas, that laugh sounded so evil. He said, ‘I doubt that,’ and I don’t know why, but I just knew he’d done something to make her sick. Either that, or maybe he’d given her a black eye or something like that, and that was why he wouldn’t let me see her.
