Searching for Secrets (8 page)

Suddenly, a shaft of light crept down what looked like a rotted flight of stairs. Christa froze. Had the mystery gunmen returned with a large flashlight? She relaxed. The moon had come out from behind the clouds. At least she would be able to see. If she could only stand to get to those steps.

"Christa!" The man's voice was distant but unmistakably Kirk's.

"Kirk!" Her voice was weak. She knew it would never make it up the steps and out the narrow hole at the top. She had to make herself heard. She raised her right knee and rested her head on it and shut her eyes for a moment. Then she sat back up. She could hear someone stomping through the brush and then heard the feet crunch on the small bits of stone around the old house's foundation.

A beam of light appeared and wobbled back and forth across the opening at the top of the steps. "Christa?" She heard him kneel on the crushed stone, then saw his head peer down the hole.

At the sight of Kirk, she began to sob. "Please. Get me out of here. It hurts."

"I'm right here." He shone the light down the steps, then removed it.

He couldn't leave, she thought. "Hadley! She's down here. Call an ambulance!" With that, Kirk carefully put his foot on the top step.

HE LOOKED AT THE SOBBING WOMAN on the floor and felt such a strong sense of relief that for a split second he thought he might join in her tears. The stairs were worn and he could see that one was rotted through, but he judged they would hold him. Quickly, he moved down the steps and across the dirt floor to where Christa sat.

"Okay," he tried to speak reassuringly. "I'll get you out of her and to a hospital." He sat next to her and gently rubbed her right shoulder. "It'll be okay, Christa. You're safe."

Her sobbing slowed, and she took several ragged breaths. "Safe. You'll keep them away, won't you?"

His mind raced. He wanted to know who 'they' were. "Yes. They're gone." He regarded her more closely. "Can you stand?"

"I'm...I'm not sure. My left hip hurts awfully much too, but I don't think it's broken." She breathed more regularly now. “I’m just so cold.”

"If I could splint your arm, it would be better.” He looked around, and spotted a piece of an old shingle. “We can use this and my belt to make a splint. I don’t want to turn a simple fracture into a compound one just for the heck of it. Unless you want one, that is.”

She gave him a half-smile. “I could probably do without it.”

He worked quickly, if gingerly, and was impressed that she didn’t squeal as he slipped the shingle under her arm and wound the belt around it. “Done. I'll help you stand. Take a deep breath."

Christa nodded and he moved behind her. "I'm going to put one hand under each arm and raise you to a standing position. Then I'll help you walk." Gently he inserted a hand under each armpit. His fingers felt the soft contours of the edge of her breasts and he felt a tingling sensation. Mentally chiding himself, he concentrated on getting her off the floor. "I'm going to count to three."

Judging fast to be better than slow, he counted quickly and stood her. Christa moaned softly and leaned her right side into him. An odor of musty wood and soil mingled with the smell of her hair and skin, and he felt his heart pound. She slumped against him.

"You can't stand." He scooped her up, her right arm cradling her left. She rested her against his shoulder. She bit her lip and he saw her fight back more tears. She was as tough as she had been brave earlier in the day. Those steps would just have to hold both of them.

From above he heard the sound of Hadley and a police dog coming toward them. "Hadley!" His friend's face appeared though the hole. "I'll need your help getting her out of here."

"You got it. Ambulance is on the way." He looked at the now-still form in Kirk's arms. "She alive?"

"Yes. Knocked around a bit from the fall, and I think her left arm is broken." Kirk moved to the foot of the steps. "You ready? We'll have to work fast so these steps don't give way."

"Roger. Let me break away a few more of these boards that were supposed to cover the steps."

Kirk looked at the pale face resting on his shoulder. Framed with her auburn hair and highlighted by the long lashes, her face looked peaceful, not like the pain-ridden visage of a moment earlier. That would change as he moved her, but it couldn't be helped. He could hear the ambulance siren as it rounded the corner from Highway 6 onto the main drive to Mahaska Springs.

"Ready up here, Kirk," Hadley said.

"Okay. I think when I stand on the top step I'll be above ground about waist high. I'll lean against your back and shimmy the rest of the way out." Kirk moved quickly up the stairs. As he leaned against Hadley's back he could feel the step beneath him giving way. He leaned harder and got both feet on solid ground, but lost his balance and rolled onto the ground.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Yes. You're safe." The ambulance crew awkwardly pulled the stretcher over the narrow bridge and up the incline at the edge of the woods. He fought the urge to tell them he would carry her to the ambulance.

THE FIRST HOUR AT THE HOSPITAL PASSED IN A HAZE. The ambulance ride had been bumpy, but as soon as she had gotten into the emergency room they had given her a shot for pain. She smiled sleepily. Having an insistent police officer overseeing every step of the way had probably sped things up. The doctor had finally insisted that Kirk step outside while he set her arm. He informed her she was lucky she had broken her forearm instead of her wrist, the more common bone to break when someone tried to break a fall by reaching out.

Lucky? Perhaps she was. If the fall had been worse, that cellar could just as easily have been her final resting place. The hip was badly bruised, but the shot had helped that pain, too. The hospital insisted on keeping her overnight. They were more concerned about the bump on the back of her head from the day's earlier mishap than they were about the arm. The emergency room doctor ruled it a slight concussion. Christa had begun to insist that she could leave, but Kirk had intervened.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the sheet closer. It had been nice to hear Kirk tell her how worried he had been. Her smile faded as she recalled that he said her computer had been taken; not the monitor or keyboard, just the computer. Her eyes flew open. Where were her pants? She gazed around the room, and then remembered the nurse had taken her clothes off the gurney and put them in a small closet by the door. She shut her eyes. The thieves, the murderous thieves, had what they wanted. It wasn't likely they would be back tonight. The paper with the file's gibberish was safe.

The door from the hallway opened with a soft whooshing sound, and Kirk appeared. "You carry a mean sack of potatoes," she said.

"What?" Oh," he grinned, seemingly pleased that Christa remembered his earlier joke to Amy. "I just came in to check before I leave tonight."

"Thanks," she said. "For everything."

He pulled the small chair up to the side of her bed. "You may not thank me when you see your apartment tomorrow. "I had to send the fingerprint team in there. Lot's of black dusk, I'm afraid."

"Nothing I can't clean." He enveloped her right hand in both of his, and Christa felt the warmth flow through her.

"Listen, I have to ask you a couple questions." He stroked her hand gently. "I put off the other guys until tomorrow, but I said I'd see if you had any ideas who might have broken in."

Christa looked him in the eye and looked away for a moment, then back. "I don't know who, I only saw the outside guy from a distance. But I can guess at why."

He sat up straighter. "Why?"

"I tried to tell you after we brought Amy home, but everyone kept talking to you. And I didn't think they would figure it out so fast," Christa felt her mouth getting drier as she spoke.

"They, who? Figure out what?"

"I kept one of the hard drives. I gave them mine." He released her hand, and stared. His expression was unreadable, but looked anything but happy. "I kept it, so we could see what it was that was so impor..."

"Are you out of your mind?" His eyes were intense, and though he spoke softly the words were harsh. "Those people were desperate enough to kidnap Amy. Didn't you think they would come back for their property? Or worse, for Amy?"

Christa's heart pounded and the throbbing reached her arm. "I didn't think..."

"You're right. You didn't think." He stood. "Or maybe you thought only of yourself and solving this puzzle you're so fixated on."

His look was fierce, and Christa was miserable. She hadn't thought that she would put Amy in any danger. And she wanted his help to figure out what was so important. She opened her mouth, intending to tell him about the file she had printed, but he cut her off.

"I have a man stationed at your door. He'll protect you from now on." And with that, he left, pulling the door shut behind him.

CHAPTER SIX

THE MORNING SUN SHONE through the slats of the window blinds creating shadows on the wall opposite Christa's hospital bed. Every joint ached from her tumble down the steps, but she counted herself lucky to be alive. She reluctantly gave part of the credit for her well-being to Kirk Reynolds. But, that was all he was going to get from her.

He was right to be concerned about his family, but there was no reason for him to vent his anger on Christa. And there was no reason for her to assume he would be any different later. That was what she had done with Trevor. She kept waiting for him to change. Sure, there were many days when he was considerate or good-natured. But, there were many others where he was downright surly--to Christa. He was full of charm for anyone else they might run into. He always had an excuse. Interest rates were low so his mortgage company had more business than he could handle. Interest rates were high so it was a challenge to get business.

Eventually, Christa had realized that he was going to be cross with her, and she had tried to justify his behavior. He did work hard. When business was good he was very generous. Half of her clothes were gifts from the impeccably-dressed Trevor Windham. The other half he called her school marm clothes. He encouraged her not to be seen around town in her soft tweed skirts and shirtwaist dresses. Bitterly, Christa reflected that she shouldn't have been surprised that the woman he left her for looked as if she had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. All she could do was be thankful that he had been promoted to his firm's Chicago office. At least she didn't have to see the two fashion plates strutting around Iowa City.

Kirk Reynolds might have had a terrible day yesterday, but all Christa was doing was trying to help. He could keep his sharp comments to himself. And his big smile, and his broad chest... "That's enough," she said aloud. She'd be fine on her own, she always was.

But first she had to get out of this bed. While she slept, a nurse had apparently used the automatic bed adjuster to lower the head of the bed, so Christa was lying almost flat. All well and good when her hip and arm weren't killing her, but it would be a challenge to get up from that position. She spotted the hand-held bed controls wrapped around the bed's metal bars, and reached for them.

It was 7:30 a.m., and Christa realized she was hungry. With no dinner the night before and only a piece of fruit for lunch, she was due for a big meal. That's what she needed to get her strength back. She adjusted her bed so she was in a sitting position, and looked down at the green cast on her arm. It was not as heavy as she expected, and she remembered the doctor saying it was fiberglass, which was lighter and withstood water better than the old plaster casts. Not, he had warned her, that she should try to get it wet.

She eased herself off the side of the bed onto the cold floor, cradling her arm. It was amazing how much less pain there was since the doctor set it. Thank goodness it was her left arm and not her blackboard arm. A blue sling sat on the table by her bed. One of the staff could help her put it on, and she wouldn't have to walk around holding her left arm in her right hand. At the moment, she really needed the right hand to keep the back side of the pesky hospital gown closed.

There was a light knock on the door, and Christa backed toward the bed. "Come in." Had Kirk decided to come back?

The door swung open and the concerned face of Sandra Macklin peered at Christa. "Oh, you look so much better than I thought you would." She crossed the room quickly and gave Christa a small kiss on the cheek. "I'd hug you, but I don't want to squeeze something that hurts."

"You are a dear," Christa said. "I thought you'd be mad at me for not calling you yesterday."

The principal sat her purse on the chair and took off her jacket. "The news made it sound as if you had a few other things to think about. The police told me a lot."

There was another knock on the door, but this time the person didn't wait for her response. "Orderly. Breakfast." A young man who looked as if he might still be in high school plopped a breakfast tray on the table next to Christa's bed. "Nurse'll be down in a few minutes," he said, and left as quickly as he entered.

Christa looked at the tray, frustration mounting as she realized it would be difficult even to butter a piece of toast.

"Looks as if I got her just in time," Sandra said. Within a minute she had cream and sugar in Christa's coffee and jelly on her toast. Sandra talked as she worked. "The police called me in the afternoon, and I went straight to the school. Saw your car, but I figured you'd be having the auto club get it. Do you want me to call them for you?"