Unleashed (26 page)

At least I’d be safe
, a voice deep inside whispered. She rejected the voice, as she had every other time she’d heard it.

No, she had to think of something else to tell Ed.

She got woozier and she rushed to the bathroom, where she proceeded to get sick. Crouched on the floor, she formulated her plan. She would tell him a dog had bitten her, a stray that had been hanging around the house. If it was a stray, he couldn’t ask the owner about it. The dog had knocked her down and she’d hit her head. Concussion, maybe?

Grandpa, where are you?

It was eight in the morning when Ed came home. She was up, waiting for him in the kitchen. She’d finally stopped vomiting around three in the morning but still hadn’t wanted to risk going to sleep.

“Morning,” he said as he walked in and headed immediately for the coffeepot. “You’re home early.”

“How’s your friend?” she asked without acknowledging his comment.

“He … died.” He didn’t look at her.

Her stomach twisted into knots. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. What happened?”

He filled the coffeepot with water. “We can talk about it later. First, tell me how the party went.” She looked at him, startled that he’d even care in the face of his loss.

“Fine,” she forced herself to say.

Her answer must not have sounded sincere, because he stopped measuring out coffee and turned to look at her, eyebrows raised.

She grimaced. “I mean, the party was okay. I got to meet a few more people, which was cool. But a dog, a stray, bit me when I was getting something out of the truck. Knocked me down and I hit my head.”

His face registered concern and he moved swiftly, examining the back of her skull. She winced as he parted the hair.

“Did anyone look at it?” he asked. “The kid’s mom?”

There had been no adults there—none she’d seen, anyway. She decided not to mention that.

“No, I think I had a slight concussion but I haven’t slept at all and I’m feeling better now.”

He stared at her. “
A slight concussion
?”

“I’ve had them before,” she said quickly. Then, at his horrified expression, she said, “
One
. Before. Very slight.” That was almost true. She’d had two others, both while training, but figured it wouldn’t be wise to bring that up.

“We should have a doctor take a look at that. Show me where the dog bit you.”

She rolled up her sweatpants leg and took off the bandage, wincing at the pain. She was grateful that while it did look bad, it didn’t look as terrible as she remembered.

He glanced swiftly up at her. “That was a mighty pissed-off dog.”

“I didn’t do anything to antagonize him, either,” she said, eager to deflect any suspicion, answer any questions he might have before he asked them.

“We should check you for rabies. And the dog will have to go into quarantine.”

Uh-oh. Her lie was becoming a little too complicated.

“Uh, he ran off,” she said nervously.

“And nobody caught it? Or volunteered to take you to the clinic?” he asked, eyes clouding over in anger.

“I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I didn’t let on how bad it was,” she said.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if at the stupidity of it all. Another blow for emancipation.

“Next time, you holler your lungs out when you need a doctor.”

“Okay,” she promised.

“Let’s go. We’ll take you in and have you checked out good.”

“Thank you,” she said, hurrying to stand up. “I’ll go change.”

“Sweats are good enough for the hospital,” he said.

She followed him outside, trying not to limp too much. There was a Subaru Forester parked beside the truck. His friend’s, she decided.

His dead friend’s.

He opened the cab of the truck and paused, a strange look on his face. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered what she’d forgotten. Then he pulled the tire iron out of the cab, where she’d left it.

She sagged in relief. “I got a flat and had to change it before I … we drove home. I forgot to throw that in the back.”

He put it away and then they both got in the truck and started down the mountain.

“Your daddy teach you to change your own tires?” he asked, looking pleased.

She didn’t have the heart to remind him that her dad had died long before she would have wanted to know how.

“Yes,” she said. It was the most innocuous lie she had told that morning.

“That’s nice.” His voice sounded far away. “Hold on just a little longer, Katie. We’re almost there.”

The “hospital” was a tiny clinic that was open 24/7. She wondered if it was where her grandfather’s friend had died. Fortunately there wasn’t a long wait. She was relieved, and embarrassed by herself for it, that the doctor who examined her had a Boston accent. In her less charitable moods she had imagined that the local doctors probably doubled as veterinarians.

“Well, you do have a mild concussion, but it looks like you’ll be just fine,” he said at last. “You can go to sleep when you get home.”

“What about the bite?” Ed asked, voice tight.

The doctor frowned at it. “Definitely looks like some kind of canine dentition. Teeth,” he added.

She stiffened. She hadn’t thought the doctor would be examining the wound in that much detail. She’d said it was a dog. Why was he checking it out like that?

“I’m going to clean it up a bit more and it looks like you need some stitches. We can do the rabies treatment just to be on the safe side.”

“Let’s do it,” Ed said.

The doctor nodded and got to work. He examined the wound again and Katelyn worked hard not to scream.

“Sorry,” he said. “Let me numb it.” He very gently injected something into the jagged skin. Once he was sure she couldn’t feel anything, he sewed it up and covered it with a large bandage.

“Now for the rabies,” he said. “One shot in the arm, and one in the tush. You’ll have to come back three more times.”

“Oh, joy,” she grumbled. She hated shots.

“It’s better than rabies,” the doctor replied.

Katelyn was grateful when they were back in the truck and relieved that she’d been patched up. She experimentally touched her calf, but it was still numb. She’d sworn off painkillers, but she supposed they were okay as long as they didn’t make her loopy.

“You okay?” Ed asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate you taking me.” Exhaustion was setting in and it made her tear up a little.

“Of course. I wasn’t about to risk the health of my grandchild, not for anything.”

It was a nice thing to say and she believed he really meant it. It made her feel worse about lying to him, but she knew she couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Why didn’t Trick look out for you?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh, um.” She flushed. She really didn’t want to talk about it but couldn’t figure a way out. “He wasn’t there when it happened. He’s mad at me at the moment.”

“Why?”

I wish I knew
, she thought, frustration building in her at the memory.

“It’s guy stuff,” she said, hoping that he would get the clue to let it go. Apparently, though, that was the wrong thing to say.

“What did he do?” His voice was low and dead serious.

She didn’t know how to explain his behavior, and even if she could, her grandfather wasn’t the person she wanted to discuss it with. “He didn’t do anything.”

Her grandfather’s voice rose. “Did he try to make
you
do something?”

She flushed, embarrassed at the implication. “No, it was nothing like that. He was just mad because I—I talked to Justin Fenner. He doesn’t like him.” She had no idea why she’d said that. It was the first thing that had come to mind.

Ed relaxed only slightly. “Trick’s got pretty good instincts about people.”

“I think he’s just jealous.” Great. Now she was dying of embarrassment in front of her grandfather on top of the deep mortification she felt every time she thought of Trick.

Ed chuckled. “Is this the point where you tell your grandpa to butt out?”

“Yes, actually,” she said with relief.

They drove along. Halloween decorations were going up everywhere in the cute little town. She could almost imagine that they were in Sleepy Hollow, and the headless horseman was waiting at that metal bridge to carry off Ichabod Crane.

“Okay, I’ll butt out, so long as you promise me that if any of those boys does anything out of line, you tell me so I can beat ’em within an inch of their life.”

“O-okay,” she said, not sure she wanted to see what that would look like.

He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, honey. There’s nothin’ dumber on the face of this earth than a teenage boy. They do grow out of it, eventually. The ones who live long enough.”

“Thanks,” she said.

She couldn’t help wondering what kind of advice her dad would have offered her about boys if he’d had the chance.

She leaned her head back and sneaked a peek at her grandfather. She had never known her grandmother and she began to wonder what she had been like. What was their story? She knew her mom and dad’s—met at a ballet performance of
The Sleeping Beauty
one Christmas at the Paris Opera, got married, came back to California together. Giselle had stopped dancing when she’d found out she was pregnant with Katelyn.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked cautiously.

“Sure.”

“What was Grandma like?”

His features softened and he smiled a little. “She was a kind, warm, generous woman. She laughed at everything, especially me. She always told me I took myself too seriously. Family was everything to her; fiercely loyal she was. You hurt one of hers and she was like a mama grizzly. Watch out.”

“I wish I’d known her,” Katelyn murmured.

“I’d give everything I own if you could have,” he said, voice fierce.

“You know, I’ve never even met my other grandparents,” she said. “The ones in France.” It had always seemed weird to her.

“I guess family doesn’t mean quite the same to your mom’s folks as it does to us.”

She glanced sharply at him, wondering if somewhere in there was a criticism of her mom. It was true, though. Her mom had liked small, intimate. Her father had always liked large and boisterous. Could that be why after Dad had died, they never saw Ed? Had her mom not wanted the contact because to her only her immediate family mattered?

Katelyn had always assumed it was Ed who was keeping his distance from them. Could it have been the other way around?

“How come you never came to see us after Dad died?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Ed swore and swerved, the brakes squealing.

11

I
t happened so fast.

Katelyn faced forward in alarm as her grandfather slammed on the brakes. A child—just a toddler—was running across the road with a red balloon in her fist, unaware of the oncoming truck. For a moment everything seemed to telescope, and she could see every freckle on the little girl’s face.

“We’re going to hit her!” she screamed.

There was a loud droning to her right; as the truck skidded, the droning became a roar. A motorcycle shot across the road in front of them. The rider leaped off, tackled the little girl, and rolled with her to the side.

“Oh, my God!” Katelyn shouted.

With the truck under his firm control, Ed stopped just as the bumper tapped the motorcycle. Katelyn pushed open the door and climbed down, limping to rider and child. The girl was screaming. She’d let go of the balloon in her hand and the rider was holding her up and checking her for injuries. The rider’s helmet was still on, and he turned and looked up at Katelyn.

Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew at once that it was Justin. Her heart stuttered. He’d just saved that little girl.

“Where the hell are her parents?” Justin growled as the girl batted at him.

People poked their heads out of the shops and Justin gave a wave to show everyone he was okay. Ed came up next to her and after a moment took the child from Justin.

“You need help?” Ed asked.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Justin replied as he unbuckled his helmet and took it off.