Catherine Coulter - Blindside

“To be honest,” Katie said after a moment, “I don’t think Clancy would have said a word. Didn’t you tell me that you were certain he planned to kill you after he had Sam again?”

Miles nodded. He began rubbing Keely’s foot in its bright pink sock, so small, just like Sam’s.

“Even so he still wouldn’t tell you who hired him to do this.”

“No.” Miles happened to look down. Katie was still barefoot, wearing only jeans and her nightshirt with Benedict Pulp: Nonfiction printed across the front.

He looked down at his own bare feet and saw several cuts. He hadn’t even noticed until now. He’d see to them, but not yet, not just yet. Her feet were cut, too. Who cared about feet? He looked again at Sam and Dr. Raines. His boy wasn’t moving. He just sat there, looking at nothing in particular, moving his hands.

Savich and Sherlock arrived ten minutes later. Both of them hugged Sam, met Dr. Sheila Raines, then left them alone again.

Sherlock said, “You guys tell Savich what happened while I take care of the bloody feet in this room. You got a first-aid kit, Katie?”

Katie looked at her, face completely blank. She repeated, “First-aid kit?”

“Yes, so I can clean up your feet. Both you and Miles.”

Katie blinked, reminded of the cuts on her feet, and shook her head at herself. “Yes, in the kitchen, in the cabinet above the fridge.”

A few minutes later, Sherlock looked up to see Katie walking gingerly into the kitchen.

“Where’s Keely?”

“I gave her to Miles. I think it helps him to hold her. It’s bad, Sherlock, Sam isn’t speaking at all. But I trust Sheila, she’s got a gift, particularly with kids. She’s able to clue right into what they’re feeling-their fears and where they’re lurking, and how to lessen them. She’s really good. Plus I’ve known her all my life. She’s loaded with common sense-” Katie’s voice caught and tears filled her eyes.

Sherlock looked at her a moment, put down the first-aid kit she’d just pulled down from a top shelf, and held out her arms. “Come here, Katie.”

Katie walked into her arms. It was silly, really, particularly since she was bigger than Sherlock, but it felt good to be held, to know that Sherlock understood what she was feeling, it made a difference. She whispered against Sherlock’s hair, “I’ve killed two men-two-since last night. I’ve been sheriff of Jessborough for three years now and I’ve never shot anyone before. Our idea of local crime here is shoplifting and maybe twenty-five DUIs a year. Mainly we herd Mr. James’s cows back into his pasture, pull Mr. Murray out from under the tractor that fell on him, tug Mrs. McCulver’s rat terrier off the postman, and keep traffic smooth on the Fourth of July. I’ve never seen a murder or a kidnapping, at least not here. This is a peaceful town. Now this.”

“I know,” Sherlock said, stroking her hair. “I know it’s been a shock, not only to you but to all of us. But you did exactly what you had to do to end it. You saved Sam, I mean you really saved him. Just think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been with Sam. Do you think now that you had a choice? In either case?”

Katie shook her head against Sherlock’s face.

“Good. Now, I expect Sam to always be there for you. He owes you his life. He can push your wheelchair or help you dodder around when you’re old and drooly.”

Katie laughed, despite herself. “The image of that,” she said, straightening, “makes me want to both laugh and cry.”

Sherlock cupped Katie’s face between her hands. “The realization that you, no one else, just you, put an end to someone’s life-you have to just look at Sam to know you did the right thing when it counted.”

“Have you ever killed anyone, Sherlock?”

“No, I haven’t, but I wanted to once, real bad. Someday I’ll tell you about Marlin Jones. Dillon has, and he told me it dug right into his gut. There was one time he wasn’t sorry at all, when he shot a real madman, Tommy Tuttle. But you see, he got over it because he realized that a law officer has to be able, intellectually and emotionally, to get the job done.” She paused a moment, and looked disappointed. “I’m really sorry we weren’t here to help you take care of Clancy.”

Katie smiled. “Yeah, I wish you’d been here, too. He managed to break the locks on the back door, came right up the stairs and I didn’t hear him. None of us believed it could happen. Do you know that Clancy actually got into the bedroom where Miles and Sam were sleeping? A fat guy who’s quiet as a mouse-that’s scary. The deputies didn’t see or hear him either, even when he snuck up on them. He had both Miles and Sam out of the house before I heard them.” Katie wiped her hand over her eyes, blew out a breath. “Thanks, Sherlock. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’ve known you for only a very short time, Katie, but I am very certain of one thing: You’re a good person and an excellent sheriff. Now, it’s after midnight, your feet are a mess. Come on, let me fix you up. Dillon needs rest, but that won’t happen until he’s satisfied that everything’s under control.”

Katie, trying for a stab at humor, said, “Maybe I can be an excellent patient, too?”

“We’ll see about that,” Sherlock said. She smiled up at Katie, who was five foot nine if she was an inch, took her hand, and walked her back to the living room.

Once she had a bowl of hot water, soap, towels, and the first-aid kit, Sherlock was ready. She sat on her haunches in front of Katie, holding her ankle firm. When she finished washing each foot, it was time for the iodine. “Hold still, Katie, this is probably going to sting.”

The word sting wasn’t all that accurate, Katie thought as she swallowed two full-bodied curses, because Keely would have heard her curse, even in her sleep.

“Sorry. No more stingy stuff, just the bandages.” Sherlock put the iodine back into the kit.

As Sherlock bandaged her feet, Katie said quietly, “I couldn’t believe how Miles kicked the bejesus out of Clancy. He knows karate well.” Katie looked over at him as she spoke. “I’ve never learned a martial art, and after watching Miles, I want to.”

Sherlock said, “Martial arts is grand as long as a gun’s not in your face. Miles and Dillon used to work out together a lot. Not so often now, maybe once a month they get together. Miles has been so tied up with his new military contract and trying to get all the bugs out of the new guidance system design for the army. He’s really quite talented. Dillon said he could fly anything as long as it had one wing.”

After a moment, Sherlock added, “Miles was in the FBI, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me,” Katie said, looking over at Miles, who’d moved to Katie’s big rocking chair, as she spoke. He was holding Keely in his arms, his cheek resting against her head, slowly rocking, all his attention on his son. She supposed she was seeing him with new eyes now. There was no particular expression on his face, but she knew he was fighting his fear for his son. He was hurting, bad. He was holding her daughter carefully, but he never looked away from Sam. It was as if just looking at him, concentrating only on Sam, he could somehow help him.

Savich was sitting next to him, leaning forward because of his back, his hands between his legs, saying nothing. He was just there with him, and that was good.

Sherlock said, “After Alicia died, Miles just retreated, I guess you could say. It was tough for all his friends to see it and not be able to do anything about it. I never really knew her, but Dillon said she was bright, always upbeat, and smart as a whip.” Sherlock looked over her shoulder at him, and said thoughtfully, “Dillon also told me that Alicia sometimes did things he didn’t understand, things over the top, like she’d be terrified if Sam even got the mildest cold. Once she freaked out when Sam had a slight fever. She stripped him down, examined every inch of him before she wrapped him in a pile of blankets. When Miles tried to calm her down, she lost it, screamed at him to leave her alone.