Stephen Donaldson - The Runes of the Earth

“And they’re almost always wrong.” Sandy’s tone conveyed a mollified smile. “But that doesn’t make you feel any better. I know what you mean.

“I’ll be especially careful today;” she assured Linden. “Just in case,”

For a moment, Linden hesitated on the verge of telling Sandy about Roger. She wanted Sandy to understand her fears. But Sandy was easily frightened; and Jeremiah would not be better off if she panicked.

“Thanks, Sandy,” Linden said instead. “I appreciate it.”

Abruptly she stopped, caught by the same anxiety which had urged her to insist that Megan page her. Without transition, she asked, “Is there any chance you could be on call tonight? We have a situation here that might need me.”

If Bill Coty’s men caught Roger lurking around the hospital-

“Sure.” The request was routine between them. Sandy often stayed with Jeremiah when Linden was needed at night. “I don’t have any other plans.”

Occasionally Sandy went out with Sam Diadem’s son; but she always gave Linden plenty of warning when she would not be available.

Mustering gratitude to counteract her apprehension, Linden thanked Sandy again and put down the phone.

Thomas Covenant had watched over his ex-wife with all of his considerable strength and intransigence, but he had not been able to prevent her abduction. If Roger had designs on Covenant’s ring, Linden hardly trusted herself to stop him. Sandy would pose no obstacle at all. And Jeremiah might be hurt in the struggle.

Grimly determined now to organise every possible resource, she put in a call to Sheriff Lytton. Unfortunately Barton Lytton was “unavailable” Linden was promised that he would call her back. With that she had to be content.

For the rest of the morning, she struggled to concentrate. She wrote up her rounds; returned phone calls; read or reread a sheaf of advisory faxes on how to treat some of her patients; signed requisitions for medications and supplies. Studiously she did not look out at her car.

When the pressure to do something, anything, about her gravid fears became too severe to be pushed aside, she went to check on Joan. But she found no relief there.

Over lunch, she pumped Maxine shamelessly for gossip, hoping that some rumour of Roger’s actions or intentions had plucked a thread in Maxine’s vast web of friends. Uncharacteristically, however, Maxine knew less than she did herself. In a town as small as this one, it was difficult for anyone to visit a lawyer-or wander onto a long-abandoned property-without being noticed; remarked upon. Yet somehow Roger Covenant had escaped comment.

Afterward Linden tackled more of her procedural duties. But she cancelled her sessions with her patients, as well as her remaining appointments. The thought that Sheriff Lytton might ignore her vexed her too much for such responsibilities.

To her surprise and relief, however, he did call her back. As soon as she picked up the handset, he said, “Dr. Avery?” He spoke in a good-ol’-boy drawl, perhaps for her benefit. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“Thanks for returning my call, Sheriff.” Now that she had her chance, Linden felt flustered, unsure of herself. He was decidedly not a “fan” of hers. Somehow she would have to persuade him to take her seriously.

“We have a situation here that worries me,” she began unsteadily. “I hope you’ll be willing to help me with it.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I believe you’ve spoken to Roger Covenant?”

“Sure have,” he replied without hesitation. “He came to see me yesterday. Pleasant young man. Son of that writer, the leper who lived on Haven Farm.” He stressed the word leper trenchantly.

“He came to see you?” Her voice broke. She had assumed that Roger had phoned Lytton. Had he known that she would call the sheriff? That he would need to forestall her?

“Sure. He’s new in town,” Lytton explained, “but he’s going to be here from now on. He says he’ll be living on Haven Farm. Seems he inherited the place. It’s been abandoned so long, he didn’t want me to think he’s some vagrant squatting where he doesn’t belong.

“Like I say, he’s a pleasant guy.”

Pleasant, Linden thought. And plausible when it suited him, that was obvious. No doubt to Lytton his explanation sounded perfectly reasonable.

Her sense of peril mounted, carried by the hard labour of her heart.

But she did not quail. Medicine had trained her for emergencies. And she was Linden Avery the Chosen, who had stood with Thomas Covenant against the Land’s doom. Men like Sheriff Lytton-and Roger Covenant-could not intimidate her.

As if she were merely making conversation, she asked, “What did you tell him?”

Lytton laughed harshly. “I told him to burn it to the ground, Doctor. That leprosy shit isn’t something he should mess around with. His mother did him a favour when she moved out of that house.”

A flash of anger pushed away Linden’s fear; but she kept her ire to herself. Calm now, settled and cold in her determination, she continued, “Did he happen to say why he wants to live there? Did he explain why he came back?”

“No, he didn’t. And I didn’t ask. If he wants to live in the house where he was born, it’s none of my business. I told him what I think of the idea. We didn’t have anything else to talk about.”

“I see.” For a heartbeat or two, Linden hesitated, unsure of her ground. But then she informed Lytton, “I ask because he came to see me this morning. He told me why he’s here.”

“Do tell,” Barton Lytton drawled.

“He wants custody of his mother,” she said, praying for credibility. “He wants to take care of her.”

“Well, good for him,” retorted Lytton. “He’s a dutiful son, I’ll give him that. Too bad you can’t just release her, wouldn’t you say, Doctor?”

“Not without a court order,” she agreed. “That’s why I called, Sheriff.” Summoning all the force of her conviction, she said plainly, “He made it clear that he doesn’t intend to wait for legal custody. If I don’t release her, he’s going to take her.”

“ Take her?” Lytton sounded incredulous.

“Kidnap her, Sheriff. Remove her by force.”

“Don’t make me laugh.” Lytton snorted his scorn. “Take her where ? He’s going to live on Haven Farm. He’s probably putting clean sheets on the beds right now.

“Suppose you’re right. Suppose he sneaks her out of your precious “psychiatric hospital” while Bill Cory is taking one of his permanent naps. Half an hour later, you call me. I send out a deputy, who finds Roger Covenant at home on Haven Farm, spooning Cream of Wheat into his mother’s mouth and wiping her chin when she slobbers. That’s not kidnapping, Doctor. That’s an embarrassment .” The sheriff seemed to enjoy his own sarcasm. “For you more than for him, maybe.

“Tell me the truth now. Is that really why you called? You’re afraid Roger Covenant might kidnap his own mother? You’ve been working in that place too long. You’re starting to think like your patients.”

Before Linden could tell him why he was wrong, he hung up.

Damn the man.

For a while, she stormed mutely at the unresisting walls of her office. Lytton was wrong: Roger Covenant was not a “pleasant young man.” He was dangerous. And Joan was not his only potential victim.

But her outrage accomplished nothing, protected no one; and after a few minutes she set it aside. The sheriff could not know what his disdain might cost. He had never been summoned to take his chances against despair in a world which baffled his comprehension. He lacked the experience, the background, to react effectively.