Debby Giusti - Countdown to Death

“It’s a small town.” He shrugged. “News travels.”

“I didn’t expect them to serve venison,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “PETA or anti-gun?”

“Pardon?”

“Sounds like you’re against hunting.”

“I never said that.”

“But you insinuated it. At least that’s what the men led me to believe.”

“And you believe everything you hear?”

She had him there.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said.

“And so am I.” She pulled her hair back from her face and sighed. “The fact is, I’m working on a laboratory test to ensure the safety of our blood supply. It’s in the developmental stage, and I picked up some unexpected results.”

“If they have to do with the deer population, you might want to notify the game warden.”

“It’s a little too early to involve him. At this point, the results of my test are questionable.”

“Then you don’t think there’s a problem with the venison?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

Neither did he. Allison looked as confused as she sounded.

What had he read about diseases humans could get from deer? He thought of the article he’d written on hunting safety. “Only thing that comes to mind involving infected venison is chronic wasting disease. We’ve never had a problem in Georgia.”

Allison’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mention the name of the disease.”

“No, you didn’t. But I wrote an article for a hunting magazine a few months back on the danger of infected game.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You’re a journalist?”

“Actually I run a manufacturing company and do a little farming on the side. In my spare time, I pen articles for a regional hunting magazine.”

“Time-out, okay?” She put one hand over the other to form a T. “The doc gave me a muscle relaxer that’s making me talk too much. Do me a favor and let’s change the subject.”

Typical for medical types. Throw out information, then refuse to discuss the situation fully. Shelly’s doctors had done the same thing numerous times, causing Luke undue frustration.

Although frustration wasn’t what he was feeling tonight. More like concern.

He didn’t know a thing about the woman sitting next to him, but he knew about the danger wasting disease posed to hunters. Even if they didn’t eat the infected venison, handling the carcass—especially if they had cuts on their hands—could increase the risk of exposure. Yet Allison had admitted her results were questionable.

He made a mental note to call the game warden in the morning. Luke hadn’t seen any sickly animals on his property, but it wouldn’t hurt to notify the authorities to be on the lookout.

They rode in silence for over a mile until Allison tilted her head back against the seat. “Your aunt seems like a nice lady. What about the rest of your family?”

He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Bett’s helping me raise my sister.”

“So Shelly’s not your daughter?”

The look on her face caused him to chuckle. “Do I look like an old married guy?”

“No, but—” She smiled. “I told you I’m not thinking straight. And your parents?”

“They’re both dead.”

He heard the finality in his voice, and to her credit, Allison didn’t push for more information. Instead, she mumbled a few words of sympathy and closed her eyes.

Pretty, even with the soot that smudged her face. No matter why she’d come to Sterling, Luke would let her stay in the cabin for a day or two while she tracked down the information she needed. She’d probably be on her way by the end of the week.

Doubtful she’d disrupt his routine in that short time. After all, he’d worked too long to build a protective cocoon where his sister could live without being reminded of the past. Despite the doctors’ prognosis, Luke believed Shelly would eventually have a breakthrough. He wouldn’t let anything set her back again.

Even an attractive scientist who seemed to need protection herself.

Allison knew when to keep quiet. The tone of Luke’s voice had made it clear his parents’ deaths were off-limits as a topic of discussion. She understood limits. She’d placed boundaries on her past as well.

Besides, she didn’t feel like talking. Her back ached and a heavy weight sat on her chest from the amount of smoke she’d inhaled. Common sense told her she should have followed the doctor’s advice and gone to the hospital for observation. But the facility was seventy-five miles away, and she didn’t have time to twiddle her thumbs while the doc on duty determined she could be released in the morning.

She needed to find the reason for her test results before someone in Atlanta decided to release the three units for transfusion.

“It’s over, Allison,” the laboratory manager’s words echoed through her mind.

Allison had worked too long and come too far to have her research dismissed so quickly.

The hum of the tires along the country road, the warmth of the heater and the darkness lulled Allison into a light slumber.

She blinked her eyes open when the car came to a stop in front of a small log cabin with a wide porch, where Luke’s aunt waved a greeting. Two wrought-iron lights illuminated a glider swing and rocking chair.

Rounding the car, Luke opened the passenger door and held out his hand. Placing hers in his, she felt the strength of his grasp, grateful for his support as her stiff muscles refused to readily comply.

“Shelly’s in bed and waiting for you to tell her good-night,” Bett said to Luke, then, wrapping her arm around Allison, she ushered her toward the cabin. “I’ve got everything ready for you, dear.”

“Take good care of her,” Luke said as their hands parted.

“Now come on, honey. I’ll get you settled.” Bett opened the cabin door. Before Allison stepped inside, she glanced back at Luke, who walked purposely toward a large, sprawling farmhouse about fifty yards away.

What was it about Luke Garrison? He’d saved her life, for which she’d be eternally grateful. Both he and his aunt seemed welcoming with their offer of lodging and attention to her needs.

He had seemed friendly enough until she’d mentioned his parents. Death was hard. Something she knew firsthand. Evidently, Luke was a private person who kept his feelings to himself.

But his tone of voice sent a question niggling at the back of her mind.

Was there something he wanted to keep secret about their deaths?

The next morning, Allison’s eyes opened with a start to the gray haze filtering through the calico curtains. Her hand touched the crisp cotton sheet and thick multicolored quilt that covered the bed where she lay.

Her body ached. She stretched to ensure her muscles would respond, then wiggled her fingers and toes. Nothing broken.

Recollection flooded over her. The fire, her cries for help, strong hands that pulled her from the burning building.

Death had almost found her in Sterling, Georgia. Not a good way to start her stay.

Rising in the bed, she grimaced when the muscles in her back protested; she stretched, hoping to ease out the kinks. Once on her feet, she parted the curtain and spied her car parked outside.

Last night seemed a blur. The doctor had given her something to help her relax. Evidently, it had taken effect before she’d arrived at the cabin.

No other motel or hotel in town. Luckily, no one had been hurt in the fire. And the man who had saved her?

She remembered the determination in his voice before they’d jumped. About the only thing she was able to clearly recall.

Brain still as fuzzy as cotton batting, she spied her purse on the nightstand and her overnight bag on the floor.