Hannah Alexander - Double Blind

But she hadn’t actually walked down the road to make sure that what she had taken to be a big rock was, indeed, a rock and not the lifeless form of a dog. It hadn’t even occurred to her at the time. Why should it?

Tanya’s small fists flexed, her jaw jutting out as she gnashed her teeth. “It’s what we can expect from a biligaana! ”

“Hold it right there.” Doc put a hand on Tanya’s shoulder. “Enough of this. You know better.”

Tanya jerked free of Doc’s hand. “But look at her! She acts guilty.”

“Stop it, Tanya,” Canaan said. “Quit while you’re ahead and go to your dorm.”

The girl stared at Canaan, rebellion in every line of her face, anger dark in her eyes. She turned to Doc, as if for help.

“You heard Canaan,” he said, then turned to Sheila. “Of course, you wouldn’t have—”

“How do you know?” Tanya demanded.

“Okay, that does it.” Canaan stepped forward, took Tanya by the shoulders and aimed her in the direction of the dormitories. “You need a lesson in the value of silence.”

“I’ll take her.” Doc moved quickly. “She can help me take the tire to the shop and dispose of the dog. That’ll take some of the pepper out of her today.”

With a shrug, Canaan stepped aside. “Sure, but what about tomorrow? And the next day?”

Doc nodded grimly. “I’ll let you worry about that. You’re the principal now.”

Sheila braced herself once more. This was quickly developing into the horrible experience she had feared, though not for reasons she ever imagined.

Canaan listened to Doc’s footsteps echo around the curve of adobe buildings and mingle with Tanya’s low, urgent voice as she did her best to convince her mentor of who knew what.

And then Canaan turned to look at Sheila, who was also watching Doc and Tanya, her eyes troubled, confusion in every line of her face.

He hadn’t expected to remember her so well—hadn’t known that twenty-four years could seem like mere days in his memory. Yes, she was an adult now, but she was still Sheila…and he could still read her.

He hated to treat his old friend, whom he’d once loved like a sister, like a crime suspect, but he needed to know what was going on. And something was definitely going on.

“What do you mean, you didn’t see her?” he asked gently.

His question dragged her attention away from Doc and Tanya. “What?”

“You obviously saw the dog, and you haven’t out and out denied hitting her. Do you think it’s possible you hit her? Maybe didn’t see her in the road because of the glare?”

“I…uh…I told you I saw something.” Her face had grown pale. “Just not on the road.”

“I didn’t see any skid marks on the pavement,” he said, trying hard to keep any accusation out of his voice. “But I did see tire tracks in the sandy shoulder. I thought it looked as if someone went to extra lengths to make sure the animal was dead.”

That brought some color back to Sheila’s face. The bright sunlight also exposed tiny lines of worry around her eyes and accentuated the downward turn of her lips, making him further regret this line of questioning. He knew she would never intentionally run down an animal, but he needed to know what did happen, especially now.

She looked away and took a slow, deep breath. “Right. Guess I’ve not made myself clear, but do you mind if we continue this grilling inside? It’s been a long, hot trip from Missouri.” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped back into the apartment, stood by the door until he stepped in, then closed it. “Have a seat. I want something to drink. You?”

He shook his head and sat on the love seat. She was stalling, bumbling around in the small kitchen, searching for glasses, testing the tap.

He watched every nervous move, his concern deepening. “There’s cold water in the fridge,” he said at last.

She ignored him and filled her glass with tap water.

“It’s not an option.” He continued watching her, remembering her occasional stubbornness when they were children. “It’s the only drinking water you have. It’s brought in once a week. That’s never changed.”

With a sigh, Sheila emptied the glass into the sink, set it on the counter and strolled back into the living room, obviously trying hard to look unflustered. “Guess my memory isn’t what it used to be.”

He waited and watched as she sat across from him in a straight-backed chair. Wasn’t she going to explain about the dog? This was the friend he’d loved when they were children, a champion with a tender heart. How many times had he thought about calling her in Missouri, just to see how she was doing? But he never had. How many times, driving east during his medical training, had he considered stopping in Hideaway to look her up? Especially when his own marriage had gone so wrong, and he’d found himself longing for simpler times.

“The Sheila I knew would never have purposely hit a dog,” he said, hoping to reassure her.

She grew still, her glance stabbing at him quickly before sliding away again. “The Sheila I know wouldn’t, either,” she snapped.

It disappointed him that she had taken his statement wrong.

“I’m sorry, Sheila, I’m just having trouble understanding everything that’s happened this—”

“Join the club,” she snapped. Immediately, she looked chagrined, staring down at her hands, strands of her dark, windblown hair falling across her face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, sighed.

“I don’t know about you folks out here,” she said, “but a suspect is innocent until—”

“We folks out here care about our animals as much as you hillbillies back in Missouri,” Canaan said. He’d intended for that to sound like his old, teasing sarcasm, but for some reason it came out a little more sharply than he’d expected. Her irritation with him, when he was only trying to get to the truth, was not helpful.

Sheila’s mouth snapped shut and her eyes narrowed at him.

Oops. He knew that look. It’d been a while, but it still wasn’t a look he’d wanted to invoke from her.

“And you’re in charge here?” she muttered.

He grimaced. “For lack of a better leader.” Granddad had warned him that there would be days his mouth would get him into trouble. This was one of them. Backpedal, fast. “Sorry, Sheila, that was uncalled for.”

“You bet it was. You got something against Missourians?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. I’ve got nothing against the Navajo, and most of the time I don’t even hold it against men for being men, but I’m not about to let one manhandle me. The Canaan York I knew would never have tried.”

Okay, this wasn’t the Sheila he’d known as a child. Where had this hard streak of bitterness come from? “People change, then, don’t they?” he said softly.

“Yeah, they do. You didn’t used to have this chip on your shoulder.”

He wondered if his eyes might bug out of his head. He had a chip? “You’re adept at changing the subject.”

“Did you come here to talk to me about my new job, or just harass me about a dog?”

“Neither.” He hesitated. His recent suspicions were affecting his manners. “I’m the welcoming committee.”

She grimaced. For a moment, they stared at each other, then Canaan realized the ugly irony of those words. He grimaced. “I tried to give it a personal touch.”

Sheila raised a dark brow. “I’ll consider myself welcomed.” Her voice dripped sarcasm in every word. “This isn’t exactly what I expected.” Though her tone suggested that it might have been what she’d feared.

“I’ll try to do better.”

She nodded, then her shoulders dropped slightly. “Canaan, I’m very, very sorry about the kids’ dog. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know what I can do about it now.” She clasped her hands and looked down at them pensively. “The trip must have taken more out of me than I expected it to. I thought I was up to this, but maybe not.”