Karen Barrett - Conception Cover-Up

“BRANDON, NO!”

A vehement cry startled Shannon out of a light sleep.

“Dammit, Brandon, answer me!”

Caleb, she realized. He must be having a nightmare. She pushed back the quilt and swung her feet to the floor. The clock over the mantel chimed two. She’d checked him about an hour before, and he’d been sleeping peacefully.

She got up and padded on bare feet into the bedroom. Caleb had kicked off the covers and was thrashing around on the bed, moaning. Her heart went out to him. It was obvious his ordeal hadn’t just been physical.

She went over to the side of the bed and spoke to him quietly. “Wake up, Caleb.”

Gently she touched his left arm, but he grabbed her hand, staring at her with unseeing eyes. “Where’s Brandon? I can’t find him.” The anguish on his face was a testimony to the closeness he shared with the man, whoever he was.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. “I’ve got to go find Brandon.”

Shannon pushed him firmly back on the bed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He didn’t fight her, just lay back against the pillows, eyes closed, murmuring. “Brandon…have to find Brandon. I left him…should have stayed.”

She touched his forehead, smoothing back his hair in a gentle rhythm. “Quiet now, Caleb. You need to rest. Someone will find your friend. You’ll see, he’ll be safe and sound.” At least she hoped he would. Caleb already hated himself for leaving his friend alone. She could tell him he’d had no choice and he’d done the right thing until she was blue in the face. If something terrible had happened to his friend, she suspected Caleb would never forgive himself.

When he seemed to be sleeping again, Shannon covered him, then backed away from the bed. Careful not to make any noise, she perched on her overstuffed chair and watched him.

Though his breathing came evenly, his expression still showed its earlier distress. The scratches on his face showed no signs of infection, nor did the larger cut at his hairline. The lump on his forehead had started to color, promising to be multihued by morning.

Caleb moaned and turned onto his side. Shannon held her breath until he settled. The movement caused the blanket to shift, baring his chest to his waist. Evidently he’d chosen to wear only the sweatpants she’d given him earlier. The bandage on his upper arm showed white against his tanned skin.

A few more inches to the left and Caleb wouldn’t have come into her life at all.

Shannon hugged herself, feeling a chill that had more to do with her morbid thoughts than the coolness of the room.

Caleb moved onto his back, mumbling. “Mick…It was Mick.”

Shannon lowered her brows. Mick? That was a new name. She wondered who he was.

“Dammit, Brandon…The case…the bust…was set…. How did they know?” Caleb’s words were filled with frustration and confusion.

Shannon held her breath while he spelled out in mumbled words what she’d suspected. What she’d yearned to deny in the face of his smooth lies.

Caleb was a cop.

She’d heard the same emotions in Tony’s voice time and time again. Though he’d never told her the details of his cases, he hadn’t been able to hide when something was bothering him. He hadn’t allowed her to help him, either.

That had only heightened her frustration. She was a person who craved details. That was why she did the column. She could handle anything, if she knew what was going on. Not knowing drove her to distraction.

Caleb had used different tactics. He’d probably even had different reasons, but the results were the same. Once again she’d been lied to. Once again she’d been treated like a child. And soon another man would leave her behind to pick up the pieces.

Another moan from the bed brought her attention back to Caleb. He moved restlessly in his sleep, kicking at the blankets.

“Where’s Brandon? Have to find Brandon…”

Shannon moved to his side and touched his shoulder. “Shh, Caleb. Relax. Everything’s fine,” she soothed. To do anything else when he was so distressed was unthinkable. He might not want her help during his waking hours, but for now he had no choice.

He didn’t respond to her voice and, instead, became more agitated. “Where is he? Where is he?” He kicked at the covers. “The other side…have to get to the other side. Can’t do it…can’t make it. Have to get help.”

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