Chapter Thirteen
Caleb heard the racket as he disinfected the exam table, wiping it down and rerolling the paper.
Someone was yelling out on Main Street. He hoped the noise didn’t disturb Holly. She’d had a long night and was probably ready for a nap after all that physical exertion. She didn’t need to listen to screaming. He was about to charge out and do a little yelling of his own when the phone rang.
He really did need a nurse. He hated answering the phone. He didn’t like cleaning up, either. He wouldn’t have any problem with telling her to reset the exam room after he’d fucked his wife on the table.
Caleb stopped. Holly wasn’t his wife. Holly wasn’t going to be his wife. Husbands slept with their wives. Husbands told their wives everything. He’d been a horrible husband, and he had no intention of wrecking Holly’s life. And Holly had a kid. He’d be a terrible father.
But Alexei would be a good one. Was he going to be able to watch Alexei get Holly pregnant and start a family? Would he be able to take care of her? There wasn’t another doctor for fifty miles. Even if he forced them to go to another doctor, there wouldn’t be an obstetrician. There weren’t enough people to support a specialist. They would have to go to Alamosa, almost two hours away. It was the precise reason he was the one taking care of the pregnant women in Bliss. He could send to them a specialist for appointments, but for the most part, their care fell to him.
He stopped and took a deep breath. He was borrowing trouble.
And he suddenly knew why he hadn’t hired a nurse. Deep down he hadn’t expected to stay. He had expected to move on because that was what he did. Even as a kid. He’d moved with his father and brothers between houses in Chicago and Washington and boarding schools, never really making deep connections with anyone but Eli and Josh. He hadn’t even connected with Caroline.
He’d expected to get sick of Bliss and leave one day, but the place had wormed its way into his heart, warming him where he’d thought he’d had nothing left but cold.
He had to get his shit together. He loved Holly. Hell, he was even beginning to be really fond of the big Russian.
He couldn’t leave. Not when he’d found his home.
And his home was really loud.
The phone continued to ring as though the person on the other end of the line knew he didn’t like to pick it up and wouldn’t take no for an answer. What was he thinking? He had to answer the damn phone.
He picked up. “Bliss County Clinic.”
“Hey, Doc. I was wondering if you were there. This is Roger.”
“Long-Haired Roger or Roger?” They got pissed when you confused them, and without the visual confirmation of hair, Caleb found it difficult.
“Oh, this is Roger from the shop. I was calling about your truck.”
Ah, Long-Haired Roger. The bald one. “Got it. What’s the word?”
“Well, it’s the strangest thing. The brake fluid leaked out.”
He’d figured that out already. “And how did that happen?”
“Well, it looks like someone cut the line. Or it was a real careful critter. You know, sometimes monkeys can use tools. I saw that on Animal Planet the other day. But we don’t really have any monkeys around here. And I don’t care what Mel says. I won’t believe we have a Sasquatch until I see him. And Sasquatch is probably really big. Someone would have noticed him under your truck.”
Long-Haired Roger, who in Caleb’s mind might also be called Rambling-On Roger, continued, but Caleb didn’t really hear him. Someone had really cut his brake line. Someone had tried to kill him and nearly gotten Holly instead. What the hell was going on?
“Leave the truck. The sheriff needs to see it.” He was going to have to pull Nate Wright into this.
“I already called him. I thought it was real odd. I know Holly was in the truck. Now, Caleb, I know you’re a little touchy, but I thought you liked Holly. Everyone around here is taking bets on when you’ll finally ask her out.”
He closed his eyes in frustration as he heard a siren go off. “I didn’t try to kill Holly. Holly is my…my girlfriend. Look, just fix the truck when the sheriff releases it and send me the bill.”
He hung up and walked to the door. The siren had gone dead, but he could see the faintest hint of red and blue lights filtering through the blinds. He prayed Nate hadn’t jumped to the conclusion that the town doctor wanted to murder his café crush. It seemed incomprehensible, but nothing was impossible in this town.
He couldn’t make out who was yelling, but they were damn serious about it. He put down the antibacterial spray and went out to the waiting room. The ivy Nell had left looked sad and lonely. It was the only bit of color in the white and gray room. He’d bought a painting because Holly had talked him into it, but it had been taken into evidence after the Russian mob incident, and he hadn’t really looked for another since.
He lifted one of the blinds, hoping Nate wasn’t storming the clinic. The sheriff of Bliss stood in the parking lot, his hands on a woman’s elbows, locking her arms into a pair of not-padded handcuffs. What the hell?
Caleb strode out of the clinic, not bothering to put on his boots. He was happy he’d felt weird cleaning in the altogether, or Nate Wright might have been getting to see more of him than he wanted to. As it was, he’d only put on his jeans. He was sure he looked like a disheveled crazy as he jogged across the thin lawn toward the parking lot.
“Nate, what the hell is going on?”
Nate looked up, a frown on his face. “You know this woman?”
He turned her around. She was a slender woman with brown, plainly cut hair. He searched for the name Alexei had given her. Jessie. She’d been with a dark-haired man. If he’d guessed, he would have bet they were a couple. “I met her a little bit ago. I think she said her name was Jessie.”
She’d also been in Trio the night before. He’d noticed her. Her eyes had almost constantly been on Alexei, though she’d held hands with the man she’d sat with.
“Yes, my name is Jessie Wilson, and I was with Alexei Markov.” The woman didn’t plead. She sounded pissed off. “It’s kind of my job. If you will just check the badge in my back pocket, we can clear this up.”
Nate nodded and Cameron Briggs came up behind the suspect. He quickly pulled a wallet from the woman’s back pocket and opened it up.
“It claims she’s Jessica Wilson, and she’s a US Marshal.”
“Sheriff, the aliens know all the best forgers,” a familiar voice said.
Caleb turned and suddenly Mel was standing beside him. The older man wore coveralls, a thermal shirt, and sneakers. He was never without his trucker hat. It was lined with heavy-duty tinfoil to keep the death rays away.
“She’s an alien?” Caleb asked. It was a decent bet. Mel assumed most outsiders were aliens.
“No idea. I don’t think so. She doesn’t have the look. And I didn’t see her wearing one of the amulets the Els wear. She could be an Anakim. You would know them better as Elders. You see, the Elders are actually about nine to eleven feet tall, but they wear these amulets that molecularly condense them down to regular size. I don’t see the amulet. And she’s neither reptilian nor one of the Grays. I think she’s a real, live human asshole.” He turned toward Caleb expectantly. “Although we should probably check her just in case. You could do an exam. Check for a prehensile tail.”
“I am not checking anyone’s tail, Mel. She’s human.”
“Hey!” Jessie’s partner ran across the street, holding his hands up in the universal sign for “don’t shoot me.” “My name is Michael McMahon. I’m a US Marshal. That’s my partner, Jessie.”
“I tried to explain to this small-town asshole that I’m doing my job. I was waiting for you when I saw someone playing around with that little Ford over there.” She gestured back to the parking lot where Alexei had parked Holly’s car.