“The door will be open.”
Cole finished up and returned to check on Belle. She raised her head to look at him when he entered the room. Though she didn’t try to get up, he thought she looked better. Sliding down against the wall to sit on the floor beside her, he took out his stethoscope to listen to her lungs. Her breath sounds were good. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
The next thing he knew, someone was nudging his shoulder. Liv?
“Dr. Walker.”
Cole forced open his eyes to find Deputy Cobb bending over him. Remembering that Grace was dead hit him hard in the chest. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes to clear away the mist that filled them. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“Sheriff McCoy came to the station, so I was gone for about an hour. You can go home now and get some rest.”
Cole cleared a lump from his throat. Picking up his stethoscope, he hauled himself up off the floor. When he knelt beside Belle, she raised her head and licked her lips as if to greet him. Placing a hand on her side, he listened to her heart, steady and even. Her lungs remained clear.
“I think she’s going to make it,” he told the deputy, watching relief cross her face. He patted Belle. “You’re going to get a bath first thing when you’re better.”
Belle’s tail beat once against the floor.
Cole glanced at the deputy. She was watching him, and his eyes held hers for a moment. Again, he had the sense that she observed people and her surroundings carefully with those dark eyes of hers, wary, as if unwilling to be taken by surprise. Grateful for her help, he offered her a smile that he knew would be tinged with his sorrow.
“I’ll be back in a couple hours. You can call my cell phone if you have any concerns.” He wrote the number on a pad held by a magnet on the refrigerator.
Deputy Cobb had already put on her lab coat and was settling down on the floor next to Belle.
“Call if you need me,” he said on his way out.
Keeping firm control of his emotions and trying not to think too much, Cole went to the utility, stripped off his clothes, and stuffed them into the washing machine. He scrubbed his hands and arms and then put on a set of clean surgical greens. Walking out to the truck, his legs felt like lead. He was almost too tired to drive the few hundred yards to the house.
At home, lights were blazing from the great room windows. With dread, he realized that Jessie, and maybe even the kids, had waited up for him. He pressed the garage door opener and parked the truck inside. Then he let himself into the kitchen.
The overhead light snapped on, pinning him against the door.
“Cole!” Jessie snapped. “It’s about time.”
“Good Lord, Jess. Cut me some slack here. It’s been a hard night.”
Jessie looked at Cole hard and apparently tried to swallow her temper. “I’ve been waiting for you, and I’m getting tired.”
“You’re getting tired?”
Jessie’s voice softened. “I know. You are, too.” She glanced around the kitchen, apparently looking for a peace offering. “Want something to eat?”
“No. What I want is to lie down and sleep for an hour or so. There’s a deputy sheriff up there watching that dog. I have to relieve her later, so she can go home sometime tonight.”
As he spoke, Cole moved through the kitchen and into the great room, Jessie trailing behind. He crashed onto the brown leather sofa, slid down into the cushions, and leaned his head back. He stretched his legs out in front of him.
“What’s going on, Cole? I can tell something’s happened.”
Cole drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly. His world seemed to be slipping away. And now his original concern about the divorce paled in comparison to the loss of Grace, a girl who’d been like a part of his family. A girl who would never have the opportunity to grow up. How could he tell Angela?
“Well, Jessie, I’ve had some bad news.”
Jessie slid down in the chair across the coffee table from him. “What?”
“First off, I got my divorce papers yesterday.”
A look of sympathy crossed her face. “That’s hard. But you knew it was coming, Cole. And now you need to move on. You’ve got to find someone to come in and help with the girls. You shouldn’t keep putting it off like you’ve been doing all summer.”
“And I just learned that Angela’s friend, Grace Hartman, died this morning.”
A look of profound shock took over his sister’s face. “My God, Cole! What happened?”
He shrugged. “She was shot.”
“Someone shot her? On purpose?”
“I don’t know yet. I suppose it could’ve been an accident, up in the mountains, some poacher. But whoever did it tried to cover it up.”
Jessie sat in stunned silence.
“And now I’ve got to get some sleep, so I can think well enough to figure out how I’m going to tell Angie in the morning. Right now, I can’t even imagine it.”
“Okay. But you also have to decide what you’re going to do about the kids, Cole. You can’t keep going on in this limbo. Now that school’s starting up, they won’t be able to stay with me in Denver for weeks at a time.”
Cole searched his sluggish mind for a plan. “How long can you stay?”
“I have to leave Sunday. I need to be in the office on Monday.”
“Is this still Friday?”
“Just barely.”
“I’ll ask Mom to look after the girls this week. Then I’ll start looking for someone to help out.”
Jessie made an exasperated sound. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that won’t work. Mom didn’t even enjoy raising us, you know, and Angela told me she won’t stay out there anymore. I guess Mom does nothing but complain about Olivia. It’s not good for the girls to be exposed to that.”
Cole’s head pounded. He closed his eyes, leaned sideways, and slid down onto the sofa. “I’ll take care of it, Jessie. I’ll think of something. I’ll fix it.”
“I’m willing to help, but you’ve got to decide which way you’re going to go. I think you should advertise for help.”
“Um-hmm,” Cole agreed as he let himself slip into oblivion. The last thing he felt before dropping off to sleep was the weight of a soft, fleece throw as Jessie placed it over him.
After some indeterminate time, he struggled to pull himself back to consciousness. Someone was shaking him.
“Dad! Da-ad!”
His tired body jumped several inches, as if hit with an electric cattle prod. “What? What is it?”
Illuminated by dim light coming from upstairs, he could make out Angela, her face white and distorted by pain.
“I’m sick.” She moaned, clutching her stomach. “My stomach hurts.”
“Where’s your mo—” Cole cut himself off before making a terrible mistake. “Where’s your Aunt Jessie?”
“Cleaning the bathroom. I didn’t make it to the toi—” Angela retched, clapping her hand over her mouth.
Cole leapt into action, grasping Angela by the arm and steering her out of the great room to the kitchen sink. “Here, Ange.”
She clutched the edge of the sink and heaved. The sound and smell made Cole feel nauseous himself, but he held her gently and pulled back her hair. Once the spasm passed, he led her to a chair and then filled a glass with cold water from the tap.
Kneeling down beside Angela, he handed her the water. “Do you feel any better?”
Her hand trembled as she reached for the glass. Taking a sip, she shrugged. He noticed her face had a greenish tint. Poor girl.
Angela’s stomach gurgled. “Oh, no . . .” she moaned. “I have to get to the bathroom.” She took off, heading toward the one under the stairwell.