Harriet parked and stepped carefully on the broken sidewalk. She stopped at the door marked number four. She looked for a doorbell and, finding none, rapped sharply. She listened and hearing nothing, rapped again. This time, the door swung open slightly.
"Misty?” she called. “Can I talk to you?” She listened again. “Misty?” When she received no answer, she pushed on the door.
It opened into a dark, damp room. The fruity smell of rotting bananas assaulted her nose. She held her hand up to her face but stepped in.
"Misty, are you in here?"
She heard the rustle of movement behind her. She started to turn, and everything went black.
She woke up in her car. It was dark. She felt her head.
"Ouch,” she said out loud as her fingers found the goose egg at the back. She pulled her fingers away. They were slippery with what she assumed was blood. Her head was pounding, and she felt like she was going to throw up.
She groped around the console and found a partially full bottle of water in the passenger's cup-holder. She held it to her face and soaked in its coolness then uncapped it and took a sip. She found a napkin, dampened it and wiped her fingers clean. She wouldn't try to deal with the lump until she got home.
Whatever was happening in Misty's apartment, the woman was on her own. Harriet wasn't getting out of her car.
She wasn't sure how safe she was going to be driving, but she sure wasn't staying at the docks any longer. She straightened in her seat and buckled her safety belt. Her head throbbed, and a wave of dizziness was followed by a wave of nausea. She eased the car away from the sidewalk and slowly turned a wide circle. Turning her head was not an option, so she prayed no one had parked on the street since she'd arrived.
She completed the turn and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the road. She drove toward town at twenty miles an hour.
It seemed to take forever to cross town and reach her hill. As she started up the incline, she realized there was a car following her.
Terror shuddered through her, causing the hammer in her head to pound with renewed energy. Her skin felt clammy, and her stomach contents threatened revolt. A part of her wanted to just stop and give in to whoever was behind her-anything to make her head stop pounding.
She looked helplessly around. She had several boxes and bags of fabric along with two books on tape, a travel mug and a half-full bottle of water. Her cell phone should have been in the center console, but was no where to be found. Her head hurt too much to think about whether she had put it somewhere else before going into Misty's.
She locked her doors and pulled into her circular driveway before she remembered you were supposed to avoid your own house and go directly to the police station if you were ever being followed. She sighed. She couldn't possible drive anywhere else, and in any case, she wasn't sure exactly which street the police station was on.
She picked up the travel mug as she parked. The mug had dregs of hot chocolate in the bottom. As weapons went, it was probably useless, but then again she'd done reasonable damage with a sprinkler.
The car behind her stopped. If she loosened the mug's lid, it would fly off and perhaps startle her stalker and then the muddy liquid would blind him. She wasn't quite sure what came next, but it was the only plan she had. Adrenaline coursed through her body as cold sweat trickled down her spine. She waited.
"Are you okay?” she heard through her closed window. She looked up without moving her head. A curtain of black clouded her vision. Anger quickly chased it away. Aiden stood beside her car, his hand on the door.
He repeated his inquiry. She clicked the locks, and he opened her door. He crouched down beside her
"What happened?” he asked.
Harriet slumped toward him and began to cry. He held her until she stopped shaking.
"You scared me,” she finally managed as she pulled herself out of the awkward embrace.
He was dressed in a black suit that had probably fit him before he'd gone to Africa. Now it was slightly baggy, but on his hardened body and with his tan and long hair, it made him look like he'd just stepped off the catwalk in Milan. Harriet's head hurt, but she wasn't blind.
"I was driving back home after Mom's viewing and I saw you creeping through town. It looked like you were kind of weaving. I got worried, so I followed you."
His voice was soothing. She could see why he made a good vet. He was used to dealing with patients who couldn't talk back or say where it hurt.
"Someone hit me in the head,” she rasped, her throat suddenly dry again.
"Where?” he said.
"Down by the docks."
"No,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips. “Where on your head?"
She pointed. “Don't touch it. It hurts."
He ignored her request and gently worked his fingers from the sides of her skull toward the bump. He stopped each time she gasped.
"Look at me,” he said.
She slowly turned, moving her whole upper body. He pulled his Mag-Lite out of his pocket.
Her eyes burned, and she blinked as he shone the light in each eye.
"Look at my finger,” he said and moved it across her field of vision. “Your pupils look okay, and your eyes are tracking, so that's good, but I think we need to get you to the emergency room. We'll take my car. Let me pull up beside you so you won't have to walk far."
He moved his car then supported her as she shifted from the driver's seat of hers to the passenger seat of his.
"It's going to take a little longer, but I think I'll drive you directly to the Jefferson County Hospital in Port Townsend. There's an urgent care clinic in Foggy Point, but I'm not sure if they can do a CT scan or not."
Harriet didn't have the energy to argue. She was so glad someone else was in charge at this point she would have gone anywhere with him.
She wanted to sleep during the hour-long drive, but Aiden said he couldn't let her sleep until she'd been checked over. She felt as though she were permanently stuck somewhere between asleep and awake. She knew Aiden talked to her but couldn't remember the next day what they had talked about.
At some point during their drive, he must have called the hospital. He pulled into the ambulance circle, where they were met by a nurse with a wheelchair. Harriet was pushed into the triage area while Aiden parked the car. She was in cubicle one when he returned. A white-haired doctor with a golf-course tan was examining her, pretty much repeating the tests Aiden had done.
"You're a very lucky young woman,” the doctor said. “That's a nasty lump on your head. We'll take a few pictures to make sure you didn't crack your skull and keep you overnight to see if we can knock that headache down a little. We can also give you something for the nausea. I don't expect to find anything. I think you'll probably have a headache for a few days, but that should be all. I'll leave you a prescription for some pain medication to help with that when you get to your room."
"Thank you,” she whispered.
The doctor smiled and left the room.
A nurse in teddy-bear-print scrubs came in and gave her an injection in her hip; Aiden turned discretely away. When the nurse was gone, he came over to where she sat on the gurney and gently put his arms around her.
She tried to talk. She wanted to explain why she'd gone to the docks and about Misty.
"Hush,” he said. “We can discuss this tomorrow. For tonight, just try to relax and let the medicine take effect."
Chapter Twenty-two
Harriet's sleep was punctuated by hourly wake-up visits by the night nurse. The nurse would take her temperature and blood pressure, and by the time she fell asleep again it would be time for the next hourly check.
Each time she woke she saw Aiden, who didn't seem to be bothered at all by the night nurse, as evidenced by the slow, steady breathing she could hear coming from his chair.