Home to Whiskey Creek. Brenda Novak

course there is. You’re bleeding!”

      “I’m fine, Gran. This looks much worse than it is. Trust me, it’d be a waste of time and money. Nothing’s broken.”

      “We should still—”

      “I wasn’t raped,” she insisted. “What can they do other than clean my wounds? We can do that here.”

      Gran’s concern warred with the practicality of Adelaide’s argument. She’d always been frugal. “You’re certain?”

      Adelaide mustered a reassuring smile. “Positive.”

      “Okay, but I should at least let Chief Stacy know you’re home. He’ll be anxious to talk to you—”

      “Not tonight,” she interrupted. “There’s no need to wake him. I’m too exhausted to answer any questions at the moment.”

      “But you’ll want to give him a statement as soon as possible, while you can remember the details.”

      “I don’t know anything that will help figure out who did this, Gran. I can’t even provide a description. The man was wearing a ski mask.” She actually had four men to choose from, but she couldn’t make a determination by body type alone, not when they’d all probably filled out and changed so much. Chances were she’d recognize their faces if she happened across them, but the person who’d dragged her from her bed last night had been careful to hide his identity.

      “There’s his height, his weight—”

      “Both a blur to me. Can’t it wait until tomorrow? Please? I’m not up to being grilled.” She managed a pleading expression. “Even by you.”

      Empathy etched deeper grooves in Gran’s wrinkled face. “Okay, we’ll wait, if that’s what you want. Maybe you’ll remember something important once you’ve had a chance to recover.”

      Or not. “Thanks.”

      “I’m so glad you’re back, honey. I don’t know what I would’ve done if...if this had ended differently. You’ve always been my Addy, my pride and joy.”

      Hearing the tears in her voice, Adelaide gave her another hug. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”

      Milly was a proud woman, not one to cry easily. With a sniff, she straightened her spine and motioned for Adelaide to follow her to the kitchen. “Come in here so we can get you cleaned up.”

      “Shouldn’t we do that in the bathroom?”

      “There’s more room in the kitchen. More light, too.”

      That was true. Gran’s house was one of a handful of local homes listed on the National Register of Historic Places. As was the style a hundred years ago, it had tall ceilings, thick molding, elaborate cut-glass windows and—the one downside besides the old plumbing and wiring they’d had to replace—small bathrooms. “I’ve got to shower first.”

      Reluctantly, Gran let her disappear into the bathroom, and Adelaide took her time stripping off Noah’s sweatshirt and her filthy clothes before standing beneath the hot spray.

      Blood and dirt ran off her body, circling the drain and taking the last of her energy with it. When she’d finished scrubbing, she could only stand there and stare as the last of the soap bubbles disappeared.

      “Addy, you coming?”

      Gran’s voice brought her out of her stupor.

      “Be right there,” she called, and turned off the water. She’d hoped her grandmother would give up and go to bed, allow her to recover on her own. But she should’ve known better. Gran would never leave her like this.

      “Can you grab the bandages from under the bathroom sink before you come?”

      “Sure.” Her body complained at the movement but—even injured—it was easier for her to crouch than Gran. Tossing her towel aside, she sorted through the laxatives, extra soap, Listerine and bath salts.

      She found a small box of Band-Aids, but she wasn’t sure what good they were going to be. Abrasions covered most of her arms and legs.

      “We need gauze,” she muttered, but she wasn’t about to go to the store—or let Gran attempt to drive there. The only drugstore open this late would be halfway to Sacramento.

      Gran had a cup of tea waiting for her when she entered the kitchen. Adelaide could smell the mint. She normally liked tea, but tonight she didn’t have enough strength to hold the cup. And she had another problem. While pulling on a pair of cutoffs and a tank top she’d figured out why her legs hurt worse in back. Thanks to the fact that she’d slid down the wooden supports of that mine shaft when whoever it was had shoved her in, she had as many slivers in her butt and thighs as she did on her hands.

      They had to come out and she couldn’t do it on her own, so she’d brought the magnifying glass Gran used for reading and a pair of tweezers, along with the Band-Aids. She hoped her grandmother would be able to help because Adelaide couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and block the past twenty or so hours from her mind. Everything from that first terrifying image of a man looming over her bed to the shocking realization that it was Cody’s brother who’d pulled her out of the deep, dark hole. The hole that might otherwise have become her grave.

      * * *

      The lights were still on at Milly’s house, only now the blind in the kitchen was down.

      Conscious of the late hour and that he’d be intruding, Noah hesitated on the stoop with the bag of supplies he’d brought from his place. He knew that Adelaide, who’d tried to avoid even incidental contact with him in his truck, wouldn’t be happy to see him. She’d disliked him instantly. But most people didn’t have the kind of first-aid supplies he kept on hand for mountain bike spills. And Adelaide had refused to go to the hospital, so...he figured she might need them.

      Telling himself he was going the extra mile largely for Milly’s sake, because he knew how much her granddaughter’s injuries would upset her, he took a deep breath and knocked.

      The curtain moved; someone was peering out at him. After what’d happened, he was relieved to see they were taking precautions.

      He raised the bag to show he’d brought something. Then he heard the bolt slide back.

      “Noah!” Milly exclaimed as soon as she got her walker out of the way so she could open the door. “How nice of you to come back.”

      Surprised by the intensity of her relief, he looked over her gray head to find the living room empty. Was Adelaide in bed? “She okay?”

      Milly lowered her voice. “Who knows? She refuses to see a doctor. Do you think I should make her?”

      He’d already tried and was sure it wouldn’t work. In his estimation, they were better off going with the “do-it-yourself” method he held in his hand, unless her injuries were worse than she’d let on. “Have you found anything serious?”

      “Not really. She says nothing’s broken. And I’m doing all I can to get her cleaned up, but...it’s not easy when your hand shakes like mine.” She motioned to the sack. “What do you have in there?”

      “Iodine, painkiller, large bandages.” He didn’t mention that the painkiller was prescription-strength, a couple of pills he had left over from when he’d broken his jaw in a free-ride bike race six months ago.

      “That’ll come in handy.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But what I need right now is another pair of eyes and a steadier hand.”

      “For what?”

      He’d expected her to take the bag and say good-night. Instead, she drew him inside. “Come see what you can do.”

      “With?”

      She didn’t clarify because Adelaide called out. “Gran, who is it?”

      Milly