Home to Whiskey Creek. Brenda Novak

by the condition of her face. She knew it was her injuries that had caught his attention when he turned her chin toward him so he could have a better look. “Sleepwalking, my ass.”

      “I, uh, hit my face when I fell.”

      “Right.” The sarcasm that dripped from that word screamed bullshit. “Why are you lying, Addy? Do you know the person who did this to you? Is that it?”

      Not quite the way he thought....

      “Was it your husband or boyfriend or...lover?”

      “No. I’m not m-married.” Thank God! She had been once, but for such a brief period it wasn’t even worth counting. Saying “I do” to Clyde Kingsdale had been a bad fit from the beginning. Fortunately, she’d realized her mistake almost immediately.

      “You have to be protecting someone,” he said. “You don’t need to tell me. But I hope you’ll tell the police.”

      Unable to tolerate the brightness of his flashlight, she jerked her chin away. “There’s no reason to include the police. I— It was my own stupid mistake.”

      He didn’t shine the light in her face again. He set it aside so he could help her pull on his sweatshirt. The soft fleece warmed her but not enough to stop the shivering. “Where do you live?”

      “Whiskey Creek. At the moment,” she added because she hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that, depending on what she convinced Gran to do, she might need to stay longer than the few months she was planning.

      “Hey! I’m from Whiskey Creek, too,” he said with obvious surprise. “What’s your last name?”

      “Davies.”

      “Have we met?”

      How could she tell? What she’d seen of him so far had been dark and indistinct. He was tall and muscular; she’d gathered that much from his general shape. He was strong, too, or he couldn’t have lifted her out. But that was all she knew. She couldn’t even see the color of his hair.

      “Maybe,” she said. “Who are you?” Chances were good she’d recognize the name. Gran owned Just Like Mom’s, one of the more popular restaurants in the area, and she used to help out there.

      She’d anticipated some degree of familiarity, but the name came as a shock.

      “Noah Rackham.”

      She said nothing, could say nothing. It felt as if he’d just punched her in the stomach.

      “My father used to own the tractor sales and rental place a few miles out of town,” he explained to provide her with a frame of reference.

      Fresh adrenaline made it possible for her to scramble to her feet, despite the pain the movement caused her scraped and bruised body. “Cody’s brother?” She had the urge to rip off the sweatshirt he’d given her.

      Noah stood, too. “That’s right. You knew him?”

      He sounded pleased, excited. She might have laughed, except she was afraid that if she ever got started she’d end up in a padded cell. Of all the people who could’ve come by and offered her aid, it had to be Cody’s fraternal twin. There wasn’t a greater irony than that.

      “You and Cody were friends?” he prompted, trying to interpret her reaction.

      She was glad she couldn’t see his face. That would be like meeting a ghost, especially here, at the mine. “Not really,” she said. “I was behind the t-two of you in sch-school, but...I remember him.”

      She’d never be able to forget him, but it wasn’t because they’d been friends. Not only had Cody raped her, he’d talked some of his baseball buddies into joining the fun. And, when he came back after the others were gone, she’d done what she had to in order to get away.

      3

      Noah didn’t know what to make of Addy. Although she claimed they’d gone to the same high school, he didn’t remember her. He didn’t recognize her from around town, either. Of course, that could be due to the condition of her face. Someone had done quite a number on it.

      While he drove to the accompaniment of a classic rock station, she curled up, as much as a tall woman could curl up while wearing a seat belt, against the passenger door. He’d told her three times she could lie in the seat, knew she’d be more comfortable if she would. But she acted as if she didn’t want to get too close to him. She went stiff whenever he touched her, which hadn’t made it any easier to wheel her out to the road or help her into the truck. The whole process had taken a couple of hours.

      “Which hospital?” he asked.

      She lifted her head. “Excuse me?”

      He pulled his gaze away from the headlights flowing toward them on the other side of the road. “Which hospital should I take you to? I have a first-aid kit, but that won’t be enough.”

      “I’m not going to the hospital.”

      He felt his eyebrows notch up. “But...you’re hurt, and you’re still shaking even though it has to be a hundred degrees in here.” He’d been slightly chilled when he got in, too, but thanks to the heat blasting through his vents, he was sweltering now. “I really think you should be checked out.”

      “Great idea. And what will I tell them?”

      Her tone indicated it was a rhetorical question, but he answered, anyway. “How about the truth?”

      Her head bumped against the door. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

      “You’re not doing yourself any favors, you know. If you go back to the bastard who did this, he could do it again. And maybe next time there won’t be anyone around to help you.” She was lucky he’d heard her. What if he hadn’t gone riding today? Or chosen a different location? It was only when he was feeling particularly nostalgic or really missing Cody that he took their favorite trail.

      “A repeat performance is precisely what I’m hoping to avoid.”

      He turned down the volume on “We Will Rock You” by Queen. “Meaning what? You think he’ll come after you if you go to the authorities?”

      She raised one hand. “Look, I’m grateful for your help but...will you let it go?”

      Shouldn’t he insist she seek medical assistance? “You need to document your injuries. Then, if you change your mind, you can file a report later and have proof to go with it.”

      “I’ll pass, but thanks,” she muttered.

      “If you decide to press charges, you’ll need pictures.”

      “I won’t be pressing charges.”

      Obviously, she was covering for someone. No woman wound up stranded at the bottom of a mine shaft in her underwear, in the middle of the night without a little help getting there. “I wish you’d see a doctor.”

      “I’ll do it later if I have to.”

      “Why not now, when you need it?”

      “If you drive me to a hospital I’ll walk out. Please, take me home. Or if that’s too much trouble, drop me at a pay phone so I can call someone else.”

      “I’m happy to drive you. It’s just...” Did he have any right to keep pushing? No. He didn’t even know this woman. “Never mind. We’ll do whatever you want.” She wasn’t his problem. But telling himself that didn’t make it any easier. He hated to see whoever had attacked her get away with it.

      “Thank you.”

      She’d spoken so low he could barely hear her response, but she’d softened, or seemed to have softened, and that tempted him to dive back into the same argument. “So...where’s home?” he asked, fighting the impulse.

      Her eyes had drifted shut. He could see her profile