The Secret Sin. Darlene Gardner

Thompson.

      She blew out a breath, as annoyed with herself as she was with Lindsey. She easily caught up to the teenager, then moved slightly ahead of her to give the illusion that she was in control.

      “We’re calling your parents when we get to Indigo Springs,” Annie told her once they were outside the station. “We’ll tell them you’re coming home tomorrow.”

      Lindsey acted as though she hadn’t heard her, her silence more oppressive than the midafternoon heat of the August day. Taking short steps, probably because her jeans were so tight, she trudged along, the wheels of her suitcase wobbling over the cracks in the sidewalk that led to the parking lot.

      She was having so much trouble toting the thing Annie itched to pick it up and be done with it.

      “I can carry your bag for you,” Annie offered.

      “I’ll manage.” Lindsey continued to struggle stubbornly with the suitcase so it seemed to take forever until they reached Annie’s pickup, an eight-year-old Dodge Ram. The vehicle had held up well considering the odometer showed more than one hundred thousand miles.

      “ That’s your ride?” Lindsey hung back as though afraid the vehicle would roar to life as if they were in a Stephen King novel.

      “That’s my ride,” Annie said. “The suitcase goes in the truck bed.”

      She expected Lindsey to leave the task to her but the girl surprised her, retracting the handle and then picking up the suitcase. With the muscles in her thin arms straining, she managed to lift the piece of luggage up and over the side of the truck.

      Annie got into the driver’s seat, reaching across the cab to unlock the passenger door. After a prolonged pause, Lindsey stepped gingerly onto the flat step before settling into the seat.

      “It’s easier to get in and out when you’re not wearing tight pants,” Annie said.

      “Skinny jeans are in.” Lindsey gave her the once-over. “You must not follow fashion.”

      Annie glanced down at what for her was normal attire for a day on the river: a sleeveless tank top, waterproof sandals, quick-dry shorts and her Indigo River Rafters cap.

      “I was getting ready to guide a group down the Lehigh River when you called,” Annie said, then could have kicked herself. She sounded like she was offering up an excuse for her appearance. She touched the port-wine stain on her left cheek.

      “What kind of group?” Lindsey asked.

      “White-water rafting.” Annie dropped her hand and put the truck in gear. She noticed that Lindsey was gripping the door handle. “You ever done any?”

      Lindsey shuddered. “I’m not the outdoorsy type.”

       Great, Annie thought, wondering what they’d talk about during the drive to Indigo Springs. She needn’t have worried. Lindsey leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes as though exhaustion had struck her.

      Annie started to switch the radio channel to her favorite country-and-western station, then thought better of it, afraid to wake up Lindsey. She considered phoning Jason but rationalized he wouldn’t be shy about calling her if he had an emergency. The long, boring drive seemed to take forever until she finally exited the interstate highway and got on the twisting back roads that cut through the mountains to Indigo Springs. The summer-thick leaves on the tall trees hugging both sides of the pavement let through just a sprinkling of the sun’s rays, casting most of the road in shadows. Lindsey stirred, alerting Annie that the girl was awake.

      “We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Annie said. “Base camp is a couple of miles from town, down by the river.”

      Lindsey groaned. Now what did that mean? Lindsey had already stated she wasn’t “the outdoorsy type,” but did she not appreciate nature’s beauty?

      “It’s really quite a pretty setting,” Annie said.

      Lindsey groaned again. Annie might be inexperienced in dealing with teenagers, but she wouldn’t stand for rudeness. She turned to Lindsey, intending to set her straight. The teenager’s head lolled to the side. Her eyes were open but her skin was deathly pale.

      Annie’s irritation instantly vanished. “What’s wrong?”

      “I don’t feel so good.” The girl’s voice was low and sluggish, and her eyelids fluttered as though she might pass out.

      The pickup was approaching the fork in the road that led either downhill to Indigo River Rafters or uphill to town. Annie’s adrenaline kicked in. She took the turn as fast as she dared and headed uphill.

      A short time later, she drove into the picturesque heart of Indigo Springs, where century-old stone buildings shared space with restaurants, businesses and retail shops catering primarily to tourists. She pulled the pickup to the curb in front of a pediatrician’s office that sported a sign with blue block lettering and set the parking brake.

      “I don’t need to see a doctor.” Lindsey had been repeating the statement since she’d found out their destination. “I already feel better.”

      She looked only slightly improved, her coloring verging on frighteningly pale instead of ghostly white.

      “Humor me.” Annie got out of the truck and slammed the door. She opened the passenger door and helped Lindsey down from the high bench seat, careful the girl didn’t wobble when she navigated the step. She let go of Lindsey’s elbow once they were on level ground, but stayed alert just in case the girl actually fainted.

      “A pediatrician!” Lindsey exclaimed when she saw where Annie was leading her. “Can’t I at least go to a regular doctor?”

      “Pediatricians see children up to age eighteen.”

      “Pediatricians are for babies.” Lindsey pointed half a block up the street to a row house with a stone facade that housed another doctor’s office. “Why can’t we go there?”

      If a serious illness struck Annie on the spot, she’d still avoid Whitmore Family Practice, even if it meant driving to the next town while feverish and delusional.

      It hadn’t always been that way. She’d been a patient of Dr. Whitmore’s until he’d died a few years back, leaving his daughter to run the practice. Although Indigo Springs was no longer a sleepy, small town but a tourist destination, most locals knew by now that Sierra Whitmore had broken her leg in a car accident, then called the most logical person to help her out.

      Her brother Ryan Whitmore.

      “Dr. Whitmore’s office closes early on Friday afternoons,” Annie said, relatively sure that was still the case. “So no more arguing. Let’s go see the pediatrician.”

      Looking too weak to offer up another protest, Lindsey walked with Annie into a cheerful office that featured bright-blue carpeting and wallpaper decorated with clowns and balloons.

      Annie blew out a soft breath, silently congratulating herself for avoiding Ryan Whitmore yet again, something she’d done successfully since she was sixteen years old.

       T HE GRANDMOTHERLY receptionist listened patiently as Annie explained why she couldn’t fill out the information and insurance papers that were required of every patient.

      “Just do your best, honey,” the receptionist said, “and I’ll squeeze in Lindsey as soon as I can.”

      “Don’t you need to check with the doctor?” Annie blurted out before she thought better of it. She’d half expected to be directed to the nearest emergency room, but her goal was to get Dr. Goldstein to evaluate Lindsey’s condition, not pass her off to another doctor.

      “Believe me, he’ll see her,” the receptionist said with a good-natured smile.

      Annie nodded and took a seat beside Lindsey, who had her head down, her sleek brown hair falling like a fashionable curtain over her face.

      “How