John Doe on Her Doorstep. Debra Webb

on end. She swallowed, then turned around slowly. Very slowly.

      Someone stood in the shadows shrouding the front door.

      Tall. A man. Her heart stalled in midbeat.

      God, why hadn’t she locked the front door? Because no one around here locked doors.

      He stepped out of the darkness. The dim glow that reached this end of the hall highlighted the chiseled features of his face. His clothing was torn and disheveled. Blood. Dried blood stained the right shoulder of his khaki shirt.

      Dani’s eyes widened in fear. The urge to scream climbed into her throat.

      She had to run. As if he’d read her mind, a strong hand snaked out and manacled her wrist.

      She opened her mouth to cry out.

      He swayed. She gasped, and then he crumpled to the floor.

      Chapter Four

      For an endless moment, Dani stood frozen…unable to move or think. Her physician’s instincts screamed at her to go to the man who was obviously injured in some way, but the vulnerable, human side of her refused to even breathe, much less move a step in his direction. The skin on her wrist still burned where he had clutched at her so desperately and with such strength. How could a man on the verge of collapsing possess such tremendous strength?

      When he continued to lie motionless, those instincts honed for nearly a decade in medical school, then a couple more as a resident, finally kicked in. She crouched next to him, bracing one knee against the smooth hardwood floor.

      Her heart racing, she reached toward his throat and the carotid artery there. He was breathing, though his pulse rate was a little slow. Needing more light, she flipped on the overhead fixture and resumed her examination.

      His color was ashen. Not good. His clothes were mud-splattered, with dried leaves stuck here and there in garish decoration. A number of angry scratches marred his face and bare forearms. The dried blood on his shoulder certainly would not have come from any of the scratches. Easing closer, allowing both knees to rest on the floor now, she leaned over him and examined his right shoulder.

      The edges of a small tear in the fabric of his shirt were stuck together with blood. As she noted the damage to the khaki material somewhere in the back of her mind she considered that she should be using gloves. Should be calling the police…an ambulance.

      She slipped enough buttons from their closures to facilitate sliding the shirt off his shoulder. More red, angry flesh surrounded an already healing circular wound about the size of a nickel. The injury was unmistakable. A bullet wound. Cal’s and Rand’s story zoomed into her thoughts. But she didn’t have time to reflect on that right now.

      Using all her strength against the deadweight pressing down onto the floor, she rolled him onto his left side. She carefully peeled the shirt away from his skin to see if the bullet had exited cleanly.

      A sigh slipped past her lips when she found the exit wound, larger and not healed quite so well. Okay, there would be no bullet to remove. The incredible fact that the injuries were healed so well eliminated the need for suturing. Allowing his weight to ease back down against the floor, she sat back on her heels and considered her unexpected patient. The gunshot wound wasn’t the cause of his current state, that much she’d wager. His flesh felt too warm. She needed to verify his temperature. Maybe an infection?

      Proceeding with her examination, she checked his limbs, which appeared to have been working fine before he collapsed. He had moved toward her and his grip had certainly been plenty powerful. All appeared to be in order as she made her way along his lean, muscular limbs and torso, then up his neck. Buried in thick, silky hair, her fingers stilled where they roamed his scalp. There was noticeable swelling at the back of his skull. She rolled him onto his side once more and surveyed the area more closely. The flesh was not damaged or discolored. His full head of blond hair looked no worse for wear. Yet there was a definite raised area.

      She had to have help. She couldn’t move him on her own. Getting him to the hospital was the next logical step. Calling an ambulance, as she’d considered earlier, would be pointless. By the time it reached her remote location, she could have him at the hospital twice over by herself. She just needed help moving him.

      Cal and Rand.

      She made the call and in less than fifteen minutes, the two were at her door.

      “Holy cow.”

      Rand looked from the stranger, still unconscious on the floor, to his friend, whose exclamation still echoed in the seemingly too quiet house. “I told you, man,” he murmured.

      “You think this is the man you saw?” Dani asked as she knelt next to the stranger and checked his pulse once more. Still a bit slow, but damned steady.

      Rand nodded. “It’s him.” Then he shook his head slowly from side to side in visible regret. “Dammit. I didn’t mean—”

      “Let’s not worry about that right now,” Dani interjected. “Help me get him to your truck.”

      Rand’s eyes rounded in terror. “You going to take him to the hospital?”

      Cal jabbed him with his elbow. “Of course she is, you idiot. He’s been shot.”

      Dani’s gaze locked with Rand’s and she knew exactly what he was afraid of. The hospital would be required to report the shooting to the sheriff. Sheriff Lane Nichols was an absolute jerk. The idea of having to deal with him left a bad taste in her mouth as well. She shuddered, then shook off the dread.

      “We have to—”

      “He’s all right, ain’t he?” Rand demanded. “I mean, he’s not going to die or anything…”

      Dani peered down at the stranger once more. “He’s stable, if that’s what you’re asking. His life isn’t in danger from the gunshot wound, in my estimation.” She considered his heated flesh. Unless an infection was in the works. “But there might be other complications.” She shrugged as half a dozen scenarios filtered through her thoughts. “Infection. There’s a lump on the back of his skull.” She looked up at the boys then. “Could he have fallen after you shot him?”

      Both shook their heads vigorously. “He ran like hell,” Cal explained. “That’s why I thought it was a deer. I saw the blood where he’d been hit, but he was long gone.”

      Rand nodded his agreement. “We weren’t close to any bluffs or nothing like that. One second he was there, the next he was gone. I even followed the blood trail for a while but never caught up with him.”

      “That happens with deer a lot,” Cal put in. “That’s why I was sure…”

      His gaze dropped back down to the man. He didn’t have to say the rest. Dani understood. He sincerely thought his friend had shot a deer that had run off to die someplace where his hunters would never locate him.

      “If you take him to the hospital,” Rand said softly, “the sheriff’ll have my hide. He’s got it in for me anyway.”

      Dani could believe that. Nichols had had it in for her for a long time. She didn’t trust him. In fact, he scared the hell out of her.

      Maybe the boys were right. Maybe involving the sheriff wasn’t even necessary. She peered down at the injured man once more. Maybe she could give him all the attention he needed. When he woke up, hopefully she could convince him not to press charges against Rand.

      “All right,” she said as she pushed to her feet. “Let’s get him to the guest room.”

      The relief on the boys’ faces was palpable. She had to be out of her mind. What if something went wrong? What if he took a turn for the worse during the night? Then she’d call that ambulance, she promised herself. But, what if he was a fugitive from the law? For all she knew, he could be a killer. Why else would he hiding out in the woods like that?

      Just now taking the time to consider who