Double Blind. Hannah Alexander

Jaffrey, the principal of the school. He had contracted and succumbed to an aggressive illness only days before the fire that took the other lives.

      Sheila looked up at Preston again. “Canaan needs help in the worst way, not only because he had to step into Bob’s shoes, but there’s no one to take Wendy’s place as office assistant. I’m free.”

      Preston had heard enough about Sheila’s treasured memories of her friend Canaan York to provide enough misgivings about her trip back to the school all by themselves.

      “I thought Canaan was the school’s doctor,” he said. “Why is he suddenly filling in as principal? Can’t a teacher do it?”

      “Good question. I’ll ask when I get there.”

      Preston tamped down his frustration. “Have you even checked to see if they’ll accept you?”

      “I called and spoke with Johnny Jacobs yesterday evening.”

      Preston nearly groaned out loud. Johnny Jacobs was Canaan’s grandfather, the man who owned the school.

      Preston could no more help his strong distrust of this situation than he could help his growing madness over this bullheaded woman to whom he’d had the questionable pleasure of giving his heart.

      How, for instance, did Johnny Jacobs found a religious school, pay the staff himself and not give in to the temptation to direct the curriculum with his personal biases about God? He did accept donations for the school, as well, but what kind of overseers kept track of his actions? He could be one of those control freaks with his own religion, a cultist.

      How could Preston stand by and watch the woman he loved involve herself in this situation?

      And yet, far from influencing her, he knew if he said any more about it now, he would only lose what little favor he had left with her.

      He felt more than helpless. More than frustrated.

      Sometimes she just didn’t make sense to him.

      “It was home for five years. I can’t ignore it,” she said, looking up at Preston.

      “I don’t understand why anyone would have sent your father the news, anyway. He isn’t a doctor. After all these years—”

      “But Mom was a nurse, and she worked with the kids. She knew everyone.”

      Preston stared at her, and he knew the puzzlement he felt was plain in his expression.

      She closed her eyes, and he heard her soft intake of breath.

      He waited, staring at the dark fan of her eyelashes against her pale skin, then felt his heart squeeze, falling head over heels once again as she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

      “What?” he asked softly.

      “I think Johnny Jacobs always suspected that my mother’s death wasn’t from natural causes.”

      “Did he ever say that?”

      “He would never have said anything like that to me.”

      “But after all this time—”

      “I can’t tell for sure, but when I spoke with him, I got the impression that he suspects…I don’t know…something odd about these recent deaths. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but I had the impression that he feels Mom’s death and these recent ones might be connected somehow.”

      Preston held his tongue between his teeth. Even more reason for her to not go out there!

      She read his expression once again. “Yes, I know my mother’s death was a long time—”

      “And no reason to suspect that—”

      “But if Johnny feels there’s a connection—”

      “You don’t know that for a fact.”

      “Not in so many words.”

      What Preston thought was that Johnny Jacobs was eager to get Sheila out there because she was willing to be cheap labor. Had the man given any thought to her safety?

      “There’s no reason to think I might be in danger,” she said.

      “Except that Wendy Hunt worked in the clinic, your mother was the school nurse and now you’re going out there to work in that same clinic.”

      As she gazed into his eyes, his heart contracted again. “You’ll think this is crazy, I’m sure, but I can’t help thinking this could be God’s timing.”

       Oh, great, she’s pulling out the big guns. Who could argue with God? Of course, Preston had promised not to argue. But it couldn’t hurt to gather as many facts as possible about this endeavor. “So am I to understand that the reason Mr. Johnny Jacobs contacted your father about these deaths was to find out if you would go out there?”

      She hesitated. “He knew I was in the medical profession now. Apparently he called Dad a week ago to see if I could go out. Dad just never told me.”

      Preston took the letter from her hands and looked at it. There was something in Sheila’s past that she held back, even at those times when she seemed to share everything else in her heart. He’d realized Saturday that she was drawn to return to the place that had her history, where she’d been robbed of her mother….

      Yes, she was going to help her old friends and she loved working with children, but she needed to solve a mystery in her life.

      “Let me go with you,” Preston said.

      She gave him a look of infinite tenderness, then took the letter from him and shook her head. “Nope.”

      “You think I’ll only be in the way.”

      She hesitated, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know you will.” She looked at her watch, then refolded the letter and slid it back into her pocket. “I’m on my way to Arizona.”

      As she turned to leave, he reached for her and caught her hand. In the year he’d known her, in all the time they’d spent together, he had never told her of the depth of his commitment to her. She didn’t want to hear it. Even now, he could see the wariness in her eyes.

      “I…want you to know that I…My Jeep is yours if you need it.”

      She smiled and squeezed his hand, then pulled away and went back into the hospital. The words he longed to say remained unspoken.

       Chapter Three

       O n Friday the thirteenth of May, the blue canopy of Northern Arizona sky shimmered with the sun’s rays, baking clumps of sage and meager stands of white-gold bunchgrass. The few clouds that nestled against rims of distant mesas did nothing to ease the punishing heat.

      In spite of dry, hot air rushing in through window and vent, sweat gathered and dripped from every pore of Sheila Metcalf’s body. Where had all this heat come from? It was only the middle of May.

      She couldn’t remember when she’d felt this alone or frightened. She missed Preston. She missed seeing the way his blue-gray eyes contrasted vividly against his tanned face. This separation would be good for both of them, but that knowledge didn’t keep her from wanting to be with him.

      Her father hadn’t been too crazy about her return to this place, either. Together, he and Preston had mounted a united front for the first time since they’d met, but she hadn’t allowed them enough time to complete their mission. After making the decision to come, she’d taken two days to handle her arrangements and pack, and then she was off before either man could catch his breath.

      Now she stared at the shimmering mirage on the deserted blacktop road ahead of her, driving ever nearer to the setting of her childhood nightmares. What on earth had she done? She wasn’t prone to making impetuous decisions. Why start now?

      What kind of phantom was she chasing, alone, in the heart of the Navajo reservation?