Chapter Eleven
When she arrived, she found Geralt Talbot lying on his side where she had left him, white and still. The hands that had clutched his stomach had gone limp, and his eyelids were closed. Joel Drummond was gone.
Oh God, she thought, he was dead, she knew he was dead; she had left him, Joel had left him, and he had died alone.
Willow’s legs sent a halting message to her brain that they were not going to support her for long; her brain obligingly instructed them to back up to one of the wainscoted walls, where she sank to a seated position on the floor.
Not dead, then.
Wheels crunched on the gravel road outside and jerked to a stop—an ambulance, one of the few motor vehicles allowed on the island. Two uniformed paramedics rushed into the foyer to the still figure on the floor. A murmured conversation passed between officer and EMTs.
Leaving the paramedics to their work, the officer came over to Willow, squatted in front of her folded-in shape on the floor, and studied her as she stared at the young man and woman working over Geralt, unable to look away.
The tall man asked, “Are you okay? Willow?” When she didn’t react, he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Willow!”
It was enough to break through the fog and bring her back to the present.
Rude, she thought as she jerked her face around to his; then, He knows my name.
The man was staring at her coolly, as though she had been weighed and considered and deemed unworthy of his time.
Her eyes dipped down to the name tag clipped to the dark blue uniform—N. TYLER—and back up to his face.
Her heart shriveled into a tiny lump as she realized why he seemed familiar.
The blotches and pocks of a fierce case of teenaged acne were gone, his awkward, lanky build had filled out impressively, and the greasy swath of hair that had always dangled over his forehead appeared to have met up with an actual stylist and been vanquished. But it was definitely him.
Wonderful, she thought grimly. This day is getting better and better.
Also: Nick is hot now? This was unexpected.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened to your head?”
“My head? Oh—” Willow reached up to her head and realized she had gotten blood in her hair as well. “Nothing. It’s fine. I cut my hand on the glass, and I must have touched my hair.”
The officer looked puzzled. “What glass?”
Willow looked around the foyer, suddenly realizing that Geralt’s cane and the splinters of broken glass it had sent around the entry hall were nowhere to be seen.
Had she imagined them? But if she had, how had she cut her hand?
She muttered, “Um … never mind.” Her mind was moving too slowly; nothing connected, nothing made sense.
“Can you get up? Can you walk?” Even after nearly two decades in Maine, a hint of Texas still lingered in his voice.
Her brows came together peevishly. “Of course I can walk,” she snapped. The anger and petulance he inspired in her were as familiar as if she had last seen him yesterday, but they were better than the horror, and she held on to them for dear life.
He stood up in one swift move. “Outside, then. Now.” He turned on his heel and left the foyer.
Asshat, she thought. Fifteen years later, he’s still an arrogant jerk.
She took a few more deep breaths, partly from exhaustion but mostly to deny him the satisfaction of her swift obedience.
She dragged herself to a standing position, lungs still burning from her unaccustomed sprints.
With one last look at Geralt Talbot, she made her way slowly to the front door—then stopped and turned back, realizing the broken glass wasn’t the only thing missing.
When she had left, Effie Cameron’s shawl had been draped over Geralt’s body; Willow had put it there herself.
The used towels were still in the foyer, tossed to the side after wiping up Geralt’s vomit, but the shawl no longer covered him.
She glanced into the front sitting room, and she saw the froth of sea-blue yarn right where it had been when she had arrived at the house, draped over the rocking chair—not in merely the same spot but exactly the same, down to the off-center wrinkle across the top and the fringe dangling at the same angle as before. She was sure of it.
The empty chair gave an infinitesimal rocking movement, and a new chill crept up from the base of Willow’s spine.
Was she losing her mind?
An annoyed shout from the porch shook her out of her stupor. “Willow? Today, maybe?”
She hurried out after him.
Willow followed Nick out to the corner of the wraparound porch and sat in a wicker chair, pulling her knees up to her chin and hugging them tightly.
Nick pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and said impatiently, “Give me your hand.” When she did, he carefully wrapped the cloth around her hand, tucking in the ends so it would stay.
“Once they’re done inside, I’ll have one of the techs take a look at this for you. ”
“It’s fine; I don’t need it. I’m fine,” she said, tension radiating in every word.
“Too bad. They’ll look at it for you, anyway,” he retorted. “Was Mr. Talbot conscious when you left?”
Willow gave a shaky nod.
“And you left him? By himself?”
“My phone was dead. There were no phones in the house. It was leave and get him help or stay and watch him—” She broke off.
Nick regarded Willow, taking stock of the grown-up version of the girl who’d been such a nightmare when they were kids.
He wanted to shout at her, place blame at her feet, accuse her of abandoning the man.
But Nick had to admit what she’d said made sense; there wasn’t much else she could have done.
No way he’d admit it to her, though. He fumbled instinctively for something to criticize.
“You let your phone die?” He looked at her dubiously. Then he shook his head in exasperation. “You left your Wi-Fi on, didn’t you? Depletes your battery. On this island, you need to shut it off whenever you’re not using it.”
“A piece of knowledge I wish I’d had this morning.
We didn’t have Wi-Fi on the island last time I was here,” she said tersely.
“Mr. Talbot almost collapsed at the restaurant, then took off in the golf cart on his own for the mansion before his wife could stop him. I told her I’d follow him and make sure he was all right.
He was still sitting in the cart, and he looked awful.
I got him inside, hoping I could use a landline in the house, but they don’t have one.
There was another man here—Joel, he said his name was, Joel Drummond, I think—”
Nick looked at her sharply. “Another man? There was someone else here? Where did he go?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We were trying to help Mr. Talbot into the sitting room to lie down, but he collapsed right where he is now. He threw up a few times, and he was shaking—” Her voice was starting to shake too.
She clenched her fists and took a deep breath before continuing.
“Mr. Talbot clearly needed medical attention, so I ran back to the cabin to call, and the man—Joel—stayed here with him.” I thought he was dying, she did not say.
I was sure he would be dead when I got back. And I ran, anyway.
“So, this Joel Drummond guy, had you seen him before, or do you know who he is?” Nick frowned. “I’ve never heard that name around here, and it’s kind of my job to know people. It’s not that big an island.”
“We were a little occupied at the time. Introductions weren’t exactly first priority,” she said icily, provoking a scowl from him.
She threw up her hands in frustration. “I don’t know what to tell you.
I got here this morning. He was here, and he and Geralt clearly knew each other.
I’d seen him earlier at Sue’s memorial. He said he would stay with Mr. Talbot, but he didn’t, for whatever reason, and he’s gone now. ”
“No phone in the house?”
She shook her head. “He said the landline had been turned off after Miss Cameron died, since Sue used her cell phone. I didn’t want to leave Mr. Talbot, but … I didn’t know what else to do.”
Nick let the silence hang in the air before he grudgingly spoke again. “Mr. Talbot is still alive, but barely. My medical training is rudimentary at best, but if I had to guess, I’d say doing what you did may have saved his life.”
She looked up at him, a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. Her eyes had been green when she was a girl, he remembered, but they had darkened to hazel as the years had gone by. She had always had nice eyes. When she wasn’t being insufferable.
Which was most of the time. He remembered that too.
One of the EMTs came to the door and gestured for Nick to come back inside. Nick stood and said, “Wait here, please,” and went back into the house.