Radclyffe - Homestead

Ella and Tess.

She wasn’t really surprised. Ella almost never dated, and when she did, she kept the details to herself. She wasn’t shy, she wasn’t standoffish. She just didn’t seem to be taken by anyone in the casual kind of way that was the norm for the life they led. Brief encounters, a love affair to last a month or two. Tess had obviously touched a chord in Ella. Maybe that’s what fate was—the simultaneous striking of a note that resonated for two people when they least expected to be captivated.

Clay walked steadily, her gaze unfocused, circling blocks aimlessly, heading away from the few places where lights chased the shadows away. She sought the shadows and hoped the dark would swallow the images she didn’t want to see. Ella and Tess.

She’d completed her fourth or fifth circuit around a mostly deserted block of big Victorians set back from the street and shrouded by trees, when she finally turned back toward the center of the village. As she approached the intersection where the tavern was located, the drone of an engine pierced her awareness and she looked over her shoulder. A vehicle—a pickup truck—coasted slowly up the street, shadowing her, keeping pace five yards behind her. The halogen headlights momentarily blinded her, and she couldn’t tell make or model or even how many occupants were in the vehicle.

She debated turning the corner and heading away from the upcoming intersection. Maybe she was imagining that the truck was following her. But the neighborhood in that direction was dark, the houses closed and shuttered for the night. Better to take her chances in a well-lit area if there was going to be trouble. Just one more street to cross and she’d be half a block from the tavern, where lights and people would discourage an altercation.

More than likely she was only imagining she was being followed, but she’d learned to heed warning signs. Heart beating hard, she checked over her shoulder again just as she reached the corner. The truck had fallen farther behind her now. She looked across the intersection to the other side of the street. Empty—but far down the block, lights flickered in the tavern.

Clay stepped off the curb, hesitated, listening, and when the night held silent, she hurried to cross. The whine of an engine revving split the air when she was halfway across.

Turn back or go forward?

She made a decision and spun back the way she had come, lunging for the sidewalk and the cover of darkness. She had a split second to think that might have been a mistake before the truck caromed around the corner on two wheels and she went flying into the air.

A sharp bang and the screech of tires froze Tess with her hand on the half-open door of her pickup. Turning away from the yellow-orange glow filtering through the front window of the tavern across the street from where she’d parked, she searched in the direction of the sound. The streetlamps were few and far between this far from the center of town, and all she saw were the flickering red taillights of a vehicle disappearing into the darkness down a cross street half a block away. The night was quiet and still. The wind carried the low notes of a quiet cry—or did it?

She was tired, it was after midnight. She was just imagining she’d heard something. Probably just a garbage can knocked over. But then, what if it was a dog or a cat? Oh please, don’t let it be an animal. Fine, she’d check. Better than worrying all the way home.

Pulse hammering, she slammed the door and hurried toward the intersection, dread coiling more tightly in her stomach with every step. Don’t let it be a dog or a cat. Okay, not a squirrel, either. Or a possum or a— Slowing at the corner, Tess stared across the street, struggling to make sense of what she saw. Something in the road, partway up on the sidewalk. But it couldn’t really be a person, could it? Then she heard the sound again, definitely a moan, unmistakably human.

Every thought, every fear, every emotion left her head except one—the all-consuming need to do something. To help.

Racing across the street, she fumbled in the front pocket of her cargo pants for her phone, staring at the not-quite-recognizable shape in the half-light. Then the darkness seemed to part, and features jumped into sharp relief.

“Oh my God, Clay!” Tess dropped to her knees, barely registering the sharp stones digging into her flesh through her cotton pants. She reached out, jerked back. She shouldn’t touch her, right? Shouldn’t move her? But oh God, Clay was staring at her as if she wasn’t even there. “Clay? Clay, oh God, can you hear me?”

Clay pushed up onto an elbow, her head whirling. Every time she breathed, something jabbed her in the side. Sharp and burning. She heard Tess say her name, but she knew that was a dream. Tess was long gone and far away. “Hurts.”

“Lie down, honey, you have to lie down,” Tess’s voice said, close to her ear. Soft and warm and too cruel.

“I know you’re not really here.”

“I am. I’m right here. Clay, lie back down. Oh God, there’s blood—your head is bleeding.”

“Are we at the lake?”

“No, Clay. There’s been an accident.” Tess sounded upset. And scared.

“I didn’t drop my bike, did I?” Clay’s insides clenched. She was always so careful with Tess. “You’re not hurt? Did I—”

“Stay still. I’m all right, I promise. You didn’t crash.” Tess cradled Clay’s jaw when she tried to sit up.

Somewhere a man yelled, “You need help?”

“Yes,” Tess called back, afraid to look away from Clay. Afraid the light in Clay’s eyes might disappear. Her phone lay on the ground where she’d dropped it. She’d forgotten to call. Forgotten everything except Clay. “Call 9-1-1. Hurry.”

“I’m okay,” Clay said, her voice a little thick, but stronger. She braced one arm on the sidewalk and tried to tilt her head back. Her eyes brightened, seemed to focus. “Tess? We’re not at the lake anymore, are we?”

Tess’s throat tightened. “No, Clay. We’re not. Just relax now. Try not to move.”

Clay frowned. “Why am I sitting on the sidewalk?”

“I think…” Tess fiercely reined in the tears that flooded her eyes. She had no business crying. She wasn’t the one who was hurt. Clay was hurt. And she couldn’t bear it. “I think maybe you were hit by a car.”

Clay shook her head. The motion made her stomach turn over. “Fu—damn.” She took a couple deep breaths and waited. Some of the fog started to leave her brain. “No. It wasn’t a car. It was a truck.”

“You saw them?”

“Yeah. Wait, just let me…” The street jumped into sharp relief. Tess knelt by her side. Tiny diamonds glittered on her cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

Tess laughed softly, a faintly broken sound. “I’m not. I’m just—nothing. You’re sure it was a truck? I saw lights—but I couldn’t—”

Clay’s mind cleared along with her vision, and pieces of the last few minutes floated back to her. She’d been out walking, and there had been lights behind her. A vehicle following her. “Tess, call Ella.”

“Ella? Oh, of course,” Tess said. “I should have thought.” Of course Clay would want Ella. Ella was the person she would want to take care of her. Why wasn’t Ella taking care of her now? In the distance, sirens wailed. “What’s her number?”

“Use my phone. Pants pocket. Here.” Clay started to reach into her pants and gasped, pressed her hand to her right side. “You get it.”

“Fine. Just hold still.” Tess carefully slid her hand into Clay’s pocket, felt soft cotton and hard muscle. Closed her fingers over the smooth rectangular object and pulled it out. Her hand was shaking. “Where—”

“Just open the phone app. She’s right at the top. ES.”

“I’ve got it.” Tess tapped the number for Ella, praying she’d connect to one of the whimsical cell signals that might be available, depending on the wind and the weather and how many people were awake and trying to access it at the same time. She held her breath, heard a ring, a second one, and then the phone was answered.

“Clay?” Ella asked.

“No, it’s Tess, Ella,” Tess said. “I’m with Clay. She’s hurt.”

“I see the crowd. I’m almost there. How serious?”

“She’s awake, she’s talking. But I think she needs to go to the hospital.”

“One minute.”

The call disconnected. Ella must be running, and she wasn’t even short of breath. Tess chased the irrelevant thought away. “She’ll be right here. The ambulance is coming.”

“I don’t need a hospital,” Clay said. “I just need a minute or two.”

“You’ve got a gash on your forehead,” Tess said, proud her voice was steady. “And you obviously have some kind of concussion. You were confused for a few minutes.”

Clay fixed on Tess’s face. “I’m not confused now, Tess. I know we’re not at the lake anymore.”

“No,” Tess said, her heart aching. “No, we’re not.”

“I’m sorry we’re not.”

“Yes.” Tess stood as Ella pushed through the ring of onlookers and crouched by Clay’s side. Tess stepped back and whispered, “So am I.”

* * *

“I’m sorry, Ms. Sutter—”

“Enough with the Ms. Sutter already,” Clay snapped. Bad enough she was the center of half the town’s attention, spotlighted in the circle of light thrown out from the open bay doors of the emergency response van, without Ella lecturing her while she lay on her back like a helpless turtle. Strapped to a gurney, for Christ’s sake. And where the hell had Tess gone so fast? Damn, if her head would just stop pounding for one damn minute she could think. Something she needed to—

“Clay.” Ella folded her arms and spread her legs in that I’m the Secret Service agent and you’re the protectee stance she had when she was about to pull rank.

“What, damn it?”

“I agree with the EMTs. You need to be evaluated at the hospital, and you’re going to need stitches for that gash in your forehead.”

“A few Steri-Strips will take care of that,” Clay grumbled. “And I can tell you right now I’ve got a cracked rib or two, and it’s not the first time. There’s nothing they can do for that.” She had laid her bike down a time or three, just never when Tess was with her. She recognized the grating pain and the restricted breathing. So she’d be stepping carefully for a few days. She couldn’t afford to be out of commission now, and she couldn’t appear to be less than 100 percent. In her world, the weak were cut from the pack, and for damn sure there were a few people looking on who would be happy to lend a hand. “As to the rest, bruises and bumps. I’ll be fine. Now get me loose.”

Tess appeared next to Ella and glared down at Clay. “I know it’s none of my business, but Ella’s right. Don’t be pigheaded, Clay. It’s not worth it.”

Clay’s gaze drifted from one to the other. Ella wore her usual unruffled, unmovable expression. Her I-am-a-stone-wall look. Tess looked half-worried and half-pissed off. She was mad again. And beautiful. Clay sighed. “There’s something not right about two against one, especially when I can’t move.”

“Then don’t argue.” Ella’s eyes glinted with subtle satisfaction. “If you go along with the medical recommendations, I won’t file a report with your father. At least, not right now.”

If Clay hadn’t seen that secretly victorious expression a thousand times, she’d never know Ella was pleased. Ella knew she’d won, and all Clay could do was negotiate her surrender and save some dignity. “If I go, no report. Period.”

Tess looked from one to the other. “This is ridiculous. Clay, you need—”

“It’s all right, Tess,” Ella said gently. “She just needs to define her terms.”

“Of course,” Tess said, retreating a pace. “You know what she needs—”

“Tess, wait,” Clay said. “I need to speak to Ella in private, but…could you stay?”

“Yes.” Tess looked uncertain. “But I—”

“Just for a minute. Please.”

Tess’s expression softened. “All right. Of course.”

Clay looked at the EMT, a husky blond with close-cropped hair and the beginning of a beard. “Can I have a minute here?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, taping an intravenous catheter to Clay’s arm. “As long as we don’t get another call.”

“Thanks,” Clay said.

Tess drifted back and Ella leaned over. Voice low, Ella said, “What happened?”

“I can’t swear to it, but I think this was intentional. I saw a vehicle—truck, I’m pretty sure—and thought it might be shadowing me. Whoever it was might just have been meaning to scare me, maybe didn’t even intend to hit me.”