which was thirty-two miles long and three miles wide at some points. Despite
the fact that the enormous body of water, nestled in the heart of the Adirondack
Mountains, was one of the most popular tourist attractions on the East Coast,
much of the surrounding mountains was still as wild and untamed as it had been
for centuries. It was her job to keep both nature and those who came to enjoy it
safe.
“I’m supposed to have a summer intern starting next week.” Dev’s leg had
progressed from sore to stiff, and she climbed awkwardly up the slippery slope
in her heavy gear. When Natalie extended a hand to steady her, she grabbed it.
Natalie’s Þ ngers closed on hers, warm and strong. “Thanks.”
“Hey, it’s kind of interesting.” Natalie tried to keep her expression from
revealing the precise nature of her interest as she observed the woman who had
arrived the previous afternoon at the regional park headquarters. Everything
about Devon Weber—from her collar-length, almost-but-not-quite-messy light
chestnut hair to her tight athletic build and the casual self-conÞ dence in her
hazel eyes—said she was a lesbian, but Natalie never relied on impressions to
make that call.
Since they were going to be working together in close proximity for the next few
months, she didn’t want to create any kind of awkwardness between them. She
was interested, but she could be patient. “Besides, I’ve got the radio, and if
something comes up, I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself.”
“That’s nice of you.” Dev grinned. “I think.”
Natalie smiled back. “Just how many samples do you plan on taking?”
“Well,” Dev said, ß icking the hair back off her forehead as they headed up the
narrow path that had been cut through the thick pines on either side by animals
making their way to the water, “between soil, water, vegetation, and Þ sh
specimens? Couple thousand.”
“You’re kidding.”
When Natalie stopped abruptly, Dev bumped into her and Natalie’s shoulder
brushed across Dev’s breasts. Natalie’s long, dark hair was caught back with a
soft tie at the base of her neck and the wind blew
• 18 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
a silky strand smelling of mountain laurel into Dev’s face. Dev’s lips tingled and
she stepped back.
“Nope. I’m serious. It’s been eight months since the last multitiered biologic
survey was done on the lake. With the increase in commercial and recreational
boat trafÞ c and the prevalence of industry in the adjoining areas, we need to
revamp all our statistics.”
“I always thought people at your level just sat in the lab while grunts slogged
around out here collecting samples,” Natalie teased as they reached the green
and white truck with the emblem of the New York State Department of
Environmental Conservation on the side.
“I’m old-fashioned, I guess,” Dev said as she stripped off her outer gear and
stowed it in the back of Natalie’s SUV. Beneath it she wore jeans, a shortsleeved
denim shirt, and a light zip-up navy vest.
She climbed into the truck and shifted to Þ nd a good position for her sore hip
as Natalie slid behind the wheel. “Sometimes the only way to know there’s a
problem is to see for yourself. If I just send out someone who isn’t an expert on
the water life to randomly collect specimens, we could miss the early signs of
pollutant effects on the Þ sh population.”
“That’s your thing, right? You’re a Þ sh guy?” Natalie backed out of the parking
lot and headed north on Route 9, which wended its way along the shore and
through the small villages that dotted the lakeside.
“Yeah, close enough.” Dev unfolded her regional survey map to check the next
sample site. “I’m a freshwater biologist. I started out studying Þ sh populations
and got interested in the effects of environmental alterations on breeding and
population dynamics.”
“So that’s how you ended up with the DEC.”
“Technically, I’m an independent consultant, but I’m heading up a joint survey
this summer with the Derrin Freshwater Institute and the state.”
“Fish, huh?” Natalie shook her head and laughed. “If you don’t mind my asking,
how the hell did you ever get interested in Þ sh?”
Dev wondered if it would make any sense if she told her the truth.
If she explained that she’d grown up a stone’s throw from where they had
collected the Þ rst sample. That the lake had been her Þ rst and, in the end, her
best friend. That for as long as she could remember, she’d never Þ t in
anywhere. Not at home, not at school. She’d spent hours on the water, in the
water, from the time she’d been old enough to walk.
She’d found peace in those quiet alone times as she’d lain on the dock in the hot
summer sun watching the small schools of Þ sh circle in the
• 19 •
RADCLY fFE
shallows. She had wondered then what it would be like to be part of a group
like that, moving so easily together, effortlessly attuned. To be accepted, to
belong. She didn’t know then. She still didn’t, but she didn’t wonder any longer.
She didn’t know Natalie well enough to share those secrets, and even if she
had, she wouldn’t have answered any differently. Those times were long past. “I
spent so much time in the water when I was a kid, I guess I thought I was part Þ
sh.”
“Well,” Natalie said, deciding to Þ re the Þ rst shot as she gave Devon a slow,
appreciative once-over, “you look to be all woman now.”
Dev took a quick read and added up the Þ ndings. The answer was pretty
clear. Natalie was very attractive, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and it was
forecast to be a long, hot summer. Dev leaned back with a smile. “Nice to know
you noticed.”
• 20 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
CHAPTER TWO
By the time the EMTs arrived, Leslie felt almost normal again.
Certainly no worse than she had on quite a few occasions in recent weeks.
She’d been working hard and sleeping even less than usual. It was nothing more
than that.
“Look, really,” she protested as a husky young blond with shaggy hair and a
deep tan, who might have been called a surfer dude in another time and place,
lifted her into a wheelchair with the help of his intensely serious female partner,
“I feel perfectly Þ ne now. Obviously I had a little dizzy spell, which has passed.
Please let me up.”
“Just try to relax, ma’am,” the brunette said mechanically as she slipped a sticky
EKG pad inside Leslie’s blouse and afÞ xed it gently to her upper breast.
Ma’am, Leslie thought with irrational temper. She has her hand inside my
blouse and she’s calling me ma’am. There was something terribly wrong with
this picture. This was not her. In a move that startled even herself, she slapped
the EMT’s hand away. With the practiced voice that was calculated to make
jurors sit up straight in their seats, she snapped, “I’m not going to the hospital.”
The one who’d ma’am’d her leaned down with a hand wrapped around either
arm of the wheelchair. She spoke quietly so no one else could hear. “It sucks to
have everyone all over you like this, I know. But your blood pressure’s still a
little bit low and your heart rate’s a tiny bit elevated. If you try to walk out of
here, I think you’re going to go down again. That will buy you a trip to the ICU.
Just let us take you to the emergency room where you can be checked out.”
Leslie studied the dark, deep eyes inches from her own. She
• 21 •
RADCLY fFE
hadn’t seen anyone look at her like that, with such compassion and
understanding, for…so long, she couldn’t remember. How was it that a stranger
could touch her so deeply and those who supposedly knew her intimately never
touched her at all? Truth be told, she did feel terrible.
“Just get me out of here quickly, please,” she whispered.
“You got it. I’m Amy, by the way.”
“You have beautiful eyes, Amy,” Leslie murmured as she suddenly drifted away.
v
The next time Leslie opened her eyes she was propped up into a semisitting
position on a narrow bed with a thin, hard mattress and covered by a stiff white
sheet that smelled of strong detergent. A sickly-green curtain, a shade darker
than the equally nauseating tiles on the walls, covered the doorway. The
overhead light was so bright she was forced to squint. She was ß eetingly very
happy she didn’t have a migraine. What she did have was a plethora of
intravenous lines and leads and other things she didn’t recognize connecting her
to an assortment of monitoring devices that ringed the bed. Surely whatever was
wrong with her didn’t warrant this much attention. She felt a frisson of anxiety
that she quickly squelched and fumbled around on the bed for a call button.
Annoyed when she found none, she considered shouting, but decided that
would only win her even more unwanted interest.
In search of the handle to lower the bed rail, she slid her hand along the outside
of the stretcher. She’d just located it when the curtain was twitched aside and a
smiling man in a white lab coat entered. The words Emergency Physician were
embroidered in red, slanting letters over his left breast pocket. Beneath that was
his name. Peter Erhart, M.D.
“I’m Dr. Erhart.” He stated the obvious and pressed Leslie’s hand by way of
greeting. “How are you feeling?”
“Other than a little tired, Þ ne. I hope you’re here to discharge me.”
The doctor pulled a stainless steel stool to the side of the stretcher and sat
down. When he crossed his arms on the top of the bed rail, he and Leslie were
nearly eye to eye. “We’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”
• 22 •
WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE
Leslie’s stomach tightened, but she knew from experience that nothing would
show on her face. Calmly, she asked, “Why is that?”
“Your EKG shows frequent runs of supraventricular tachycardia and occasional
short bursts of atrial ß utter accompanied by a precipitous drop in your blood
pressure.”
“Which is why I fainted.”
Dr. Erhart looked surprised. “I understand you’re an attorney. Do you handle
medical cases?”
“No, but my…an associate does. I understand what you’re saying.”
She’d discussed enough malpractice cases with Rachel to understand the
terminology. She wondered idly if anyone had called Rachel, and then realized
no one would have had any reason to. A few people in the ofÞ ce, including
Stephanie, were probably aware of her relationship with Rachel Hawthorne, but
it wasn’t as if they presented themselves as a couple. Which they weren’t. Not
technically. She realized her mind was wandering, something else that never
happened to her, and she forced herself to focus. “What’s causing it and what
needs to be done about it?”
Dr. Erhart smiled. “I wish I could answer both questions right now, but I can’t.
Any number of things could be causing the accelerated heart rate, including ß
uctuations in hormone levels, medications, drugs.”
When he let the last word linger in the air, Leslie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not on
any medication and I don’t take drugs of any kind. I don’t smoke and I drink in
moderation.”
“Your baseline blood pressure is also off the charts for someone your age. So it
might be something as simple as stress…perhaps something at work? Or at
home?”
“No. Neither.” Leslie made an impatient gesture, which was cut short by the taut
intravenous line tethering her to a nearby pole. “Look.
I understand the need to be thorough and—”
The ß uttering in her chest started at the same time as the monitor next to the
bed began to screech. She struggled to catch her breath and found she couldn’t.
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