“No.”
“Yes.” Heath folded his arms over his massive chest, a mulish expression on his face, and she barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at him.
Camilla rolled her eyes at Heath and shoved her bloody shirt into the plastic bag the nurse provided. Luckily, they’d offered her a scrub top to wear home, because she really dreaded putting the icky, blood-encrusted one back on.
“Look, I’m perfectly capable of getting home all by myself. You don’t need to stick around.”
“Now who’s being stubborn? I’m already here, with a perfectly good rental car. I’m going to drive you home.”
She laid the bag on the end of the hospital bed, and turned to face Heath again, surprised he was here in North Carolina, and more specifically, in her hospital room. She’d been speechless when she’d opened her eyes earlier and found him sitting beside her bed. The gentleness of his smile almost undid her, because the whole time she’d been in Shiloh Springs visiting Beth, she’d never seen the softer, gentler side of the grumpy giant. Nope, he’d been a thorn in her backside from the moment they’d met. Something about him seemed larger than life, and he’d zeroed in on her with a torpedo focus and made her visit—interesting seemed such a tame word for the roller-coaster ride of emotions she’d experienced every time she came face to face with Heath Boudreau.
“Why are you here?”
“I told you, Beth’s worried about you. Since she’s your emergency contact, she got the call from the hospital you’d been shot.” His gaze seemed to bore straight into her, examining every nook and cranny, and leaving her feeling like she didn’t quite measure up. “By the way, why’s Beth your emergency contact? She lives halfway across the country, yet your parents live here. Shouldn’t they have been the first call?”
“None of your business, nosy.” She winced when she reached for the bag on the bed, pulling at the stitches in her arm. Everything about the last couple of days was still a total blank, right up until she opened her eyes in the emergency room. Officer Dandridge had left a message he’d be stopping by her townhouse to ask more questions, since she was going home.
“Ms. Stewart, I’ve got your discharge instructions printed out, and here’s your prescription for the antibiotics and a pain reliever.” The nurse who’d loaned her the shirt handed her several printed pages and two prescriptions. Camilla liked the cheerful woman, whose gentle touch and pleasant demeanor made things a bit easier, especially since she hated being in the hospital.
“Thanks. When can I get out of here? I appreciate everything and everybody who’s helped me, but I want to go home.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve got a wheelchair right outside the door.” She grinned toward Heath. “You want to do the honors?”
He chuckled while Camilla bit back a groan. Great, I bet he’s going to pretend to be Mario Andretti, and race through the halls at breakneck speed.
The nurse wheeled the chair into the room, and Camilla eyed it warily. “Can’t I walk? I didn’t hurt my legs, they work fine.”
“Sorry, hospital policy. We’ve gotta make sure you make it out the doors in one piece. After that, you’re free and clear.”
With a wary glance at Heath, she slid onto the seat of the wheelchair, and placed the plastic bag and all the papers in her lap. “Take me home, please.”
“My pleasure, darlin’.”
Taking a deep breath, Camilla waited for Heath to swerve recklessly down the hall. Instead, he treated her like delicate glass, moving slowly and carefully to the elevator, making sure they didn’t bump anything along the way. They rode down in silence, while the nurse went over the discharge instructions once again. Get plenty of rest. Don’t get the stitches wet. Take the antibiotic twice a day for a week, and don’t miss any. Use the pain medication if she needed it. Blah, blah, blah.
Heath wheeled her to the sliding front doors of the hospital and came around to squat in front of her. “I’m going to get the car and pull it up outside. I’ll only be a couple of minutes. Stay here.”
She made a cross-my-heart motion, biting back the smile that threatened. There was such a serious expression on his face, like he was afraid if he left her alone even for a second, she’d bolt. Nope, she was anxious to get home and get into a hot bath, and maybe take one of the aforementioned pain pills.
“Camilla?”
Glancing up, she saw her neighbor, William Davis, standing in front of her, leaning on his cane. That was surprising. She’d met the older man when he’d moved into the townhouse next door to hers. They’d spoken a few times, their paths crossing when they checked the mai, stuff like that. He seemed like a pleasant enough man, though she imagined he was a bit of a recluse—like her.
“Mr. Davis, what a nice surprise.”
“How are you doing, Camilla? I’ve been worried about you, with everything that happened. It was quite a bit of excitement. Did the doctors get you all fixed up?”
Camilla pointed to the bandage on her forehead. “Turns out I’ve got a hard head. Really, I’m fine. They’re letting me go home.”
“Wonderful.” He shifted his weight, leaning heavily on his cane. Camilla couldn’t remember a single time she’d seem him without it. She’d wondered more than once what happened to his leg but didn’t feel right asking.
“They’ve assured me there’s no serious injury.”
“But you were shot! There was blood everywhere.”
Camilla sat a little straighter in the wheelchair. Mr. Davis had been there. Had he seen everything that happened? Maybe he could give her some answers.
“Mr. Davis—”
“How many times must I tell you call me William, dear?” The heavy lines beside his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and she felt herself smiling, too.
“William, did you see what happened?”
“Oh, yes indeed. It was dreadful. I’d come outside to check on Oscar. I let him out to do his business, and he started barking like crazy. At first, I thought he was barking at you, dear. You’d stopped to pet him, and you waved at me and started back to your home. Then there was this bang, and you spun around and fell. Scared me half to death.”
“You saw what happened?”
“Yes, I did. Though it all happened so fast. I scooped up Oscar and put him in the house, and then came and checked on you. You were unconscious, and there was so much blood.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you were dead.”
Camilla’s thoughts whirled. If Mr. Davis had seen everything, maybe he could tell her who the shooter was. With her memory being wonky, maybe he could fill in the blanks.
“I’m sorry if it scared you. Can you tell me what you saw? I’m kind of…sketchy on the details.”
Mr. Davis’ brow furrowed, and he studied her face. “What do you mean?
Camilla blew out her breath, and ran her free hand through her hair, wondering where Heath was. Shouldn’t he be back with the car by now?
“I’ve got a slight concussion, and I’m having a bit of a problem remembering exactly what happened.”
“What—you can’t remember anything?” His words were laced with shock.
She shook her head softly, because any sudden movement made the headache, currently a dull roar, come screeching to the forefront. “I’ve got something they’re calling retrograde amnesia. I should get all my memories back eventually, but for now it’s all a big blank.”
“That must be awful, dear. I gave a full report to the police when they arrived. I was the only witness, and they grilled me for a long time.” He grinned, his face lighting. “I felt like I was in one of those TV shows I watch, where the cops keep asking questions and jotting down notes in their notebooks. I wish I could have told them more, but I really didn’t see much. I only heard the shot and saw you fall.”
“Well, I appreciate you’re telling them what you know. I hope they catch whoever did this. It’s frustrating not knowing.”
“Don’t you worry. I’m sure the police will catch the miscreant and lock him up for good.” He patted her hand. “Well, I’ve got to run. Let me know if there’s anything you need, dear.”
Camilla watched him walk through the sliding doors, the electronic woosh echoing behind him. She’d have to make certain to have him over for coffee and try and get more details from him. But first, she needed to get home herself.
She didn’t have to wait long before she saw a white SUV pull up under the covered area outside the front doors. Heath jogged around and opened the passenger side door and came back into the lobby.
“Ready to go?”
“Absolutely.”
Camilla found herself quickly ensconced in the front seat; seat belt clicked into place. Heath’s gentleness surprised her. For all his size, and he was mammoth, he was careful with her, treating her like spun glass. She couldn’t help comparing this compassionate, sweet man with the one she’d met when she’d visited Beth. That Heath? He’d been the bane of her existence, leaving her ready to pull her hair out. Except in her dreams. Oh, those dreams had definitely leaned toward her naughty side, and he’d played a starring role in every one of them.
“Give me your address, and I’ll plug it into the GPS.”
She rattled it off, and within a minute they were headed toward her place. Leaning back against the headrest, she studied the man beside her. With his size, she wasn’t surprised by the SUV, because she couldn’t picture him being comfortable in a sedan. Over six five, and broad-shouldered, he probably intimidated a lot of people—but not her. Nope, she’d gone toe-to-toe with him back in Texas and hadn’t backed down. If she was honest, she’d enjoyed their little battles, the playful give and take. That wasn’t to say he didn’t drive her crazy—he did—but he’d never crossed the line from being a prank-playing pest to anything intimidating or scary.
During that visit, she’d found herself listening for the sound of his Harley, admiring the way he controlled all that chrome and steel, taming the beast to his will. She’d almost succumbed and asked him for a ride, but chickened out in the end. She’d been too afraid he’d find out she’d never been on a bike before, and making a fool of herself in front of Heath wasn’t gonna happen.
“If you don’t mind, I need to make a quick stop by the pharmacy and pick up the prescriptions the hospital called in.”
“I know, darlin’. That’s not a problem. Which one do you want to stop at?”
Camilla straightened in the seat, shifting gingerly beneath the seatbelt. “There’s one not far from the townhouse I’ve used in the past. Make a right at the next light, and it’ll be down two blocks on your right.”
Heath followed her directions and pulled into the parking lot. “Looks like there’s a drive through pharmacy. Can you pick it up there or do you need to go inside?”
“Drive through works for me.”
Within minutes, the prescriptions were filled, and they headed for her townhouse. Camilla closed her eyes, wishing she could remember the events of the previous couple of days. It seemed implausible—impossible—somebody intended to hurt her intentionally. Just her luck, she was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time and was a victim of circumstance. That had to be it.
“Beth was really scared when she got the phone call you were in the hospital.”
Camilla rubbed her hand over her forehead. “She’s been my emergency contact for years. I guess it never dawned on me to change it after she and my brother got divorced. I hate she had to hear about the accident that way.”
“Accident?”
“It had to be, right? Nobody’s out to hurt me, why would they be? I’m a writer; I make my living sitting at a desk in my house. Most people wouldn’t know who I am if I passed them on the street. I haven’t done anything to be on anybody’s hit list. I wish I could remember exactly what happened though.”
“What do you remember?” Heath’s calm voice soothed the hint of anxiety lingering beneath the surface, and Camilla realized he was probably as tired as she was; he’d flown most of the night to get here.
“The police keep asking me that question, and I keep giving them the same answer. I remember going to my parents for dinner on Saturday night. I left as soon as I could, because my parents are…difficult.”
“How so?”
Camilla shook her head, picturing the laughing and smiling Boudreau clan. “You need to understand, my parents are nothing like yours. Your family is close knit and loving. My parents aren’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they loved me and Evan, but they aren’t demonstrative. They’re set in their ways and refuse to accept the world and people outside their little circle change and grow. Good things and bad things happen, and they seem to be oblivious to what’s right under their noses.” She shrugged before continuing. “I remember getting into an argument about Evan. Of course, it’s always about Evan. They still can’t or won’t accept he did the things he did to Beth and Tessa. He was going to kill them. Coldheartedly and without remorse, because he wanted money. Yet, they’re blind to his flaws. Convinced he’s been railroaded by the local yokels in some backwater Texas town, and he’ll be released on appeal. Nothing I say or do can convince them he’s guilty. To my parents, he’s the perfect son and brother, and I’m the turncoat traitor who refuses to see what’s right in front of me.”
“I’m sorry, Camilla. I had no idea things were rough between you and your family.”
She crossed her arms across her middle, moving her arm gingerly to keep from aggravating the stitches. “It is what it is. They’re never going to change, but they are my parents, and I love them despite their pigheadedness.”
Heath’s hand left the steering wheel and gently patted her hand. “Sometimes dealing with parents sucks. I’m sorry.”
Camilla drew in a ragged breath. “I remember walking home from their place. It’s about a half mile from their house to mine, and I needed some fresh air to cool off my temper, and think about what I needed to do the next morning. After that, it’s all a blank. A big empty whole of nothing, until I woke up in the emergency room.”
“Which leaves almost forty-eight hours you can’t remember? How about, when we get back to your place, we take a look at your computer? See if we can piece together a bit of your missing time, how’s that sound?”
She shot him a huge smile. “Sounds like a great idea. What are you waiting for, mister? Drive.”