“I hate ice.” Nicole winced as Ethan secured the ice pack around her ankle.
“Ice is your friend.” Ethan gently repositioned her ankle. “It’s the best anti-inflammatory there is.”
Nicole knew she was grumbling too much. Despite her best resolve, though, the complaints came out of her mouth. Her ankle throbbed. Pain pills helped, but they made her groggy. If it weren’t for Quinn’s absence, maybe she’d be a better patient, but she wasn’t going to get a chance to find out.
“We should have gone to Birch Bend,” she said. “We would at least be doing something useful while you’re still here.”
“Nicole, we already talked about this.”
She put her head back against the chair and sighed. “I hate ice. I hate pain. I hate the stupid pills. I hate not knowing where Quinn is. I hate that I let ten years go by. I hate it all.”
“I know.” Ethan adjusted the pillow under her foot.
“Has Hansen called you back?”
“Not yet. Do you want something to drink?”
“Juice, please.” The sugar might jolt her brain into action.
She could ride in the backseat of Ethan’s car with her foot elevated on as many pillows as he wanted to prescribe. Except when she was icing her ankle, it was immobilized in a boot cast—and considering how much it hurt, Nicole was certain she would remember not to put any weight on it while using crutches. Birch Bend had the county clerk’s office and a larger regional newspaper than the few pages Marv Stanford produced every Tuesday.
Ethan handed her a glass of cranberry juice. “Friday is only the day after tomorrow. You can see the orthopedist and, if you feel up to it, make some inquiries in Birch Bend.”
Nicole drank half the juice in one long gulp. “Maybe you should call Hansen again.”
“He’ll call when he has something to say.”
“If you leave, who will take me to the orthopedist?”
Ethan sat on the end of the coffee table and rearranged the ice pack on Nicole’s foot. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure Lauren can suggest someone who might help—someone from the church, perhaps.”
Nicole sipped the juice, this time with less vigor. Ethan was right. Lauren had a lot on her mind, but she wouldn’t leave Nicole stranded on Friday.
Nicole wanted Ethan to take her, though, and not just because he would indulge her investigative urges.
Nicole handed the empty glass to Ethan. “I should call my office again.”
She was going to have to rearrange her life for a couple of weeks even if she managed to get home to St. Louis and even if she didn’t need surgery. Nicole had been trying to reach Terry, the administrative assistant who provided support to a cadre of reporters. It was unlike Terry to go all day without responding to a phone message. Nicole called Terry’s direct line once again and got her voice mail for the fourth time that day.
Ethan took the juice glass to the kitchen. Nicole heard running water and clinking plates as Ethan cleaned up the lunch dishes. She looked at the time displayed on her cell phone, anxious to get the ice off her ankle and the boot back on. Ethan was a stickler, not willing to shave even two minutes off the twenty-minute icing cycle. Lauren had made Nicole comfortable in a set of sweats, but if Nicole was going to be confined to Lauren’s apartment for at least the next two days, she was going to need her own things. Ethan would have to go to the Sandquist house and gather up the contents of the suitcase Nicole had traveled with. Already she’d exceeded the number of days she planned to stay in Hidden Falls.
At least the recliner was next to the big window overlooking Main Street. Nicole rolled her head toward the outside view of a sunny fall day identical to yesterday. An Indian summer might still erupt, but for now, most people moving around town wore a sweater or light jacket. Without leaning against the window more precariously than Ethan would permit, Nicole couldn’t see the sidewalk below the apartment, but she had a clear view of the other side of the street. A small park interrupted the row of specialty shops, and Nicole’s eyes settled there. The trees at the center of the park had dropped another layer of leaves since Nicole looked on the same scene the day before. Ragged points of maple leaves curled in as the breeze clustered fallen colors against the trunks of the trees.
A man walked through the park, and a flare of recognition made Nicole’s head leave the back of the chair as she leaned toward the glass. A second man followed, his manner a little too precise to suit Nicole.
“Ethan.”
His steps brought him out of the kitchen. “Need something?”
“Come here. Isn’t that your dad down in the park?”
Ethan made no move to cross the room.
Nicole looked up at him. “I have a bad feeling. Maybe you should go down there.”
Now Ethan stood beside the chair and looked out.
“That is your dad, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but you know I wasn’t planning to see them.”
“This is different. That other guy—” Nicole lurched as much as the sprawling recliner would allow.
In the park, the second man came up behind Richard Jordan and reached for his back pocket. Richard responded to the man’s touch with a swift pulse of his elbow, and the two of them tussled. Richard fell to the ground and the other man—younger and someone Nicole didn’t recognize—ran back in the direction he’d come from.
“Did he get your dad’s wallet?” Nicole asked.
“I couldn’t tell.”
“You should go down there and make sure your dad’s all right.”
Ethan didn’t move. “He’s already getting up. He’s not hurt.”
Richard Jordan resumed his walk, crossed Main Street, and went out of view.
“It’s been ten years, Ethan.” Nicole caught his eyes and held them.
“I know.”
“You’re not a kid now. You know how the world works.”
Ethan stepped away. “I’m aware of my age. Some things don’t change.”
“They might. Besides, sooner or later, someone is going to mention to your parents that they saw you.”
Ethan picked up Nicole’s phone and tapped an application. “Here. See if you can beat yourself at Scrabble. No Internet browsing allowed.”
Nicole took the phone, but her eyes returned to the empty park.