Page 192 of Hidden Nature
He raved about her pork chops, and she had to admit they came out to a turn.
“Your cooking’s going to make me fat,” he said as he took another helping of potatoes.
“The way you work? You need the calories, so you eat up. I don’t want a bag of bones.”
He laughed; he ate.
When he pushed his plate away, he patted his belly. “Ain’t no bag of bones around here. That was a fine meal, babe. And I tell you what. Let’s just leave the dishes for now, have another glass of this wine, and see what we see in those records.”
“I got rocky road.”
He groaned. “For after.”
“That’s more than fine with me. I couldn’t eat another bite, and I’m anxious to see what’s on that flash drive. If we find proof, we have to figure how to deal with it.”
“Burned witches, didn’t they?”
“That or hanging. I think drowning, too. But getting her here’s what I mean. I told you she’s like real police. Carries a gun.”
“Wasn’t wearing one when she came in to the hospital, was she?”
“Not that I could see.”
“So we take her, if we do, when she’s not being police. Not carrying. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
He had a way, she thought, that always settled her.
“You’re right, and I’m borrowing trouble. We don’t know what’s what until we look.”
They cleared the table, left the dishes.
After they opened the laptop, Clara stuck in the drive.
“Here we go. We’ll start with the surgeon’s records, work back from what he got of her history.”
As they read, Sam shifted closer. “Missed her heart, but not by much.”
“By enough. Had a head wound, too. No penetration there. Makes me wonder right off. People survive GSWs all the time. Even multiple. But…”
Frowning, she read on, then her breath caught. She reached over to grip Sam’s hand.
“Look here, look!”
He leaned in a little more, then sat back. “I’ll be damned—sorry. I know you don’t like me saying that, but I’m just that surprised.”
“She’s one of them, Sam. She’s one of the resurrected. That’s what I felt, that’s the message trying to get through. She’s part of the mission, and she came to me herself.”
Closing her eyes, Clara laid another hand on her heart. “We were meant to meet that way. Sam, we’re meant to send her home. Whether that’s Heaven or Hell, we’re meant to send her home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Spring popped in small ways. The honk of geese, the waddle of ducks, the glide of newly hatched cygnets guarded by Mom and Dad. Daffodils opened to trumpets even through the occasional shower of snow.
And snow melted away in rising temperatures.
Boats and kayaks joined the waterfowl on the lake along with the occasional hardy, wet-suited skiers.
Those rising temperatures brought rain as well as a shower of snow. Rain and melting snow brought the mud. Sloan assisted more than one hiker with a turned ankle or wrenched knee down a sloppy trail.
