Plain Cover-Up. Alison StoneЧитать онлайн книгу.
plan to drink. I wanted...” Her voice trailed off as if she was carefully measuring how much to reveal.
Christina had been drinking the night she was attacked. Perhaps too much.
A night of hazy memories and accusations.
“Naomi, you can trust me. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Tell me what you remember.”
The Amish woman tugged at a blue and purple yarn bracelet on her wrist, such a small thing but it showed she was straddling two worlds. “I told you everything I remember.”
“Who brought you here?” Christina asked, trying to coax out the answers Naomi was holding back.
Naomi shrugged. A single tear trailed down her cheek. “It’s all so fuzzy. Where did you find me?”
“Outside in the rain.” Christina tilted her head to study the young woman. A deep line creased Naomi’s forehead as if they were discussing someone else altogether.
“You don’t remember?”
Naomi shook her head again. “My Englisch friend Cheryl brought me to the party, but I lost track of her.” Her eyes flashed wide. “It wonders me if something happened to her.” Naomi’s entire body trembled and her lower lip had turned a disconcerting shade of blue.
“Is Cheryl the friend who sometimes drives you to work?”
“Yah. Do you know where she is?”
Christina placed her hand on Naomi’s arm. “We’ll find out. First I need you to change into this gown for an exam.”
“Neh, neh...” Naomi fisted the fabric of her dress at her chest. She shook her head and what little color she had in her cheeks visibly drained.
“You have a right to refuse any exam, but if someone hurt you,” Christina spoke softly so as not to further spook her young Amish friend, “we need to collect evidence.”
“Neh, I don’t want anyone to know. Please.”
Christina’s heart broke for the young woman and she fought to remain calm. She patted the sweatpants and sweatshirt sitting on the exam table. “Would you give me a urine sample? It would help us determine the drugs in your system. You can use the bathroom right there.”
“I didn’t take drugs. I don’t do drugs.”
“Someone could have slipped you something in a drink.”
“I only had one beer.” Naomi bowed her head. “I shouldn’t have had that.”
“No, one’s blaming you.” Christina smiled. “I’d like to do a test to check.”
Naomi seemed hesitant at first, then agreed.
“Okay, then. Take care of the sample, then change into these dry clothes. We’ll chat once you’re dry.”
“You’re not going to call the sheriff?”
Again, Christina carefully phrased her reply. “No, not unless you agree. I believe we should, but I’ll respect your wishes.” She smiled again, trying to reassure Naomi that she could trust her. “Take care of this—” she tapped the specimen container “—then get dressed.”
Naomi looked up at her with trusting eyes and Christina worried that she wasn’t worthy of such confidence. Such trust. Trust she had repeatedly sought from other victimized women who had come through her clinic over the years.
It was a long road.
Christina had failed miserably in protecting herself. She had allowed one night—one man—to define her. To shape her choices.
But would helping Naomi put Christina in harm’s way? Had it already? Christina touched her arm, tender from landing hard on it when Dylan pushed her out of the path of the racing car.
None of that mattered. She had to help Naomi.
Christina patted Naomi’s hand, making a silent promise that she’d protect the woman. To help her not let tonight define who she was.
Dear God, help me do right by this young woman.
Dylan drummed his fingers on the counter-height surface outside of the exam room in the rear of the Apple Creek Healthcare Clinic. He understood the young Amish woman’s need for privacy, but he was eager to learn who had dropped her off at the clinic because that same person tried to run Christina over with his vehicle.
It didn’t make sense. Someone cared enough to drop Naomi off here, but had recklessly aimed their vehicle at the physician meant to help her. Clearly whoever it was wasn’t thinking. Period.
Or perhaps they hadn’t realized the figure walking toward them was the physician. Either way, they were reckless and needed to be found.
The cold fingers of dread scraped across the back of his neck. What if he hadn’t hopped into his truck to see if Christina needed a ride with the approaching storm? She had refused his offer at the diner, and she could be stubborn. She had proven that by giving him the cold shoulder ever since he moved back to Apple Creek in January. Five months of polite greetings on the street. Nothing more. Nothing less.
He supposed he deserved that. He had broken up with Christina when they were both at Genwego State. She’d been an undergraduate and he was finishing up law school. He had told her he wanted to move to Buffalo to be an FBI agent and had no plans of settling down, least of all in Apple Creek. The breakup had been both efficient and cruel.
But life had a way of getting back at him, dishing out a hearty helping of cruelty. Now here he was serving as an interim professor at his alma mater, on extended leave from the FBI. He hadn’t been the kind of agent he had hoped to be, and his partner, Special Agent Nora Reed, had paid the ultimate price. And when an opening came up at the law school, he figured, why not? It gave him something to do besides ruminate over his failings.
Dylan shook his head, trying to dispel the dark clouds forever hovering over him. He paced the small space outside the three exam rooms, eager to expend his restless energy, eager to hear Naomi’s version of events. He rubbed the back of his neck, grateful that tonight he had been in the right place at the right time. Christina had nearly been run over. His childhood self might have thanked God for the act of divine intervention, but his tough upbringing didn’t give him many opportunities to thank anyone, let alone God.
The floorboards creaked behind the closed door and Dylan watched the door handle turn. Christina appeared, directing Naomi to the bathroom. When Dylan started to ask Christina what was going on, she shook her head. A few minutes later, Naomi emerged, holding wet garments and looking like any other teen fresh out of the shower, with wet hair and comfy clothes.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Christina opened her mouth to say something when the front door crashed open. “Hello?” a female’s voice hollered down the hall. “Hello, I’m looking for Naomi Mullet. Is Naomi here?” The young woman sounded strained as she drew closer.
Recognition dawned on Naomi’s face, with a hint of relief. “Cheryl.” Naomi moved toward her friend’s voice and stumbled over a lump in the carpet. Dylan grabbed her elbow to steady her.
Christina pushed a chair over. “Sit here. I’ll bring Cheryl back.”
Naomi nodded, relief and exhaustion playing on her pretty face.
Cheryl charged into the back of the clinic dressed in blue jeans and a university sweatshirt. Her red hair was pulled into a long ponytail, her freckles prominent on her pale skin. Relief lit her heavily made-up eyes. “There you are! I was so worried.” She gave her Amish friend’s sweatpants and sweatshirt a once over. “What happened to your clothes?”
Christina watched the young woman intently. “Were you at the party