Read Online Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch by authors_sort - Free Book Online Page B
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eased the ice in her belly. “All part of the job, ma’am.”
She fingered his jacket over her shoulders. Studied the badge gleaming on his shirt pocket. “This is a job?”
“Sometimes.” His gaze met hers. She felt it again, that curious melting in her stomach. “Sometimes it’s personal.”
62
It was personal now, Caleb thought. Whether he liked it or not.
Maggie sat upright on a padded table, her shoulders straight and her eyes wide and blind. She had exchanged his bloodied handkerchief for a clinic cold pack and his jacket for a cheap paper gown. Even though he understood the need to reduce swelling and preserve whatever evidence remained, he wanted to wrap her, warm her, take care of her somehow.
She hadn’t clung to him or cried. But when Donna Tomah had questioned Caleb’s presence in her examination room, Maggie had said flatly, “He is with me.”
So now Caleb crowded the corner near the head of the table while the doctor sat at the foot. Despite his aching leg, he didn’t sit. He couldn’t sit. He’d pulled off the big reassuring act in the Jeep, but inside he was churning with the need for action, with pity and admiration and cold, deep rage.
Motionless, he watched as Maggie checked little boxes on a medical form and handed the clipboard back to the doctor.
Donna’s round face, unlined beneath her salt-and-pepper hair, creased in a frown. “You’ve left a lot of blanks.”
Maggie’s hands twitched in the paper drape across her lap. “I did not know what to write.”
Donna pursed her lips. “Last name? Age? Address?”
Deliberately, Maggie loosed her grip on the drape and replaced the cold pack on her head. “I don’t remember.”
Caleb stirred in his corner.
“Did you lose consciousness?” Donna asked Maggie.
Caleb answered for her. “Yes.”
“How long?”
Maggie hesitated.
“She was out when I arrived at the scene. Say, at least five minutes.”
63
“Was this injury intentionally caused by another person?
Maggie looked at Caleb.
“You’re safe now,” he said gently. “You don’t have to protect him.”
Her full lips pressed together. “I am not protecting anyone.
“So, intentional injury?” the doctor asked.
“I . . . think so.”
“Somebody was standing over her when I got there,” Caleb volunteered. “He may have hit her with a stick. Plenty of firewood on the beach.”
“Is that what happened?” Donna asked.
Maggie shrugged. The paper gown shifted on her shoulders.
“Do you remember arriving at the beach?” Caleb asked.
A slight hesitation. Victims were often unreliable witnesses, too eager to please or afraid of reprisal. She could be unsure or in shock or struggling with the language. She could be confused.
Or lying.
“Not really,” she said.
“Did you see anybody when you got there?” he persisted.
“I . . . no.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
“The fire.”
“What else?”
She shook her head, in denial or frustration. “I don’t remember.
64
Donna’s gaze met his. “Trauma to the head,” she murmured. “It’s possible.”
“Retrograde amnesia? Doesn’t that usually only affect recent memory? Before and after the event?”
“Why don’t you let me finish my examination before you make a diagnosis.” The doctor glanced at the clipboard on her lap. “Are you on any medications? Prescriptions, over-the-counter drugs?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“What about birth control?”
“No,” Maggie said.
A memory exploded in Caleb’s brain.
“ You could still get pregnant ,” he had warned her.
“ No ,” she’d said, and taken him in her mouth.
“There are things I can give you,” Donna said. “If we determine pregnancy is a possibility.”
He snapped back to the present.
“It’s not,” Maggie
She fingered his jacket over her shoulders. Studied the badge gleaming on his shirt pocket. “This is a job?”
“Sometimes.” His gaze met hers. She felt it again, that curious melting in her stomach. “Sometimes it’s personal.”
62
It was personal now, Caleb thought. Whether he liked it or not.
Maggie sat upright on a padded table, her shoulders straight and her eyes wide and blind. She had exchanged his bloodied handkerchief for a clinic cold pack and his jacket for a cheap paper gown. Even though he understood the need to reduce swelling and preserve whatever evidence remained, he wanted to wrap her, warm her, take care of her somehow.
She hadn’t clung to him or cried. But when Donna Tomah had questioned Caleb’s presence in her examination room, Maggie had said flatly, “He is with me.”
So now Caleb crowded the corner near the head of the table while the doctor sat at the foot. Despite his aching leg, he didn’t sit. He couldn’t sit. He’d pulled off the big reassuring act in the Jeep, but inside he was churning with the need for action, with pity and admiration and cold, deep rage.
Motionless, he watched as Maggie checked little boxes on a medical form and handed the clipboard back to the doctor.
Donna’s round face, unlined beneath her salt-and-pepper hair, creased in a frown. “You’ve left a lot of blanks.”
Maggie’s hands twitched in the paper drape across her lap. “I did not know what to write.”
Donna pursed her lips. “Last name? Age? Address?”
Deliberately, Maggie loosed her grip on the drape and replaced the cold pack on her head. “I don’t remember.”
Caleb stirred in his corner.
“Did you lose consciousness?” Donna asked Maggie.
Caleb answered for her. “Yes.”
“How long?”
Maggie hesitated.
“She was out when I arrived at the scene. Say, at least five minutes.”
63
“Was this injury intentionally caused by another person?
Maggie looked at Caleb.
“You’re safe now,” he said gently. “You don’t have to protect him.”
Her full lips pressed together. “I am not protecting anyone.
“So, intentional injury?” the doctor asked.
“I . . . think so.”
“Somebody was standing over her when I got there,” Caleb volunteered. “He may have hit her with a stick. Plenty of firewood on the beach.”
“Is that what happened?” Donna asked.
Maggie shrugged. The paper gown shifted on her shoulders.
“Do you remember arriving at the beach?” Caleb asked.
A slight hesitation. Victims were often unreliable witnesses, too eager to please or afraid of reprisal. She could be unsure or in shock or struggling with the language. She could be confused.
Or lying.
“Not really,” she said.
“Did you see anybody when you got there?” he persisted.
“I . . . no.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
“The fire.”
“What else?”
She shook her head, in denial or frustration. “I don’t remember.
64
Donna’s gaze met his. “Trauma to the head,” she murmured. “It’s possible.”
“Retrograde amnesia? Doesn’t that usually only affect recent memory? Before and after the event?”
“Why don’t you let me finish my examination before you make a diagnosis.” The doctor glanced at the clipboard on her lap. “Are you on any medications? Prescriptions, over-the-counter drugs?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“What about birth control?”
“No,” Maggie said.
A memory exploded in Caleb’s brain.
“ You could still get pregnant ,” he had warned her.
“ No ,” she’d said, and taken him in her mouth.
“There are things I can give you,” Donna said. “If we determine pregnancy is a possibility.”
He snapped back to the present.
“It’s not,” Maggie
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