Diamond Bay by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page B

usually scattered first thing in the morning. Ebenezer was the grouchiest goose
living, she was sure, but there was a certain majesty about him, so big and fat and white, and she liked his
eccentricities. Joe came around the back corner of
the house and stood watching as she fed the geese, keeping his distance from
them as he always did. Rachel poured Joe's food in his bowl and filled his
water dish with fresh water, then stepped away. He never approached while she
was still near his food.
    She gathered the ripe tomatoes from her small garden and checked
the bean vines; the green beans would need gathering in another day or so. By that
time her stomach was rumbling emptily, and she realized that it was hours past
her normal breakfast time. Her entire schedule was shot, and there didn't seem
to be much point in trying to regain it. How could she concentrate on writing
when all her senses were attuned to the man in the bedroom?
    She went inside and checked on him, but he hadn't moved. She
freshened the wet cloth and replaced it on his brow, then turned her attention
to her growling stomach. It was so hot that anything cooked seemed too heavy,
so she settled for a sandwich of cold cuts and slices from one of the fresh
tomatoes she had just picked. With a glass of iced tea in one hand and her
sandwich in the other, she turned on the radio and sat down next to it to
listen to the news. There was nothing unusual: the standard political
maneuverings, both local and national; a house fire; a trial of local interest,
followed by the weather, which promised more of the same. None of that offered
even a glimmer of an explanation for the presence and condition of the man in
her bedroom.
    Switching to the scanner, she listened for almost an hour, but
again there was nothing. It was a quiet day, the heat inducing most people to
stay inside. There was nothing about any searches or drug busts. When she heard a car coming to a
stop in front of her house she turned off the scanner and got up to look out the window. Honey was just getting out of her car, carrying still another
grocery sack.
    "How's he doing?" she asked as soon as they were inside.
    "He still hasn't moved. He was feverish when I woke up, so I
managed to get two aspirin and a little bit of water down him. Then I sponged
him off."
    Honey went into the bedroom and carefully checked his pupil
responses, then examined her handiwork on his shoulder and thigh and rebandaged
the wounds. "I bought a new thermometer for this," she muttered,
shaking it down and putting it in his mouth. "I didn't have one for
humans."
    Rachel had been hovering worriedly. "How does he look?"
    "His pupil responses are better, and the wounds look clean,
but he's a long way from being out of the woods. He's going to be a sick man
for several days. Actually, the longer he stays quiet like this, the better it
is for him. He's resting his head and not putting any stress on his shoulder or
leg."
    "What about his fever?"
    Honey counted his pulse, then took the thermometer out of his
mouth and read it.
    "A hundred and two. Not critical, but like I said, he's going
to be very sick for a while. Give him aspirin every four hours and get as much water
down him as you can. Keep sponging him off with cool water to keep him
comfortable. I'll be back tomorrow, but I can't come too often or it'll look
suspicious."
    Rachel managed a tight smile. "Are you sure your imagination
isn't running away with you, too?"
    Honey shrugged. "I listened to the radio and read the
newspaper. There wasn't anything to account for this guy. Maybe you're rubbing
off on me, but all I can think is that only two scenarios are left. One is that he's an agent, and the other is that he's a drug runner hiding from his own people."
    Looking down at him, at his tousled black hair, Rachel shook her
head. "I don't think he's a drug runner."
    "Why not? Do they have identifying tattoos, or
something?"
    She didn't tell Honey about his hands. "I'm probably