The Spirit Tree by Kathryn M. Hearst Read Free Book Online Page A

patient. How long could a human being continue to scream before his voice gave out?
    My boss’s voice rang out from the hall. “Close the damned door. The last thing we want is for it to get out.”
    One of the men glanced from me to the snake and up the hall. He shrugged and stepped into the hall. Even the croucher began to walk backward to the door. I, however, couldn’t get the hysterical patient to the door without forcing him to step down off the chair. He could hurt himself, or me, if I forced him to move.
    “Tessa. Out. Now!” My boss shouted, red-faced and angry.
    I shook my head and motioned back toward Mr. Owens, trying to communicate my thoughts without words—it didn’t work. My boss slammed the door. I couldn’t believe he’d left me alone with a hysterical patient and a potentially poisonous snake. Mr. Owens’s screams began to die down, only to return with vigor each time the snake moved.
    Awhile later, the door to the office eased open, and Mr. Owens launched into a new series of screams. A man wearing hip waders came into the office. Others milled in the hall, but no one else came in. The hip wader guy followed Mr. Owens’s wide gaze directly to the coiled snake and pulled out a long metal stick with a hook. As if the snake sensed a worthy adversary, its telltale rattle filled the office. Mr. Owens’s nails dug into my arm, clawing me like a feral cat. The more the wrangler poked the snake, the more Mr. Owens clawed.
    “Stop it!” I shouted. To my amazement, Mr. Owens stilled and quieted behind me.
    The wrangler looked as if I’d sprouted a second head, and even the snake stopped rattling. “What the hell?”
    “I have no idea.” I needed to get down from the chair. My head throbbed.
    The wrangler hooked the snake and pulled the loop closed. The snake wiggled as he dropped it into a heavy sack inside a five-gallon bucket.
    Mr. Owens fainted. I tried to catch him before he hit the ground, and missed. “Could you check my bag for more hitchhikers?”
    The wrangler poked the bag a couple of times and looked inside. “All clear.”
    “Thanks.” I collapsed into the chair.

Chapter 12
    Two paramedics came into the room. One tended to Mr. Owens, the other placed his hand on my shoulder. “Miss, are you injured?”
    I wanted to yell, but the paramedic didn’t deserve my anger. “My arm . . .”
    Aaron and Detective Samuels crowded into my office. I frowned, and turned my attention to the stinging in my arm. The paramedic swabbed Betadine over the scratches.
    “These are superficial. I’ll clean and bandage them. You should follow up with your primary physician.” The paramedic motioned to the blood on my foot. “Is your leg injured?”
    I must have gone numb at some point, because I’d forgotten about my leg. “I have a superficial gunshot wound. I hit it against the desk pretty hard.”
    “Miss Lamar, are you up to giving us a statement?” Detective Samuels asked, a hint of humor in his voice.
    “Why? Unless you’re going to charge the snake with something, no crimes were committed here.”
    “Since there were snakes involved in the attempted break-in, there may be a connection. We aren’t ruling anything out.” Aaron sounded almost apologetic.
    “Sure, why not.”
    Samuels shut the door. “Who has access to this office?”
    “The clinical staff and the director. My door was unlocked this morning when I came in. I lock it at night when I leave. But I think the snake was already in my bag when I came in.”
    “What? The bag you were carrying around in the station?” Samuels paled.
    “You know, we treat phobias here. If you’re afraid of snakes.”
    Samuels cleared his throat, and Aaron raised his hand to cover his smile.
    “Mind if I take a look?” Aaron motioned to the bag.
    “Help yourself. The wrangler already looked.”
    Samuels took a step back as Aaron set my bag on the desk and removed Uncle Charlie’s cedar box.
    “No!” I shouted before I could stop