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Laying aside the newspaper he’d read without retaining a single word, Jake stood to meet her. “All done?” he asked. No cast, just a wrap job, which meant a bad sprain, not a break. “What’s with the hand?” Her right hand was bandaged, all but two fingers and her thumb.
    â€œSplinters. I lost three fingernails, too.”
    His eyes widened. “Good God, that’s awful!” he swallowed hard, fighting back nausea.
    â€œI think another one’s loose and I just had them done last week. Now I’ll have to get the whole right hand done over.” Glancing over her shoulder, she thanked theorderly. “I can make it from here just fine,” she assured him with a smile that was undiminished by chewed-off lipstick and smeared mascara.
    â€œIt’s the rules, ma’am,” the orderly said, refusing to dump her out of the wheelchair.
    Jake shook his head. He crossed to the double glass doors and held it wide. “Come on, don’t be so stubborn.”
    Together, the two men eased her from the wheelchair onto the front seat. Jake slipped the orderly a few bucks—didn’t know if it was proper or not, but the kid was about Timmy’s age. Might even have been a classmate.
    They drove several miles in silence except for a few heavy sighs coming from the passenger side. The first time they stopped for a red light, Jake tried to get a handle on how bad she was hurting. “We’ll stop by and get your prescription filled, then we’ll cut over to the beach road and put the top up on your car. It should be all right there for a few days until you can drive.”
    â€œOh, wait a minute—just hold on, I’m not leaving my car unattended.”
    â€œYou feel up to driving?” He looked pointedly at her ankle, which was once again propped on the padded carton.
    â€œIt’s not a stick shift.”
    â€œSasha—Ms. Lasiter—look at it from my perspective. If I dump you out in Kitty Hawk, I won’t sleep a wink wondering if you made it home all right. It’d be criminal negligence at the very least if anything happened to you.” They must’ve given her something for pain. From the way she was blinking her eyes, the lady was floating around in la-la land.
    â€œI can call a taxi.”
    â€œThat won’t help you move your car. Look, I got you safely to the hospital, didn’t I? Don’t you trust me to get you home?”
    Another milepost zipped past. He turned off onto the street that dead-ended at a row of oceanfront cottages that were identical but for color and the placement of a few exterior details. Driftwinds, where she’d left her car, was the next to last one on the cul-de-sac.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have to drive me all the way to Muddy Landing.”
    She was softening, he could tell. Truth was, he didn’t know why he was going to all this trouble. He should be working on the Jamison case, especially since so far his stakeout had produced zilch.
    â€œYou like barbecue?” he asked, climbing back into the SUV after pulling her car into the paved space underneath the cottage, putting the top up and locking it.
    Nice wheels. The lady had good taste. He handed her the keys and backed out onto the street.
    â€œWho doesn’t?” She was picking at the bandage on her hand, and he reached over and covered both of hers with one of his.
    â€œLeave it alone,” he said. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to pick at stuff like that?”
    That warranted a fleeting smile. He had a feeling she was hurting more than she wanted to let on, even after whatever they’d given her at the hospital. Which was kind of surprising, because judging by her looks alone he’d have figured her for a complainer.
    Not until some ten minutes later when he came out with two barbecue plates and climbed back under the wheel did it occur to Jake that either they were going toshare a late lunch