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cupped her hand, extended her arm into
the partially collapsed area of the shelter, and brought it back,
examining the water in her palm. Gemma moved their bags and curled
the ground tarp away from the leak. Ben waited for her to continue,
massaging the pounding ache in his temples. His scalp crawled as if
those creepy things she was so worried about covered his head and
tension cramped his muscles. The fine hair on his arms stood up
like it had right before the lightning strike.
    “It was forty-five minutes before anyone
came,” she finally said. “An hour before fire and rescue arrived.
They got him out but it was too late. I question my decision to
stay. Wonder if I’d gone for help if he’d still be alive.”
    “Too late?” He winced. “He died before they
got there?”
    “No. They got him out.”
    “How do you know he died? Did you go to the
hospital?” She described his accident precisely. But he had lived.
At least he thought he had.
    “No on the hospital. Saw in a newspaper he
died.”
    “What did it say?”
    “Only read the headline.” She paused and gave
him a concerned look. “You okay, Doc? You’re breathing kinda
hard.”
    “Yeah. The heat and humidity . . . making it
. . . difficult.” That and the fact that he may have found the
woman who saved his life. “Where did this happen? Are you sure it
was the same man?” Damn it. He had to be sure.
    She tipped her head to look at him. “Geeze,
after I answer all these questions do I get a toaster oven?”
    “And a lifetime supply of protein bars,” he
said, dialing back his intensity.
    “Texas.”
    “That where you’re from?”
    “Whoops, there go my prizes.” She rested her
forehead on her knees.
    Shit. He’d pushed too hard. “Sorry. Too
personal, huh?”
    “Yep,” she said through a yawn. “Get some
sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
    Not as long as tonight . Was Gemma
Hendrickson the angel who saved his life and disappeared into the
darkness with no one knowing who she was? Or was the stress of
today’s crash causing him to see what wasn’t there? He closed his
eyes and recalled what he could of the accident, as he’d done
thousands of times. What she said a few minutes ago about being
able to do anything for a few hours was what the woman said to him
that night. Even the way she said it was the same. He leaned and
took in a deep breath. Her scent. Geesus. She described the accident to him. She had to have been there. He
wanted, needed to stand up and pace. His head felt like it had been
hit by a dozen of those coconuts. A fiery pain ran the length of
the slash across his body like it had just happened.
    Her regular breaths said she was asleep. He
moved until their shoulders touched and waited some time before
circling an arm around her. Then waited longer to gently bring
their bodies together. She stirred then rested heavily against him.
“God, don’t let this be a dream,” he whispered as hot tears stung
his eyes.
    He’d been told many times to give up looking
for her. Private investigators concluded she’d never be found. One
investigator went so far as to say the woman they looked for was
wanted or involved in something illegal. At the very least she was
someplace she wasn’t supposed to be and would never come forward.
Not even to claim the hundred thousand in reward money. He’d never
given up. He’d always thought he’d find a plain woman with a
hardworking husband, 2.3 kids and a dog living in a comfortable
suburban home. He’d thank her, give her a hug and a kiss on the
cheek. And finally, finally be able to put that night behind
him.
    Telling Gemma . . . whew. Where to begin?
    For her to see a newspaper the next day meant
she’d still been close. No paper outside the area would have
carried the story. Fuck! She thought he’d been alone that
night. She didn’t know about Charlie. Thoughts swirled in his head
like the storm around them. He’d have to find the right moment to
tell her. No