on something and be there in twenty minutes.”
Theresa was still talking as Lara clicked off the phone and tossed the cordless unit to her bed. The attorney meant well, but she didn’t understand. When Conley got upset or worried, his mind was like a train on a single track. Lara yanked off her sweatshirt and Lycra pants. He’d been concentrating on their angry words; he’d never seen the car or whatever had hit him and she was to blame.
Pulling a pair of gray slacks from the closet and a black turtleneck, she dressed in record time, guilt fueling her every step. Five seconds later she had her hair slicked back and lipstick slapped on. Running through the kitchen, she grabbed her purse and cell phone and headed out the door, a missed shard crunching beneath her right boot.
She didn’t stop to wonder why her heart was lodged in her throat.
“I DON’T KNOW the details. That’s all I can tell you right now.” Lara gripped the steering wheel of her truck and maneuvered out the driveway. The overhead speaker of her cell phone crackled in response.
“I don’t care if he just has a hangnail, he’s better off in Denver.” Her father’s gravelly voice boomed across the line. “That Podunk hospital in Red Feather is a disaster waiting to happen. He should be down here in Boulder, at the very least.”
Before Lara could answer, she heard her father bark instructions to someone in his office, probably Larry, her stepbrother. “Get me International Helo Service outta Denver! Earl Stanley runs ’em and I want him on the phone—”
“Ed, Ed! Hold off.” Lara spoke loudly, trying to get his attention back. “I want to check things out at the hospital before you start taking over the situation. I’ll call you from there.”
“But I can have a chopper at Red Feather in no time! We’ll airlift him to Denver then Houston if we need to—”
“Let me see him first, okay? I promise I’ll call you after I get a handle on things, then we can decide what to do.”
Something in her voice must have registered. He spoke again, this time slower. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I can—”
“I know you ‘can’ anything, okay?” Lara reached the corner, the snowbound street before her virtually deserted, a blanket of white swirling down over the trees and parked cars. Another six inches of snow had fallen since she’d taken Sandy home. “But let me see what’s going on before you go into action. The way Theresa talked, I don’t think he’s hurt that badly.”
Silence was her only answer and Lara cursed to herself. He had his faults, but the old coot could read her like a well-worn book.
“If that’s what you think, how come you’re so upset?”
Lara tightened her hands, her leather gloves squeaking inside the still freezing cabin of the truck. “What makes you think I’m upset?”
“I can hear it in your voice, dammit. What kinda imbecile do you think I am? I’ve been your father for thirty-three years! You don’t think—”
“Okay, okay…enough already!” She gunned the engine and turned the corner, fighting the skidding tires. She didn’t want to explain but telling him this way did have its advantages; she could confess what was going on, then hang up on him. He could rant and rave to Larry and his wife, Stephanie. Stephanie was the sweetest person Lara knew—she could actually calm Ed down sometimes.
“So what it is?” he demanded. “If you think Con’s okay what’s wrong?”
“We had a fight this morning.”
“Everyone fights. That’s what marriage is about.”
“Not us,” she answered grimly. “Conley doesn’t argue, you know that.”
He grunted his agreement and waited for her to continue.
“We fought because…because I told him I want a divorce.”
“A divorce! Are you nuts?” Her father’s wrathful voice filled the interior of the truck. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You don’t understand—”
“You’re damn right I don’t understand! Conley Harrison is the best thing in your life. The man’s a brick! He makes more money than you can ever spend, he obviously loves you—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ed must have heard the pain and weariness in her voice because he instantly fell silent, an unusual state for her father. “I don’t want to go into it right now, but you’re going to have to trust me on this one. Things have gotten pretty bad around here.”
When he remained silent, Lara knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d told her more than once it’d almost killed him when her mother had left him. She’d been the only woman he’d truly loved, and it was Lara’s theory he’d been searching ever since for the same feeling.
After a moment, he asked quietly, “Is it another man, baby? Are you in love with someone—”
“No,” she interrupted. “I’m not in love with anyone else. It…it just isn’t working, Ed, and hasn’t been for years. That’s all I can say for now.” The vehicle’s heater suddenly kicked in and sent a blast of feverish warmth toward her face. “I’ll call you from the hospital as soon as I know something.” She reached over and switched off the phone, then did the same with the heater.
After fifteen more minutes of fighting the snow and wind, she pulled under the overhang at the Red Feather hospital.
THE HOSPITAL WAS like hospitals everywhere. Cold, stark and sterile. Lara shivered as she raced down the corridor toward the emergency room. He had to be okay, she told herself. Theresa hadn’t seemed too upset and God knew how competent she was. On the other hand, that was part of the problem. The world could be exploding and Theresa Marchante probably wouldn’t react.
A flashing red light above one of the doors caught Lara’s eye and she hurried toward its blinking beacon, the crimson letters ER standing out against the white of everything else. Her throat was tight and clogged as she pushed open the door and rushed inside.
In contrast to her own turmoil, the room inside was peaceful and quiet. It was too early for the skiers who’d be brought in later, and the drunk drivers from the night before were all long gone. The only people in the waiting area were a mother and father, a small child cradled between them who looked lethargic and stuffy.
Lara quickly crossed to the desk that lined one wall. “I’m Lara Harrison,” she said, leaning over a high Formica barrier. “My husband, Conley was brought in a little while ago. I think it was a car accident—”
The woman behind the counter wore a brightly colored nurse’s smock, her hair tied back in a no-nonsense fashion. She tilted her head in a puzzled way. “You’re Mrs. Harrison? I thought…” She shook her head then finished her sentence. “There’s a woman with him. I got the impression she was Mrs. Harrison.”
A cold chill rippled over Lara before she understood, relief hitting her hard when she did. “You must be thinking of Theresa. She’s his attorney. She found him.”
A chagrined expression crossed the nurse’s features. “I’m so sorry…I just thought…” She broke off her words. “Please go on back. He’s in cubicle number one. I believe the doctor’s with him right now.”
Lara followed the woman’s wave toward a door on one side. Stepping into a long corridor sectioned off by curtains, she quickly located the first one. She pushed aside the dark-blue fabric and her heart stuttered to a stop.
Conley sat on a metal examining table. Theresa Marchante stood close beside him, patting his bare shoulder in a comforting way. She nodded at Lara, touched Conley one more time, then dropped her hand as Lara stared at Conley in distress. It was obvious someone had cleaned him up, but just as obvious he was hurting. A huge bruise on his temple was already turning black, the edges