Jesse could take it no longer. He burst out, “If I had these women come into my ER as patients, two wives in a row with fractured limbs, I’d suspect the husband of abuse, Susannah, not an unseen, menacing force.”
“Of course you would,” I said. “Because you’re a doctor, and a good one. And if we didn’t know for a fact that there’s the tortured soul of a murdered child living in that man’s house, I’d say you were right. But we do know that. Combine that fact with the fact that Becca’s dad is constantly in the news for traveling somewhere to give a speech about something, or to open a new branch of his company, or donate a giant check to some hospital in some foreign country—”
“I don’t see how that makes him innocent of abusing his former wives, Susannah.”
“The guy is never home! I’m guessing he barely even saw his former wives, let alone his daughter. So how could he be the one abusing them? It doesn’t add up. What does add up is this: the people Lucia attacked so far—me, Father Dominic, and the two previous Mrs. Walters—all have one thing in common. Becca. I was attacked when Lucia misinterpreted my putting disinfectant on Becca’s wound as ‘hurting her.’ We know Father Dominic ended up in the emergency room for trying to help Becca, and I’m guessing that’s what sent the two Mrs. Walters there, too. That’s what sets Lucia off. Like Aunt Pru said, she’s frightened, and she’s in pain. She may not even be able to tell the difference between helping and hurting.”
Jesse continued to look skeptical. “And Mr. Walters?”
“Maybe he’s a monster, but only to his daughter’s friends. Or maybe he’s completely innocent, and doesn’t know how to show affection, and keeps getting serially remarried out of the hope that his new wife will take care of the problem of his maladjusted kid. It’s no wonder Becca’s so depressed, and has had to transfer schools so many times. She can’t ever get close to anyone, because whenever she tries, Lucia pushes them away—literally.”
The skepticism in Jesse’s dark eyes turned to thoughtful concern. “But now your friend Kelly is living there—”
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Kelly’s in real danger. Then again, based on the behavior I’ve seen her exhibit around Becca so far, she might be the last person we have to worry about Lucia hurting.”
He winced. “Susannah.”
“I know, that’s harsh. But, Jesse, you didn’t see Kelly yesterday in the office. I did. Trust me, if it’s true Lucia’s coming after anyone who gets too close to Becca, then Becca’s dad picked the perfect new wife. Not to speak ill of a former classmate.”
“Didn’t Kelly used to go out with Paul Slater?”
“Oh, yeah, a long time ago.” I managed a derisive laugh. “That’s ancient history. God, Jesse, don’t you read the online Mission Academy alumni newsletter? Get with the times.”
He shook his head, then slipped an arm around my shoulders, bringing me close for a hug. “How can someone so young and so beautiful be so jaded and cynical?”
“Too much time hanging around with dead people?”
He released me from the hug, but kept the arm around my shoulders. “I wouldn’t doubt it. All right, I suppose it does make sense that Lucia is protecting Becca from whoever it was that hurt her. And it’s a good bet it wasn’t a horse.”
I snuggled against him. “I knew the horse thing was what was going to change your mind about exorcising her.”
“It wasn’t the horse. It was you, as you know perfectly well.”
“Sure. You may have everyone else fooled with your pursuit of a medical degree, Dr. de Silva, but I know the truth. You’re really a vaquero at heart. Admit it.”
“I’ve told you repeatedly that I never herded cattle in my life. Sometimes I think you’re the one who needs to have the demons exorcised out of her.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, enjoying the close-up view I was getting down the vee of his shirt, and the rock-hard feel of those solidly carved chest and shoulder muscles. “Maybe we should head to your car. Since you’ve already got all the necessary equipment, you could start driving the devil out of me right now.”
The lopsided grin I loved so much appeared. “I think for you it would take more than a few vials of holy water.”
“That wasn’t the kind of equipment I was talking about.” I slid my lips along his neck while my hand crept playfully toward his belt buckle.
“Susannah.” His fingers locked around my wrist in an iron grip. “Need I remind you that this is my place of work?”
“No one can see us in here.”
“Uncle Jesse!”
Suddenly three small, plaid-skirted projectiles came sailing through the entrance to the gazebo to launch themselves against my fiancé. Their timing was, as always, terrible.
“Oof,” said Jesse, wincing painfully as Mopsy kneed him in the exact spot I’d been about to place my hand.