He was her adopted son: he filled her heart. Nothing could replace him, Indeed, his irreducible need for her only made him more essential to her. Simply remembering the way his hair smelled after she washed it for him could bring tears to her eyes.
Anything that threatened her endangered him profoundly. Any attack on her would find him in the line of fire: at risk because she loved him, and he was dependent on her.
He had already been damaged enough.
But she also belonged here. All of her patients had already been damaged enough. And Joan did not deserve what Roger intended for her.
Quietly Linden asked Megan, “Can you think of anything else?”
Megan hesitated. “Well,” she said uncertainly, “you could call Lytton-”
Linden had already thought of that. “He’s next on my list.” Barton Lytton had been county sheriff for nearly three decades. If anyone had the knowledge and experience to stop Roger Covenant, surely he did?
“Be careful with him, Linden,” Megan cautioned. “He isn’t what we might call a fan of yours. As far as he’s concerned, Berenford Memorial is just a liberal ruse to keep crooks out of jail. From his point of view, that practically makes you an accessory.”
“I know.” Linden was familiar with Lytton’s attitude. However, she hoped that he might feel otherwise about Joan. How could he not? Beyond question he had played a part in her condition. For the sake of his self-regard, if for no other reason, he might be willing to protect her now.
“Call me after you talk to him.” Megan’s voice held an undercurrent of anxiety. “I want to know what he says.”
“I will.” Now Linden was in a hurry to get off the phone. Her urgency had shifted its focus. She needed to get in touch with Sandy.
She was about to thank Megan and hang up when a new concern occurred to her: a possibility like a touch of foresight. Quickly she added, “Call my pager if you need to reach me.”
Roger might call Megan, trying to enlist her aid-
I will,” replied Megan. “I always do.”
Finally they hung up.
Staring blindly around her office, Linden looked for some way to contain her primitive alarm. She had made it clear to Roger that he could only obtain his father’s ring by theft or violence. He did not know that Jeremiah existed. Nevertheless she under stood obsession well enough to be sure that her own claim on the ring meant nothing to Roger. Inadvertently she had placed her son in peril.
A
Instead of calling Sheriff Lytton, she dialled her home number. Helpless to do otherwise, she counted the rings while she waited for Sandy Eastwall to pick up the phone.
Sandy answered after the third. “This is Sandy.”
Brusque with concern, Linden asked, “Is Jeremiah all right?”
“Sure he is.” Sandy sounded worried, troubled by Linden’s manner. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
Linden could not explain. “Has anything happened this morning? Anything out of the ordinary? Phone calls? Someone at the door?”
“Nothing important,” Sandy replied defensively. “Sam called. He wants to know if Jeremiah can come Tuesday instead of Monday next week. I was going to give you the message when you got home.”
Linden wished to soothe Sandy, but other considerations impelled her. “And Jeremiah?” she insisted.
“Sure,” said Sandy again. “He’s fine. Why wouldn’t he be? I’ve done everything-”
“I’m sorry,” Linden put in hastily. “I didn’t mean that. Of course you haven’t done anything.” In fact, Sandy’s unquestioning regard for Jeremiah, like her cheerful attendance to his needs, was precious to Linden. “I trust you. I’ve just been worried about him this morning for some reason.” Trying to account for herself in terms that would make sense to Sandy, she said, “You know those feelings you get sometimes? Out of the blue, you suddenly think that something bad has happened to someone you care about?”
“And they’re almost always wrong.” Sandy’s tone conveyed a mollified smile. “But that doesn’t make you feel any better. I know what you mean.
“I’ll be especially careful today;” she assured Linden. “Just in case,”
For a moment, Linden hesitated on the verge of telling Sandy about Roger. She wanted Sandy to understand her fears. But Sandy was easily frightened; and Jeremiah would not be better off if she panicked.
“Thanks, Sandy,” Linden said instead. “I appreciate it.”
Abruptly she stopped, caught by the same anxiety which had urged her to insist that Megan page her. Without transition, she asked, “Is there any chance you could be on call tonight? We have a situation here that might need me.”
If Bill Coty’s men caught Roger lurking around the hospital-
“Sure.” The request was routine between them. Sandy often stayed with Jeremiah when Linden was needed at night. “I don’t have any other plans.”
Occasionally Sandy went out with Sam Diadem’s son; but she always gave Linden plenty of warning when she would not be available.
Mustering gratitude to counteract her apprehension, Linden thanked Sandy again and put down the phone.
Thomas Covenant had watched over his ex-wife with all of his considerable strength and intransigence, but he had not been able to prevent her abduction. If Roger had designs on Covenant’s ring, Linden hardly trusted herself to stop him. Sandy would pose no obstacle at all. And Jeremiah might be hurt in the struggle.
Grimly determined now to organise every possible resource, she put in a call to Sheriff Lytton. Unfortunately Barton Lytton was “unavailable” Linden was promised that he would call her back. With that she had to be content.
For the rest of the morning, she struggled to concentrate. She wrote up her rounds; returned phone calls; read or reread a sheaf of advisory faxes on how to treat some of her patients; signed requisitions for medications and supplies. Studiously she did not look out at her car.
When the pressure to do something, anything, about her gravid fears became too severe to be pushed aside, she went to check on Joan. But she found no relief there.
Over lunch, she pumped Maxine shamelessly for gossip, hoping that some rumour of Roger’s actions or intentions had plucked a thread in Maxine’s vast web of friends. Uncharacteristically, however, Maxine knew less than she did herself. In a town as small as this one, it was difficult for anyone to visit a lawyer-or wander onto a long-abandoned property-without being noticed; remarked upon. Yet somehow Roger Covenant had escaped comment.
Afterward Linden tackled more of her procedural duties. But she cancelled her sessions with her patients, as well as her remaining appointments. The thought that Sheriff Lytton might ignore her vexed her too much for such responsibilities.
To her surprise and relief, however, he did call her back. As soon as she picked up the handset, he said, “Dr. Avery?” He spoke in a good-ol’-boy drawl, perhaps for her benefit. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“Thanks for returning my call, Sheriff.” Now that she had her chance, Linden felt flustered, unsure of herself. He was decidedly not a “fan” of hers. Somehow she would have to persuade him to take her seriously.
“We have a situation here that worries me,” she began unsteadily. “I hope you’ll be willing to help me with it.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I believe you’ve spoken to Roger Covenant?”
“Sure have,” he replied without hesitation. “He came to see me yesterday. Pleasant young man. Son of that writer, the leper who lived on Haven Farm.” He stressed the word leper trenchantly.
“He came to see you?” Her voice broke. She had assumed that Roger had phoned Lytton. Had he known that she would call the sheriff? That he would need to forestall her?
“Sure. He’s new in town,” Lytton explained, “but he’s going to be here from now on. He says he’ll be living on Haven Farm. Seems he inherited the place. It’s been abandoned so long, he didn’t want me to think he’s some vagrant squatting where he doesn’t belong.
“Like I say, he’s a pleasant guy.”
Pleasant, Linden thought. And plausible when it suited him, that was obvious. No doubt to Lytton his
