Crossing Nevada

Why was it so damned hard to put this all into perspective? It’d been three months since she’d been slashed and she’d expected once she got out of California and deep into the wilds of Nevada that the fear would fade faster than it was.

Maybe that was part of her problem. The fear wasn’t going to simply fade away after a trauma. She had to work at overcoming it and thus far all she’d been doing was reacting to it.

Finally, after the sun came up, she let the dogs out, then crawled back into bed, meaning only to close her eyes for ten or fifteen minutes before she let the dogs back in. She woke up with a start, realizing the dogs were still outside and that somehow she’d fallen asleep.

She grabbed the clock which was facing the wall and turned it around. One-thirty?

She’d slept for eight hours straight. A record. She didn’t know whether to be happy or disturbed. She’d been unconscious, oblivious to danger for eight long hours.

But nothing had happened.

Pushing the rumpled hair back from her face, she walked into the bathroom, grimaced when she saw the crease marks on her face from sleeping so hard.

Tess pushed aside the bathroom window curtains to see the dogs sleeping in the shade under the big elm tree in the backyard, the sunlight that filtered through the branches dappling their coats as they snoozed. They looked so peaceful. Everything seemed so...dare she say it, think it? Everything seemed so normal.

And then the phone rang, scaring the bejeezus out of her.

She scooped it up on the second ring, answered it after taking a deep breath so that her voice sounded normal.

“Ms. O’Neil? We have a cancellation this afternoon at four. Could you bring your dog in then?”

Could she? Tess pushed her hair back, leaving her hand on top of her head as she calculated. Almost two. She could be ready by two-thirty. An hour’s drive to Wesley...

“Ms. O’Neil?”

“Uh, yes. I can make it.”

“Great. We’ll see you and Mac at four.”

Half an hour later, she loaded the dogs into the backseat of her car. It was the first time she’d left Barlow Ridge since arriving. The first time she’d ventured out into the world at large to risk being recognized.

But somehow getting sleep, real sleep, not her usual pattern of sleeping for half an hour and then waking, made her feel better. Stronger. Able to tackle this mission.

Or maybe the logic of Detective Hiller’s assessment had finally sunk in to the point that she could work on believing it. She didn’t care which it was as long as she could start easing herself back into a more normal existence—or as normal as it could be living in the middle of nowhere under a false name.

The vet office was easy to find and little more than an hour after she’d left the ranch she was there, sitting in the car, summoning the courage to go inside.

Tess touched her cheek, which she’d left uncovered, having decided that a white bandage caught the eye more than unsightly scars. Instead she’d worn a light blue knit cloche hat that flattened her hair down onto her cheeks, partially covering the injury, and sunglasses to hide the drooping corner of her left eye.

“Hello,” the vet tech, a young woman with a reddish-brown braid down her back, called brightly as Tess and Mac entered the waiting room.

“Hi.” Tess smiled briefly and then pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as they started to slide down. There were no other people in the office, but a lot of barking in the back.

“I need you to fill this out,” the girl said, coming around the counter and handing Tess a clipboard. “New in town?” she asked before kneeling in front of Mac who obligingly held his bad leg out.

The question made Tess’s stomach knot. “I’ve been here for a while,” she said as she took the pen and started filling out the information. When she was done, the only truthful information was her phone number and Mac’s vitals. Everything else was a fabrication. Her entire life was a fabrication.

Tess brought the clipboard back to the counter just as a tall broad man with blond hair opened the door leading to the clinic. “Hey,” he said with an easy smile. “I’m Dr. Hyatt—Sam.” His eyes traveled over her injured cheek, making her stomach tighten even more, and then he focused on Mac. “What happened?”

Tess gave him a quick rundown and then the vet said, “I’ll have to x-ray.” He cocked one eyebrow as if waiting for Tess to ask a question. It took her a moment to realize he was waiting for her to ask how much an X-ray would cost.

“Whatever it takes.”

“I’ll keep the cost down as low as I can.”

“You’d never survive in Beverly Hills,” Tess said with a half smile, trying her best to act nonchalant. Normal.

“Are you from Southern Cal?” Sam asked shooting her a quick glance as he ran a hand over Mac’s head.

“No.” The word came out too quickly and sounded very much like the lie it was. Tess faked a smile. “Um, how long will this take? I have a couple errands I need to run.”

Dr. Hyatt frowned slightly before he said, “An hour. Tops.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Tess made her escape, pulling in a deep breath of crisp air as the door closed behind her. It did nothing to clear her head. She had no errands. She simply needed to get away from the vet and his cute chatty receptionist before she made more mistakes—or her stomach turned inside out from stress.

Blossom whined and nosed her cheek when she got into the car.

“I know the feeling,” Tess said, ruffling the dog’s fur before she started the car. She’d been in town for all of twenty minutes and she felt like she’d been put through an emotional wringer. So much for normal. But it was her first outing. Surely things would get easier with practice.

The town was small, about ten thousand people, and it didn’t take long to drive the length of the main street. There were the usual chain businesses and fast food establishments, as well as a few smaller stores. A Western supply store, a coffee shop, a bakery. She needed a grocery store and found one in a small strip mall at the very edge of town, where the trees disappeared and the desert began.

Tess pulled into a parking spot in front of a tiny clothing store and sat in her car for a moment, gathering strength. The dress hanging in the window in front of her caught her eye. It was simple. Stylish. Something she would have worn not that long ago. Not that long, but in some ways a lifetime.

Tess touched her cheek, hesitated for a brief moment, then pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car, automatically pulling the cloche down. People walked in and out of the store as she approached, her sunglasses still on, her eyes down. They don’t care about you.

Half an hour later she wheeled an overloaded cart out to her car and opened the trunk. No one had given her more than a passing glance, but she felt emotionally drained. She also had another half hour to kill. Tess slammed the trunk down and was about to get into her car, when she decided that instead she’d check out the hobby shop next to the clothing store where she was parked.

There were only two people in the store, an elderly man and woman looking at yarn, but Tess immediately went down an aisle. Jewelry-making supplies. She stopped for a moment, studying the long strings of bead of various colors. This had possibilities.

And then she spotted the bolts of fabric on long tables at the back of the store. One of the lengths of fabric matched the dress she’d seen in the clothing store window next door. Tess reached out and ran her hand over the geometric-printed jersey.

“That’s lovely fabric,” a woman said from behind her. Tess turned toward the woman standing a table away, tidying up the bolts. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

“Uh, no,” Tess said. Now that the woman was looking at her, she felt the usual urge to run. “I’m just checking out possible crafts.”

“We have a lovely hobby kit section up front,” she said.

“Thank you. I’ll take a look.”

The lady went back to her folding and Tess returned to the front of the store. She spent a few minutes looking over the kits, none of which appealed to her the way the fabric had, and then quietly left the store for the safety of her car. Enough dillydallying around. She headed back to the vet clinic.

“No fracture,” Dr. Hyatt said after the tech ushered Tess back into the clinic area where Mac was lying on a table obviously woozy from a sedative. His front leg was wrapped with gauze and covered with some kind of pink stretchy wrap.

“Then...”

“It’s a soft tissue injury and perhaps a pulled tendon. I wrapped his leg so he stays off it.”