The Smoky Mountain Mist

“GHB use,” Delilah answered. “Apparently you did a little partying last night.”

“What?” Rachel’s panic elided straight into indignation. “What are you suggesting, that I did drugs or some-thing?”

“Considering my brother found you about to do a double gainer off Purgatory Bridge—”

“I don’t think you planned to jump off,” Seth said quickly, shooting his sister a hard look. “But you were not entirely in control of yourself.”

Delilah’s eyebrows arched delicately. Rachel just looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“I was not on Purgatory Bridge last night,” she said flatly. “I would never, ever…” She looked nauseated by the idea.

“You were on the bridge,” he said quietly. “Apparently whatever you took last night has affected your memory.”

“I don’t…take drugs.” Her anger faded again, and the fear returned, shining coldly in her blue eyes.

“Maybe someone gave something to you without your knowledge.”

Seth’s suggestion only made her look more afraid. “I don’t remember going anywhere last night. I don’t—” She stopped short, pressing her fingertips against her lips. “I don’t remember anything.”

“If you took GHB—”

Seth shot his sister a warning look.

She made a slight face at him and rephrased. “If someone slipped you GHB or something like it, it’s not uncommon for you to experience amnesia about the hours before and after the dosage.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Seth asked. Rachel stared at him. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” he said. “I can take you home.”

She shook her head quickly. “Her. She can take me.”

Damn, that hurt more than he expected. “Okay. But what do you plan to tell your family?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want people to ask uncomfortable questions.”

Her expression shifted again, and her gaze rose to Seth’s face. “My father would know what to do.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry he’s not here for you.”

Her eyes darkened with pain. “Did you know my father asked if I thought he should hire you?” she said slowly. “He told me your record. Admitted it would be a risk. I don’t know why he asked me. At the time, I didn’t have much to do with the company. I guess now I know why.”

“He trusted your instincts,” Seth said.

She looked down at her hands. “Maybe he shouldn’t have.”

“What did you tell him?” Delilah asked, her tone curious. “About Seth?”

Rachel’s gaze snapped up to meet Seth’s. “I told him to give the man a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Seth said.

“I’ve been known to be wrong.”

Ouch again.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she looked away, her profile cool and distant. To Delilah, she said, “I would appreciate a ride home. Do you think I should go to a doctor? To get tested for—” She stopped short, agony in her expression.

“Probably,” Delilah said. “I could drive you to Knox-ville if you don’t want to see anyone local.”

She shot Delilah a look of gratitude, the first positive expression Seth had seen from her since she’d awoken. “Yes. Please.”

As Delilah directed her out to the truck, she looked over her shoulder at her brother. “I’ll take care of her.” She followed Rachel out into the misty morning drizzle falling outside.

He nodded his gratitude and watched them from the open doorway until the truck disappeared around the bend, swallowed by the swirling fog. Then he grabbed his keys and headed out to the Charger, ignoring the urge to go back inside and catch some sleep.

He had to talk to a man about a girl.

NO SIGN OF recent sexual activity. The doctor’s words continued ringing in her ears long after he’d left her to dress for departure. He’d said other things as well—preliminary tox screen was negative, but if she’d consumed GHB or another similar drug, it might not be easily detectible on a standard test. And depending on how long it had been since the drug was administered, it might not show up on a more specific analysis. He’d seemed indifferent to her decision not to test for it.

She supposed he had patients who needed him more than she did.

“How are you doing?” Delilah Hammond looked around the closed curtain, her expression neutral. There was an uncanny stillness about the other woman, an ability to remain calm and focused despite having a drug-addled woman dumped in her lap to take care of. She had a vague memory that there had been a Hammond girl from the Bitterwood area who’d become an FBI agent.

“I’m fine,” Rachel lied. “Are you an FBI agent?”

Delilah’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Um, not anymore. I left the FBI years ago. I work for a private security company now.”

“Oh.”

“What did the doctor tell you?” she asked gently.

“No sign of sexual activity, but they also couldn’t find a toxicological explanation for my memory loss. Some-thing about the tests not being good at spotting GHB or drugs like it.”

“You don’t have any memory of where you might have gone last night?” Delilah picked up Rachel’s discarded clothes from the chair next to the exam table and handed them to her.

“None. The last thing I remember is being at the cemetery.”

Delilah left the exam area without being asked, giving Rachel a chance to change back into her own clothes in private. When Rachel called her name once she’d finished dressing, Delilah came back around the curtain.

“Look, I’m going to be straight with you,” Delilah said. “Because I’d want someone to be straight with me. I know about Mark Bramlett and the murders. I know that they all seemed to be connected to Davenport Truck-ing in some way. Or, more accurately, connected to you.”

Rachel put her fingertips against her throbbing temples. “Why do I feel as if everybody knows more about what’s going on in my life than I do?”

“If someone’s targeting you, up to this point it’s been pretty oblique. But drugging you up and leaving you to fend for yourself outside on a cold October night while you’re high as a kite?” Delilah shook her head. “That’s awfully direct, if you ask me. You really need to figure out why someone would want you out of the way.”

“You think I should go to the police.”