Chapter 3
Concerned about Tara's injuries, Myles paced the living room floor in his borrowed jeans and flannel shirt. The woman's phone had been out since the storm started, and he couldn't get a signal on his cell, so they were stuck there at least until morning.
The house shook as the raging storm toppled another tree. Myles glanced over to the couch were Tara had fallen asleep, noting the paleness of her face compared to the dark blanket that covered her.
Myles was appreciative of the woman's attention to Tara's injuries. Having been supplied with a dry pair of clothes from their hostess, Tara allowed the woman to bind her arm tight to her side. The woman felt she probably had some busted ribs as well as the fractured collarbone, that was evident from the distortion and bruising at her shoulder.
He was really beginning to feel sore from the impact, his head throbbing. If I feel this bad, I can only imagine how bad off she must be, he thought brushing her bangs out of her eyes with his fingertips. Of course, Tara never complained, though she moaned uncomfortably in her sleep.
"How's she doing?" Craig asked, returning with Hank and the woman from the kitchen.
"Sleeping," Myles replied gravely as he watched Hank drop some firewood beside the hearth. He accepted the soup the woman offered as Craig deposited the lanterns he carried around the room. "Are you expecting the power to go out?" Myles questioned.
"Normally does," the woman answered, moving around the room, clearing some room off the chairs motioning to the guys to sit down. Before Myles could thank her, she was off again.
"Is she always this, um, active?" Myles wondered, as the woman hadn't stopped moving since they got there.
"Why do you think we call her, Froggy?" Hank inquired with a chuckle. "She'll run circles around you all day, man."
"My sister never tires," Craig told him as she came bounding back into the room. "But she can make you tired just watching her," he laughed quietly at his sister's glare.
"How's the soup, Mr. Leland?" she asked bringing him a soda.
"It's fabulous, Ms. Wilson. Thank you, and please call me Myles," he told her watching her as she continued to buzz around the room.
"Okay, Myles, but only if you call me Annie," she continued smiling. "or you can call me Froggy. Everyone does," she grinned at his raised eyebrows as she checked on Tara, who was still sleeping fitfully.
"So what were you doing out on a night like this, Myles?" Annie questioned as she continued her rounds making sure everyone was taken care of.
Before Myles could answer, the house shook again the lights flickering before plunging the room into darkness. When Craig and Annie got the lanterns lit, they found Myles on the floor next to the sofa his hand gentle cradling Tara's.
"Ah, she your girlfriend?" Craig asked, noticing the other man's protectiveness.
"No, we work together," Myles explained, brushing her hair back from her face. "We were heading back to D.C. from Pittsburgh after testifying in a case. We should have taken the train like she suggested," he stated awkwardly.
"Testifying? Are you cops?" Myles missed the apprehensive looks exchanged between the three others in the room as Hank posed the question to him.
"F.B.I.," Myles told them, his eyes never leaving Tara's face as she shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
Annie glared at Hank as Craig looked at the two of them nervously. Was this all just an accident? Annie wondered anxiously. Or were they actually here for a purpose?