A Heartbeat Away by Harry Kraus Page A

supplies I had on hand I’ve already packed and sent back to Africa.”
    The doctor nodded and used his forearm to blot the perspiration from his forehead without contaminating his sterile gloves.
    â€œI hope I’m not making you nervous by watching.”
    Christian watched as the doctor rolled his eyes. “Of course not, sir.”
    The automatic doors to the entrance of Nassawadox General Hospital ER slid open. Christian looked up from his stretcher to see an orderly pushing Emily Greene in a wheelchair, flanked by her parents, Billy and Carolyn. He flailed to grab at the curtain beside him, desperately wanting to fling it closed.
    The doctor cut the last suture. “Just what were you doing outside at this hour anyway?”
    Christian ducked and propped a pillow in front of his face. “Long story,” he grunted.
    â€œChristian?” The voice was Emily’s.
    Busted.
    Mr. Greene’s face was the color of salmon. He pointed at Christian. “You?”
    Christian felt a tightness in his chest. “Hello, Mr. Greene.”
    Mr. Greene took a step toward Christian’s stretcher. Dan Mitchell stepped between the large man and his son. Mr. Greene looked at Dan. “Do you know what your boy was trying to do?” Mr. Greene’s right eye was twitching. “You want to know what happens to a boy who violates my daughter?”
    Christian held up his hands. “Nothing happened, sir. We just talked.”
    â€œThat’s not the story my daughter gives. She said she had to fight you off, and you cut your leg when she pushed you away.”
    â€œEmily!” Christian shouted, his eyes wide with shock.
    Dan moved closer to his son. “He cut his leg jumping over a fence.”
    â€œTell him, Emily,” Christian pleaded.
    â€œMy daughter was assaulted by this young man. She hurt her ankle jumping from a hayloft, trying to get away from him.”
    Dan Mitchell stood his ground. “I’m going to ask you to leave us alone, Mr. Greene. We can sort this out later.”
    The doctor looked at the orderly. “Why don’t you put this wheelchair patient into the ortho room?”
    â€œNo!” Emily’s voice was shrill. “I want to stay out here in the open.”
    Mr. Greene raised his voice. “Emily!”
    She began to cry. “I made it all up, Daddy. He didn’t assault me. Meeting in the barn was my idea.”

    Tori opened her eyes and fought for focus. More often than not since her transplant, she awoke with the premonition of fear. Someone wants me dead.
    Pain in her ankle brought with it the memory of falling down stairs. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. In spite of the early hour—5:30—there was noise in the kitchen below. She worked the stiffness out of her ankle and mused that her nightmares were encroaching on her reality. Must be the weather.
    She tested her feet on the floor, grabbed her robe, and walked to the kitchen. Charlotte was stirring a kettle of soup. The air was thick with the aroma of fried hamburger, onions, and green peppers.
    Friday was chili day at the soup kitchen.
    â€œMorning,” Tori mumbled as she lifted the coffee pot.
    â€œYou’re up early.”
    She didn’t answer. Not that Charlotte had asked a question, but it had been inflected in her voice. Instead, Tori paused, touching the photocopies from the articles that Phin had brought over the evening before and still lay scattered on the kitchen table. She lifted the picture of Dakota Jones to her face. “I wonder if she has green eyes.”
    Charlotte opened the refrigerator and retrieved a block of cheddar cheese. “I’ve been thinking about your number here,” she said. “What it means.”
    â€œA clue in a mystery, I think.”
    â€œOr maybe it’s a message to you.”
    Tori sat at the table.
    Charlotte busied herself grating the cheddar.
    â€œDo I have to pry it out of