Sanctuary(127)

It was a hideous, grisly task. Twice Nathan lost his grip as he tried to free Susan Peters's hair from the spearing branches that had trapped her body. He went under, fiercely blanking out his mind when her arms knocked into his belly. He could hear Jo calling him, concentrated on the desperate calm in her voice, as together they struggled to free what was left of Susan from the river.

Ignoring her lurching stomach, Jo slid farther over the bank, with the water lapping and rushing over her chin when she hooked her arms under the body. Her breath came short and shallow as for one gut-wrenching moment she was face to face with death.





she knew the shutter in her mind had clicked, capturing the image, preserving it. Making it part of her forever.

Then she hauled, grunting, digging knees and feet into the soggy ground. she let the body roll, couldn't bear even to watch. she thrust her hands out, felt Nathan's grip them, slip, clutch again. When he was chest-high out of the water, squirming his way free from the river, she rolled away and retched.

"Go back to the cottage." He coughed violently, spat to clear the taste of river and death from his mouth.

"I'll be all right." she rocked back on her heels, felt the first hot tears flow down her icy cheeks. "I just need a minute. I'll be all right."

she had no more color than what they had pulled from the river did, and she was shaking so hard he was surprised he couldn't hear her bones clattering. "Go back to the cottage. You need dry clothes." He closed a hand over hers. "You have to call Sanctuary for help. We can't leave her like this, Jo."

"No. No, you're right." Steeling herself, she turned her head. The body was paste gray and bloated, the hair dark and matted and slick with debris. But she had once been a woman. "I'll get something to cover her. I'll get her a blanket."

"Can you make it on your own?"

she nodded, and though her body felt hollowed out and frighteningly brittle, she pushed herself to her feet. she looked down at him. His face was pale and filthy, his eyes reddened from the water. she thought of the way he'd gone into the angry river, without hesitation, without a thought for anything but what needed to be done.

"Nathan."

He used the heel of his hand to wipe the mud off his chin, and the gesture was sharp. "What?"

"Nothing," she murmured. "Later."

He waited until he heard her footsteps recede, waited until he heard nothing but the roar of the river and the thud of his own laboring heart. Then he pulled himself over to the body, forced himself to turn it, to look. she'd been pretty once-he knew that. she would never be pretty again. Gritting his teeth, he touched her, easing her head to the side until he could see, until he could be sure.

There, scoring her neck, were livid red bruises. He snatched his hand away, drew up his knees and pressed his face into the filthy denim of his jeans.

Sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus. What was happening here?

Fear was worse than grief, sharper than guilt. And when one rolled into the other, it left the soul sickened.

Slill, he had himself under control when Jo came back. she hadn't changed her clothes, but he said nothing, just helped her spread the thin yellow blanket over the body.

"They're coming." she scrubbed her fingers over her month.

"Brian and Kirby. I got Bri on the phone, told him . . . told him. He said he'd bring her, a doctor, but wasn't going to tell anyone else until ...

she trailed off, looked helplessly into the trees. "Why would she have come up here, Nathan? Why in God's name would she have gone into the river? Maybe she fell in the dark, hit her head. It's horrible. I was prepared that we'd find her drowned, washed up on the beach. Somehow this is worse."

Only yards from his door, was all he could think. Only yards from where he'd just made love to Jo. Where he had dared the gods, he thought with a hard shudder.

Had the body come downriver, or had it been put in here, so close he could almost have seen it from his kitchen window on a clear afternoon?

she slipped her hand into his, concerned that it was still icy and as lifeless as the body that lay on the bank. "You're soaked through and frozen. Go get into dry clothes. I'll wait for them."

"I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you. Or her."

Thinking of warmth and comfort, she put her arms around him. "That was the kindest and bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do." she pressed her lips to his throat, wanting to feel him give, respond. "You went in for her. You could have left her, but you went in. Getting her out wouldn't have mattered to some."

"It mattered."

"To you. You're a good man, Nathan. I'll never forget what you did."

He closed his eyes tight, then drew away without touching her. "They're coming," he said flatly. Even as he turned, Brian and Kirby came hurrying down the path.