Page 8 of Witch Moon

"I think the DA's office will survive the morning without me."

She went a little stiller, and he saw her eyes flare just slightly wider. "You're a prosecutor?"

"Not nearly as exciting as it sounds. Ezra Township is pretty much typical of the entire district. Rural. Quiet. We don't see a lot of crime out here. At least...not until recently."

He parked the car, got out, and she did too, even before he could get around it to open her door. He walked close to her, in case she had another dizzy spell or stumbled. Or...that was why he told himself he was walking so close. She shivered when his arm brushed hers, and he wondered why. Was she feeling this odd attraction as well?

"Are you talking about the animal mutilations, Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Disgusting, isn't it?" He sighed and shook his head.

They stopped outside the door of the clinic, and she turned, looked up at him. "Do you think the police have any idea who's behind them?"

"I'm sure they do. But um...I can't really discuss it beyond that."

"Of course not."

He opened the door, held it for her, and she went inside. He stood back while she checked in at the receptionist's desk. Then she came back to him. "It's a slow day," she said. "They can get me right in."

"Great. I'll be waiting."

She bit her lower lip, worrying it with her teeth in a way that made his stomach clench up. He said, "Unless...you're not comfortable with me sticking around a bit longer. I only want to be sure you're all right."

"No. I....No. It's fine."

Shewasuncomfortable with him. He could tell. It made him wonder why. Made him want to find out. He supposed that was in his nature. His role at work lent itself to a good deal of investigating. Legwork. Some of the lawyers in the office preferred to hire investigators. He preferred to do it himself.

He sat down, picked up a magazine, and watched her disappear through the door and into the exam room. A half-hour later, she came out again, and the only real difference he saw was that she'd washed the smudges off her face. Dr. Plummer came out behind her, a chart in her hand. She was the stereotype of a small town doctor in every way except gender. She was aging, white haired, kindly, and brilliant.

Jonathon got to his feet. "Well?"

"I'll live," Mirabella said with a nervous little smile.

The doctor looked up from the chart. "She probably has a slight concussion, but that's not serious."

"Then...she should be in a hospital, shouldn't she?" Mirabella sent him a quick frown, but he pretended not to notice.

"Not necessarily," Dr. Plummer said. "She just needs watching for the next twenty-four hours. Any vomiting, fainting, severe dizziness, just call me. I don't think there will be."

He licked his lips, sent Mirabella a silent look. She sent one right back, telling him to keep his mouth shut. He did, but he didn't like it. She hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder, thanked the doctor with a smile, and headed out of the clinic. Jonathon really had no choice but to follow.

He waited until they were back in the car, no longer. "So how are you going to be watched closely for twenty-four hours if you live alone?"

She swung her dark eyes right up to meet his. "How do you know I live alone?"

"Well, I...I mean, I assumed...." He frowned. Since when did he stammer around a female? "It isMissSaint Angeline, isn't it?"

She shrugged. "Sure. But I could live with someone."

"Do you?"

She averted her eyes. "No, but that's beside the point."

"Actually, it's not." He sighed. "So where do you live? I'll drive you home."

"I'm not going home. I'm going to school."

He braced his hands on the wheel, turned to look her dead in the eye, and said, "Please don't."

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