Page 150 of Her Reluctant Hero
Chapter Eleven
Adrian tensed as Mallory pulled into camp behind the other mud-spattered Land Cruiser after six excruciating hours in the car. The rain had started an hour out of town, a deluge that had made the windshield wipers ineffective and the roads mush. They’d been extremely lucky they hadn’t gotten stuck—Adrian didn’t have the strength in his arm to push, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to send Mallory out there.
They’d hardly spoken once it started raining, even though he’d offered to drive. She’d shot him a look, aware of his weakness and the pain he wouldn’t take pills for. His excuse was that he wanted to be alert in case she needed him. Plus, since she’d had to drive the whole way, his nerves were jangled. He hated being helpless.
She still didn’t believe something subversive was going on, just like last time. He had stopped trying to convince her after fifteen minutes. All that mattered was that she was in as much of a hurry to get to the campsite as he was.
His stomach knotted as Mallory yanked the brake. There was no activity in the camp, but it was still raining like hell.
Beside him, Mallory stretched into the backseat and pulled a windbreaker out of her duffel before shoving the door open. “They’re probably in Dr. Vigil’s tent. Let’s leave our gear in here for a bit.”
He pushed open his door and stopped at the fender of the Land Cruiser, keeping himself between Mallory and the camp. It was quiet—too quiet.
“Something’s wrong,” he murmured.
“Adrian, it’s raining.” She shifted the windbreaker over her head, held a corner out for him to get under. “They’re inside somewhere, reading or playing cards or something.”
Adrian shook his head at her offer as he scanned the camp. He wouldn’t feel foolish for his concern, not when the hairs on his arms were standing up. “No. Someone would be at the mess tent. It’s almost supper time.”
“Maybe they thought we’d bring something from McDonald’s,” she said, trying to make light.
He grunted and reached for her hand, needing the contact with her. They moved past the mess tent, the opening loose and flapping in the wind. “Deserted” was the word that came to Adrian’s mind.
No one was in Linda’s tent, or his, or Toney and Jacob’s.
He turned to her, lifting a finger to his lips. He hadn’t figured out what was wrong but didn’t want her to call out, to draw attention. She frowned but nodded. Couldn’t she feel that something was off?
Maybe Mal was right, they were in Robert’s. He kept his accommodations roomy and cozy, perfect for a rainy day.
The rain let up as they crossed the camp, and the sea breezes shifted but no longer carried away the scent of decay. They couldn’t. It was too strong right here.
At Robert’s tent.
Before he thought about it too hard, he whipped aside the flaps, only then realizing Mallory was behind him. His mind pushed away the reality of what was before him, and his movements turned leaden with dread.
The man they’d both loved lay at an awkward angle on his cot, as if he’d fallen and the cot had broken his fall. One of his legs was bent inward, the other straight, his arms by his side, his head thrown back.
Only when Adrian took a helpless step inside the dim tent did he see the cause of the good doctor’s fall.
A gun rested in the palm of one lifeless hand. A dark stain spread on the cot beneath him.
The realization had him spinning to catch Mallory before she saw. He caught her arms, put his body between her and Robert. She fought him to get around him to the professor, but he held her tight, shifting his body, trying to get her out of the tent at the same time. Surely she understood the stench that encompassed them.
“He’s gone, Mal. He’s gone.” The words pushed past the tightness in his throat as he tried to protect her. “He wouldn’t want you to see him this way.” Damn it, the old man shouldn’t have killed himself where someone would find him, where they would find him.
“He’s dead?” She struggled in his arms, craning her head around his shoulder. He felt her go boneless, didn’t have the strength in himself to catch her before she dropped to the sand in a heap.
“How? Oh my God! Where did he get the gun?” she asked as he crouched before her, burying his own head in his arms.
“It’s his.” He looked up, not able to focus through his tears. Then he scrambled to his feet, having difficulty finding purchase in the sand.
“Why would he do this?” She grasped his hand and stared at him, her eyes hot with accusation. “He would never do this.”
Adrian swallowed the bile that threatened to rise as she gave voice to his thoughts. No matter how bad the pain had been, Mal was right. Robert wouldn’t have done this when they were in the midst of their greatest discovery. He wouldn’t have given up now.
Would he? He’d waited until Adrian and Mal had left. Which begged the question: where were Toney and the others? They must not know about the doctor—they’d never leave him like this.
“We should call someone.” Mal stood with her arms wrapped around herself, her body tight. “Shouldn’t we call someone?”
