could have him disarmed and facedown in the mud before Freed could get it out of his holster.
Freed was the first to look away. He glanced around, read the crowd, and then addressed Tina, “Tomorrow.”
She nodded in acknowledgment. Freed walked away, and Tina moved closer against Doc.
“You all had better go on home now,” Lenny said quietly, more so to the Obermacher brothers than to Church or Doc. It proved that, despite numerous examples to the contrary, Lenny did have a sense of self-preservation and a glimmer of intelligence.
Rick crooked a beefy finger at Tina. “Let’s go, Bert.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Bertina—”
“She said no,” Doc said firmly.
“You keep your fucking—”
“Enough!” Tina said, raising her voice. “Go home, all of you. And I swear to God,” she said, her voice quivering with emotion, “if I find out that you had anything to do with this, I will never forgive you.”
Rick’s nostrils flared. Gunther’s eyes flicked from Church to Doc, calculating his next move. The youngest, Kiefer, said nothing and avoided everyone’s eyes.
“Let’s go,” Gunther said, his eyes shooting daggers at Tina. “Bert’s made her choice. So be it.”
Gunther turned on his heel and walked away. With pure hatred in his eyes, Rick spit within inches of Doc’s feet before following. The youngest brother, Kiefer, hung back.
“You okay?” he asked Tina, quiet enough not to be overheard by the others. It was the first time he’d spoken.
Tina nodded, and without another word, he turned and followed the others.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tina
“I’m sorry, Tina.”
Tina nodded and continued to stare at the hellish glow off in the distance. She was barely holding it together. If it hadn’t been for Doc’s strong presence, she would have lost it completely.
Doc and Matt exchanged a few quiet words, which resulted in Matt returning to Sanctuary and Doc remaining behind. Things got blurry after that.
Pumper trucks continued to come and go, filling up at the nearby creek, emptying the water onto the blaze, and then repeating the process until flames no longer licked at the sky and the fire was reduced to smoke and steam. Tina vaguely remembered some people coming up to her and saying things, but she couldn’t say who or what.
Through it all, Doc remained by her side, a solid presence. He tried several times to get her to leave and go someplace warm and dry, but for a long time, she couldn’t. Her pride and joy was going up in flames, and all she could do was watch it happen.
The rain got heavier as the night wore on. The crowd dispersed and went back to their beds, and she and Doc were among the remaining few. The pumper trucks had gone away, leaving a couple volunteer fire fighters behind to ensure there were no flare-ups.
“Ready?” Doc asked.
“Yeah.”
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine,” Tina said, exhaustion exerting its heavy pull. “It’s closer.”
She couldn’t remember where she’d parked her truck; at the time, her mind had been too focused on the horror of what was happening. Thankfully, Doc seemed to know where it was.
As Doc led her away from the scene, her stiff joints protested painfully, exacerbated by standing in a chilly rain for hours. It resulted in a halting, jerky gait and the inability to climb into her own truck.
“You drive, okay?”
Doc helped her into the passenger seat, then got in and drove them back to the caretaker’s cottage.
Doc carried Tina inside and right into the shower. He eased her onto the seat, turned on the hot water, and then proceeded to peel her damp clothes from her body. She hated that he had to see her like this.
“Doc ...”
“Hush.”
He adjusted the controls so that hot water flowed from the overhead and handheld showerheads.
“But ...”
“Later, okay? Let’s get you warmed up first.”
“Okay.”
Doc stepped away and closed the door, his expression unreadable. Tina had no idea what he was thinking, but she could guess. And it wasn’t good.
When the water began to run cold, Tina reached over and turned it off. Doc was there a moment later with a large, fluffy towel and a pair of her fleece pajamas. It reminded her of when she’d had the flu, except this time, what she had wouldn’t be going away in a couple of days.
Numerous prescription bottles were lined up on the sink. Painkillers. Anti-inflammatories. Steroids. The antimalarials she was supposed to take every day but rarely did. There were no cures for lupus, but there were plenty of pharmaceuticals made to control symptoms and minimize flare-ups. She’d tried them all.