"Take care of this for me," he said, forcing each word. "If anything happens to me, you must destroy it."
And then, as if the last drop of his energy had been expended, he fell face-down across the bed.
Lainey stared at the box for a moment, then placed it on top of the dresser and turned her attention to Micah. It took all her strength to turn him over, to remove the blood-soaked shirt, his shoes and socks, the blood-stained trousers. He wasn't wearing anything under his trousers or shirt.
As she pressed a cloth over the ugly wound in his side, her mind registered a quick impression of a perfect male body before she covered him with a sheet, then ran into the kitchen. She filled a teapot with water and put it on the stove to heat, found a pair of scissors, some gauze, a roll of tape, a bottle of disinfectant.
While the water heated, she ran back to the bedroom to place a hand on his forehead. It was warm. Too warm. The sheet that covered him was already stained with blood. Lainey frowned... Brown blood?
She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she looked again, the blood was still brown.
The whistle of the teapot drew her back into the kitchen. Finding a tray, she piled everything onto it and went back into the bedroom.
Drawing the sheet away from the wound, she stared at the odd-colored blood that oozed from the bullet hole and then, taking a deep breath, she eased Micah onto his side, feeling a swift surge of relief when she saw that the bullet had gone through.
Moving quickly, trying not to gag at the sight of so much blood, she washed the wound, soaked it with disinfectant, placed cold compresses over both holes, and wrapped a thick layer of gauze around his middle to hold everything in place.
She was perspiring heavily by the time she was through. She hated the sight of blood! She knew lots of little girls dreamed of being doctors or nurses when they grew up, but she never had. Just the thought of a needle was enough to make her nauseated.
Lainey stared at the bloody shirt on the floor, at the rag she'd used to clean the wounds. Brown blood. Try as she might, she could find no logical explanation for it, but she didn't have time to worry about it now.
Returning to the kitchen, she made herself a cup of strong coffee, then brewed a cup of weak herb tea, which she generously laced with brandy, for Micah.
He roused enough to drink it, and then he fell back on the pillow.
Sitting in the rocking chair beside the bed, Lainey sipped her coffee. Who was Micah? Why were the police hunting for him? And why had the Air Force been there?
If he was wanted by the law, she could be arrested for harboring a fugitive.
She rested her head against the back of the rocker and closed her eyes. Bits and pieces of the last few days drifted down the corridors of her mind - hearing Micah's voice the first night she had spent in the Grayson house - the fire that started by itself - the carton of orange juice that had appeared as if by magic at the back door of the mansion - the figure with the blue aura that had appeared in one of her photographs. Maybe they were all incidents that could be explained logically. And maybe not.
Sitting up in the chair, Lainey stared at Micah. His breathing was shallow, so shallow that she placed her hand over his chest to make certain he was still alive.
She couldn't seem to keep from touching him - his brow, which was much too hot; a lock of his hair, damp with sweat. She let her fingertips caress his cheek, his jaw. Odd, she thought, there was no telltale shadow of a beard.
He muttered something in his sleep, something she couldn't understand, and then he whispered her name.
"I'm here, Micah."
His eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were dark, glazed with pain and fever. "Thirsty... so thirsty."
"Here." Lifting his head, she held her cup to his mouth. He drank greedily, drinking the last of the coffee that had gone cold.
"Got... to... get... away."
"Later."
"Now."
"You've got a fever, Micah. You've got to rest."
He shook his head. "Must... go. Home."
"Soon." She lowered his head to the pillow, then wiped his face with a cool cloth. "Rest now."