Page 25 of Shadowed Witness (The Secrets of Kincaid #2)

“That was absolutely delicious. Thank you.” Eric polished off the last of his ice-cream-topped, double-fudge brownie. He was so stuffed.

“You’re very welcome.” Allye looked pleased at his compliment, but she was obviously tired. More like exhausted.

He needed to redirect them to the purpose of his visit so they could get it over with and he could leave her to relax. “We should probably get started. Do you want to look through the mug shots here, or would you be more comfortable somewhere else?”

She eyed the tablet sitting to his right. “How many are there?”

“More than a few.”

She sighed. “Let’s move to the living room, then.” She topped off his coffee and refilled her iced tea before leading him into the other room. She plopped onto the couch, where they’d sat together this morning.

He joined her and powered on the tablet. As he navigated to the program, he explained how it worked. Allye nodded understanding.

“Okay.” He placed the device in her hands. “Have at it.”

They spent the next hour browsing through photos. He no ticed Allye frequently rubbing her eyes, and her hands shook—at points, badly enough that he had trouble focusing on the tablet screen.

Something was wrong.

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer. “Allye, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” She picked up her glass and stood, swaying slightly. “Can I get you a refill?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well, I need one. Be right back.” She was gone before he had a chance to object.

The weight in his stomach grew. Allye wasn’t generally an evasive person. Not unless she was protecting someone.

He waited until she was again settled next to him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which was?” She took a sip of her tea.

“I asked you what’s wrong.”

“I’ve told you everything I know.”

“Not about the case. What’s going on with you?”

“It’s nothing.” The glass wobbled slightly in her hand as she returned it to the table. “You sure you don’t want anything else? There’s plenty of dessert left. Coffee too.”

He shook his head.

“Let me get that out of your way, then.” She rose halfway and reached for his mug.

“Stop.”

She paused, fingers gripping but not lifting the dish.

He softened his tone. “Please. Talk to me.”

She closed her eyes and took a few shallow breaths. After a couple of seconds, she released her hold on the mug and sank back into the cushions.

Silence stretched between them. He waited.

Finally, she moistened her lips. “I’m being tested for multiple sclerosis. I have an MRI scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

The softly spoken words slammed into him.

He had to search for a response. “Allye, I’m sorry.” Man, that sounded lame.

“It might not be that, but I’ve been showing symptoms.” She shrugged. “And my aunt passed away from MS complications, so there’s family history.”

“Bryce didn’t mention anything.”

“I haven’t told him. Please don’t say anything. He and Corina have enough on their minds right now.”

“What about your mom?”

She shook her head. “She’s already lost one child—not that MS is a death sentence, but it’s life-altering for sure. And it was her sister who had MS. She’d freak. I don’t want to put that on her until I have an official diagnosis. Especially when there’s a chance it’s something ... less serious.”

So she was doing this alone. He’d seen how Allye tried to shoulder her family’s burdens, but this was extreme.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Don’t worry about it? “Allye—”

“Really, Eric. I didn’t tell you so you’d feel sorry for me. I’ll be fine.”

“Even if you have MS?” He reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away, but he felt the tremor.

She swallowed. “Even then.”

They sat in silence for a minute. Two. Finally, he asked, “What kind of symptoms are you dealing with? If you don’t mind telling me, that is.”

“Extreme fatigue. Numbness and tingling, muscle spasms, more frequent migraines.” She sucked in a breath.

“I get dizzy and lightheaded easily—especially when I stand up or am standing for an extended period of time.” She lifted her free hand.

“And the shaking, of course. Lack of coordination is another common symptom of MS, but I’ve always had that. ” She attempted a laugh.

He didn’t return it. “How long has this been going on?”

“Several months. Maybe longer, but that’s when I started paying attention and realized the symptoms were multiplying, not going away.

I’ve been blessed with doctors that take me seriously, and they’ve fast-tracked what they could because of my family history, but it’s still a long road to a diagnosis. ”

She’d been dealing with this for months? All on her own? He’d known she would do anything for those she cared about—even risk her own life like she had last fall when Corina was trying to escape a killer. But this? He gave her hand a light squeeze. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

“Someone has to.”

He couldn’t stop himself. He cupped her chin in his palm and looked deep into her eyes. “But it doesn’t always have to be you.”

She gave him a sorry excuse for a smile. “You’re one to talk. Mr. Big Bad Policeman who doesn’t need anyone.”

“Yeah.” He dropped his hand and leaned back to put a little space between them. He let the silence linger a moment. “You’ll have to tell them though. If it does turn out to be MS.” God, please don’t let it be MS.

He barely heard her whispered “I know” before she picked up the tablet and began scrolling through mug shots again. Message received—she was done talking about her personal problems.

ALLYE’S HANDS CONTINUED TO SHAKE as she dried and put away the supper dishes. She didn’t really have the energy to spare, but she needed to burn off a bit of her anxiety before trying to retire for the evening.

But the work wasn’t distracting her from her problems. Her conversation with Eric replayed in her mind as if through a loudspeaker.

While she’d admitted some of her situation to Hailey the other day, she hadn’t given voice to her worst fear—that she might be facing MS. She hadn’t wanted to share that with anyone until she knew for sure, one way or another.

What must Eric be thinking? They were friends, but not close friends.

And she’d admit, if only to herself, that she’d long wished to be more.

That was unlikely now. She didn’t think he was the kind of guy to run from a relationship requiring immediate consideration of the “in sickness and in health” part of marriage vows, but she wasn’t so sure she was willing to ask it of anyone.

But at least she didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. Telling him had been an unexpected relief, even more so than her brief conversation with her cousin. She didn’t like keeping secrets—not from her friends and especially not from her family. But she hated the thought of burdening them even more.

The last dish safely in the cabinet, Allye leaned against the edge of the counter and closed her eyes. She was so tired, she was almost afraid to move. How bad would it be to sleep on the kitchen floor tonight? She could just slide down the counter and—

Her phone began to ring from the other room. She released a groan and considered letting it go to voice mail. But it could be important.

She pushed off from the counter and retrieved her phone. “Hailey, what’s up?” She tried to infuse a bit of energy into her voice.

“Hey. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m doing okay.”

“Okay, okay? Or are you just being polite?” She continued on before Allye could answer. “Because if you’re just being polite, you can stuff it. I want the truth.”

Allye sighed. “The truth? I still feel lousy.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

Yes. No. Maybe. How was she supposed to answer that?

“Come on, Allye.”

Was she ready to share? Not really, but confiding in Eric had broken the ice. She’d said the words once—admitting what she feared didn’t seem quite as scary now. So she did. She blurted it all, unable to stop once she’d begun.

After she finished, there was a long pause on the line.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Allye sniffed. “You’ve got your hands full with Jenna. I didn’t mean to burden you with my junk.”

“Listen here, Allye Jessup. We’re family—more than that, we’re friends. Did you consider me a burden when I called you, scared about Jenna’s diagnosis?”

“Of course not. But that isn’t—”

“It is exactly the same. And if you remember, I asked for the truth.” Her voice softened. “I’m here for you—whether that means providing a listening ear, or helping you get to appointments, or coming along for moral support when you decide to talk to your mom.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

After she ended the call, she dragged herself to her bedroom. Again she had no energy to change. She fell into bed as she was.

Silence enveloped her. She stared up at the ceiling. She kept telling people she was fine—or would be. She told Eric she’d be fine even if it turned out she had MS. Was she telling the truth?

“God, I’m scared.” Terrified, if she were being totally honest. Not of death really—whether at the hand of a criminal or potential complications of a disease. She knew where she was going no matter how short or long her life was. In that, she really would be fine. But fear still hovered over her.

Of what? Of what she might have to go through? Of not being able to fulfill her life’s purpose—whatever that was? Of being a burden on her family? Or of the very real possibility that she’d never have a family of her own, never find someone who would dare to love her despite her illness?

Yeah. Maybe a bit of all of that.

She rolled to her side and curled into a ball. Pain shot through her neck and down into her right arm.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way. There was so much she wanted to do, to accomplish. So much she felt responsible for. So many people she cared about.

She wasn’t ready to give up on any of those things. Dread pressed in on her—almost tangible, as if her attacker was squeezing the life out of her right now. Her lungs refused to fill. She grabbed a fistful of blanket and tried to ground herself.

The words from one of her favorite psalms popped into her mind.

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” She turned the words over in her mind, then forced them through her lips.

Focused on a tiny blotch on the ceiling.

Repeated the words. The pressure around her chest loosened slightly.

She repeated the words once more, willing herself to mean them.

It helped. She drew in a deep, ragged breath. And another.

For a few moments, she lay still. Then a spasm started in her leg. She twisted in an attempt to ease it. That pain wasn’t going to go away by calming her anxiety. “I still trust you,” she mumbled.

Sleep. She seriously needed to rest her mind as well as her body. Last thing she needed was to be a vibrating bundle of nerves for the MRI in the morning.