The Lakeview Man (The Lakeview Man Series Book 1) by D.A. Roberts

Author:D.A. Roberts [Roberts, D.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J. Ellington Ashton Press
Published: 2020-04-24T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Fresh Tracks

“Evil can be a teacher, if you look at the

wisdom of its negative power.”

Tom Brown, Jr.

Clark awoke to the smell of frying bacon. Glancing at the clock, he could see it was after nine in the morning. Slipped out of bed and put on his clothes, then headed downstairs. He arrived just as Sanchez was putting the last of the food on the table. There were scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, sausage links, biscuits and gravy, and toast. There was a tub of butter and a jar of honey on the table, as well.

“I was wondering if I was going to have to come up there to wake you up?” she mused.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked, sliding into his chair.

“The first morning out of the hospital,” she said. “I wanted to make it special.”

“Well, you certainly did that,” he replied. “Thank you for cooking all of this.”

“I don’t get the urge to cook often,” she said, sliding into her chair, “but when I do, I go all out.”

“What else can you cook?” he asked, smiling.

“Well,” she said, “I can make a lot of meals you’d recognize. And even more, you wouldn’t. My paternal grandmother taught me how to cook. She grew up in a little village in Spain called Cudillero. They immigrated to the United States just before World War Two.”

“Have you ever been there?” he asked, starting to fill his plate.

“No,” she replied, “but I’ve always wanted to.”

“Maybe we could go there together,” said Clark. “Once all of this is through.”

“The investigation?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, “and I’m fully recovered.”

“I’d love that,” she replied. “Maybe to celebrate us being back together.”

“Maybe,” he said, smiling.

After they ate, he helped her clear the dishes and start the dishwasher. In turn, she joined him in the shower. Despite wanting to, Sanchez limited the shower activities to merely cleanliness. Clark was favoring his ribs and didn’t complain too loudly. He refused to tell her exactly how much pain he was really in and he also refused to take any more pain medication. He hated how it made him feel out of control.

After they got out of the shower, she helped him dry off gently. Drying the skin with a towel, she traced her fingers over every purple scar and wound. She kissed the biggest ones and ran her fingers along with the older scars on his back and chest. There were many scars.

Picking up the medkit, she applied antibiotic ointment to the wound and placed a fresh bandage over it. After taping all four sides of the bandage with surgical tape, she smoothed it down with her fingertips to be certain it was properly sealed.

“There,” she said, softly. “Better?”

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”

Once dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting St. Louis Blues jersey, Clark took out a spare pistol from his pack and slipped the holster onto his belt. Then he added a mag pouch for three additional magazines. He checked the Glock 19 9mm to be sure

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