Johansen was typing. “I see you did well there. Security Forces. That’s like MPs in the army, right?”
“Yes. I joined the civilian police force when I got out of the service.”
“So, what made you turn to selling drugs?”
“What?” Clay was floored.
Johansen was staring straight at him. “Tell me about the drugs? Was Ms. Forrester involved? Is that why you moved into her building?”
“No!” He wanted to shout, to slam his fist into something or someone. Instead, he calmed himself and faced the detective boldly. “I have never had anything to do with the sale or use of drugs. Any kind. And I had not seen Sandy Lynn for many years, let alone had contact with her. We did not part on the best of terms and had lost touch.”
One of the other officers, Harper, spoke up. “So we’re supposed to believe you rented an apartment in her building by chance. Ha!”
Johansen shot the younger man a stern look of warning. “I suppose it is possible to have moved there without knowing where she lived, but you must admit it’s barely plausible.”
Although Clay didn’t want to get Abe involved, he saw no alternative. “A friend recommended the place. I truly had no idea she was already living there.”
“Your reason for moving was...?” The detective seemed to have a one-track mind.
Staring at the other officers, one at a time, Clay finally said, “My condo was turned into a supposed crime scene. Without a job I couldn’t afford to keep living there, anyway, so I looked for a cheaper place. Finding one was not easy, and I jumped at the chance without investigating the other tenants.”
“Are you saying you would not have rented there if you had known Ms. Forrester was also a resident?”
He nodded slowly, pensively. “That’s what I thought initially. Now, I’m beginning to believe I was meant to be around when she needed me.”
“The luck of the draw?”
Clay adamantly disagreed. “No way. If it’s anything, it’s divine providence that I was nearby when the attack occurred. If I hadn’t been, both women might have been killed.”
Taking his time, Johansen consulted the computer screen again, then looked up at Clay. “Has it occurred to you that some of your drug buddies might have been after you, instead? Maybe they got the wrong floor.”
“Not for a second,” Clay shot back. “I am not connected to crime in any way.” Behind the detective, both officers were chuckling wryly, so he went on. “I was framed. Beautifully, I might add. I’d gotten a whiff of corruption at my station almost as soon as I transferred in. The next thing I knew, I was being charged and my car was impounded. Packets of drugs were found hidden in the car, so they locked me out of my apartment, too.”
Johansen was studying him, assessing him. “Why aren’t you in custody?”
“Humph. Because my chief is smarter than that. There were no prints on the drug baggies. Not mine or anybody’s. I suggested he have the contents tested to see if the formulation matched any already in evidence and he found a match. Do you think I’d have done that if I’d stolen them from the property room in the first place?”
“That’s the charge?”
“That, and possession. Once the chief suspended me, I knew I was finished as a cop.”
“You still maintain innocence?” Johansen asked.
“Until my dying day,” Clay insisted.
Harper’s partner, Allgood, gestured toward the closed door of the hospital room. “Keep hanging around her, and that may come sooner than you think.”
Clay whirled on him. “Is that a threat?”
“Nope. Just an observation. Whatever she’s mixed up in is beginning to look more serious than your theft of confiscated drugs.”
Before Clay had time to respond, the detective held up a hand to end the discussion. “Everybody calm down. We’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another.” He pointed. “Harper, you stand guard on Ms. Forrester’s room until she’s discharged. Her doctor promised she could go home later today if there were no complications, so it shouldn’t be long.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ignoring Clay, Johansen turned to Allgood. “You head on up to the surgery floor, locate Ms. Bloom, and look after her for the present. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Waiting to be mentioned, Clay stood ready to argue if he was told to leave the premises. Instead, the detective said, “You’re free to go wherever you choose, for now. You should know that I plan to look into your case, as well as Ms. Forrester’s. Tell me. Do you think they’re connected in any way?”
Clay was taken aback. “Such as?”
“I don’t know. Yet. But if you do recognize anyone loitering, I expect you to contact me or the department ASAP.” Standing with his back to the uniformed officers, he handed Clay his business card. Johansen shifted his eyes to the left and lifted his chin almost imperceptibly, convincing Clay he wasn’t the only suspect standing there.
That was a partial relief, at least. Regular patrol officers tended to band together against a common enemy, namely him, and they had, as soon as the trumped-up charges surfaced. Johansen was subtly letting him know that he had a chance of proving his innocence. That, alone, was a blessing.
As the detective turned to go, he added an afterthought. “And don’t leave town. That would make you look guilty and we’d have to issue an arrest warrant. Am I understood?”
“Perfectly,” Clay said. He had no intentions of running away. Never had.
A raised hand was the only goodbye he got from the older man. Allgood had already left to locate Enid’s room, and Harper stood at attention next to Sandy Lynn’s.
Clay started for her door.
Harper stepped into his way. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Into that room,” Clay said with determination. “Move.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll move you.”
Grinning, Harper folded his arms across his chest, standing like a soldier ready for battle. “If you accost a sworn police officer you can be arrested. Then what good will you be to her or her friend?”
“You’re assuming you’ll be around to press charges,” Clay threatened, acting the way he’d sometimes had to when he was patrolling the air base where he’d been stationed. “If I’m half as bad as you all seem to think I am, maybe you’d better try to stay on my good side.”
He wouldn’t have harmed the smug cop, of course. Clay just hoped Harper didn’t realize that. A bluff wouldn’t work a second time if it wasn’t convincing enough to get him to back down now.
Almost nose to nose, Clay stood his ground. “Well?”
The cop shifted. “You were in there with her before so I guess it’ll be okay this time. Just don’t try anything funny, like kidnapping.”
Clay huffed. Arguing would be fruitless, he knew, despite the strong urge to defend his prior actions. Fortunately, Johansen’s approach had given him enough confidence to ignore this latest slur. A lot was riding on the detective’s good opinion of him, and the last thing he wanted to do was get into a shouting match—or worse—with any cops.
Sandy Lynn looked to be sleeping when he reentered her room, quietly closed the door behind him and tiptoed up to her bed. Her lashes fluttered and her closed eyes moved rapidly, signaling REM sleep. She was dreaming.
He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, watching, waiting, wondering how they had ended up as emotionally distanced as they seemed to be. How might their lives have been different if he had been mature enough to respond to her confessions of affection and stay in Springfield instead of leaving?
They wouldn’t have made a good couple, not then, and probably not now, either. Nevertheless, he did care for her. Describing his feelings was a lot harder than acknowledging them. He didn’t see her as a little sister. He never had. A frie
nd, yes. Perhaps a good one, although she had certainly complicated things by throwing herself at him as an impressionable teen.
She began to make soft, mewling sounds. Her head turned from side to side, making a bigger dent in the pillow. Her eyes moved faster and faster until she was quivering all over.
Clay reached for her hand to calm her. He saw her take a deep, stuttering breath and anticipated what was to come.
Sandy Lynn sat bolt upright, ready to scream and bring Harper on the run.
That’s when Clay did the only thing he could think of other than clamping his hand over her mouth and manhandling her.
He perched on the side of the bed and pulled her into his embrace, speaking words of comfort and rocking gently back and forth.
“Easy, Sandy Lynn. Easy. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” Feeling her tension ebbing, he whispered, “I’ll take care of you.”
To his surprise, she softly asked, “Who will take care of you?”
SEVEN
Sleep had brought enough renewed strength to enable Sandy Lynn to get herself up and dressed. While she prepared to leave her room, she mentally put together bits and pieces of the latest events, trying to make sense of them.
Emotional and physical weakness had kept her from resisting Clay’s impromptu embrace. Nevertheless, she could not get the sweet memory to go away. How many times in the distant past had she imagined what it would be like to be in his arms? Hundreds. Maybe more. And yet, reality had far surpassed anything she’d visualized.
So why wasn’t she more thankful? That answer was easy. What good were fervent prayers if the answers came too late? It was almost as if God was taunting her by sticking her in this situation involving Clay Danforth after she had already been ruined as a wife. Clay’s wished-for big family was certainly not going to come from her. No children were, thanks to Charles’s cruelty. Although doctors had saved her from bleeding to death, there were times, like the present, when she almost wished they had let her go.
Maudlin thoughts rarely crept into her mind and when they did, like now, she immediately banished them by thanking God for her life and for the children she got to love as she taught class. That was her life now, and it was a fulfilling one. She had a college degree despite being removed from her mother by social services; she was well-thought-of in the community, and she had a church family to depend upon and enough income to be comfortable. What more could she ask for?
The image of Clay’s appealing face popped into her mind and refused to go away. She was in the midst of asking the Lord to help her cope with Clay when the man himself knocked on her door and peeked in.
He grinned. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Sandy Lynn motioned him in. “How’s Enid?”
“Good, good.” Clay entered, stopping a long way back compared to where he’d been before. “She’s been moved to a regular room. Anytime you’re ready, I can take you to see her.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Did they catch the people who have been causing all the trouble?”
“Not yet. But they will. It’s only a matter of time. Police found a discarded hypodermic needle in the trash can outside the ladies’ room. Abe thought they might get prints off it.”
“Not likely, but I’m glad they’re taking this seriously. I’d be a lot more worried if they weren’t.”
“True.”
She slid off the bed then sat to put on her boots. “Surely, the attacker wore gloves.”
“Yes, but maybe the one who provided the sedative didn’t. It’s always worth checking.”
“Whatever you say.” Keeping her eyes on her boots to ease any embarrassment, she said, “I thought I heard you talking in the hallway. Someone mentioned drugs. Were you involved in a drug bust before you left the police force?”
“Several. Why?”
“Just that I’m glad. Even the little kids in my classes come up with dangerous stuff occasionally. They get it from older siblings. Or parents. The more you can get off the street, the better I like it.”
“I need to explain more, to tell you why I left the force,” Clay said quietly. “But not here. Not with Harper listening at the door.”
“Fine.” She straightened and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go.”
Passing Clay, Sandy Lynn could feel a change, a disturbance of her inner peace and a definite uneasiness. Had whatever Clay wanted to tell her affected him enough that she was empathetically picking up signals? This sometimes happened to her if one of her students was particularly upset; however, it had never bothered her regarding adults before.
He pulled open the door for her and held it as she explained to officer Harper that she was signing herself out ASAP and would not be returning to that room.
“I strongly advise you to be careful about the company you’re keeping,” Harper said, giving Clay a telling glance.
Sandy Lynn chose to act as if she misunderstood. “I assure you I only trust those who have proven themselves to be my friends, so don’t give it a second thought.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m sure you’d rather be out looking for the men in the dark outfits and ski masks who keep assaulting me. Don’t let us keep you.”
Harper snorted and shook his head at her as if he considered her the most foolish of fools. “Fine by me. I was assigned to watch your room, not you. If you want to wander off, I guess my job is done here.”
“Why don’t you call in and check with your boss,” Sandy Lynn said, still smiling as her gaze darkened. “Tell him I don’t plan to leave this hospital until I’ve spent some time with my friend.”
She and Clay paused in the hallway, watching the cop walk off in a huff. “Can we talk on the way to see Enid?” she asked.
“Yes, providing there’s nobody else in the elevator,” he replied. “If your friend is sleeping, maybe a quiet corner of her room would suffice.”
Stopping in front of the bank of elevators, she fidgeted, pressing the call button more than once.
“Does the elevator come faster if you hit that button over and over?”
“No. It just makes me feel better,” Sandy Lynn replied. She managed a slight smile. “We’re alone now. Start explaining.”
With a heavy sigh, he began. “I guess I was kind of homesick and didn’t know it, because when I heard of an opening in the police department here in Springfield I jumped to apply. And I got the job. That’s when the trouble started.”
She frowned up at him. “What kind of trouble?”
“I’m not sure who’s behind it, but I have my suspicions. Being new, it was probably easier for me to notice irregularities in the way evidence was handled. I began to look into it on my own, and the next thing I knew, I was being accused of stealing drugs from shipments that had been confiscated.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’d never do a thing like that.”
A smile spread across his handsome face and his eyes sparkled. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not even asking me if I was guilty.” Clay cleared his throat. “You and Abe are the only ones who didn’t.”
“It’s a no-brainer. Your character was always good, and I can’t imagine you’ve changed that much in the past ten years.” She could feel a blush beginning to warm her cheeks, and she was glad for the diversion of the arriving elevator.
After stepping in, she reached for the button to close the doors before anyone else had the chance to join them, then pushed Stop to temporarily suspend them between floors. “Is there more you wanted to tell me in private, or can we keep going?”
“Just that most of my fellow officers, including the chief, treated me as if I was guilty until proven innocent. I don’t know how much of that was meant as a diversion and how much was genuine, but it left me no choice. Once I was suspended I knew my only recourse was to resign.”
&nb
sp; “You quit? Just like that? Why? Didn’t you realize how guilty that made you look?”
“I knew I wasn’t.”
She had to shake her head at him. “That’s all well and good. The problem is, when you took yourself out of the picture you ended your opportunities to uncover the real thieves yourself.”
“I considered that. I also realized it would be impossible to do my job when I had almost no one I could count on for backup.”
“It was that bad?”
“Sometimes. It took a couple of close scrapes for me to realize the only way I was going to stay alive was to distance myself from the others. I just hope...”
“What? You hope what?” She waited as he looked away, apparently trying to decide whether or not to explain further.
When he turned back to face her and said, “I hope your problems aren’t linked to mine,” she felt a tremor sing up her spine and land at the nape of her neck, making it prickle.
Her jaw dropped. She didn’t try to stop Clay from restarting the elevator. Surely he was wrong. He had to be. Because if he wasn’t, she was making things much, much worse by allowing him back into her life, even on a temporary basis.
* * *
Letting the elevator continue to Enid’s floor, Clay said no more. Though he wasn’t sure he was right, he was unconvinced there wasn’t a germ of truth in the premise. Ever since Johansen had brought up the possibility of a connection, he’d been mulling over the sequence of events and had come to no solid conclusions one way or the other. Sharing the possibility with Sandy Lynn had seemed only fair.
Straightening her spine, she stepped off the elevator without another word and headed for the nurses station. Clay followed.
“Enid Bloom is in four thirty-four,” a nurse told Sandy Lynn.
Clay chose to avoid conversation until she’d had time to process his suggestion. It had taken him hours to accept such a far-out possibility, and he didn’t want to rush her into deciding how to react. If she did think it was possible, he figured she’d tell him to get lost, which would make his goal of protecting her much harder. He didn’t plan to give up, of course. Not in the slightest. But if he had to pretend to stop following her around, he would.
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