She obviously needed to get out more. Find someone fun, have herself a little frolic and stop drooling over the patients. Problem was, she rarely socialized so finding someone fun to frolic with was a little difficult.
As she approached Kyle’s office, an athletic young man with curly blond hair was just leaving. He wore a short-sleeved T-shirt that revealed brilliantly colored tattoo sleeves. A particularly gruesome tattoo caught Nina’s attention—a skull with a unicorn in its mouth. Philosophical statement? Evidence of personal frustration over bipolar tendencies? Or both?
She almost rolled her eyes at her mental questioning.
Sometimes a tattoo was just a tattoo.
The man was saying goodbye to Kyle. “I’ll check out the clinic you told me about. Thanks, Dr. Shepard,” he said before turning and catching sight of Nina. He smiled before walking away.
In spite of his disturbing tattoo, he seemed...carefree. Happy.
Which was good, of course, but a little unusual for one of Kyle’s patients. Kyle specialized in PTSD, and his clients typically had the same brooding quality as the man pacing restlessly in the waiting room.
Kyle stepped into the hallway. “How’s it going, Nina?”
“Good. Sandy sent me to check on you. Your next patient’s getting a little restless.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
When Nina got to her own office, she noted that her in-box was still empty and checked her watch. Looked like she and the police officer in the waiting room were both being a little impatient. If she’d read him accurately, he was obviously waiting to be seen by a doctor he had no respect for. Not uncommon with cops who were reluctant to show weakness or reach out for help, even though doing so was key to their continuing ability to do their jobs.
And she? She was waiting for her annual present from Lester Davenport, of course. The deliberate reminder of his daughter’s death and the part Nina had played in it.
Nina didn’t need the reminder. She knew the significance of today’s date.
And she blamed herself enough as it was.
Still, ten minutes later, when the mail finally arrived, Nina’s hands were shaking. When she saw the envelope with the familiar handwriting on it, her breath stuttered in her chest.
And when she opened up the envelope and withdrew the card inside, she closed her eyes and thought, No. She obviously hadn’t blamed herself enough. Like always, Davenport’s note caused pain to run through her like a thousand razor blades, but this time, there was something else added to the mix.
Fear.
Because Beth’s father wasn’t content with angry words anymore. This time, he’d included threats.
Several of them.
But all of them amounted to the same thing.
His daughter was dead.
And he wanted Nina dead, too.
CHAPTER FIVE
SIMON FIGURED DR. KYLE Shepard was a middle-aged man’s version of Little Orphan Annie. It wasn’t a particularly attractive combination, but it probably lulled most people into a false sense of security. They’d be too distracted by the doc’s garish red hair to pay any attention to how he was trying to siphon out their most private thoughts.
Not Simon.
His guard was up and would stay that way. He wasn’t taking any chances when it came to his job, but he didn’t need some stranger prying around in his head, either.
“So, Detective Granger, you’re here because you’re a trauma survivor.”
It wasn’t a question, but given the way the doctor paused, he clearly expected Simon to respond.
“I’m here because my superiors ordered me to be,” he drawled.
“And how do you feel about that?”
He smirked. He couldn’t help it. Why the hell did shrinks always lead with that damn question? What the hell difference did it make how he felt about a situation he couldn’t change? “I don’t feel anything about it. I’m here. I’ll cooperate. All I want is to get back to work.”
“All you want? But that isn’t true, is it? You want Lana Hudson to be alive, don’t you?”
Simon stared at the redhead, thinking he’d underestimated him. Shepard had gone in for the kill mighty fast. Faster than Simon had expected. “What I want and what is possible are two different things. What I want is irrelevant.”
Dr. Shepard nodded. “With respect to Lana, or with respect to your life in general?”
The temper that had been simmering below the surface suddenly flashed. Simon leaned forward in his chair. “Am I here for full psychoanalysis? Because, frankly, I thought I was here for grief counseling given a serial killer tortured and killed my girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Dr. Shepard said mildly. “Wasn’t she?”
Simon sat back. “She’s dead. Can’t get any more ‘ex’ than that.”
“Why had you two broken up?”
He’d known that question was coming, and he didn’t pull any punches or try to hide the ball. He knew perfectly well why Lana had broken up with him and he’d made his decisions knowing it would happen. “She didn’t like the fact I’d gone back to work the streets after taking a management position. She didn’t want to be involved with someone with a death wish, not when she’d already lost her husband to the war.”
“Do you have a death wish?”
He gazed steadily at the doctor. “I’m not afraid of death.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Simon said precisely, “I don’t wish to be dead.”
“Have you ever? As a teenager? When you were in the military?”
Dr. Shepard stared at him with an intensity that, if Simon didn’t know better, implied he knew his deepest, darkest secrets. Instinctively, he slammed every defensive wall he possessed in place. “No.”
“Then what do you wish for?”
He forgot about why he was there—to safeguard his job—and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Right now, I’m wishing this appointment was over and I was back at work.”
Several tense seconds of silence followed his response. Great, Simon thought. Now he’d gone and pissed the guy off. But damn it, he didn’t want to be here. He shouldn’t have to be. He—
“Work is important to you. Why?”
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was this guy asking questions when the answers were so damn obvious? But fine, Simon thought. The sooner he gave the doc the answers he wanted, the sooner he could get out of here. “I make a difference there. I like to think I keep the bad guys on their toes. I delay them a bit.”
“Delay but not stop them completely?”
“No one can stop them. Not all of them.”
“Can they be healed? Some of them?”
Dr. Shepard’s question automatically made Simon think of the doctor.
Nina Whitaker.
She’d reminded him of Lana in more ways than her cool blond looks. She’d had that same watchful gaze, intense yet filled with compassion, as if she could see every scar that lay underneath his skin and she wanted to kiss them all. Make them better. The idea of her kissing him anywhere made him shift in his seat and wrestle with the attraction that had tried to pull him closer even as he’d mentally sneered at her chosen profession. He ran a hand through his hair, painfully aware that he hadn’t answered Dr. Shepard’s question. And that he didn’t want to. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Lana was a psychiatrist. Some might say the reason her killer got close was because she was trying to help him. What did you think about that?”
He remembered the fight they’d had the last time he’d seen her. He’d been scared for her. He’d wanted to protect her. But she hadn’t wanted that. She’d wanted to heal a criminal more than she’d wanted to protect herself. Or him. So when he answered, he answered truthfully. “I thought she was a fool.”
“One that deserved to die?”
The feeling of denial was emphatic and swift. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, you didn’t. But do yo
u believe it?”
Did he? The least constructive emotion Simon felt when he thought about the way Lana had died was anger. At the man who’d killed her. And, like he’d felt at her grave site, even anger at her for placing herself in a killer’s sights. But he didn’t blame her. He knew she’d been doing what she felt she had to. “No. I don’t.”
Dr. Shepard nodded. “Okay, let’s talk about the incident that led to her death. What do you know about it?”
For the remainder of the hour, they discussed how Simon’s fellow SIG detectives, Carrie Ward and Jase Tyler, had been working a case trying to track down a serial killer dubbed The Embalmer. How Carrie and Lana had gone on national television and tried goading the killer into revealing himself. Unfortunately, they’d been more successful than they could have ever anticipated. The killer had waited outside the police department and concocted a good enough story that Lana had gone with him of her own free will. And then she’d been killed—murdered—just as violently as Mac had indicated earlier.
After rehashing the facts and discussing Simon’s “feelings” about them over and over again, Dr. Shepard nodded. “Thank you. Our session is done. If you’d like to reschedule, I look forward to talking to you next week.”
Simon stood. Managed to choke out, “Thanks.” Without waiting to see if the doctor extended his hand, Simon turned and left.
He was almost to the hospital lobby when his cell phone rang. He scowled when he saw the number of the incoming caller on the screen.
“Checking up on me, Mac?”
“Are you still at the hospital?” Mac’s voice was strained. Urgent.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“SFPD just brought a 5150 into the E.R. There’s reason to believe he kidnapped a young girl. If possible, take Dr. Shepard to the E.R. with you. See what he can get out of the guy as he’s evaluating him.”
Shit, Simon thought, replaying how rudely he’d just walked out of the man’s office. “Wish I’d known we needed his help before I talked to him.”
“Made that good of an impression, huh?”
“I cooperated,” he mumbled. “Sort of.”
“Just snag the doc and meet Officer Dan Rieger in the E.R.”
“On my way.”
He backtracked to Dr. Shepard’s office. He was able to get into the waiting room, but the door leading to the back offices was locked. The receptionist was gone, but she’d left the Plexiglas divider open. He stuck his head in and called out, “Dr. Shepard?” Nothing. “Is anyone here?”
He heard a noise in one of the back offices followed by footsteps. A woman stepped into view.
It was the doctor he’d rudely dismissed earlier. Nina Whitaker. The one that, despite himself, he’d imagined naked and lying in his arms.
Hell, he was imagining her naked right now.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I need a doc to come into the E.R. with me. There’s a 5150 about to arrive who might know where a kidnapped young girl is.”
She hesitated. “Let me find out who the on-call doc is.” A minute later, she was back. “It might take a while, but someone will meet you down there.”
Damn it, they didn’t have time to wait. That was obvious by Mac’s call. By the fact he’d wanted Simon to drag Dr. Shepard to the E.R. “This is a critical situation. You can do it, can’t you?”
She hesitated. “Yes, but—”
Despite his misgivings, despite the fact he wanted to stay as far away from her as possible, it couldn’t be helped. Clenching his jaw, he motioned for her to join him. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SIX
SIMON GRANGER GUIDED her toward the E.R. with a big hand cupped under her elbow. Even as she managed to keep up with his long strides, Nina tried to get through to him. “Wait a second. You’re saying you want me to get information from someone exhibiting a psychotic break?”
“If that’s the same thing as someone acting crazy, then yes.”
She glared at him. “And you think that’s easy to do?”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s easy or not. He supposedly kidnapped a little girl who might need medical help. We have to find out where she is. If you don’t get the information out of him, then I will.”
She managed to pull away and skid to a stop. The detective faced her with his hands on his hips.
“And just what does that mean?” she asked. “That you’ll beat the information out of him?”
“I didn’t say that. But I’ve been trained in interrogation techniques. If your questions don’t give us the answers we need—”
“Your ‘techniques’ will likely escalate the situation even more.”
His expression remained impassive. “Then let’s hope I don’t have to use them.”
He turned and strode away, leaving her to follow.
As they entered the E.R., he went up to the receptionist and showed her his badge. “There should be a patrol officer here with a 5150. Officer Dan Rieger.”
“Yes,” the woman said, her gaze finding Nina’s, who nodded. “They’ve already been put in a room. I’ll show you to him.”
She escorted them past several exam rooms to where a uniformed patrol officer was pacing in front of an open door.
“Officer Rieger? Special Agent Simon Granger. Is your perp inside?”
The man nodded. “They’re taking some blood tests. He’s in restraints and they gave him a shot to calm him down. We picked him up for shoplifting, but he got all agitated. Started saying we were part of the alien invasion. That he wouldn’t tell us where the little girl he was protecting is.”
“Are you certain he has a young girl and isn’t simply delusional?” Nina asked.
“He had a young girl’s jacket. And an inhaler. One of those over-the-counter kinds, so it doesn’t have a prescription on it. But he said the girl was having trouble breathing and had run out of her medicine. That’s what he was stealing. I gotta go with my gut on this one and say he’s got some girl hidden somewhere. And if she’s out of her asthma medication, we’re running out of time.”
Simon turned to Nina.
She nodded. “Let me see what I can do.” She stepped inside the room and nodded to the nurse who was labeling a vial of blood. On a gurney lay a young man, legs and wrists restrained by leather straps, a dazed expression on his face. Possible catatonia or maybe too heavy a dose of the antipsychotic. She just hoped he was lucid enough to discuss the girl he’d taken and where they’d find her. She stepped inside and tried shutting the door.
She gasped when Granger held it open.
“I’m coming with you.”
She glared at him. “No. You are not. I’ll evaluate the patient and report back in a minute.”
“But—”
“Let go of the door right now, Detective, or I’ll have no choice but to call security and have you thrown out.”
Their gazes held and clashed for several seconds and she had to force herself not to look away from the pure fury in his. Slowly, however, he released his grip on the door and stepped back. With an imperceptible sigh of relief, Nina shut the door, blocking out his scowling face.
* * *
“SHE A PSYCHIATRIST?” Officer Rieger asked Simon.
“Yeah.” Simon stared at the door through which she’d disappeared.
“I hope she’s a good one.”
Despite the way she’d managed to get under his skin, Simon had a feeling she was better than good. The problem was, she could be the very best and he still wouldn’t like it. If she could help them get the information they needed, great, but he knew what would happen either way. She’d already referred to their perp as a “patient.” As soon as she came back out, she’d start talking about helping the guy. Trying to help the man who’d kidnapped a little girl and probably had done God knows what to her already. And when that happened, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to—
The door opened and Nina stepped out.
“Can we go in and see him now?” Simon asked.
She shook her head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s indeed having a psychotic break. He doesn’t know where he is but he feels threatened. The doctor gave him Haloperidol, a quick-acting antipsychotic, but he’s still having delusional thoughts. Right now, he needs to get his brain activity settled. He’s operating in a vastly different reality than we are.”
“So what are you going to do?” Simon growled. “Light incense and sing Kumbaya?”
She narrowed her eyes in warning. To Simon, sass and intelligence had always been an alluring addition to physical beauty. This woman had all three in spades. Too bad they had a life-or-death situation at hand. If the situation was different, and despite what she did for a living, he might be up for exploring what made Nina tick.
“If that’s what it takes,” she said. “You want the information, don’t you? The only chance I have of getting it is to establish trust with him and make him feel safe. And the only way I’m going to be able to do that is if I know he’s actually going to be safe.”
“Meaning what?”
“He looks like he’s been roughed up.” She glanced pointedly over his shoulder at Officer Rieger.
Simon didn’t jump to any conclusions. He knew better than most how dangerous a cop’s job was. It was easy to judge a cop’s actions once danger had passed, but unless you’d been in his shoes... “I don’t know anything about that,” he said softly.
“No, but he does.”
“He resisted arrest,” Officer Rieger clipped out.
Nina glared at the young officer. “He thinks we’re all aliens who want to suck out his brain. Of course he resisted.”
“You’re bartering with me for promises of leniency?” Simon asked, his expression and tone incredulous. And pissed. “When what I’m asking for is information to help save a little girl?”
She returned her gaze to his. Bit her lip as if contemplating his words, then shook her head. “Wanting a man to be treated with basic respect is not the same thing as asking for leniency. I’ll do everything I can to get you the information. But you involved me, which means Mr. Callahan is now my patient, and that means I’ll be doing whatever is necessary to make sure he’s treated with dignity.”
Shades of Passion Page 5