“Yes, yes. Sorry to keep you. I didn’t realize....”
Zach hurried to the new wing. At the sight of Tara on the computer, his gut clenched. He should’ve spoken to her before making the deletions. He lengthened his stride. The nurse’s station was empty aside from Tara—practically an open invitation for her to snoop.
“Tara,” he said.
Down the hall, Barb stepped out of Whittaker’s office looking as giddy as a schoolgirl.
Not good. “Whatever you’re doing, log off. Now,” he hissed to Tara, his gaze fixed on Barb.
“But I’m—”
“Just do it.”
* * *
Tara yanked her pass card from the computer hub. Her hands shook from the storm she’d glimpsed in Zach’s eyes before he took off down the hall. She rose, and the floor seemed to shift beneath her feet.
Zach closed in on Barb, and from the look on her face, Barb wasn’t happy to see him.
But what did that have to do with her?
Zach said something, and Barb’s mouth gaped open for a full three seconds. Then she exploded from her stupor. Their voices rose, but Tara couldn’t make out what they were saying.
From the urgency with which Zach had demanded she log off the computer, she had a bad feeling that she was going to find out.
Zach scrubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, his voice dropping to a more conciliatory tone.
Still scowling, Barb nodded and stalked off.
Tara pulled in a breath and held it as she waited for Zach to come back and explain. For a moment, she wondered if he’d forgotten about her.
Eventually he plodded toward her, his brooding gaze unreadable.
“What’s going on?”
His jaw tightened in response. His gaze shifted left and then right. “We can’t discuss it here.”
She fisted her hands. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She sat behind the computer again.
His gaze darkened. “Make sure that’s all you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zach scanned the hall a second time and then rounded the desk. “In the ten minutes before I got here,” he said, so softly she had to strain to hear him, “did you look at any medical records that you had no reason to?”
“No.” She swallowed. “But—”
“I know about the but. The trouble is, I think Whittaker does, too. Now he wants to take a look at who’s accessing files. He’ll see that you did.”
“So? I check dozens of records a day.”
“Of patients not under your care?” Zach asked through gritted teeth. “If this goes to trial and the defense reviews the audit logs and sees that my informant checked medical records pertinent to my case without a legitimate reason, it will jeopardize a prosecution.”
“Audit logs? What are you talking about?”
“They’re like a fingerprint trail. Every action taken in a record, and by whom, is recorded in the background.”
Her heart sank. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.”
She stared at the colors swirling on the computer screen, and was struck by a glimmer of hope. “But I didn’t tell you anything.”
“No, you didn’t.” Hurt tinged his voice.
Great, she couldn’t win here. “How do you know I didn’t have a legitimate reason to look at those records?”
The tiniest spark of his usual good humor lit his eyes. “Because you just told me.”
She frowned. “Okay. But you can honestly say I didn’t tell you anything.”
“You’re missing the point.” He glanced around and then leaned over her desk, his face inches from hers. “Number one—the defense would never believe me. Number two—you could be charged.”
She choked on the thought. What would happen to her little girl?
A muscle in his cheek flinched. “Okay, I may have exaggerated that last part. Because I’m concerned for your safety.”
Great, he was trying to scare her into staying out of trouble. Out of jail, no less.
She pictured herself in an orange jumpsuit. Oh, yay, she wouldn’t have to worry about guys lining up for the chance to date her there. Especially the cop guy looking at her with a scowl that could strip paint. “I was just trying to help.”
Zach shook his head, and the scowl disappeared. He squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I’ve taken care of it.”
She might have thought he’d forgiven her, too, if not for the way he yanked back his hand the instant McCrae and Whittaker rounded the corner.
ELEVEN
The wind wrestled the screen door from Tara’s hand as she opened it. “Has something happened?” After the trouble she’d caused Zach earlier today, he was the last person she’d expected to see on her doorstep tonight.
“Can I come in?” he asked above the sound of pelting rain.
Even if she’d wanted to say no, Suzie didn’t give her the chance. She leaped to her feet, shouting, “Dak here,” and tugged him inside to the toy farmyard decorating the living-room floor. “Pway wif me.” Suzie pressed a plastic farmer into his hand.
Closing the front door, Tara massaged the pain pulsing at her temple.
Zach humored Suzie for a few minutes and then playfully mussed her hair. “I need to talk to your mom for a bit, okay?”
Suzie’s lips dipped into a pout.
“Hey, hey, what’s this?” Zach hooked his finger under Suzie’s chin. “I won’t play more later if you pout.”
Suzie immediately brightened. “I be good.”
Zach chuckled, and when he turned to Tara, they shared one of those proud looks she’d often seen parents exchange over the heads of their children at church.
She turned away and busied herself filling the kettle. Why did she have to torment herself by noticing things like that?
Because her heart had jumped to her throat at the sight of him hunkered down on the floor making farm-animal noises to entertain her daughter. Because Suzie thrived under his attention. Because, despite everything, she was ridiculously pleased that he’d come. “You want tea?” Water overflowed the kettle and poured over her hand.
He rose, a dimple winking in his cheek. “I’m good, thanks.”
She twisted off the tap, left the kettle in the sink, and snatched up a hand towel. “What did you want to talk about?”
“First, I want to apologize for losing it with you this afternoon. I appreciate your help. Very much.” He retrieved the laptop he’d left by the front door on his way in and brought it to the dining table. “I just got a little crazy when I thought Whittaker was on to you.”
“Apology accepted.”
His smile sent a rush of warmth clear to her toes. She gathered the photos she hadn’t finished sorting, along with the card from Mom’s neighbor, and moved them to the sideboard.
Zach caught her hand. “Sit, please.”
“This sounds serious.” Slipping her hand from his grasp, she sat in the chair beside him.
“I have news. I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad.”
She drew in a quick breath, and her heart thumped hard against her ribs.
“The coffee Alice gave you was clean. We’ve still got her under surveillance,” he rushed on. “The fingerprint match warranted that much.”
“You don’t think she poisoned my lunch?”
“I didn’t say that,” he countered. “But we don’t have a motive.”
“She wants my job!”
“Maybe. But do you really think she killed Deb Parker to make you look incompetent?”
Tara ducked her head. Okay, point made. “So what’s with the computer? You’ve decided to hack into medical records after all?”
His eyes twinkled. “Nop
e.” He hit the power button. “Something perfectly legal. Social media.”
“You mean like Facebook?”
“Among others, yes. You can find out a lot about a person that way.”
“Like why they’d kill someone?”
“Maybe.” He typed in a password and brought an internet browser up on the screen.
“Why do you think someone killed those patients?”
“If drug trials are being rigged, I think Alice and Whittaker might be in cahoots.”
She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “That would explain why she’s been at odds with McCrae lately. He’s not a big supporter of AP-2000.”
A tree branch scraped against the siding, making her jump. The lights flickered.
“It’s just the wind.”
Tara pulled her sweater tighter around her and nudged up the thermostat. “Do you really think that Whittaker or Alice would be stupid enough to tweet about their business?”
“No, I’m counting on the trial participants having done that.” He typed “Ellen Clark” plus “Miller’s Bay” into Facebook’s search box. Two photos popped up.
Tara pointed to the redhead. “That’s her.” She scanned the wall posts, pleased to see that Ellen, like many people, allowed complete public access to her profile. “She was getting better,” Tara said in surprise.
“Yes, and look at this.” Zach pointed to a post farther down the screen. “Ellen pulled out of the drug trial after only one dose. She’s the second patient who’s shown signs of improvement after withdrawing from treatment.”
“Do you think Whittaker killed her to make it look better for those who stay on the drug?” Tara rubbed her stomach, feeling suddenly nauseated.
“Possibly.” Zach typed in another name Tara recognized from Whittaker’s list. This one had no web presence. “We have the 9-1-1 call from Ellen Clark’s apartment.” Zach typed another name. “Detective Gray is bringing in an analyst to compare it to a voice recording I took of Whittaker.”
Suzie moaned, clutched her teddy to her chest and curled into a ball.
“You not feeling good, munchkin?” Zach asked.
“Head owie,” she whined.
Tara knelt beside her and felt her forehead. “She’s not hot.”
“But her face is cherry-red.”
The roiling in Tara’s stomach grew fiercer. Symptoms clicked together in her mind. Headache, nausea, abnormally flushed skin. She rushed Suzie to the window and threw up the sash. “How do you feel?” Tara asked Zach.
“Me? I have a bit of a headache.”
Tara pushed Suzie’s face close to the window screen. “Take big breaths, sweetie. It’ll make you feel better.” To Zach she said, “Turn off the furnace. Open the windows. I think it’s carbon monoxide.”
“Get her outside.” Zach opened the thermostat cover and clicked off the heat. Then stormed down the hall to the bedrooms.
Tara could hear him throwing open windows as she dug Suzie’s raincoat out of the closet. “Keep your face to the window,” she said as she pulled Suzie’s arms through the sleeves. Not bothering with a coat for herself, Tara grabbed an umbrella and hustled Suzie out the door.
The street was dark and a creepy feeling snaked down her spine, as if someone was watching from the shadows. Hunched against the driving rain, she urged Suzie to take deep breaths and steered her toward the safety of the car. The wind grabbed the umbrella, yanking it inside out. A flash of lightning streaked the sky. Suzie screamed. Thunder cracked the air.
Abandoning the umbrella, Tara grabbed the car door, but it was locked. Her car keys were still in the house. She scooped Suzie into her arms and dashed back to the cover of the porch.
In the distance, a siren wailed. Zach must’ve called.
Moments later an ambulance swerved onto the street. The fire chief arrived next in his own truck. Tara hoped the entire volunteer crew wasn’t following with the fire engines. The last thing she needed was more attention drawn to her idiocy.
She never should’ve started the furnace before having it serviced. She shivered to think how close they’d come to being smothered by an invisible gas.
Zach emerged from the house, swept his arm around her and Suzie, and urged them toward the ambulance, where the EMTs were pulling out equipment. He hoisted Suzie into the back of the truck. “We’ve got suspected carbon-monoxide poisoning.” He offered Tara a hand up and whispered for her ears alone, “I’ll be back in a minute. I need to talk to the chief. Don’t go anywhere without me.”
The fervency of his concern wriggled into all the lonely places worn raw by Earl’s abandonment.
The EMTs set her and Suzie on a gurney and outfitted them both with tight-fitting oxygen masks. A female EMT clipped an oxygen-saturation tester onto Suzie’s finger, then checked her other vitals. The sound of the pelting rain was muffled inside the ambulance, and to Tara’s surprise, Suzie immediately grew animated, delighting in all the cool gadgets and attention. It probably helped that the female EMT sweet-talking her out of her wet jacket looked a lot like Cinderella—Suzie’s favorite storybook character.
Zach and the fire chief, meter in hand, passed by as they headed toward the house.
Suzie looked up at Tara with bright brown eyes, her cheeks no longer too rosy, and Tara’s breaths came a little easier.
The EMT wrapped a blanket around their shoulders. “You’re both going to be fine. The oxygen levels look good. But we should get your husband on some oxygen.”
Tara took a second to realize the woman was referring to Zach. Tara didn’t correct her. If she were honest with herself, the idea was kind of appealing. She was silly to even think it, of course. But tonight, at least, she was grateful for his solid presence. She even found herself thanking God for his protection.
Then Detective Gray’s car pulled to the curb, and Tara’s prayer turned to paste in her mouth. If Zach had called in the detective, it could mean only one thing.
This was no accident.
The detective nodded to Tara, then motioned the EMT to the rear door.
Tara stepped up beside her. “If this is about me, I’d like to hear.”
“I was just telling the EMT that I’ve made arrangements for a nurse to administer a blood test here to determine your carbon-monoxide levels and, if necessary, to outfit you and your daughter with portable oxygen so you won’t have to go to the hospital.”
Tara swallowed her why? Because deep down she knew why. Detective Gray thought it’d be easier to keep her safe here than at the hospital.
“You okay with that?” he asked, as if he were giving her a choice. Which she knew he wasn’t. Rain streamed down his coat as he waited for her answer.
She shifted her attention to the dark street behind him and couldn’t help but shiver. “Yes, whatever you think is best.”
* * *
As soon as the fire chief issued the all clear, Zach hurried to the ambulance to let Tara know. The rain had stopped, but the damp night air held an unseasonable chill. Reflections of swirling emergency lights flared in the puddles on the driveway. Curiosity seekers watched from the windows of neighboring houses. Zach shut down visions of how differently this night could have ended. Lord, show me how to keep them safe.
He looked up, and warmth rushed over him at the sight of mother and daughter sitting wrapped in a blanket.
“Dak here!” Suzie squealed, jumping to her feet.
An instant smile stole to his lips. Suzie’s enthusiastic greeting penetrated the deepest longings of his soul, unleashing a rush of paternal feelings.
Suzie sailed into his open arms, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the light in Tara’s eyes suggested she’d like to, too. His pulse skittered at the thought.
He scooped Suzie onto his hip and then offered Tara a hand out of the ambulance. Once she wa
s on the ground, he couldn’t resist resting his hand at the small of her back to guide her around the puddles.
The fire chief stood at the front door, talking with Rick.
“Are you sure it’s safe to go back inside?” Tara asked, the quaver in her voice squeezing Zach’s heart.
“It’s safe,” the chief responded, but his furtive glance at Rick belied the assurance.
Suzie curled her arms into her chest and snuggled against Zach. “Me cold.”
“Is it safe to use the furnace?” Tara asked.
“Come on.” Zach prodded her through the doorway. “I’ll explain everything inside.”
The moment Zach set Suzie down, the little girl kicked off her boots and scrambled to her toy farmyard, which now had a stream of water trickling through it.
“Oh, no!” Tara grabbed a towel and dashed to the water puddled on the floor in front of the open windows.
Zach peeled off the rain slicker Rick had given him. “I’ll do that. You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
She sponged at the water. “My clothes are no wetter than yours.”
Zach took the towel and pulled Tara to her feet. “And I’ll change as soon as Kelly gets here.”
“Kelly, as in my old bodyguard?”
Zach glanced at Rick, who was still at the door, now talking with one of the officers who’d been collecting evidence. “Yes, she’s back on duty.” Zach tossed the towel over his shoulder and clasped Tara’s upper arms. He waited for her to meet his gaze. He didn’t want to tell her what they’d found. But she needed to know. She needed to be on her guard. “Tara, your furnace isn’t broken. Someone stuffed a rag in the exhaust pipe.”
Her gasp seemed to lodge in her throat. Her gaze flew to Suzie, and then he felt her body start to sway.
Zach tightened his hold. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.” His heart jolted at the vulnerability in her eyes, even as he fought the impulse to fold her into his arms.
That wasn’t how a police officer comforted a witness under his protection. He knew it. She knew it. And if the hair prickling to attention at the back of Zach’s neck was any indication, Gray was thinking it.
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