Critical Condition

by Sandra Orchard

  Suzie’s eyes didn’t brighten as they usually did whenever she spotted Zach. Instead, she buried her head in the curve of Tara’s neck. Tara hugged her close and offered Zach an apologetic smile.

  His broad chest under the gray sweatshirt rose and fell as if fighting for enough air. Deep worry lines grooved his forehead as his gaze shifted from Suzie to her. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, the edge of pain in his voice making the words barely more than a whisper.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay.” No matter that he’d driven them into the middle of this gunfight—she could never blame him. Not when all he’d wanted to do was protect her and Suzie. And for the first time, she realized that she didn’t blame God, either.

  With any luck, the shooter’s arrest would put an end to the nightmare they’d been living. She rested her cheek against Suzie’s soft hair, and hoped against hope that tonight’s events wouldn’t haunt her dreams.

  Rick brought over a paramedic and pressed a set of keys into Zach’s hand. “As soon as Jack here says you’re good to go, you can use my car to take Tara and Suzie to the hotel.”

  Tara surveyed the line of police vehicles and the shooter being loaded into an ambulance. “Is that still necessary?”

  “Yes. We don’t know if this guy was acting alone or as a hired gun. And until we have answers, we’re not taking any more chances.”

  * * *

  “The shooter didn’t make it.” Rick strode past Zach into the motel room.

  “What? But last night the doctor said the operation to remove the bullet was a success.”

  “Yeah, well, the kid didn’t wake up from the anesthetic.”

  Zach slammed a fist into the wall.

  Rick took a seat on the sofa wedged between the window and bed. “I want Tara back at work.”

  “No way!” Zach glanced at the door adjoining Tara’s motel room, and lowered his voice. “There’s got to be another way.”

  “We’ve been over this. Someone at the hospital hired that shooter. His cell phone had two calls from the hospital coinciding with the first shooting and the carbon-monoxide poisoning. You said yourself that as long as this guy thinks Tara can identify him, he’ll try again.”

  Zach’s gut clenched at the reminder. As a cop, he knew Rick’s plan was their best shot at convincing the guy to back off and buying themselves some time, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  Rick leaned back on the sofa. “If Tara talks about how this punk we took down was the one she saw in Parker’s room, and says the police figure he came after her because he was afraid she could identify him as the perp who’s been stealing drugs and peddling them on the street... I think our man will believe it.”

  “And what if you’re wrong?”

  “You can watch out for her at the hospital. We’ll keep her house under twenty-four-hour surveillance. We’ll keep her safe.”

  Zach plowed his fingers through his hair and paced. “That’s what we said about last night’s plan.”

  “Yes, and it worked. Tara and her little girl are tucked safe and sound in the next room.”

  Yeah, right. They might be safe for the moment, but seeing Tara pull her daughter from his glass-strewn backseat had left him completely unraveled. He’d driven around an hour longer than necessary before bringing them here last night, because he couldn’t bear the thought of letting Tara and Suzie out of his sight, even if they’d be in the next room, miles away from any threat. Especially when his gut told him the threat was as real as ever.

  “I don’t buy that our shooter died of a surgical complication.”

  Rick tip-tapped his finger on the sofa arm. “It happens.”

  “But what if it didn’t just happen? If the killer could finish the shooter off so discreetly, what’s to stop him from doing the same to Tara?”

  “He’d have done it already. The important thing is he believes that we believe the shooter died of complications. Or more importantly, that Tara believes it.”

  “Believes what?” Tara stepped through the connecting doorway. Her damp hair was splayed across her shoulders, and the fragrance of her shampoo swirled Zach’s senses into a daze.

  Her sudden appearance hadn’t given his heart enough time to prepare. The instant their gazes connected, his legs went rubbery. Yeah, okay, maybe he was falling for his informant like Rick had accused. Lying awake last night, listening for the slightest sound of trouble, had given him plenty of time to examine this overpowering compulsion to protect her. “Is Suzie still asleep?”

  “She’s eating the granola bar and orange juice we picked up last night, and watching a cartoon.” Tara returned her attention to Rick. “Believe what?”

  Rick explained as Zach poured Tara a cup of coffee from the pot he’d brewed.

  She sunk onto the corner of the bed. “So let me get this straight. Last night’s shooter used the same gun that was used outside my mom’s, but you don’t think he had anything to do with the patients’ deaths.”

  “Correct. He was clearly an addict. We found a bottle of oxycodone in his jacket pocket. Given the calls and the suspicious way he died, we believe that the person responsible for the patients’ deaths paid this guy to silence you, and then killed him so he couldn’t talk.”

  “That addict didn’t just shoot at me last night. He shot at my daughter!” Tara launched to her feet and paced to the connecting door, where she peeked in on Suzie. She lowered her voice. “If you think someone at the hospital hired this guy to kill me, how can you possibly ask me to go back there? I won’t be a piece of bait in whatever crazy new scheme you’re cooking up.”

  “That’s not what I’m suggesting.” Rick’s even tone grated on Zach’s already-shredded nerves. “We’ll leak to the papers that we believe the shooter killed Parker when the man caught him stealing drugs from his wife’s room. Then, if you go back to work and act pleased that your suspicions were vindicated, whoever’s behind this will no longer consider you a threat.”

  Tara sank onto the corner of the bed once again. “You think?”

  Rick scraped his jawline, clearly hedging. “As long as you appear to be in hiding, he’s going to assume you know something.”

  “If I knew something, you’d have arrested him by now!” She clutched the bedspread into a fist. “This theoretical killer of yours obviously isn’t playing with all his marbles. And how does my going back to work help you catch him?”

  “It might not. But we’re counting on him lowering his guard once he thinks we’ve closed the investigation.”

  Zach nudged her hand and offered her a coffee.

  She cupped the mug in her hands as if the warmth would chase away the chilling reminders of last night. “What do you think we should do?” The look in her eyes—open, trusting, desperate for reassurance—glued him to the spot.

  He lifted a lock of her hair, rubbing the silky strands between his thumb and fingers before sweeping it off her shoulder. Her shiver made him wish he could varnish the truth. “I think we should send you on a long vacation until we bring this guy down.”

  She let out a humorless laugh. “I’m beginning to wish I’d taken you up on that the first time you suggested it. Because, at this point, I’d become a waitress in Timbuktu if that’s what it takes to keep Suzie safe.” Her gaze shifted to the window.

  Outside, autumn colors looked spectacular against the brilliant blue sky. Squirrels scurried from one tree to the next in what looked like a frolicking game of tag, reminding Zach of the game he’d shared with Tara and Suzie. He stopped short of reliving the kiss he’d stolen that day. Tara and Suzie should be outside playing now, carefree. But until they figured out why this punk had come after her, they didn’t dare take that chance anywhere near Miller’s Bay.

  She turned from the window. “I feel safe here...with you.”

  His heart swelled
at the admission, especially knowing how difficult it was for her to trust anyone’s promises after the way her husband had trampled her heart.

  “I can understand if you want to lie low for a while,” Rick interjected. “We can certainly arrange for safe accommodations. But I need Zach back in the hospital. To close this case, we need more evidence to connect the shooter to the patients’ deaths, or to connect him to the real killer.”

  Zach hated the idea of leaving her. She’d surprised him last night by asking him to pray with her before turning in. How could he walk away when she was just beginning to trust him? And beginning to find her way back to trusting God?

  “What do you know about the shooter?” Tara asked Rick. “Was he a patient at the hospital? Did he have relatives there? And where does Mr. Calloway fit in?”

  “We’re looking into all those questions.”

  Suzie called from the other room.

  Tara set down her mug and headed for the door. “Then I’d just as soon wait here and see what answers you come up with.”

  Rick clicked the door shut behind her, then faced Zach. “Vacation? What was that about?”

  “I don’t want to see her in harm’s way.”

  “You’ve never had any trouble letting any other informant take risks.”

  “She’s not any other informant,” Zach said tersely.

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  “Can the innuendos. Tara’s not a criminal trying to get out of a conviction. She’s a concerned citizen trying to do the right thing. A concerned citizen with a three-year-old daughter to protect.”

  Rick balled a sofa pillow between his palms, the same way he’d palm a basketball in the middle of a game of pickup when he had something on his mind. Something personal. Something Zach wouldn’t want to hear.

  Zach turned away and gulped back the last of his coffee. It had a bite as bitter as the one he sensed his buddy was about to take out of him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a widower?”

  Zach’s head jerked around so fast his neck muscles clenched. “Who told you that?”

  “Tara.”

  He nodded stiffly. What was there to say?

  “So is that why you don’t date anymore? You don’t want to lose anyone else?”

  Zach set his coffee mug on the table. Then he pocketed his wallet and keys, his back to Rick.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Zach glanced up and met his buddy’s gaze in the mirror. “Because I didn’t want to have this conversation.”

  “Hey, I understand. If I lost Ginny, I’d be afraid of risking my heart again, too. But it looks to me like you’re already halfway there with Tara.”

  “That’s not it at all.”

  Rick lifted a brow. “Isn’t it?”

  Okay, maybe it was. He’d convinced himself he couldn’t love another woman, but how else did he explain what Tara was doing to his insides? “We’re not discussing this.”

  Rick bolted off the sofa. “Fine. It’s your life. Probably just the kid making you so soft, anyway.”

  In that single tick of time, the image of his own baby girl flashed through Zach’s mind, perfect in every way, and with the memory, a floodgate opened.

  “I’m going to the office to follow those leads.” Rick opened the door leading to the corridor. He didn’t know about the child Zach lost. He couldn’t know. If he did, he wouldn’t be so heartless.

  “As soon as Kelly gets here, I want you back at the hospital.” Rick paused, as if he expected an argument. Then he walked out, leaving Zach questioning every feeling he’d experienced since meeting Tara.

  THIRTEEN

  The next morning, Tara snagged the complimentary newspaper from outside the motel door while Kelly hit the shower. An inch-high headline proclaimed, Police Shoot Hospital Bandit.

  What?

  She scanned the article, hopeful her nightmare was over, only to realize the article was a fabrication—the very information Detective Gray had proposed leaking. But why would he do that when she hadn’t agreed to play along?

  The instant Kelly stepped out of the bathroom, Tara thrust the article at her. “How could they do this? My family and friends will be frantic when they read this. It says I was shot.”

  Kelly patted the air in a calming gesture. “It says you were shot at. And don’t worry—Zach assured your sister you were safe. She went looking for you at the hospital yesterday after your neighbor asked her about the ambulance in your driveway.”

  Tara reached for the phone. “I have to call her.”

  Kelly pressed the disconnect button. “We should talk first.”

  “Susan needs to know what’s going on. What if this guy tries to get at me through my family?”

  “He’s not going to draw that kind of attention to himself.”

  Tara crossed her arms over her chest. “How do you know?”

  “From what we’ve pieced together, he likely only intended to scare you into keeping your mouth shut.”

  “He poisoned my lunch.”

  “There wasn’t enough poison to do more than make you sick,” Kelly countered.

  “Maybe he didn’t know that. He must’ve seen that I didn’t eat it. Why else would he send that shooter after me the same day?”

  “As it turns out, your shooter was ex-military, a crack shot before he got wounded and addicted to pain meds. If he’d intended to hit you that night, he would have.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Tara smoothed the blanket covering her sleeping daughter and lowered her voice. “Because, in case you didn’t notice, he didn’t have any qualms about smothering me, and my child, with carbon monoxide. Or shooting to kill you.”

  Kelly snorted and rubbed at her bruised side. “Trust me. I noticed.”

  “What did Mr. Calloway say about the flowers and ladybug?”

  “He said he didn’t send them. We had him under surveillance within twenty minutes of discovering the bug, and he didn’t so much as make a phone call.” She paused. “But the shooter’s cell phone has a record of a call from an unidentified number within minutes of our laying out the safe-house plan for the benefit of our ladybug listener.”

  “Then who sent the flowers?”

  “We don’t know. It was a cash purchase. The florist doesn’t remember taking the order, figures her part-timer must have. But that woman is away on her honeymoon. A place in Niagara Falls sells the ladybugs, but they sell dozens a week. Mostly cash sales, too.”

  Tara paced the length of the room. “Calloway could be lying.”

  “It’s possible. But when the local paper reported that shooting, they included an interview with Calloway, who they identified as a neighbor. Anyone could have seen that and called himself Mr. C, hoping you’d simply assume the flowers came from Calloway.”

  “I can’t stand this.” Tara grabbed a sofa pillow and hugged it to her chest as she lowered herself into the room’s lone chair, a wingback. “We can’t just hide out here indefinitely.”

  Kelly slipped back into the bathroom without comment, probably feeling the same.

  But how can I go back to work and risk this guy coming after Suzie? Tara stroked her daughter’s tangled hair, grateful that at least one of them had been able to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she heard the gunshots, saw the blood seeping through Zach’s sleeve.

  Curling her legs under her, Tara shook away the image. But she couldn’t erase from her mind the sight of Zach’s soulful eyes when he’d told her he had to leave. One half of his mouth had turned up in a sad smile as he’d assured her that Kelly would take good care of her.

  His obvious reluctance had felt nice. Really nice.

  Suzie had launched into his arms, and a moment later, so had she.

>   When Zach wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek against her hair as if he might never let go, she realized that she didn’t want him to, either.

  Zach had pretended to snatch Suzie’s nose between his fingers, drawing a giggle, then he’d turned his smile to Tara and brushed his thumb along her chin. “Take care of yourself,” he’d said softly.

  No, Zach would never put Suzie in harm’s way.

  Tara shifted her gaze to the window. She’d thought Zach would come back in the evening, but he hadn’t. And as she lay awake in bed, she’d found herself praying again. Praying that God would make sense out of everything that had happened. Praying He’d keep Zach safe. Praying He’d make it safe for her and Suzie to return home. And she’d felt a peace wrap around her as real as Zach’s comforting arms.

  But she didn’t think she could stand another day with nothing to look at but these four walls.

  “Suzie has never been the target. You’ve got to see that.” Kelly came out of the bathroom with her hair pulled into a ponytail, and rolled the newspaper in her hand. “Otherwise this guy would’ve used her as leverage a long time ago. Suzie’s been caught in the crossfire because of her proximity to you. That’s all.”

  Tara tightened her hold on the pillow, sickened to think her daughter was in danger simply by being near her. “What should I do? What would you do?”

  “Is there somewhere Suzie could stay for a while? Your sister’s maybe?”

  “We going Auntie Susan’s?” Suzie squealed, bouncing up and down on the bed.

  Tara’s heart jumped to her throat. She sprang to her feet, dropping the pillow into the chair. She hadn’t realized Suzie was awake and dreaded to think what else she might have heard. Tara pasted on a smile and caught her daughter in a bear hug. “Would you like that?”

  Suzie squirmed free and bounced more. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  “Mommy couldn’t stay with you.”

  “Wanna go Auntie’s.”

  Tara threw Kelly a helpless look.