The little girl tilted forward, listening without any joy in her tired eyes. “What?”
Winslow tugged the beanie off her head with a sly wink. “I know just how you feel, and believe me, you’re the bravest person I’ve met in years, well, except for my friend, Tate. He’s pretty brave too, but you’re the bravest girl I know.”
Surprise brightened Portia’s eyes as they scrolled from the beanie to Winslow’s bare head. It was a small thing to do for another person, this one suffering worse than she was, but Winslow had made up her mind. “May I?”
When Ester said, “Yes, please,” Winslow tugged the beanie over Portia’s head, careful not to bind up her ponytail and making sure the USMC was front and center. “There. Now look at you. All ready for your transplant.”
Portia’s face turned lovely with a genuine smile this time. “Thank you, Winslow. I will treasure it forever.”
Esther dabbed at her eyes with her fingers. “Everyone here has been so kind. Thank you so much.”
But Portia eyelids sagged, so Winslow said a quick goodbye and promised to come back as soon as she could. She’d just turned to leave when she spied Tate with his arms crossed, leaning his hip against the doorjamb, a smile on his handsome face.
Winslow gestured over her shoulder. “Oh, hi, I was just—”
“I saw,” he said warmly, his hand outstretched for hers. “It looks like I need to bring you another beanie.”
“I hope you don’t mind. It was the only thing I had to give, and Portia needed something to keep her head warm. She’s waiting for a kidney.”
His gaze took her in, shifting quickly over her bare head and back to her eyes. “But what about you?”
Winslow dusted her fingers over the bare skin where her brows used to be. “It’s just hair, Tate, and it’s time I stopped worrying about what everyone else thinks. I can’t change yesterday.”
Out in the hall, he tugged her into his side, his arm draped casually over her shoulder. Winslow snuggled into him as they strolled back to her room. “You’ve got some color in your cheeks today.”
“Bullshit,” she whispered coyly. “I bet you tell all the girls that.”
A chuckle bubbled out of him. “That dialysis worked, didn’t it?”
“I think so, yes, but I had a good talk with myself this morning, and… you’re right. I want to go to school, Tate. Can you help me figure out how?”
“Easy,” he murmured, “but first…” He drew her into his arms. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m so damned proud of you.”
Winslow wanted more than a peck on her head. She snaked her arms around his neck, which put her puny breasts against his muscular chest, and the heat sizzling off him was… Oh boy. Her heart skipped a beat at her sudden attack of over-confidence. “Kiss me,” she whispered before she lost her nerve.
No sooner asked than granted. He ducked his head down and his lips made warm, wet contact, and…
Her heart set to tap dancing up and down every rib in her ribcage like drumsticks on a xylophone, making beautiful music.
His hand cupped the back of her head, and she didn’t even cringe that he was holding her bald head. Not once. Not until some guy ‘ahemed’ on his way past them in the hall.
“I’d take this into your room, but there’s a bed in there,” Tate growled into her mouth, which only made Winslow giggle.
“You’ve seen me in bed,” she teased, easing back from his delectable lips to speak.
“That’s the problem. I might be tempted.”
“By me?” Hardly.
He dipped two fingers under her chin and tilted her gaze up to meet his eyes. “By you, Winslow. I’m waiting for the day I can get that champagne you’ve always wanted. Trust me, that will be just as hard for me.”
“But w-why?” Gosh, he was so good looking this close up. Intense, he set her body to thrumming like a live wire.
“Because I...” A look she couldn’t decipher passed over his face. Not angry for a change. More thoughtful. Serious. “Just because.”
He seemed coy all of a sudden. Winslow cut him some slack. Dropping her eyes to her new shoes, she said, “It’s only because of you that I was able to get up and do something besides lay around all day. Thanks for the clothes and, umm…” The underwear. “…everything!”
His brows cinched together. “What are you talking about? I didn’t get you any clothes.”
“Then who did?” Tucker barked yet another angry outburst, his arm raised high, his hand skimming over his head.
For now, Tate stood with Tucker out of hearing range of the nurses’ station on Winslow’s floor. She was back in bed, upset that her mother might’ve been in her room while she was sleeping last night. Worse, when she’d come back from visiting Portia, she found out that her room had been changed. She was in the same ward, just on the other side of the centrally located nurses’ station.
“She doesn’t know and neither do the nurses,” Tate growled back at his boss. “The clothes were in a brown paper bag on her counter when she woke up. Obviously they came from someone who knows her. All the sizes fit, even the shoes.”
“Could it have been her mother? Did the officers on guard see who did it?” Tucker growled.
“They’d just changed shifts. The two who were there when it happened are gone,” Tate replied.
“It had to be Hattie.” Tucker didn’t like surprises.
Well, neither did Tate. “Isaiah’s checking hospital surveillance, but it couldn’t have been. How would she know where Winslow is? Admitting doesn’t even know she’s here.” Thanks to Dr. Keegan, only the FBI and the officers standing watch knew which room Winslow was in.
This new development threatened to blow their planned interview out of the water.
“Shit,” Tucker cussed. “From now on, you stay with Winslow. Let me and Isaiah handle any false leads. Damn that Bly. Maybe he’s still working with Hattie.”
Tate shook his head. “Before we get any more excited…” And cause trouble for Metro PD’s finest. “…we need to know for sure who left those clothes.”
“God damn,” Tucker muttered.
“Hey, guys,” Isaiah’s calm voice came over their earpieces. Not that he had to speak to Tate like that anymore, but Tate appreciated the smokescreen.
“What you got?” Tucker barked, his finger in his ear and his gaze on the floor at his feet.
“A compassionate doctor on the loose,” Isaiah answered. “Keegan dropped that bag of clothes off early this morning when he was on rounds. I verified with him, so we’re still on track with Operation Sucker Punch.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Agent Chase bellowed. “Keegan again? Did you ask why he didn’t leave a card or a note? Jesus Christ, he needs to butt out of this op until it’s settled. Then he can romance her all he wants.”
“He’s not romancing her,” both Tate and Isaiah said at the same time. Keep your voice down, Boss. She’ll hear you.
Tucker shot Tate that look. “I know. I just meant… forget it.” He cocked his head. “Isaiah, contact Channel Thirteen. See if Truborn can interview Bly earlier, this afternoon would be nice. Then call the local precinct. Get Bly’s ass over there and get this done. Camera, action, and all that shit.”
Winslow could hear Tate’s angry boss from her bed across the hall. She’d opted to stay in her new clothes instead of an ugly hospital gown with strings in the back. Ugh. Whoever thought of that design didn’t know the first thing about privacy.
Her walk to visit Portia had done her in, but it sounded as if Tate was getting his butt chewed for not having ESP and knowing who’d dropped off the clothes. She couldn’t make out his answer, but it must’ve been enough. Agent Chase finally stopped yelling.
So Dr. Keegan was her mystery admirer, huh? Her fingers drummed at the edge of her blanket. Tate didn’t know it yet, but Dr. Keegan had also left a nice bouquet of twelve yellow roses, sprigs of leafy ferns, and a mist of baby’s breath, her first flow
ers ever. Awkward…
A tap sounded at her partially closed door before Tate peered around it. “Are you decent?” he teased.
“Come in!” She was dying to get her hands on him. Please don’t look at the flowers.
One brow spiked. He’d looked. “Let me guess. Keegan.”
Winslow ducked her head into her shoulders, embarrassed. “Yes-s-s-s-s. He left a card this time though.” Not like the note that said ‘Hurry and get well, Beautiful’ helped with Tate’s mood.
Just then another man peeked around the corner. Tall, dark, and lean, nearly as handsome as Tate, he waved one palm to her. “Hey, Winslow. I’m Special Agent Isaiah Zaroyin. It’s good to finally meet you. Hope you didn’t hear all the ruckus our boss was making.”
How could she not? “I think the whole floor heard it. Come on in, Agent Zaroyin. He’s mad at Dr. Keegan, huh?”
“He’ll get over it, but please, call me Isaiah.” He stuck his chin at the roses. “Your girl’s got an admirer, Tate.”
“No, I don’t.” Winslow shook her head. “Dr. Keegan’s just being—”
“Nice,” Tate hissed. “He’s out of line, Winslow.” Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? “He had no business moving you without FBI permission, either. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”
Warmth flushed through Winslow. Tate hadn’t denied what his friend said, that she was his girl. But she didn’t need him fighting her battles. “Let me talk to him about the flowers. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.” Like catching my mom.
His eyes narrowed as he dragged the easy chair over to the right side of the bed—where he could reach her. “Good idea. Want to watch the early edition news?”
Agent Zaroyin was already flipping through channels, so Winslow said, “Sure!”
Chapter Thirty-One
Tucker showed up in Winslow’s room just as Shawna Truborn eased into her script, her dazzling smile in place and her bright eyes romancing the camera. When Isaiah called her to move the interview up, she’d eagerly had Dr. Bly in his appointed place for the early edition at three p.m. with two police officers off camera.
“Good afternoon viewers!” She oozed enthusiasm. “I’m Shawna Truborn and my special guest this afternoon is Silver Spring’s own Dr. Jorge Bly. Thank you for joining us.”
Tate eyed his boss. Tucker looked damned tight, the cords in his neck taut as Bly glanced at the camera, his smile tentative and unsure. The slender, silver-haired, middle-aged man looked nervous. His fingers were clenched into fists on the desk he sat at as if this were his first time on camera. Which it was. The mug shots taken at the jail didn’t count.
“You have some very exciting news to share with America, don’t you?” Shawna prompted.
“Yes, and I am happy to be here,” he offered quietly. “It’s not often a simple physician stumbles across such an important discovery.”
Tate sneaked his hand under Winslow’s blanket, seeking her fingers while Tucker had his eyes on the news. She twined her fingers through Tate’s, not looking away from the TV. Damn, but she was something else. Stronger than she knew, but so innocent. And brave. She needed a new beanie, but did she cringe when Isaiah or Tucker entered the room because they would see her lack of hair? Did she act like she was anything but pleased to meet them? Not once.
“You’re too humble,” Shawna gushed over the doctor. “This news isn’t just important, it’s unparalleled. You might even call it historic, right?”
He nodded, seeming to grow more nervous by the minute.
“Shit, just say it, Bly,” Tucker groused from the door where he stood. “Get this over with.”
“Well, go on, tell us,” Shawna urged. “America’s waiting.”
The camera zoomed in for a close-up. “Ladies and gentlemen.” Bly cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and cleared his throat again. “It is, umm, it is my unique privilege to announce that, after much research, I believe I’ve discovered a cure for cancer.”
“The more I see this guy, the more I think he really cares about people,” Isaiah murmured. “Look at him. He’s not bragging. I think he honestly wishes he was telling the truth.”
“You would know,” Tate pushed at him.
“He’s a son-of-a-bitch is what he is, and he needs to act more animated,” Tucker growled. “Get his act together, damn it. This has to work.”
“Bly’s afraid of Winslow’s mother,” Isaiah told Tate on their private link.
“I can believe that. She’s a formidable woman,” Tate answered back. The corners of his mouth twitched. It was satisfying to be able to talk behind the big dog’s back for once. Adolescent maybe, but yeah. Satisfying.
The camera panned to Shawna, then quickly back to Bly. He licked his bottom lip. “Much more work still needs to be done as I am only one man, but I’ve been in touch with several world-renowned research laboratories and many pharmaceutical companies with my findings. They have assured me that my research is correct, and they’ve offered their considerable assets to help.”
“To say the least,” Shawna added. “Miraculous is more like it. If I understand correctly, you have already cured a young woman of terminal cancer with your treatment, haven’t you?”
“He’s talking about me, isn’t he?” Winslow asked.
“Yes, but he won’t name you,” Tate said. Or I’ll kill him.
“You won’t have to. Tucker will,” Isaiah added. “By the way, I left a present for you in my gear bag. Use it.”
Tate lifted a brow, not sure what that meant, but sure he’d soon find out.
Bly’s gaze hit the camera dead on. “Yes, that is true. I can’t reveal her name, but she came to me in a terrible state. Someone had been pumping her full of the oddest mix of pain pills and other medications, some of them quite illegal. I’m sure that person was only trying to help, but at first it seemed that she…” He coughed, his fist lifted to his lips. “I mean, they, the drugs, were killing her.”
“I think he tried to help me.” Winslow looked to Tate. “I felt good at his clinic.”
“This interview’s a hoax,” Tate explained. “He’s reading lines.” Mostly. “It’s a scam to draw your mother back to his clinic or to another interview he’s giving tomorrow at the real medical conference. Once she shows up, we’ll arrest her.”
Bly’s gaze darted to the side as if he was watching for Hattie over his shoulder. “Y-yet when I analyzed this poor woman’s blood, I saw a peculiar change to her cellular proteins. An astonishing change, which is why I contacted every lab I could to double check my findings. If those illegal drugs, combined like they were, truly cured cancer, I needed them to validate what I was seeing. I needed the world to know.” He rolled his eyes. “Ladies and gentlemen, think of the people we can save now. The lives we can improve.”
“Keep him talking, Blondie,” Tucker muttered at Shawna, his arm bent over his head and his fingers drumming the doorjamb.
Shawna beamed. “If I’m right, you’ve also received quite a few, shall we say, offers from these same labs and pharmaceutical companies? You’re on your way to being a millionaire, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Yes, everyone is excited about this breakthrough, but that isn’t why I’m here. I just want to share my research. I want this terrible disease eradicated from the face of the planet.”
Isaiah glanced over his shoulder at Tate. “See? That wasn’t on the script. What’d I tell you?”
Tate shrugged. Isaiah saw things he didn’t. To him, Bly was nothing more than Hattie’s accomplice. Unwitting maybe, but up to his neck in what she’d done to her daughter for years.
“But you’ll be rich, won’t you?” Shawna pressed, keeping Bly on track and her head bobbing as if she needed to convince him to say yes. “I mean, you and you alone discovered this crazy concoction, didn’t you? And you did all the research to prove it cured cancer, right?”
Another humble shrug. “There wasn’t much research, but yes, that is true. I have bee
n assured of great sums of money from many countries. It’s the oddest mix of chemicals, though, most of them prescriptions drugs. One would never suspect they’d serve such a noble purpose when combined like they were. To be honest, I was concerned when I detected arsenic in my patient’s blood work.”
“Bingo,” Tucker said. “Pour it on, Bly. Let her have it.”
“Imagine my shock when that simple component served as a dynamic catalyst with the other drugs. One moment I thought my young patient was dying, but the next, she lifted her head and she smiled at me.” He laid his hand over his heart, his eyes lifted to the ceiling. “Her green eyes seemed to come back to life right there in my clinic. It was the best moment of my life to know she was going to live.”
“Where is she now?” Shawna asked. “This patient. Can you tell us her name?”
“No, no, but I will tell you she is staying at my clinic,” Bly declared, “but I’ll be forced to move her early tomorrow morning now that the news is out.”
Winslow’s hand went to her chest at the same time. “I thought I was dying,” she whispered, “but he might be the guy who my mom was talking with about assisted suicide.”
Tate tightened his grip on her fingers. No two ways about it. Bly would die for helping Hattie.
“Could you at least share those physical changes in your patient with us?” Shawna’s brows arched encouragingly. “I’m sure the world would like to know.”
“Tomorrow,” Bly stated emphatically, his chin up.
“Here we go,” Tucker hissed. “Chum the waters, doc. Reel her in.”
“I’m happy to say…” The man couldn’t look prouder. “I’ll be speaking at the American Medical Association’s annual conference at Johns Hopkins tomorrow morning. After that exposure, I hope to get the funding I need to continue my work and—”
“Oh, I have no doubt you’ll get plenty of funding, Dr. Bly.” Right on cue, the camera panned to Shawna. “I’ll bet every doctor in America will be calling you, maybe a few talk shows too. You’ll be a celebrity. Think of the fame. This is a huge discovery.”
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