He leaned forward and flipped his notepad open to the phone number of the nurses’ station at Sunny Meadows. Kathy, Cara’s friend, answered.
“Is Cara still with her dad in his room?” Connor kept his voice low.
“I don’t know. I’ve been busy with several patients. We had one go into cardiac arrest.”
“Can you check for me? It’s very important. I’m worried because she hasn’t answered her cell.”
“Sure. I want to see how her dad’s doing anyway. Where can I call you back?”
He gave her his cell number and hung up.
He started to place a call to Sean to check with his deputy when Lucy’s lawyer swept around and faced Connor across the room. “My client has told you everything she knows. Unless you want to arrest her, this interview is over.”
“Fine. If that’s the way she wants to play it.” Connor faced her. “But I want to press upon you the seriousness of the crime. I will pursue gathering evidence against you and will work with the ATF on this bombing case. The feds won’t let something like this go. If you cooperate now, that will go a long way in your favor. If not…” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
Lucy tapped her lawyer on the shoulder and the man twisted toward her. They lowered their heads and talked some more.
Connor’s cell rang and he hurried to answer it. “Fitzgerald here.”
“This is Kathy at Sunny Meadow. I can’t find Cara. The deputy said she left with one of the nurse’s aides. They were talking about seeing Doc Sims, but he’s been tied up with the patient who had a heart attack.”
“Can you do me a huge favor—stay with Cara’s dad and have the deputy look for Cara? Something might have happened to her. I’ll be right there.” Connor clicked off and started for the door.
“Wait!” Lucy took several steps toward him, alarm in her eyes. “Is someone missing? That lady who was with you yesterday?”
“Yes, and I think she’s in trouble. She wouldn’t have gone off without telling someone where she was going.” She’d made him a promise.
“Why would she be missing? Is she involved in the case you’re working on?”
Ah. Lucy is scared. Answer her questions, and she may talk. “She was nearly killed in the explosion, and then a man attacked her in her hotel room the next night.”
“Someone came after her? Why?”
“Beats me. Do you have any idea why?” Please, Lord, let this be something I can use to catch this guy before he kills Cara.
Lucy bit into her lower lip and glanced back at her lawyer. “No one was supposed to get hurt but C. J. Madison.”
Connor’s strides ate up the distance between him and Lucy. “What do you mean?”
Lucy’s lawyer frowned at Connor. “You don’t have to say anything else, Lucy. Whatever you say will be used against you.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t agree for anyone getting hurt but that old man. He’s the one who killed my boyfriend.”
The blast of the gun deafened Cara’s ears as a bullet slammed into her. For a few seconds she felt nothing, then an incredible pain shot out from her shoulder to encompass her body. A groan escaped her parched throat, and she turned slightly away from her attacker as though that would protect her. Her assailant’s cackles, a high and hysterical noise, reverberated through her mind in waves along with the anguish.
“You ain’t dead yet, but give it a while and you’ll bleed out. That is, if you don’t die of heatstroke first. I parked this car in the sun. I hear the temperatures are gonna be in the high nineties. Have a nice day.” The man reached for the top of the trunk and brought it down with a crashing sound.
Like a coffin’s lid being shut.
“He who?” Connor resisted the urge to grip Lucy’s arms and shake her story out of her. Time was ticking down and his fear for Cara’s safety was ramping up.
“John Smith.” Lucy fell into the chair near her and slumped her shoulders. “John Smith? Really?” Connor moved close to her, crowding her space.
She lifted tear-filled eyes to his. “Yes, my boyfriend used to talk about his dad, John Smith, all the time. He taught him how to hunt, shoot. They used to go out camping and live off the land. They wouldn’t even take a tent to sleep in.” Several wet tracks rolled down her cheeks. “And C. J. Madison was responsible for his death.”
Lord, she was frustrating. “Whose?”
“Beau’s. Who do you think I’m talking about? That old man might as well have shot Beau.”
The lawyer laid a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’d advise you not to say anything else.”
Connor removed his cell from the front pocket of his jeans. “So John Smith is the one who is trying to kill C. J. Madison. Why is he after Cara then?”
“I don’t know and I didn’t sign on for that,” she said in a tight voice as she gripped the arms of the chair, her knuckles white.
Connor called the Silver Creek police chief and told him what was going on. “I need you to send someone to detain Lucy Samuels at King Construction. I won’t leave until someone arrives, but it’s urgent that I get to Sunny Meadows. Someone’s life may be in danger.”
“An officer is on the way. We’ll take her into custody.”
After hanging up with the police chief, Connor punched in Sean’s number, glancing at the second hand circling the clock on the wall. “I need you to get to Sunny Meadow. No one has seen Cara.”
“Would she have left?”
“Not willingly. I brought her there and was going to pick her up after talking with the people in Winchester. She wanted to stay with her dad.”
“I’ll call Nate on duty at C.J.’s room on the way. If she’s at the center, I’ll find her and give you a call.”
When he got off the phone, Connor shifted toward Lucy and her lawyer. They were conversing in low voices again, then the older man straightened and said, “My client is declining to say another word until a deal can be reached.”
Suffocating heat engulfed Cara and scorched her mouth and throat. She tried not to focus on the burning sensation in her shoulder, but it kept pulling her back, robbing her of her attention toward freeing herself.
The coppery scent of her blood assaulted her nostrils, driving all other smells away, even the lingering aroma of gunpowder and fish. A constant reminder her life was flowing from her, pooling in the mat beneath her.
The ringing of her cell pierced through the pain, momentarily focusing her attention on the sound—until she realized she couldn’t get to her phone.
“Cara, you can’t let him win,” she imagined Connor saying to her. “Fight. Stay alive.”
But she was so tired of fighting. She’d been doing it her whole life. The edge of darkness moved closer as she surrendered to those thoughts.
On the drive to Sunny Meadows Connor called Gramps and had him search for the names of John Smith and Beau Smith, especially in connection to C. J. Madison. Then he informed his office about what was happening on the case and solicited their assistance in tracking down information, too.
When he drove into the parking lot, several patrol cars were there already. Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t think so. He rushed into the building to find Sean in the lobby coordinating the search of the place.
“Anything?” Connor asked after the last deputy left to search for Cara. “Where do we stand?”
“We are accounting for every employee who is supposed to be on duty. The problem with that is some have already left for the day. Shift change. I’ve talked with Doc, who had to leave. He’d been aware Cara wanted to see him and had planned to stop by her father’s room on his way out.”
“Have you interviewed the nurse’s aide yet?”
“That was my next thing to do. Do you want to talk with Sally?”
“Yes, then I want to see the deputy on duty and Cara’s father.” Connor started for the east wing. “Keep me informed.”
Connor found Sally at the east wing nurse’s station, hunkered over in a chair, her h
ands in her lap, twisting together. “Sally, I’m Connor Fitzgerald with CID.” He presented his badge then sat across from the young woman.
Her eyes dark with worry, Sally said, “I was just following directions.”
“Whose?”
“Doc Sims’s. I answered the phone, and he said he needed to see Cara in his office.”
In his office? “Are you sure it was Doc Sims on the phone?”
“I think so. He had a deep voice like the doctor. I just started working here a couple of weeks ago. I live in Silver Creek, and I’m not that familiar with Doc Sims.”
“Were you the only one at the nurses’ station?”
“Yes. We’ve been busy today.”
Connor gave her his card. “If you remember anything else, please let me know.”
As he rose, she glanced up at him. “I do remember that in the background, I heard the intercom here. It came through the phone as well as the speaker over there.” She gestured toward one mounted on the wall across from the nurses’ station.
An inside job or a visitor to Sunny Meadows? He would need to get a list of who had been visiting patients earlier. He strode toward the deputy, who stood when he spied Connor coming down the hall.
“Nate, can you tell me how Cara appeared when she left her dad’s room? Upset? Worried?”
“Worried. I got the impression she was eager to talk to Doc. She told me not to let her dad eat or drink anything. Earlier he’d gotten sick again. I guess she was concerned because he couldn’t keep anything down. I thought she was gonna talk to Doc about another new medication.”
“Did she say that?”
“No. But like I said, she seemed very worried.”
“Anyone hanging around the room?”
“No. No one was in the hall who wasn’t supposed to be. There was a patient down there—” the deputy pointed across the corridor and two doors down “—who had a heart attack. Quite a few staff members were coming and going, taking care of the lady.”
“You weren’t concerned when Cara didn’t come back?”
The young man massaged his nape. “Well, I knew the Doc had been called into that lady’s room right after Cara left, so I thought it might be a while before she saw him.”
Connor dreaded the next conversation he needed to have. Years ago he’d forgiven the man, at least he had thought he had until Cara had come back into his life and he saw again the effect her dad had on her.
While the sheriff scoured the building, Connor needed help figuring out Lucy’s reference to C. J. Madison being responsible for killing her boyfriend. And how did that fit in to what had happened to Cara? Urgency spurred him forward. Although C.J. was sick, Connor felt like Daniel going into the lion’s den.
EIGHT
Sweat drenched Cara. She sucked in a deep breath, but she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Time was running out on her. Even though her assailant hadn’t hit an artery, she would bleed out eventually. She had to get out of the trunk. Tensing, she began working on the ropes that bound her hands. Every move she made sent spikes of pain through her, pushing the looming darkness closer. No choice. She had to get free. The bite of the twine about her wrist didn’t chafe as much as before. Then she wondered if her blood from the gunshot wound was lubricating her wrists, making the ropes a little looser.
Please, Lord, help me. Anything is possible through You. I have to protect my father.
After a few minutes of twisting and pulling her hands as far apart as possible, she rested. Her shallow breaths came out in raspy pants. The heat in the trunk as well as her blood loss siphoned what energy she had mustered.
Then a thought took hold. What if she worked herself around to where she could kick at the back of the trunk? A lot of cars were accessible from the backseat into the trunk. It might work. She had to try it because what she was doing wasn’t getting her very far.
Inching her way in a slow circle, her body crammed into the tight space like sardines in a can, Cara managed to get part of the way around when a dizzy spell overcame her and she had to stop. Her wound and the heat drew unconsciousness nearer. She couldn’t pass out. She might never wake up.
“Sir, I have some questions for you.” Connor positioned himself next to C.J.’s bed. “I’ll try to ask ones you can answer yes or no.”
The older man peered behind Connor. “Ca—raa?”
“She had to leave for a while.” He wasn’t ready to tell her father that she might be missing. It hadn’t been confirmed, although his gut told him otherwise. He wanted C.J.’s full attention. It was imperative he find out who had targeted Cara and her dad. “Do you know a John Smith?”
With his forehead scrunched, his eyebrows drawn together, C.J. stared at the foot of the bed, then swung his gaze to Connor. “No.”
“How about a Beau Smith?”
“No.”
“Anyone with the name of Beau, especially in the past year or so?”
Again that thoughtful expression descended on Cara’s father’s face. He nodded.
“Who?”
C.J. indicated the pad and pen on the bedside table next to Connor. The man scribbled on the paper then showed Connor.
Some of the letters were legible. “Jones?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know him?”
His hand shaking, C.J. toiled to spell the word.
The only letters Connor could make out were the first few: i, n, f, o. The rest were unreadable as if Cara’s dad had run out of energy. “An informant?”
C.J. sank back on the pillow, his eyes sliding closed.
“Sir?”
When the man looked at him again, exhaustion stared at him.
“One more question. Is Beau Jones alive?”
He shook his head as he went to sleep.
Connor stared at the man a moment, debating whether to wake him or not. At least he had a name to go on. He withdrew his cell and called Gramps. “Check out a Beau Jones. I think he died recently. He was one of C.J.’s informants. Find out what happened.”
“Have you found Cara yet?”
“No,” Connor said as he crossed to the door and left the room. “If she’s not here, then I’m running out of places to look. Call as soon as you have something. I need to know about Beau’s father. His whereabouts. Anything that might help me find the man.”
As he hung up, Connor couldn’t dismiss the roiling in his gut as though it were telling him he was too late.
I’ll rest five minutes and try again. Cara closed her eyes in the stifling trunk, so wet from her sweat that it mingled with the blood on her. As the seconds slipped away, she found herself being lured by the comfort of the dark void. She’d have peace. No more pain. No more Connor. She’d never see him again. She would never tell him she loved him and wished somehow things could have been different between them.
She wrenched her eyes open. No, I’m not giving up.
Two minutes later she kicked her bound feet against the back of the trunk. The thudding noise thundered through her mind like a bass drum. Each jolt to her body intensified the pain.
Again she struck the paneling with what power she had left.
Shivering now, despite the heat, she tried to lift her legs for a third time and couldn’t raise them an inch. Energy gone, she panted. Her parched mouth begged for moisture. She swallowed, generating nothing but more dryness.
She had to protect her father. She had to see Connor one more time.
From some reservoir of strength she dragged her legs up and stomped against the back wall. It gave way. Light and slightly cooler air poured into the interior.
Outside Doc’s office Connor surveyed the corridor. “Someone had to have seen something,” he gritted out to Sean.
The sheriff shook his head. “Myself or one of my deputies has interviewed everyone here. The last person to see Cara was Sally, who led her to the office.”
Connor eyed the camera that recorded what happened in the hallway. “It’s someone who is familia
r with this building. There wasn’t anything on the video except Sally bringing Cara then leaving. Which means the person knew about the outside door into Doc’s office and used it.”
“It was locked. And it didn’t look like it was forced. So did the person have a key somehow?”
“Maybe we need to look at the video feed from earlier in the day. Someone could have unlocked the door then.” Connor started back toward the main office at the front of the building.
“The problem will be that some of the workers come in that west door for work since they park on that side of the building. The camera doesn’t pick up the area around Doc’s office. We won’t be able to see who actually goes into it.”
“It’s a start at least. We can interview each one again, especially look at employees who have been hired recently. We know it’s a man. That will narrow the search down some.”
“Do we have that kind of time?”
Sean’s question stopped Connor in his tracks. The reality of the situation sucker punched him. He sucked in a stabilizing breath. “No, but I don’t know what else to do. We have to find the man behind this.” And pray that Cara is still alive.
Thirty minutes later Connor wrote the last name down on the paper. “That’s a total of seven men who entered the building using the west door before Cara was taken. Now to talk to each of them. Let’s start with the ones who were hired—”
The ringing of his cell cut off his last sentence. Connor quickly answered it. “Yes.”
“Connor,” a faint frayed voice said. “I’m in a wooded—area. Don’t know—where. Been…shot.” Cara’s words faded the more she talked.
Shot?
“Leave the cell on. We’ll use the GPS to locate you. Are you all right?”
Cara didn’t say anything.
Panic grabbed a chokehold on Connor. He swallowed several times then said, “Cara, hang in there. I’m coming.”
Protecting Her Own (Love Inspired Suspense) Page 11