by Tara Randel
“What do you want us to do?” Derrick asked.
“I’ve got a friend I can get to do a deeper background check. He’s on a job and will be out of town for a few more weeks, but he said he’d help then,” Dylan answered.
“In the meantime, aren’t you concerned about this guy taking advantage of Mom?” Derrick pressed.
“Now that we’ve met, he knows not to pull anything. I’ll keep an eye on this end.”
“I start a new assignment tomorrow,” Derrick said. “Keep me in the loop.”
“And we’re still undercover,” Dante added.
“I’ve got it handled for now,” Dylan assured them both.
A ring sounded from the other room. “Oh, that’s me,” Eloise said. She leaned close to Dante, her hair brushing his shoulder. “Nice to meet you both.”
Derrick winked. “Same here.”
“Keep an eye on my brother,” Dylan warned. “He has a tendency to do his own thing.”
Dante rolled his eyes. “Thanks for nothing.”
Eloise waved again and left the room.
“So, to wrap up,” Dylan said. “I’ll hold down the fort here.”
“But you’ll call if you need us,” Dante reaffirmed.
“Absolutely.”
The brothers signed off. Dante raised his arms, linked his fingers and rested them behind his head. What was their mother thinking? Jasmine had a mind of her own, but surely—
“Dante, come quick.”
Hearing the panic in Eloise’s voice, he jumped up and charged into the living room, only to find her running out the front door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELOISE SPRINTED ACROSS the damp grass, nearly losing her footing as she raced up the steps to Martha’s porch.
“Slow down,” Dante called from behind, rapidly gaining on her.
“It’s Martha,” she called needlessly over her shoulder. Once at the porch, Eloise crouched down to hunt for the plastic rock placed beside a planter that held a spare key to the house. “Her number showed on my caller ID, but when I answered, all I heard was a loud noise, like she dropped the phone.”
Having found the key, she stood, trying without success to unlock the door. Dante snatched the key from her shaking fingers and stuck it in the slot. Why was this process taking forever?
Soon enough, Dante was turning the knob. Not waiting for him to fully open the door, Eloise barreled inside. The dim bathroom light illuminated the path to Martha’s bedroom. Charging in, Eloise gasped when she found her friend lying on the floor beside the bed. “Martha,” she cried, kneeling next to the woman. Even in the dismal lighting, Martha’s face was deathly pale. Eloise called out her name, but the woman didn’t answer. She finally had the presence of mind to check for a pulse. “Thin,” she sputtered, her voice barely working.
“I’m calling 911,” Dante said, phone in hand.
“Please, Martha,” Eloise whispered. “Be okay.”
“This is Detective Matthews, Palm Cove PD. I need an ambulance at 1025 Orchard Street. Possible cardiac event.” He spoke to the person on the other end, giving all the pertinent information.
Clasping Martha’s cold hand in hers, Eloise’s heart pounded. Nothing could happen to this wonderful woman. She’d become a friend. A mentor. Eloise refused to think the worst, even with the reality of the situation staring her square in the face.
Seconds later, Martha’s lids fluttered. “El—”
“Don’t speak,” Eloise instructed, forcing a calm and professional tone she didn’t feel at the moment. “Save your energy.”
“What...?”
“We’ve called for an ambulance.”
Martha’s lids wavered. “My medicine...” Then her eyes closed.
Eloise glanced up to meet Dante’s worried gaze as he hovered over them. “Do you see any medicine on the nightstand?”
Switching on the bedside lamp, Dante searched. “Nothing.”
“Try the bathroom.”
Dante moved with purpose and speed, gone mere seconds before returning with a small medicine container. “Looks like a prescription for nitroglycerin.”
Martha’s lids fluttered again.
“Should we give her a pill?” Eloise asked, not sure what to do. Panic gripped her. Why didn’t she know what to do?
“Ellie, I’m not sure we should take a chance. She may have already swallowed some—” A siren sounded in the distance, growing closer. “Let’s wait for the paramedics.”
Eloise nodded. “Help is here,” she said to her friend, tightening her grip. “Hang on, Martha.”
“I’ll meet them at the door.” Dante squeezed her shoulder, then bolted from the room.
Voices soon filtered into the bedroom from somewhere, but Eloise couldn’t drag her gaze away from Martha’s pale face. Eloise wanted to gather her close instead of leaving her on the hard floor, but realized she shouldn’t move her friend. The night turned into a complicated twist, surreal and intense at the same time, leaving Eloise helpless.
She imagined the scent of coffee mingling with Martha’s floral perfume, the comforting aroma she smelled every morning when they met on the patio to start the day. Tried to make this situation seem less serious than it was.
“Please hold on,” Eloise pleaded, her voice thick and cracking with the emotion overwhelming her. “I know it’s selfish, but I need you to get better. You’ve come to mean so much to me... I don’t think...” She brushed the hot tears blurring her eyes. “I really want more time with you,” she started blabbering. “I haven’t gotten this whole knitting thing down. And then there’s our morning coffee. Who else gets excited about trying different creamer flavors with each cup? I look forward to starting my day with your pearls of wisdom.” She choked over her words, but forced her thoughts out, anyway. “I still have things to tell you.”
Before she could utter another sentence, two men carrying medical equipment pushed into the room. She refused to budge, until strong hands gripped her arms and moved her out of the way to give the medics plenty of space to do their job.
Dante, she realized as he pulled her against his warm, solid form. She reached up, her hands covering his, needing the lifeline as her friend’s life hung in the balance. Her shoulders shook and her knees nearly buckled, but the tears were gone. She’d said her piece. Martha heard her, right?
“I’m sure she heard you,” Dante whispered into her ear.
Had she said her thoughts out loud? What was wrong with her? She was a detective, trained to be calm in adverse situations. Yet here she stood, a bundle of nerves as the paramedics revived Martha. After what seemed an eternity, one of them said, “She’s stable. Let’s move her now.”
“Move her where?”
The dark-haired paramedic glanced at her. “Coastal Hospital.”
Someone new came in with a gurney and they gently lifted Martha from the floor. Her face was still a ghastly shade of white; her eyes remained closed. Eloise reached out as they passed by.
“Is she...?”
“We’re doing everything we can to help her,” one of the EMTs said as they exited the house, Eloise right behind them, dogging their footsteps. Before she could climb into the ambulance, Dante stopped her by taking hold of her hand.
“Ellie.” When she didn’t respond, he said her name again, louder.
She turned to face him. “What?”
“Take a couple breaths. We’ll follow the ambulance in the truck.”
“I should be with her.”
“You can’t. They need to be ready to treat her if necessary and you’ll be in the way.”
Yes. That made sense. She ran a trembling hand over her brow. “Then let’s go.”
Dante stopped her again. Placed a hand on her arm to turn her. “We need to go back to the house. For a minute.”
She
blinked at him.
“You need to pull yourself together.”
Together. Right. She needed her cop face right now because she didn’t know how else to cover the riot of emotions battling inside her. Taking a deep breath, she met Dante’s shuttered gaze. “I’m good.”
“No, you’re not,” he muttered as he took her hand and practically dragged her across the lawn, his bossiness almost bringing a smile to her face.
Once inside the house, Dante said, “Let me get my wallet and keys.”
She nodded, on autopilot as she went to the master bathroom to splash water on her face. Her heart still raced and her head pounded. She glanced in the mirror. Cringed. Her mascara had smeared around her eyes, her skin was just as ghostly as Martha’s had been and her hair, sticking out all over the place, looked like she’d run her hand through it a hundred times. Grabbing a brush, she worked through the tangles, then wiped a washcloth over her face. Her contacts were gritty, irritating her eyes. She removed them and felt around for the spare set of glasses she kept in the bathroom.
“Ready?” Dante asked, his voice calm, yet commanding, from the doorway.
She turned, anxious to leave. Her eyes met his through the glass lenses and suddenly her feet were as heavy as cement blocks. The concern etched on his face—for her, for their friend—nearly brought her to her knees. She’d never experienced the depth of anyone caring about her during a life-altering event like this. Never. And suddenly it became all too real.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, removing the glasses to rub her eyes.
Dante moved into the room with one step and tugged her into his arms. He held her tight as the tears she’d thought were gone returned with a vengeance. She couldn’t control the sobbing or trembling, and while Dante’s actions should have comforted her, she found herself embarrassed.
She pulled back, swiping at her wet cheeks. “What is wrong with me? I’m always calm under pressure. I know how to handle an emergency situation. I’m a police detective, for Pete’s sake.”
Dante propped a shoulder against the door frame. “You haven’t had a person close to you experience this kind of distress?”
“No. My folks are healthy. I... You know I don’t have a lot of friends. This is...”
“Out of your realm of expertise?”
She nodded, the lump in her throat making it impossible to answer.
A look she couldn’t decipher in her current distress passed Dante’s face. “Martha would want you to be strong, Ellie.” He reached out to thumb the tears from her face. “And since I know there’s steel in your bones, you can do this.”
“And if the worst happens?” She sniffed.
“We’ll get through that. Together.”
Seeing the confidence on his face, Eloise took another breath. Replaced her glasses. Squared her shoulders and tried for a modicum of calm. “You’ll stay with me at the hospital?”
“For as long as it takes.”
She stepped forward, intending to exit the bathroom, but instead wrapped her arms around his neck. When his strong arms circled her waist, she whispered, “Steel?”
“Hey, I’m trying,” he muttered.
She drew back and sent him a teary smile. “Thank you.”
He grinned. “Anytime.”
Finally under control, Eloise hunted for her purse and soon they were on the road to the hospital.
* * *
DANTE HID HIS surprise at the depth of Eloise’s reaction to Martha’s apparent heart attack. He knew she wasn’t close to her family, was a bit of a loner. But had she been lonely? Is that why she’d found solace in Martha’s friendship? Why the woman’s attack hit her so hard? The two had grown close in the short time they’d been neighbors, but for Eloise to break down as she had? It shook him. She was always in such control, always steady in an extreme situation. But tonight? She’d lost her cool. Big-time. Yet her show of emotion only made him love her more.
Whoa. Love? Had he really gone there?
He took a sidelong glance at his partner seated on the passenger side as she worried her lower lip. Yep. Love. Because all he knew was that he wanted to stop the pain and make the events of tonight go away so she’d smile—any kind of smile—at him again. He’d take humor or frustration, as long as she went back to the woman who had it all together.
He shouldn’t be surprised at this “aha” moment. He’d kept trying to cross the line, hadn’t he? Had he been in love all along? Why else would he risk it?
But what about Eloise? Would she return his feelings? He really didn’t want to ponder the idea, not when this was neither the time nor place to have a discussion about love and all the ramifications. Deep in his bones, he knew a relationship wasn’t going to be easy, but he wanted her, anyway.
Eloise blew out a loud puff of air, distracting him from his thoughts. He eyed her again. Her face was still pale; lines of worry creased her skin, and he imagined it was all she could do not to place her foot over his on the gas pedal so they’d arrive at the hospital faster. He wished he had the right words to say, but sensed silence was better.
He stuck to Eloise’s side once they arrived at the hospital. After an official inquiry—since they were the first responders at the scene—they learned Martha was still in the ER. They couldn’t say more, which meant Eloise paced the length of the waiting room and back, multiple times. He tried once to get her to sit, but that had lasted a whopping two seconds before she was up and at it again.
He wasn’t a fan of hospitals, having spent time in another room very similar to this one on the day his father died. The stark lighting, the staff running to and fro, the prevailing scent of antiseptic covering sickness—it reminded him of heartrending days he’d rather forget.
Stifling a yawn that crept up on him, he checked his watch. After 2:00 a.m. It was going to be a long night.
“I’m going to the vending machine for some coffee. Want a cup?”
Eloise’s brown eyes looked huge behind her glasses. “No. I’m too jittery.”
He nodded. “Be right back.”
He started down a hallway, coming to an alcove with tall machines side by side. He pulled a few coins from his pocket and slipped them in the slot, then waited for what he was sure to be the worst cup of coffee ever.
As the dark liquid slowly filled the cup, his cell phone sounded. Who would be calling at this time of the morning? He checked the caller ID and frowned. His contact Ben, the colleague who’d gotten him the job at Rico’s garage.
“Ben. What’s up?”
“Passing along some intel you might find helpful.”
“At this time of the morning?”
“I thought I’d get your voice mail, but this is better.”
“What have you learned?”
“Those cars that were stashed at the warehouse?”
“Yeah?”
“They showed up at a new dealership thirty miles south of here.”
“How do you know they’re the same cars?”
“Chambers sent me the list you and your partner compiled. All accounted for.”
“How did you stumble upon this?”
“My contact. The case I’m working is more closely connected to yours than we originally thought. The garage cover isn’t limited to just Rico’s. Turns out there’s a network of garages changing VINs and moving cars. The guy I’m working for is just as involved as Rico.”
There it was, the lead they’d been waiting for. “The stolen cars are all going to new dealerships?”
“Looks like it. New VINs translate into moving the stolen merchandise to a whole new location. Someone is about to get a lot richer.”
“But who?”
“Still a tightly held secret.”
Dante ran a hand through his hair. “We’re nowhere closer?”
“Oh, we’re closer,
thanks to the list you provided,” Ben said. Dante could hear the smile in his voice. “I heard chatter about another shipment scheduled for Rico’s garage. Two nights from now. Because of you and your partner, we should be able to tie this case up.”
“Thanks, Ben.”
“You got it. We’re gonna get this guy—I can feel it.”
Dante signed off, hoping this was indeed the truth. He wanted this op to close on a positive note, which meant key players behind bars. Then maybe he could figure out what to do with his emotions for his partner.
The coffee finished filling the cup with a sputter. He removed the beverage from the machine and went back to the waiting room, where Eloise was still pacing.
“Wearing a path in the floor isn’t going to make time move faster.”
She shot him an annoyed frown. “It makes me feel like I’m doing something positive.”
He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. Yeah, worse than he thought.
Setting the cup on an end table, he walked to the bank of windows overlooking a small enclosed lanai. A sanctuary garden, he guessed. As he’d hoped, Eloise stopped pacing and joined him. They stood there for a few minutes, taking in the scene: a slim tree with lots of branches, several bushes dotted with small white flowers, lush tropical plants and a bench.
“I remember when my dad died,” he said, his tone quiet. Was he hoping to distract her by relating his story? “It was a total surprise. He got up like he did every morning, dressed in his uniform and went to work. Only that day was different.” He paused. Swallowed. “He didn’t come home.”
Eloise took his hand and squeezed. “You don’t have to do this.”
He turned his head to her. “I think I do.”
She nodded.
“We all ended up in a waiting room very similar to this. After a while, they let my mom go back with him. I remember saying, ‘Dad will be fine. He’s too tough to die.’” He shook his head. “Derrick punched me in the arm. Dylan stayed seated, staring into space, and Deke? I think he might have been reading a magazine. It seemed like hours before my mother came back, her face streaked with tears. She didn’t have to say a word. We knew.”
Her shoulder brushed his. “I’m sorry, Dante.”