Nightwatch

by Jo Leigh

  The moment he’d held that boy in his arms, the facade had shattered. But now that Guy was broken, what was he supposed to do about it? How was he going to pick up the pieces? That baby needed him, and he was useless. Stripped bare and without any of his shiny protective coating.

  “Okay, Giroux. Get it together. This is not about you.” He turned off the water, then dried his hands and face, balling the paper tightly before he threw it in the trash. Then he went to look in on his grandson.

  As he walked into the unit, his gaze went to the far corner. Heath’s incubator. And Rachel Browne.

  Instantly, as if a switch had been flipped, his anger disappeared. Gone, just like that. He studied her. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail that fell to the middle of her back. The white coat, prim, professional, hid the curves that had burned themselves into his brain. Her navy skirt came down to just above her knees, and below that were remarkable legs, the kind of legs that launched ships, that wars were fought over. Her shoes—black, with one-inch heels—were as perfectly groomed as the rest of her. That was Rachel. Always put together, always fresh and beautiful, even if she’d been working twenty-four hours straight.

  She instilled confidence in her patients, had complete control of even the most complicated cases. And she never lost her cool. Altogether, she was an extraordinary doctor.

  Right this second, he needed her, more desperately than he could ever remember needing a woman. But not for sex or even a kiss. He needed her to calm him. When Rachel was near, the world stopped caving in on him.

  He went to the sink first and prepared himself to hold the baby. It was second nature, this washing routine. He’d done it so many times, hundreds, thousands, that it had become a ritual.

  Rachel was looking at him when he turned toward Heath. God, her face. It was the best part of her, really. Incredibly large dark eyes, dark eyebrows, and lips painted a perfect red. She had a fascinating beauty, but more important, she was a born healer, in the best sense of the word. And in his eyes, that made her looks a detail. An afterthought.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate how attractive she was. He simply put her beauty in proper perspective.

  “Guy,” she said, her soft voice carrying clearly across the room.

  He walked toward her, the stirrings of hope quickening his step.

  “He’s doing a little better,” Rachel said. “He’s been sleeping peacefully. No arrhythmia, and look—” she handed him the chart “—his kidney function is up.”

  Guy read everything, then reread it before he spoke. “He’s still not out of the woods.”

  “No,” Rachel said. “But what this tells me is that even if we don’t find his father, we can get to the bottom of his condition. We’ll find out everything. His blood work has gone to the lab in San Francisco.”

  He knew what that meant. DNA sequencing, as fast and as accurately as it could be done. It cost him a fortune and was worth every penny. But it still wasn’t magic. Getting the results would take time. Time he could use finding the bastard that had impregnated his stepdaughter. “His name is Stan,” he said. “I think he might still be in Los Angeles.”

  Rachel stepped closer and put her hand on his sleeve. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well then, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to spend a few minutes looking at that beautiful boy. Then I’m going to take you down the street and force-feed you, if necessary.” She caught his gaze. “We’ll talk.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  RACHEL WALKED next to Guy, her hands in her coat pockets. As they approached the Courage Bay Bar and Grill, she slipped a glance his way, the light from a street lamp putting his features in sharp relief.

  He didn’t look like the Guy Giroux she was used to. His dark hair, thick and long enough to brush his collar, was mussed, and his strong jaw was darkened with a five o’clock shadow. His eyebrows, which would have been too bushy on a weaker face, made everything about his looks more interesting.

  There was no disputing he was handsome. And tall. She guessed he was about six-three. At five-eight, she only reached his shoulders. And then there was his body. The man took care of himself, and didn’t all the nurses and female doctors notice. Guy was often the subject of break-room gossip and wishful thinking.

  In all the time she’d worked at the hospital, she’d never heard of him dating anyone on staff. Considering how small-town the E.R. was, that was a good thing. Nothing escaped their co-workers, and this innocent dinner would be no exception. Rachel didn’t give a damn.

  It was startling how affected Guy was by the loss of his stepdaughter. He had clearly loved Heather, and his concern for the baby was as deep as a parent’s.

  It occurred to Rachel that she barely knew the man. She only knew the doctor. Which was exactly how it was supposed to be. Only, things had changed, and the man inside the black leather coat needed her. She couldn’t bring Heather back, and she wasn’t the best doctor for Heath. But she could be a friend.

  They reached the door of the restaurant and Guy held it open for her. Inside, the cold of the January night disappeared. The familiar surroundings helped take the chill out of Rachel. Larry Goodman, the owner, was hosting this evening, and he greeted them both warmly, took their coats and led them to the dining room, to a back booth.

  Like all the emergency personnel in town, Rachel came to the Bar and Grill more often than any other place. Aside from the convenient location, the restaurant had great food, the ambience was calming, and Larry and his wife, Louise, went to great lengths to take care of all the teams in the emergency-services district.

  She scooted into the far seat of the booth, while Guy sat across from her. “Tea, please, Larry. Earl Grey.”

  Larry, who looked younger than his sixty-plus years, nodded and turned to Guy.

  “Coffee.”

  “Be right back, folks. Tonight we have some great mesquite-smoked salmon, and the prime rib has been getting raves.”

  The minute they were alone, Guy pulled the little notebook out of his pocket and put it on the table.

  Rachel’s gaze moved back and forth between the diary and Guy, but he only stared at the book. She watched the play of candlelight on his face, the way the shadows made his eyebrows look even thicker, his lips look firm and cool.

  “What did you read?” he asked, jarring her out of her reverie.

  “Not much. The first two pages. The last.”

  Guy nodded. “She didn’t mention his name for a while. I got the feeling she was scared that someone would find the diary, then find her.”

  Larry brought their drinks. Rachel ordered the salmon, and Guy chose chicken Dijon. Both of them asked for salads. Larry slipped away quietly, as if he understood this was not a night for catching up.

  Guy pushed the book to the side then looked straight at her. “He held her prisoner there. Got her hooked on drugs, got her pregnant, then locked her away.”

  “Why? What was he after?”

  He shook his head. “She was fooled for a long time. She thought he was in love with her, and even after he started hitting her, she didn’t want to believe the truth. I don’t think she even knew the truth.”

  “You said his name was Stan. No last name, I presume?”

  “Nope.”

  Rachel pulled the paper out of her pocket and slid it across to him. “This was in her coat pocket.”

  After he picked it up, Guy was silent for a long time. “Why didn’t she call me?” he said at last.

  “I don’t know. But maybe that other phone number will give us a lead.”

  Guy put the paper inside the small notebook and when he looked back at Rachel, he was smiling. “Us?”

  She felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Rachel, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

  “But I haven’t done anything.”

  “You saved Heath’s life.”

/>   “That’s my job.”

  “I know what happened in there.” He put his hand over hers, and she held her breath. “You were amazing.”

  Rachel didn’t know what to do. His simple gesture had stolen her senses, made her want to jump up and run out of the building. As if against her will, her gaze inched up to meet his, and everything got a whole lot worse.

  She saw his gratitude, right there in those dark eyes. Fine, great, but there was something more, and it was going to drown her if she didn’t look away. Only she didn’t. Couldn’t. And the connection between them strengthened, blossomed, filled her with a yearning that made her want to cry.

  “When you were there, standing by Heath…” Guy began. “I can’t explain it. I felt so calm. Just seconds before, I’d been ready to chop off someone’s head, kick down the whole building, and then, there you were, and…”

  Pulling in a breath, Rachel drew her hand away, surprised she wasn’t shaking. She’d worked her entire adult life to keep from feeling like this about someone, especially her boss. Staring intently at her teacup, she cleared her throat. “I’m glad I could be there for you, Guy. I’m so terribly sorry for what you’ve had to go through.”

  He had some coffee, shifted in his seat. “Anyway, thank you.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Find him.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll start with the police…see if they can help, although I don’t have high hopes. Get on the phone, see if there’s anyone at that number.”

  “At least you know that Heath’s in the best possible hands.”

  He nodded. “If it’s Noonan’s, we’ll have to be on top of it for the rest of his life.”

  “But there’s so much that can be done,” Rachel said. “From what I’ve seen, he just has the pulmonary stenosis, and they’re treating that aggressively. I think he’s going to be fine.”

  Guy smiled weakly. She thought she saw his eyes glisten, but it could have been the candlelight.

  “What about your ex-wife?” she asked.

  “Tammy’s coming. I’m not sure when she’ll get here, but I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

  “You sound as if you don’t want her to come.”

  His expression turned bitter. “She’s not very good with children. Even healthy ones.”

  “What about Heather?”

  “Heather was a mess when I first met her. Wild, rebellious and furious with the world.”

  “It sounded to me like you two got along pretty well.”

  “Eventually. It took some doing. I’m ashamed to say that the effort was mostly hers.”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  He looked at her with a sternness that she recognized well. “Believe it. We used to go out on my boat a lot. It’s practically the only time we were together. She loved sailing as much as I did.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Not really. I never went because Heather wanted to sail. I went for myself, and if she wanted to come along, I didn’t stop her. That was about the only time I saw her. I was always at work.”

  “Your work is important.”

  “More important than my daughter? My wife? My family?”

  “You’re being awfully tough on yourself.”

  “I deserve worse.”

  “I’m all for self-flagellation. In fact, I’ve been known to indulge quite often. But now isn’t the time. You have things to do, and none of it includes beating yourself to a bloody pulp.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. I just wish I had a plan.”

  “Okay, then. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll think this through and make a plan.”

  Rachel could see him physically relax, not just his face but his body. His shoulders eased and even his color changed.

  Just then, a waiter came to the table, bringing them dinner. It looked wonderful, and they wasted no time digging in. Her last meal had been a granola bar at her desk hours ago.

  “Let’s start with Stan,” she said as soon as the initial feeding frenzy had calmed. “Why would he lock her up?”

  “Because he’s a sick bastard who deserves to be in prison?”

  “Aside from that.”

  “I was thinking that very thing,” Guy said. He ate a bite of chicken, then put his fork down. “What if it had something to do with Heather’s pregnancy.”

  “What, he wanted to keep her so she couldn’t run off with the baby?”

  “Well, why didn’t he hold her captive before she was pregnant?”

  “Maybe he got crazier.”

  For a few minutes, they ate in silence. Rachel still hadn’t shaken the sensations that had swamped her when Guy had touched her hand. She felt confused. What in the hell was going on with her?

  She’d never seen Guy like this before; his emotions were so close to the surface it was painful. He’d let down his guard big-time, and laid his heart at her feet.

  She didn’t want that. On the other hand, she was so drawn to him that it made her dizzy.

  If it had been anyone else, she would never have agreed to dinner. In fact, she would have made every excuse in the book to stay as far away as possible.

  But she was here, and more than that, she wanted to help. Desperately. Which meant she should back the heck off.

  “She mentioned another girl in the diary,” Guy said. “The woman before Heather. At first, Heather believed Stan had left his former girlfriend because she was nuts, but then she wrote that the girl had been pregnant, and Stan had left her after the baby was born. When Heather asked him about the baby, he got furious with her and told her never to talk about it again.”

  “I don’t understand,” Rachel said.

  “I’m not sure I do, either, but maybe it’s a pattern. Maybe he’s one of those sociopaths who want to own a woman completely, and when he has her truly over a barrel, with his child no less, he loses interest. Moves on to the next victim.”

  “If that’s true, there’s probably a string of women out there. Who knows? Maybe he gets these girls pregnant for a reason.”

  Guy nodded. “I’ve considered that, too, which means checking on adoption scams. God, what a thought.”

  “It’s too soon to tell, but I don’t think you can discount anything at this point,” she said.

  “So I have a place to begin.”

  “Which is?”

  “An ad in the L.A. Times. Homes for unwed mothers. Adoption agencies that the police are checking out.”

  Rachel put her fork down. “Yes, yes. That’s good.”

  He closed his eyes and rested his fingertips on his lids. “It’s a start.”

  “It’s a great start.”

  He put his hands down and looked at her. “I have no business asking you this, but will you help? Maybe put together an ad for the L.A. Times?”

  “Of course,” she said, then mentally kicked herself.

  “Wait, no. Hey, I’m being incredibly selfish, and I don’t want to do that anymore. Forget I said a word. You’ve done so much already. I’m sure my sister can lend a hand.”

  He must have seen something in her expression when she’d agreed to help him, a flash of reluctance, perhaps. And it made her feel like a first-class heel. “Nonsense. Remember, I’ve got tomorrow off, so I’ll come by and we can work together. After that, I’m on days, and…”

  “That would be great.” He nodded, as if to himself. “Fantastic.”

  She finished her tea and folded her napkin across her plate. “It’s time for me to get back to work. Miles to go, and all that…”

  “Sure, sure.” He signaled the waiter for the check while she reached for her purse.

  When the bill came Rachel slid out of the booth, cash in hand. “What’s my share?” she asked.

  “Are you joking? This is on me, and if you say a word, I’ll tell everyone at the E.R. I took you out to dinner.”

  She laughed. “You don’t think they know already?”

  “T
rue.”

  As soon as he paid the bill, they walked to the door, Guy touching the small of her back with the warm palm of his hand.

  Again, Rachel’s whole body went into some kind of hyperawareness. Her breath caught and she had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. She walked a little faster, and his hand fell away. Only then did she breathe calmly again.

  It was ridiculous. She tried to think of some way to explain her reaction, or of some other time when she had felt like this, but nothing came to mind. Not even her first kiss. Not even the first time she’d made love.

  CALLIE KNEW SHE WAS calling late, and that Max Zirinsky had probably gone home long ago, but she had the police chief’s office number in her PalmPilot, and she didn’t have a phone book handy.

  The cell rang twice. “Courage Bay Police Department.”

  “Chief Zirinsky, please.”

  “One moment.”

  She listened to a snippet of “Moon River,” then a deep, masculine voice said, “Zirinsky.”

  “Chief. This is Callie Baker.”

  There was a slight pause. “What can I do for you, Callie?”

  “I wanted to know if you’d ever heard of a man named Bruce Nepom.”

  “I’ve heard the name. Why?”

  Callie could easily picture Max. Although their paths only crossed professionally now, at one point they had almost been family. Max was a cousin of Callie’s ex-husband.

  “He died this morning,” Callie told him. “Crushed by his roof during the storm.”

  Max gave her an address, and she opened Nepom’s file to verify they were talking about the same man.

  “That’s right.”

  “I see,” Max said. “What about him?”

  “There were some anomalies—particularly a deep concussion in the back of the skull that doesn’t fit the profile of a crush injury.”

  “You think there’s more to it than a weather-related accident?”

  “I don’t have anything concrete, but I thought you might like to be at the autopsy.”