by Rebecca York
"I… I'm sorry," she stammered. "I must have the wrong number."
"What number were you calling?"
"Ross… Ross Marshall."
"This is his wife, Megan Sheridan. Can I help you?"
Kathryn dragged in a breath, then let it out in a rash. "There's been an accident."
The woman gasped.
"No, no—not Ross," Kathryn managed. "It's Jack. His car went off the road and crashed. He went out with… with your husband. Does Mr. Marshall know where he is?"
"You say there's been an accident. But you don't know where?" the woman asked carefully.
Kathryn made an effort not to start shouting. "I'm in my living room. I… I saw his car go off the road. I saw it turn over. I don't know how I saw it. But I know it's true. It's what happened."
There was only a moment's hesitation on the other end of the line. "Okay. Ross was stopping on the way home to pick up some groceries. Let me give you his cell phone number."
"Thank you!" Kathryn gripped the pen so hard that she felt the plastic giving as she scribbled down the number. To make sure she'd gotten it right, she repeated it back. When Megan Sheridan had confirmed it, Kathryn hung up and then immediately called the private detective.
She waited with her hand clamped on the phone as it rang once, twice, three times. Finally a man answered.
"Mr. Marshall?"
"Yes."
"This is Kathryn Reynolds."
"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.
Again she had to drag in a breath and let it out before she could speak. "Jack's car has gone off the road. It's turned over. Do you know where he is?"
He didn't question her source of information. Instead, he said, "I think he was going to your house. That would put him on I-270."
"No. He's on a secondary road."
"Okay, he must have turned off. Which is the best route to your house?"
"West Montgomery Avenue."
She had snatched up her purse when Marshall said, "Don't go there. You'll never get through in the traffic." He paused for a moment. "I'll report the accident, if somebody hasn't done it already. They'll take him to Montgomery County General Hospital. I'll meet you there."
"Yes. Thank you." Kathryn hung up, then stood for a moment, telling herself she had to get a grip. If she crashed her car, she wasn't going to do Jack any good.
As she charged out the door, her mind went back over the conversations. Megan Sheridan had been surprised to hear from her, but she'd been cooperative. Ross Marshall hadn't questioned her story or her need to get to Jack. What had Jack told them about her? Specifically—what had he told Marshall?
She couldn't answer the questions. She could only pray silently as she drove to Montgomery General Hospital.
The emergency room was full of people. Some looking sick. Others were obviously injured. Still others were waiting for word about loved ones. As she stepped through the door, she scanned the crowd and found a tall, dark-haired man standing with his shoulder propped against the wall, watching the entrance.
The moment she walked in, he came toward her. "Kathryn?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Your hair. Jack told me you have wild red hair."
He held out his hand, and she shook it. "Ross Marshall."
"I'm glad to meet Jack's friend. I'm just sorry—" She broke off before she could finish the platitude, and began again. "Is he here? How is he?"
"He's here. I don't know his condition." He reached to clasp her shoulder. "Take it easy. Jack said you're a strong woman."
"He did?"
"Well, that was the implication."
She gave a tight nod. "Have you seen him?"
"He's in the back. They're working on him. I'm going to tell the nurse that you'll be here waiting for information." He stopped, ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going over to his house—to tell Mrs. Anderson. She'll have to tell the kids."
"Craig and Lily." She pressed her fingers against her lips. "Oh!"
He nodded. "They lost their mother in an automobile accident. This is going to be tough on them."
"He's going to be okay!" she said.
"Yeah. Jack's tough."
He cleared his throat. "I gave the receptionist your name and told her that you're Jack's fiancee. That way they'll give you any information available."
She caught her breath, feeling her face go tight.
Again, he clasped her shoulder. "I know the two of you have gotten close."
"Not because Jack is comfortable with that."
"Are you?"
"Well, if you know the circumstances, you know it's hard to be exactly comfortable. But I'm a woman; I think in terms of relationships. Jack's a man; he thinks in terms of avoiding entrapment."
Marshall laughed.
She gave him a considering look. "I get the feeling you've been there yourself."
"Yeah, but I got over my male reluctance. Now I'm happily married." His expression grew serious again. "As I said, I know you're close. No matter how it started."
"What did Jack tell you about us?"
He swallowed. "Let's not get into that now. What's important at the moment is that I think you're entitled to the latest information about his condition."
She sighed, told herself he was right. "Yes. Thank you. But maybe you'd better go get his family. I'll stay here and wait."
"Okay. And I'll tell Mrs. Anderson that you're a good friend."
"She already knows I'm involved in a missing person case. I talked to her this morning," she murmured.
An expression flashed across his face, an expression she read all too well. Gasping, she reached out to grab his sleeve. "What did you find at Sugarloaf Mountain?" she demanded.
He kept his gaze steady on her. "I'm sorry."
"You found Heather up there?"
"I can't tell you with one hundred percent certainty. But I'm pretty sure that's true."
As she swayed on her feet, he caught her and led her to a plastic chair, easing her down. She was aware that people were staring at her, but she didn't care.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"I was… afraid of that," she whispered. "I guess I've already started coming to terms with it."
He nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
She watched him disappear into the parking lot, then turned her attention toward the door where patients were called for treatment.
When she'd first set eyes on Jack, she'd felt like time was standing still. Now, each second seemed to stretch into a century.
She leaned her head against the wall, closed her eyes. Maybe some protective mechanism helped her doze off, because she felt herself jerking awake. Someone was calling her name.
She jumped up, hurried toward the voice, which belonged to a rumpled-looking man in a white coat.
"Ms. Reynolds?"
"Yes. Can you tell me about Jack?"
"I'm Dr. Hammersmith. Detective Thornton has a concussion and a dislocated shoulder."
"A concussion!"
"He's awake. We'd like to keep him for a day or two, to observe the head injury. Under the circumstances, I'd say he escaped with a minimal amount of damage."
She nodded, trying to take that in. "Can I see him?"
"Yes. For a few minutes. We're going to admit him to the neurological floor. That's the second floor."
"But he's out of danger?"
"Things look pretty favorable. But we need to keep him under observation."
"Okay. Thank you," she answered, thinking that the doctor was expecting Jack to recover, but he wasn't willing to say that for sure.
He led her into a busy open area where personnel were rushing off on various emergency errands. They stopped at the entrance to a treatment cubicle, secluded from the main area by curtains. Jack was lying in a hospital bed, low rails raised on either side of the mattress. Her gaze shot to his face. One of his eyes was swollen closed. His complexion was deathly pale, except where it was discolored by bruises tur
ning purple. His arm was in a sling, strapping across his chest.
She must have made a noise when she saw him, because his good eye flickered open and focused on her.
His lips moved, and she thought she heard him whisper her name. Seeing him like this made her insides clench. And, at the same time, it made her realize that her feelings for him ran strong and deep.
"Jack." Swiftly she crossed the room. She wanted to gather him into her arms, but she was afraid to hurt him. So she restrained herself, leaning over him, reaching for his good hand and squeezing it gently.
This time when he whispered her name, she heard him clearly.
She bent to brush her lips against his cheek. "Just rest."
He sighed, closed his eye again.
"Ross went to get Mrs. Anderson."
He made an effort to rouse himself. "Better if the kids don't see me this way."
"I'll tell them you're mending."
The brief exchange seemed to have exhausted him. His good eye closed again, and she felt his fingers loosen.
Once more, she brushed his cheek with her lips, then stepped back. She wanted to stay, but she knew that he needed to rest.
Out in the waiting room, she spotted Ross again. He was standing with an older woman and two children, a boy and a girl. The boy looked achingly like Jack. The girl had more delicate features. Probably her mother's.
The trio must be Craig, Lily, and Mrs. Anderson.
Her heart turned over when she studied the children's pale, pinched faces. They'd lost their mother a few years ago in an automobile accident. Now their father was in the hospital for the same reason, and they had to be scared—no matter how much their housekeeper had contributed to their stable home.
Kathryn wanted to rush to them and offer what comfort she could. But when Ross waved his hand to usher her over, she saw the older woman's expression turn disapproving.
The negative reaction made her throat tighten. But she understood it. Mrs. Anderson had talked to her about a case Jack was working on. Now she was suddenly being billed as a close friend of his. And she'd been allowed to go in and see him—while his family was still in the waiting room.
Instead of hurrying over, she came slowly toward the little group. "Hello, I'm Kathryn Reynolds, Jack's friend. We talked this morning, Mrs. Anderson."
The woman gave a tight nod.
"And this must be Craig and Lily."
"Yes," the boy answered.
She started to offer her hand to the housekeeper, then thought better of it when she saw the woman's unfriendly expression had hardened.
"Is my daddy going to be okay?" a trembly voice asked.
Kathryn lowered her gaze toward Lily. "Yes, I just saw him. He said he's feeling pretty good," she said.
"I want to see him."
"I'm sorry. They don't let children into the emergency room, and I think your daddy's taking a nap now," she said, remembering that Jack hadn't wanted his children to see his battered face.
The little girl's lower lip trembled. She looked so miserable that Kathryn bent down and folded her close, feeling the little girl cling to her. "It's going to be okay. Your daddy told me to tell you not to worry."
"He's not going to die," Craig said emphatically. Then turned it into a question. "Right?"
"That's right," Kathryn answered, praying that it was true.
The housekeeper's hard voice interrupted. "I can take care of Craig and Lily."
Knowing she'd been put in her place, Kathryn stood up again, her eyes going to Ross. "I think I should go home now," she said.
"There's no reason you can't stay," he answered, but he sounded uncertain.
"No. I know when it's time to leave," she said, her voice barely above a whisper because she was afraid she was going to burst into tears if she tried to manage more volume. "You stay here with Mrs. Anderson and the children. They need you. I'll be okay."
Quickly she turned away, blinking to clear her vision. Without waiting for a reply, she started for the door—then saw that a broad-shouldered man had come in and was looking around. Ross spotted him, too, and rapidly crossed the tile floor. The man looked grim, and Ross drew him aside, away from the family that was now seated on a plastic couch.
She couldn't hear what they were saying. But when Ross glanced in her direction, she made her way over to the alcove where the two men were talking.
"This is Captain Granger, Detective Thornton's superior," Ross said. "Kathryn Reynolds."
The captain studied her, his expression not exactly friendly. "Aren't you the woman who filed the missing person report in the DeYoung case?"
"Yes."
"What are you doing here?"
"Detective Thornton and I…" She spread her hands, not knowing exactly what to say, particularly since Ross had introduced the man in very formal terms.
"How did you know Jack was here?" he asked.
It was Ross who answered the question. "I have a police scanner in my car. I heard what had happened, and I called Ms. Reynolds because she was waiting for word on what Jack and I had discovered."
Kathryn struggled to keep her expression steady. That wasn't exactly the truth. But she knew why Ross had to give the answer he did.
Granger looked like he was having a bad day. "So my detective runs off the road in a one-car accident—in his company car," he muttered. "Which is always fun to explain to Internal Affairs—and the press."
Kathryn opened her mouth, then thought better of protesting.
Granger was already speaking to Ross again. "How did you two end up at Sugarloaf Mountain?"
"I had some information pertinent to the case."
"Yeah, you come up with some pretty amazing leads," Granger said in a voice that didn't make it sound like a compliment. "So you and Thornton spend the afternoon up at Sugarloaf. Then he comes back and crashes his car. What were you doing up there? Having a party?"
"Of course not," Ross snapped. "You can have his blood alcohol checked. And you can have a drug screen done, too."
"I will. And how, exactly, did this particular expedition come about, if you don't mind my asking?" Granger pressed.
"I found a piece of Ms. DeYoung's jewelry up at the mountain location."
Kathryn blinked.
Granger issued an immediate challenge. "Jack didn't say anything about that."
"I guess he was planning to put it in his report." Ross slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. In it was a circle pin that Kathryn recognized.
Lord, had he really found it up there? Or what? She could only stare at the piece of jewelry. "That's Heather's," she managed as he handed the bag to the captain.
Granger's head swung toward her. "So you can conveniently corroborate the information."
"Yes. I've seen her wear it. Is that bad?"
Granger scowled. "Convenient, as I said. There's something going on here that I'm not picking up, isn't there? Are the three of you in some kind of conspiracy or something?"
Ross cocked his head to one side. "Like what?" he asked, keeping his voice mild. In the face of Granger's accusations, Kathryn might have shouted the question.
"You tell me," Granger muttered. "What's your story—that you were hiking up at Sugarloaf and found this jewelry? That you knew it was related to a case Jack happened to be working on?"
"That sounds right."
Granger snorted. "Okay. We'll get back to that later."
"The important point is that both Jack and I believe you'll find DeYoung's grave up there. As well as several other graves—all related to the missing person cases Jack has been investigating."
Granger's gaze swung toward Kathryn. "You don't seem surprised."
"I was starting to feel like Heather wasn't coming back," she murmured. "Then, before you got here, Ross told me he was almost sure she was dead."
"Convenient," Granger muttered again.
"Are you accusing her of something?" Ross asked, his voice low and level.
Granger gave him a hard look. "What are you, her lawyer?"
"No. I'm just trying to figure out why you're coming on so strong," he said, sounding deliberately controlled.
"Because Thornton hasn't been himself since he asked to get into the missing persons investigation. And then, this afternoon, I got a complaint about him—and Ms. Reynolds."
Kathryn sucked in a sharp breath.
"And you checked out William Strong?" Ross asked.
Granger stared at him. "Thornton told you about that?"
"Yeah, he did. And he told me he thought the guy was going to turn out to be bogus. Was he?"
A slight flush spread across the captain's cheeks. "As a matter of fact, the name and address don't check out."
"So it looks like somebody who wanted to make trouble for Jack or Kathryn."
"That doesn't excuse the behavior."
"Pretty innocent behavior, the way I heard it."
Again Granger looked at her. "Is that right?"
"Yes," she managed, feeling her cheeks flame. Bending the truth had never been her strong suit, yet in the face of this man's attack, she felt like it was her best choice—if she wanted to help Jack.
"Maybe we should get back to your missing person case." Ross's voice cut through her discomfort. "You need to identify the site, so I'll be glad to go up there with a crime scene team and show them where we marked the graves."
Granger was looking at him thoughtfully. "I'll contact Frederick County and apprise them of the situation. When we get a court order, I'll let you know."
"Fine," Ross answered.
Kathryn stood there, taking it in, thinking that there was a subtext to the conversation that she couldn't quite read.
Ross turned to her. "I appreciate your meeting me over here. But you might as well go on home." He sounded impersonal—like she'd merely come out of duty or something. But the look in his eyes as he met her gaze was intense. And she was pretty sure he was trying to get her out of there without any more questions. "Probably the captain will want to express his sympathy to the family."
Granger scowled at him.
"Okay. Thanks," she said.
"I expect you to make yourself available if we have any more questions," the captain said.
"Of course."
Granger strode off to see Mrs. Anderson and the children. Kathryn couldn't hear what he was saying, but his voice sounded milder.