by CJ Lyons
She was trying so hard to be strong, to be brave. Yet it was so painfully clear that whatever had happened tonight—whether a confrontation with a killer or a psychotic breakdown—terrified her. He covered her hand with his.
“Did he hurt you?” The shrinks would tell him not to encourage her if she was delusional, but damn it, she was so scared.
Her eyes closed for a brief moment as she relaxed back against the pillows. When she returned her gaze to meet his, he saw gratitude there. Josh felt his own heart speed up in response.
“Should we call the police?” he asked.
“I already did. They’ll be here any moment.”
“What happened?”
“I was asleep, but I woke, knowing there was someone in the room, even though it was dark.”
He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze of encouragement. Hating himself for breaking the rules, despite knowing better. She would be devastated when the shrinks started to challenge her delusions, and he was making things worse by letting her think he bought into her psychic visions.
“I could feel him standing over me, watching me. I froze. Then,” her voice broke a little, “I felt water.”
“Water?” he asked, surprised. Acid burned the back of his throat and he wondered if maybe he was wrong about what had happened here tonight.
“Yes. His finger was wet, and he traced the sign of the cross on my forehead, my lips.”
“That sign of the cross stuff—does that mean what I think it does?” he asked, his apprehension growing. His jaw clenched as he stared at the funeral flower.
This wasn’t a delusion or a bad dream or anything else he could fix.
“The last rites.”
CHAPTER 16
Before she could explain anymore, there was a knock on the door and two uniformed police officers entered. Kate introduced Lightner to Tabitha Rowen and her partner, Marc Scher. Scher went to perform a quick search of the area, leaving Rowen to get the full details from Kate.
Tabitha led Kate through the events of the night. Kate appreciated her fellow officer’s lack of recrimination—right now she had enough for both of them.
“I should have tried harder to claw him, scratch him,” she told Tabitha. “We would have had DNA, run it through CODIS.”
Tabitha flipped her notebook shut and buttoned it into her pocket. “He might not be in the system anyway.”
“You were lucky he didn’t hurt you or anyone else,” Lightner put in, speaking for the first time since the interview began.
Kate had forgotten that he still held her hand. Both she and Tabitha stared at him.
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Kate said, surprised by how bitter her voice sounded. “If the shooter wanted to do more, I couldn’t have stopped him.”
Lightner squeezed her hand so tight her fingers grew numb. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated with fear as her words sank in.
“It’s not going to happen again,” he said as if he were the one used to carrying a gun and defending civilians.
Kate exchanged glances with Tabitha, mortified by the half-smile that crossed the other officer’s face.
Damn. She tugged her hand free of Lightner’s, tried to sit up straighter, act professional. As professional as she could be lying helpless in a bed. At least Tabitha wasn’t treating her like a victim.
“How long after Conrad did he come here?” she asked Tabitha.
Lightner stiffened at the question. Kate could tell that he didn’t like the connection she was making. Tough. As long as she still had her badge, she was a cop and no skel was going to come off the streets, threaten her and get away with it.
“Less than a hour.” Tabitha frowned, her gaze moving from the bright bushel of flowers Conrad had brought to the single funeral lily. “This is one cold customer.”
“Any leads?” There would have been dozens of cops at Rob’s wake, surely someone saw something. But Tabitha was silent, merely shook her head.
“Maybe he’ll come back here again,” Kate offered. “You guys could set up—”
That brought Lightner to his feet. “No way. I’ll not have a patient of mine used as bait, not to mention the danger to the staff and other patients. You got lucky once with this maniac, Kate—don’t go looking for trouble.”
Twice, Kate thought. She’d gotten lucky twice with the shooter. Maybe that was the point?
She felt close to something, but the door opened before she could pursue the thought. Carter, his eyes narrowed in a combination of concern and frustration, entered.
“I checked all the security tapes. Nothing,” he said by way of greeting. “You mind going over it one more time for me, Kate?”
Tabitha relinquished her spot beside the bed to Carter. “I’ll go check on Scher, see if anything popped during his canvass.”
Carter nodded his approval and turned his stare on Lightner. Kate watched as the two men squared off in a silent duel of wills.
Lightner gave her hand one last squeeze. “I’ll go see about a new room for you, Kate.”
Carter waited for the door to close behind Lightner. “Looks like you got yourself a fan. You know, he sat at your bedside all that first night.”
“I heard you did too,” she reminded him, hoping he would drop the issue. Lightner’s feelings for her, whatever they might be, were the least of her worries right now.
Carter pulled out his glasses and opened his notebook. “Start at the beginning,” he ordered. “Give me everything.”
Kate did as he asked, holding back nothing except her visions—they couldn’t be used as evidence and didn’t add anything useful anyway. When she finished, Carter blew his breath out in a disgruntled sigh.
“Not very helpful, is it?” she said. “Don’t you guys have anything to work with?”
“Nothing except the ballistics from the first shooting. He used a shotgun on Conrad, but we’re assuming it’s the same guy who visited you as well.”
She wished she had seen her midnight visitor’s face. “Think it could be a pair, working in tandem?”
“I wish I knew. So far the ammo has led us nowhere.” He pushed his glasses to the top of his head and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Conrad visited you earlier. Your secret admirer obviously had no problem getting in here either.”
Kate grunted at that. “Anyone could get in this place, Carter. Pick up a visitor’s pass from the trash can, grab some scrubs or a white coat, a basket of flowers—“
“I know, I know. But we’ve got to start somewhere. I’m going to run the hospital employees, see if anything jumps out. Previous records, reasons to be angry with cops, who knows?”
“Waste of time. This all started with that Minimart.” She stopped. Remembered the way the shooter had looked through the convenience store windows at her. Like she was the answer to his prayers or something. “Maybe the shooter has a grudge against me or Rob?” she suggested. “Maybe that’s why he waited around at the store instead of grabbin’ and baggin’.”
Carter considered that. Kate could almost feel the pieces of the puzzle click. But they didn’t, instead she was left grasping at the same straws she had started with.
“I’ll look into it,” Carter said, getting to his feet and dropping his glasses back onto his nose. He looked over the tops of them at her. “You behave yourself, all right?”
Kate gestured to the various medical appliances that tethered her to the bed. “As if I could go anywhere. I couldn’t even,” her voice caught for a heartbeat, “hit the guy when I tried.”
“No one’s blaming you that he got away. There’ll be a guard outside your door, so don’t worry, he’s not coming back. I want you to concentrate on getting better, we need you back on the job, Kate.”
He gave her a quick pat on her good shoulder and left. She was touched by his concern, but wished she could be as optimistic as he was about her returning to the job. Obviously Conrad hadn’t had a chance to tell Carter about her visions. She only wished Conrad had li
stened to her.
Tears of frustration and anger burned her eyes as she remembered the way he had scoffed at her warning, asked her what kind of drugs the doctors had her on. Acted like she was nuts.
Of course, why should he trust her when she didn’t know if she could trust herself?
She was spiraling out of control, her life falling apart. It seemed as if the more she tried to regain control, the more things crumbled around her.
Not just things. A kaleidoscope of images: Rob’s bloody face, Mrs. Greenbaum’s, Conrad’s flashed through her mind. Not just things. People. How many more people would die because she was helpless to save them?
CHAPTER 17
It was after five in the morning by the time they had her settled in her new room. Kate lay back and watched the sunrise paint the sky orange and red. An achy tired feeling weighed down on her. Her nerves thrummed with anxiety but she was so exhausted that she could neither calm herself enough to sleep nor rouse herself enough to think about what had happened.
Lightner entered. She startled from her limbo, her hand reaching for her weapon. Finding empty space.
She forced herself to breathe in and out, quiet the adrenalin propelling her pulse.
“Just once, a knock would be nice.” Her voice was taut, resonating with the fear etching the back of her throat.
“Sorry.” His eyes had dark circles under them, and he needed a shave. He still wore his sweat pants and sweat-stained Ron Jon Surfshop T-shirt. Raucous tropical flowers surrounding bikini-clad surfer chicks.
“I seem to be making a career of depriving you of your sleep,” she said, trying to sound normal.
“Don’t worry, I charge by the hour,” he told her with a grin. He settled into the chair beside her bed. Just sat there, staring at her until she felt her cheeks color.
“Do you surf?” she asked, nodding at his shirt.
“Nope, just like to splash around and walk on the beach. My folks retired to Vero Beach.” He paused, looked back over his shoulder to the closed door behind him. “Do you think you’ll be all right here?”
“As well here as anywhere.” She sounded bitter and she knew it, but didn’t care. She wished she was out on the streets, looking for this actor, doing something, anything besides lying in bed like a worthless lump. Wished for her weapon, wished for her partner at her back. All of which she had little chance of getting.
“I want you to rest this morning,” he instructed her. It was funny how his voice changed whenever he began to treat her like a patient—it became colder, more clinical.
“All I have planned for you today,” he continued, “is a chest X-ray, and if that’s okay, we’ll take the chest tube out. You’ll be able to use your arm as long as you don’t raise it over your head, but we’ll keep it in an immobilizer to help your clavicle heal faster.”
“What about the bladder catheter?” she asked, yearning for the freedom to pee on her own.
“That too—but you’ll probably need to call the nurse for help for a while. Until you’re steady on your feet again.”
Help to go to the bathroom? Like hell. But she smiled and nodded like a good patient. Anything to get out of this place as soon as possible. Then maybe she could get her life back on track.
He looked past her for a moment before returning his gaze back to her, his eyes a dark indigo, a frown creasing his forehead, raising a knot between his eyebrows. “About last night,” he began. “I’m sorry about Adams not believing you.” He paused. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you right away, either.”
Her teeth ground together as she remembered her feelings of helpless frustration when Adams threatened to sedate her, tie her down. What hurt even worse, though, had been the realization that despite the time he spent with her, listening to her, Lightner also didn’t believe.
Not so much in her visions—if her brain wasn’t the one being turned inside out by the gut-wrenching images, she might not believe either. But that he hadn’t trusted in her, her abilities as a cop, as a reliable witness. Instead, he’d assumed she was delusional. Just like everyone else.
No wonder she hadn’t been able to convince Conrad. Not even to save his life. She blinked hard. What the hell good was she, what the hell good were these visions if she couldn’t use them to change things?
“I’m not crazy,” she said, the words cutting through the air between them. She stared at him for a long moment, weighing her decision. Despite his skepticism about her visions, he seemed to honestly want to help her. At this point, she’d take any help she could get.
“What I saw yesterday, it was exactly the way it happened to Conrad.” There, she’d said it. Kate felt better, taking ownership of her visions. It might be short-circuited, fried and frizzled, but damn it, it was still her brain.
She tilted her head up, daring him to dispute or mock her. “I tried to warn him, but nothing I said made any sense.”
Lightner surprised her. Instead of talking about her needing more rest or stronger meds or her own personal Sigmund Freud, his hand moved to cover hers in a gesture so natural that Kate didn’t even realize it was there at first. He pursed his lips as if making a decision.
“All right,” he finally said. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked her in the eye. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”
He sounded so determined, so confident that Kate almost believed he could find a way to help her get her life back.
Josh leaned forward, dabbed at the small plume of blood that appeared on his chin. Wouldn’t inspire much confidence if patients knew their surgeon cut himself shaving. One more thing he could blame on Kate. He’d been preoccupied, thinking about her crazy visions, a killer stalking her in his own hospital, the way her cheeks had colored when he vetoed her plan to play Judas goat, the thick curls that framed her face so nicely, the way her hand felt in his...
A finger tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped, nearly losing the towel that hung around his waist. Sal Bianchi laughed, turned and opened his locker, began to change.
“What are you doing here so early?” Sal asked. “Thought you were off last night.”
Josh finished swiping at his stubble, rinsed his face and grabbed a pair of scrubs. He stopped, noticing Sal’s X-files poster. The truth is out there, it promised.
Where? he wondered. Where did he go to find answers to Kate and her unique set of problems?
“You really believe that crap?” Josh asked.
Sal did a double-take, closing the door to his locker and scrutinizing the poster. “Flying saucers and alien abductions? No. That the truth is often more bizarre than we would like to believe and that, as smart as we are, science doesn’t have all the answers? Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “This is about your cop, O’Hern, isn’t it?”
Josh nodded, sat on the wooden bench between the rows of lockers and pulled on a clean pair of socks. He told Sal about what happened during the night.
When he had finished, Sal gave a low whistle. “Your cop has a lot bigger problems than just being shot.”
“I don’t know what to do to help her.” Josh slammed his locker door shut.
Sal gave him a long, hard stare. “I warned you about getting emotionally involved with O’Hern.”
“I get personally involved with all my patients,” Josh protested feebly, pushing aside the fantasies of Kate that had tantalized him ever since he met her. “Besides, O’Hern has some crazy idea of letting the police use her to catch this killer.”
“You’re her surgeon. Not her priest, not her bodyguard, not her father. Your job starts and ends with healing her body. Period.”
Josh felt his jaw muscles begin to spasm. “Damn it, I’m not going to let her be used as bait, not while she’s in my care!”
“She’s a big girl, Josh, a tough lady. She has the right to make her own decisions.”
“Not now, with everything that’s going on. She isn’t thinking straight—how could anyone?”
“Are you going to do her any good by ad
ding a personal involvement to her list of things to deal with?”
Josh looked down, didn’t meet Sal’s gaze. Sal had a point. Maybe the best way he could help Kate was to stay away. The police had promised protection for her, were searching for the killer. What more could Josh do?
“Maybe you could talk to one of her friends on the force, let them know that she’s in no shape to help them.” Sal stood up, donned his OR cap. “But I think the bigger question isn’t what to do about O’Hern’s visions, but why you refuse to believe her.”
Josh stared at the older man. “You’re as crazy as she is. You can’t really believe that she died, met with God and came back with some psycho-psychic gift?”
“I doubt she thinks it’s a gift. And stranger things have happened—”
“Not to me. Not to my patients. She was shot. She died. I stuck my hand in her chest, clamped a vessel and she lived. End of story.”
“Now who thinks he’s God?”
Josh blew his breath out, straightened to his full height. Sal looked up at him, met his gaze easily, challenging Josh.
“Don’t give me that crap, Sal. I can put her body back together, but I can’t do a damn thing for her if her brain took a permanent hit. Face it, maybe she was down too long.”
Sal shook his head as if Josh had disappointed him. “There are other explanations.”
“Not in my world there aren’t.”
“So what’s your explanation for what she’s seeing?”
“Delusions, coincidence, and a cop’s ability to pick up on details and piece together a story.” As Josh spoke, he warmed to his topic, relieved to have an alternative reason for Kate’s hallucinations.
“You said yourself that drugs could play a part. The killer was here at the hospital last night, who’s to say he wasn’t hanging around earlier? Maybe he followed Conrad from here—maybe she heard his voice in the hallway and her scrambled brain put two and two together. Whatever’s going on it’s nothing to do with the seeing the future.”