by Hope White
“Why didn’t you call for help?” Nate asked Will.
“I couldn’t get a signal at the cabin, and I didn’t want to leave Sara alone in search of one. She was exhibiting symptoms of shock. I’d hoped she’d be better by morning, at which time we’d hike a short distance to find a signal. Then you showed up.”
“We’ll have the deceased fingerprinted, which might give us some answers. That is, if he’s even in the system.”
“Oh, he will be,” Sara said, her cop instinct stating the obvious.
“You sound pretty sure,” Nate said. “Had you ever met him before?”
“No, sir, but I know his type.”
“What type is that?”
Nate and Will looked at her, expectant. Oh, boy. She’d better come up with a good answer.
“Bullies,” she said. “They’re usually not one-time offenders, are they, detective?”
He hesitated, as if puzzling over her answer. “No, they’re not.”
Sara closed her eyes, hoping the detective would take the hint and leave. She needed time alone, without doctors and medical staff poking at her, and without the local police’s pointed questions.
“Sara, have you ever shot a man before?” Nate asked.
She snapped her eyes open. “Of course not.”
It was the truth. In her tenure with the FBI, she’d never found herself in a situation where she had to shoot and kill someone.
Until last night.
In order to save Will’s life.
He was only in danger because of you.
“If you don’t mind, I could really use some sleep.” She rolled onto her side away from Nate and slipped her fingers out from under Will’s hand. The guilt of putting him in harm’s way weighed heavy on her heart.
“Will, you and I can finish your interview in the lounge.”
“Okay,” Will said. “Sara, I’ll be close if you need me.”
She had to distance herself from this man before he was even more seriously hurt because of Sara and her quest to nail LaRouche and Harrington. More seriously hurt? He was almost killed last night. The bruising below his eyes and swollen nose made her stomach burn with regret.
“No, you can leave,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“Just go, Will. You’ve done your bit.”
“My bit?”
She mustered as much false bitterness as possible in order to drive him away. “Yeah, saving the damsel in distress. You’re relieved of your duties.”
She closed her eyes, hypersensitive to the sounds in the room: the clicking of the blood pressure machine, a car horn echoing through the window...
Will’s deep sigh as he hovered beside her bed.
She’d hurt him with her acerbic comment, but it was for his own good. So why did she feel like such a jerk about the silence that stretched between them?
“Come on,” Nate said.
She felt Will brush his hand across her arm—a goodbye touch.
A ball of emotion rose in her throat. This shouldn’t hurt; she shouldn’t feel anything for a man she’d only met yesterday.
Her emotional pain was a side effect of her injuries, that was all, the trauma of the past twenty-four hours. It had nothing to do with Will and his gentle nature, or his caring green eyes. She sighed, and drifted to sleep.
* * *
Sara awakened with a start.
Where was she? She sat up in bed and searched her surroundings. Right, she was in the hospital. It was dark outside; dark in her room. Someone had turned off the lights, probably to help her sleep.
“You’re okay,” she whispered.
But then why was her heart pounding against her chest?
She flopped back on the bed, remembering the nightmare that had awakened her—running down the middle of a deserted street, LaRouche and Harrington chasing her in a black limousine. Even as she slept, the corrupt businessmen were terrorizing her.
The intensity of her nightmare drove home how much danger she was in—even here, in a hospital. She was a target and she would continue to be a target until she put them behind bars.
Holding onto her IV pole, she went to the closet and found her now dry jeans. Although she favored her sprained wrist, she dressed herself, remembering how Will had offered to dry her jeans by the fire.
How he’d taken care of her.
Talk about a weak moment. After the shooting, she’d completely fallen apart, sucked into the black emotional hole of her past, remembering the sound of her father fighting for his life downstairs.
The sound of the gunshot that had taken his life.
If Will hadn’t been there last night to talk her down from her traumatic shock, to offer her a blanket and a warm hand to hold on to, she would have spun herself into a blinding panic attack.
“You can’t keep relying on him,” she reminded herself. “You’ve got to do this on your own.”
On her own. By herself. That had been Sara’s mantra since childhood, even after her aunt and uncle had taken her into their home.
Today was no different. She had to protect herself, call in and update SSA Bonner about what had happened. He was going to be furious that she’d pursued this case against his orders, and she might even lose her job.
She hesitated and gripped the IV pole. Maybe she should wait to contact him until after she retrieved the recorded argument between the men—proof that there was truth to her claims about LHP, Inc.
Unless she had firm evidence in the death of David Price, it would be her word against LaRouche’s and Harrington’s. The word of two slick businessmen against Sara’s, a rogue FBI agent with a chip on her shoulder who couldn’t follow orders and took extreme measures to prove her point.
Maybe she should have dropped this case months ago and kept her mouth shut instead of hounding Bonner. But she couldn’t watch the corporate hacks at LHP, Inc., get away with introducing a dangerous drug into the United States and promoting it as a safe and effective sleep aid. She’d uncovered solid evidence, buried reports from the pharmaceutical testing, even if Bonner thought them innocuous. She knew what Abreivtas could really do.
It could kill. She had to stop them.
She went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. It wouldn’t look good to local authorities if she left the hospital, but staying here made her a target. Detective Walsh didn’t seem to be taking her story seriously, and even if he did, the local cops couldn’t protect her from the likes of LaRouche’s and Harrington’s hired goons.
Drying her face with a paper towel, the image of Will being kicked, over and over again, flashed across her thoughts. She hated that she’d been responsible for such a violent act on a gentle man.
A widower and single parent. Hadn’t he suffered enough?
Slipping into her jacket, she felt for her wallet and phone. They were both tucked into her inside zippered pocket. Good. She took a deep breath and pulled the IV out of her hand.
She peeked around the corner. All clear. She was far enough away from the nurse’s station that they wouldn’t see her leave, and even if they did, they couldn’t stop her, right?
She hurried to the elevator, but decided it was too risky. She didn’t want to take the chance Nate Walsh had come back with more questions or, more likely, Will had returned to check on her.
She ducked into the stairwell and headed down. Gripping the handrail, she took her time. No need to rush and pass out before she got safely away.
Her head ached from the emotional tension and physical movement. She focused on taking slow and steady breaths.
A door opened and clicked shut from a floor above.
She hesitated.
“Sa-ra?” a man called in a singsong voice.
Her blood ran cold.
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
She stumbled down the last few steps, tripping and slamming into the door to the first level. Whipping it open, she shuffled away from the stairwell. Eyes downcast, she wandered through the ER waiting area toward the exit.
And spotted a tall, broad-shouldered man coming into the hospital and heading toward her.
Don’t be paranoid.
In his midthirties, he wore jeans, a fatigue jacket and military-grade boots.
Their eyes locked.
“Sara?” he said, reaching into his jacket.
She spun around and took off.
SIX
Will wasn’t sure why he’d returned to the hospital. Sara had been pretty clear that she didn’t want him around.
But something felt off. Her voice said one thing, but he read something else in her eyes. It was almost as if she thought sending him away was the right thing to do, yet she desperately wanted him to stay.
“Or you’re losing it,” he muttered as he parked the car.
At any rate, he’d decided to check on her. Maybe she’d be asleep, which would be the best scenario. He needed to see her and know she was safe, then he could leave.
Yeah, who was he kidding?
“What are you doing here?” Nate said from a few cars away. Apparently he’d had a similar thought, only a different motivation.
“Don’t bust my chops,” Will said. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s fine.”
“I’d like to see for myself.” Will continued toward the hospital entrance.
“Do I have to get a restraining order against you?”
Will snapped his attention to Nate. The cop’s wry smile indicated he was teasing.
“Sara and I have been through a lot,” Will said. “And last night...” He shook his head.
“Last night, what?” Nate challenged.
“I know it’s your job to be suspicious, especially because she shot a man, but trust me, it was not something she enjoyed doing. She was traumatized afterward.”
“She’s not your responsibility.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“But you’re coming here at—” Nate checked his watch “—nine fifteen to check on her?”
They entered the hospital and went to the elevators. “I’ve got nothing better to do. The girls are spending another night with their grandparents.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey, don’t give me a hard time for being a good guy.”
“Good guys finish last, remember?”
“I didn’t know it was a race,” Will countered.
“Just...be careful.”
Will nodded his appreciation for his friend’s concern. A lot of folks in town seemed concerned about Will since Megan had died. Did they all think him that fragile? Or incapable of making good choices?
As Nate and Will stepped out of the elevator onto Sara’s floor, a frantic-looking officer named Spike Duggins rushed up to them.
“I went to grab a coffee,” Spike said. “She was sound asleep. The nurse was going to keep an eye out.”
A chill arced across Will’s shoulders. “Sara’s gone?”
“I notified security,” Spike said, directing his answer to Nate.
“How long?” Nate said.
“I don’t know, five, ten minutes?”
“You had her under surveillance?” Will asked Nate.
“Spike, you start at the north end,” Nate said, ignoring Will’s question.
“Spike, this is security, over,” a voice on Spike’s radio interrupted. “I think I spotted her in the lobby.”
Nate grabbed Spike’s radio. “Keep her there.”
“She’s already gone. I must have scared her off.”
“Which direction?” Nate asked.
“Toward the cafeteria,” the security officer said.
“Head to the south exit,” Nate ordered him. “Spike will go north and I’ll check out the cafeteria.”
“Roger that,” the security officer responded.
“What about—”
“You stay here in case she returns,” Nate ordered Will.
The two men jogged off and disappeared into the stairwell.
Will couldn’t stand here and do nothing. The security guard said he’d scared her off, so what made Nate think he and Spike would have better luck?
Was she having another flashback, like the one she’d had last night? If so, she wouldn’t trust a stranger, or even a cop.
But she’d trust Will.
He went into her room and checked the closet. Everything was gone. She definitely hadn’t planned to come back.
He took the stairs closest to the cafeteria and headed down.
Will had to find her, had to make her feel safe so she wouldn’t run away. Perhaps if Nate had told her he’d left a police officer to guard her, she wouldn’t have felt so vulnerable.
But Will sensed Nate’s motivation had been to keep her under surveillance, not protect her from a violent offender. Will never should have left the hospital, even after she’d asked him to.
What was the matter with him? Why did he feel such a deep need to protect this woman?
Because of the look in her eyes and the sound of her voice when she’d hidden under the bed. He’d seen that look before on his sister’s face when they’d hid from their raging mother. Will had perfected the role of protector at an early age.
He got to the ground floor and headed to the cafeteria, readying himself for the lecture he’d surely get from Nate. Will entered the empty dining area as Nate stormed out of the kitchen.
“I told you to stay upstairs,” he snapped.
“She’s frightened and she trusts me.”
“Whatever. I’m going to check the security feed.” Nate continued down the hall. “Go home, Will,” he called over his shoulder. “You don’t belong here.”
Nate disappeared around the corner. His words stung, but only for a moment. Will knew Nate’s comment was born of concern for Will.
As Will scanned the cafeteria, he considered the extent of Sara’s injuries. She had winced if she moved too quickly, or put pressure on her wrist by accident. A woman in that kind of pain couldn’t run for long. More likely she would hide until she saw an opportunity to quietly slip away.
He wandered through the cafeteria. The tables were empty, but a few visitors were standing at the coffee station filling up, probably in anticipation of a long wait ahead of them tonight.
His gaze drifted to a cluster of office plants in the opposite corner of the cafeteria, and he remembered what she’d said last night.
He won’t see me in here.
Hiding meant safety to Sara. He approached the plants, fearing he was wrong and she wouldn’t be there, in which case, she might be wandering the property somewhere, completely vulnerable. He clenched his jaw, fighting back his worry.
As he got closer, he saw the reflection of a woman hugging her knees to her chest against the glass window. With a relieved sigh, he devised a plan to ease her out of hiding. He wanted this to be her idea; he wanted Sara to feel in control.
He went to the hot drink station and plopped teabags into two cups, poured hot water and gave the cashier a few singles. He carried the hot beverages across the cafeteria and sat down near the plants.
“Sara, it’s Will,” he said. “I thought you might still be cold.” He slid a cup toward her.
She didn’t take it.
“Sorry it couldn’t be something better, like a scone or a muffin, but food service pretty much shuts down at this time of night. That’s herbal tea. It’s orange blossom,” he said. “The girls like that one, and I like it because it’s caffeine-
free and won’t keep them awake.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I came back to check on you.”
“No, you really shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard a man behind me in the stairwell. He said my name—they sent him to get me. I ran, and another man was blocking the exit.”
“I think that was actually a hospital security officer.”
“No, he was wearing military-grade boots. He also knew my name and was...was...”
“It’s okay. You’re safe now, and I’m not leaving until you believe that.”
She reached out and took the cup. At least her fingers weren’t trembling like they had been last night.
“How did you know I’d be here, behind the plants?” she asked.
“It seemed like a logical spot to hide out.” He finally glanced at her. She looked tired, worn down and still frightened. “Did the man threaten you?”
“He said he needed to talk to me.”
“But nothing else?”
“No, why? You think I’m crazy, too?” she snapped.
“Sara.” He hesitated. “I’m on your side, remember?”
She tipped her head back against the glass and sighed.
“Here’s a thought—why don’t you work with the police instead of shutting them out?” Will said. “Detective Walsh can protect you.”
“Detective Walsh doesn’t even believe me.”
“Don’t be put off by his tone. He’s a big-city detective turned small-town cop. He’s got an edge to his voice, sure, but you want a tough guy like that on your side, don’t you?”
“What I want is to get out of here, without putting anyone else in danger.”
“Let me call Nate and have him escort you back to your room.”
“Where I’m a sitting duck.”
“Not if he offers twenty-four-hour police protection.” He wasn’t about to say that he would also stay close, because he knew she’d fight him on that decision.
“Okay, I guess that’s the best choice, if you can get him to believe me.”
“I’ll talk to Nate. If he doesn’t believe you, I’ll talk to the chief. I’ve got some pull in this town.”