by Judi Lind
Knowing the men were operating on adrenaline, making a serious mistake a distinct possibility, Gil slowly raised his hands. “I’m Special Agent Branton from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. My identification is in my hip pocket.”
He made a motion as if to retrieve his wallet.
“Don’t move, fella!” the leader warned. “Keep those hands nice and high.”
“This woman needs help!” Valerie shouted, gesturing to the fallen Monica. “I need a trauma team in here, now! Hurry, dammit,” she insisted when no one responded.
Finally, as if recognizing the authority in her tone, the leader nodded his head. “Call for help. Get the Phoenix PD too. Tell ’em there’s been another shooting.”
BY THE TIME Detective Ferdy Sanchez strolled in, Valerie and the ER trauma team had fled with an unconscious Monica Giesen. The prognosis, Valerie said with a grim shake of her head, wasn’t good. Accidentally wounded by her partner’s gunfire, she had been rushed to surgery with life-threatening injuries—a .38 caliber bullet was lodged in her chest. The same caliber weapon as Gil’s service revolver, which the officers promptly liberated.
IMMEDIATELY AFTER the medical team rushed the unconscious woman out of the WomanCare clinic, a hospital security officer ushered Gil out of the lab. To protect the crime scene, he stationed an officer by the door and herded Gil into the main reception area.
In the confusion surrounding the gunshot, Monica’s accomplice had fled the scene.
Detective Sanchez pulled out his battered notebook. “We gotta stop meeting like this, Mr. Branton. It’s bad for my reputation.”
Gil twisted in the uncomfortable chair. “I know it looks bad, Detective, but you’ve got to listen to me.”
“You have my complete attention.”
Pulling his FBI identification from his pocket, Gil handed it to him. “I wasn’t entirely on the level with you when we spoke before.”
“Fancy that,” Sanchez said as he examined the credentials. He tossed the wallet back. “’Course, I already knew you were a feebie.”
“You did?”
The detective scowled. “You didn’t think I swallowed your last story hook, line and sinker, did ya? Of course I checked you out. Matter of fact, if you hadn’t volunteered this information by tomorrow, I’d already decided to have you picked up for obstructing justice. Figured an overnighter in the county jail might loosen your tongue.”
Gil grinned at the sly cop. He’d been completely taken in by the man’s “aw shucks” manner. Sanchez was nobody’s fool.
Licking his index finger, Gil raised it in the air and chalked an invisible mark near the cop’s head. “Score one for the local fuzz. Sorry about the deception, Ferdy. I just didn’t know who I could trust.”
Abandoning his good ol’ boy routine, Sanchez leaned forward. “Why don’t we start over, Special Agent Branton? I’d like to hear the whole story—from the start.”
“All right. But first, you should start a search for Dr. Sidney Weingold. He might still be in the hospital.”
His brow furrowed, Sanchez leaned back and studied Gil. “Now why should I look for Dr. Weingold?”
“Because he’s behind this entire scam. And he shot Monica Giesen.”
“You’re sure?”
Gil hesitated. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain, because he’d never gotten a clear look at his opponent in the dimly lit laboratory. But every sign pointed to the man. “It was Weingold.”
The detective got up and stepped out of Gil’s hearing to confer with one of his officers. The man nodded briefly and left.
Sanchez took his place back in the hard plastic chair. “We’ll see what Dr. Weingold has to say about all this. Now, you were telling me about some scam?”
Closing his eyes to will the details into his memory-deficient brain, Gil slowly began his story.
FORTY MINUTES LATER, Gil was just finishing his tale when an exhausted Valerie slumped into a vacant chair beside the detective.
The two men glanced up. “How’s Monica?” Gil asked.
“Still in surgery. If she survives that, it will still be touch and go for the next forty-eight hours.”
“You know, I wondered what she was up to. One of the orderlies.” Sanchez flipped through his notepad. “Ed Grant.” He tapped the page with his fingertip. “Anyway Mr. Grant tried to tell your hospital administrator that he’d seen her searching patient files when she was supposed to be off-duty. But Abel wouldn’t listen to him.”
“I wish he’d come to me,” Valerie said.
“Might have saved us all some trouble,” the detective agreed.
Ferdy Sanchez rose to his feet and stretched. “Well, folks, looks like you have this situation pretty well under control. Won’t be long until we have Dr. Weingold in custody and we can wrap this whole thing up. Good job, Agent.”
Valerie stepped between the two men. “What did you say about taking Sid Weingold into custody? Why?”
Gil shot her a curious look. “Because of his role in kidnapping you tonight for starters.”
She shook her head. “You’ve got it all wrong! Sidney wasn’t involved.”
“I don’t understand,” Gil said. “You were sitting with him in the cafeteria when Monica came in and drew my attention. Then you both disappeared. Are you saying that wasn’t Weingold helping Monica in the lab?”
Valerie could see how he’d reached his conclusion, but Sidney Weingold was as much an innocent victim in this scam as she was. “We were talking about why Sidney needed the time off when Carl Bender, Dr. Bender,” she said in an aside to Detective Sanchez, “came into the cafeteria. He said there was an emergency in the WomanCare clinic. But when we got there, he...he hit Sid on the back of the head then grabbed me. He was strapping me to a gurney when Monica showed up. I don’t know what happened to Dr. Weingold.”
Sanchez leaned forward, knuckles on the desk top. “Are you certain, Dr. Murphy?”
“Of course I’m certain! I know both men very well. Carl Bender is Monica’s accomplice, not Sid.”
While Sanchez left the room to modify the instructions to his team searching the hospital, Gil stood quietly, not even looking at her. Was he upset because he’d given misinformation to the police? Because he’d drawn the wrong conclusion?
Before she could ask, Detective Sanchez came back into the room. “Got that squared away. Now, there are a few minor points I’d like to clear up, Dr. Murphy.”
Valerie wasn’t sure she could summon the energy for another round of questions about Monica Geisen. Apparently taking her lack of enthusiasm for fatigue, the policeman smiled. “But I don’t see any reason why those questions can’t wait until tomorrow. Could you give me a buzz in the morning, Dr. Murphy? I’d like to arrange a convenient time to meet with you and get your statement.”
“Of course.” She took his proffered business card and slipped it into her jeans pocket.
Gil paused at the door. “Any chance I could have my service revolver back?”
“Nope. Need it for ballistics.”
“But it wasn’t fired.”
“We still have to dot all the is and cross all the ts. Especially with an officer-involved shooting. You know the routine.”
“Yeah. Let me know when I can get it. I feel kind of naked without it.”
“Will do.”
Gil and Valerie left the WomanCare clinic, his hand on her elbow. The temperature had dropped dramatically, she noted as they crossed through the parking lot. With desert temperatures soaring to well over a hundred degrees during the day, a drop into the seventies at night was dramatic and soothing.
A soft breeze blew fine strands of hair into Valerie’s eyes. She pushed them back and breathed deeply, savoring the scents of mesquite and night-blooming jasmine. During the spring and summer, she spent most of her evenings on her patio, drinking in these very scents. Loving the fresh tranquility of her life on the edge of the vast desert.
Tonight, however, a troubling sense of doom weig
hed on her shoulders. Monica’s betrayal had cut Valerie to the very core. How could she ever again trust her own judgment?
The unearthing of the kidnapping ring could have far-reaching consequences. Once Martin Abel got wind of the fact that WomanCare clinic employees were implicated in this scandal, he would no doubt withdraw his support for the clinic. Without the hospital behind her, the other funding would trickle away and the center would have to shut down.
Years of sweat, pleading and cajoling. All for nothing.
Valerie felt as if her heart were trapped between the jaws of a huge vise, and it was crushing the vitality and life from her soul.
One other burden weighed more heavily than the rest.
Gil. The baby.
No more stalling, no more excuses. Tonight. As soon as they were settled back in her house, Valerie would tell him about the baby.
She must have rehearsed the moment a thousand times since she’d first discovered her condition. It was ironic, really. She, a doctor of obstetrics and gynecology, a woman who counseled others about birth control was going to have an unplanned baby.
Oh, she could explain how the accident had happened. That was the easy part. Her delicate body chemistry wouldn’t allow her to take birth-control pills, so she had to rely on other less effective methods. A small laugh rippled up her throat, dying before it reached her mouth. The manufacturer of her personal method of birth control crowed that its product was eighty-eight percent effective.
Great odds. Unless you fell in that twelve percent.
Oh, well, it was a done deal. She’d made her choice and she’d happily live with it.
But what about Gil? How would he take the news? Would he feel trapped? Would he hate her for her deceit over these past few days?
She realized with a start that he hadn’t said a word since they’d left the clinic. Curious, she glanced over at him. His jaw was set, stoic. His dark eyes were focused dead ahead. She reached over to take his hand.
He allowed her grasp, but his hand was slack around hers.
She started to ask him what was wrong, but they’d almost reached the Blazer, and she decided to wait until they were home. Let him unleash all his fury at once. Get it over with.
Now that the urgent rush of adrenaline had finally faded, Gil was feeling let down. Almost dejected. Detective Sanchez said he’d smashed the kidnapping ring, and he guessed they had. So why didn’t he feel victorious?
He knew it was only a matter of time until Weingold was found, safely he hoped, and Carl Bender was apprehended and tucked behind bars. For all practical purposes, the case was over.
In a few days he would be going back to Washington for a new assignment. For the first time Gil thought he might accept the training position they kept offering at Quantico. Fieldwork no longer offered the thrill it had in his youth. He was tired of living out of a suitcase. Tired of not having a life.
When Valerie reached for his hand, the core reason for his sense of dissatisfaction came rushing back with the fury of a raging flood. She was pregnant. And she’d kept it from him.
Before Monica had blurted out the news, he’d half intended to put in his papers. Retire. Hell, Phoenix was a big city. He could get a job here. For the first time in his life, he’d thought he might have found the woman to grow old with. The woman he’d often thought didn’t exist.
Until Valerie Murphy had snapped that blond braid over her shoulder and taken his heart captive.
Until she’d betrayed him with her lies and deceit.
Now, he just wanted it all over so he could get back to D.C. He’d see his lawyer, arrange for support payments to be taken out of his paychecks. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with her.
He just wished running away from her gave him some sense of happiness. Peace. Instead, the thought of a life without Valerie Murphy felt like a prison sentence.
His troubled thoughts were interrupted when they reached the Blazer. Walking with Valerie to the passenger side first, he was about to unlock the door when a man’s voice halted them.
“Just hold it right there!”
They whirled around.
Carl Bender was standing behind them with a gun carefully pointed at Valerie’s midsection. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hair stuck out as if he’d received an electric shock. The man looked frightened to the point of desperation.
“I wondered when you’d show up,” Gil said casually. If he could engage Bender in conversation he might have a chance to disarm him.
“Why couldn’t you just stay out of it? Wasn’t your accident in Los Angeles a strong enough warning?”
“Was that you?” Gil asked in mock surprise. “I didn’t think you had the intestinal fortitude to come after me personally. I thought a hired assassin was more to your liking.”
“Shut up before I shoot you right here,” Bender said, waving the gun at Gil’s head before refocusing on Valerie’s stomach. On their baby. “Drop those keys and move away from the car.”
Gil stepped in front of Valerie and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. Now that he was closer, he could smell the manic fear emanating from Bender’s body. The man was a ticking bomb. Gil dangled the keys in the air and taunted, “You mean these keys?”
“Yeah, wise guy. Those keys. Now drop them.”
He took another step forward, keeping his body between Valerie’s and Bender’s, and tossed the keys away from the car.
Instinctively Bender’s head swiveled to follow their progress. “You son of a bi—”
Seizing the brief chance, Gil grabbed Valerie’s wrist and pulled her to relative safety behind the car. “Stay down,” he whispered, then rose slightly to peer over the Blazer.
Bender kept glancing over his shoulder, waving his gun at them while he searched the parking lot for the keys.
Gil ducked back down and again grabbed Valerie’s arm. “Come on!”
They ran through the maze of parked vehicles, trying to stay low and out of sight while they made their way back to the safety of the hospital. Bender must have heard their running footsteps, though, because they’d only gone a short distance before they heard him shout. “Stop! Stop, dammit, or I’ll shoot!”
Gil didn’t know if they were within Bender’s sights, but he knew their only hope was to get away from the crazed doctor. He kept his body between Valerie and the sound of Bender’s approaching footsteps, as he urged her to keep moving.
Of all the times not to have his gun. Gil damned Sanchez for sticking to protocol and insisting that he surrender his weapon until the details were tied up.
But he had to protect Valerie. Had to protect his unborn child. The only weapon he had was his experience. And he had plenty of that.
On the other hand, this was no doubt Carl Bender’s first real brush with the law. He would be terrified, almost insane with fear of exposure and jail. If Gil just stayed calm and kept out of shooting range, they could outwit him. He hoped. Their lives depended on it.
Crouching low, they darted between the parked cars until they were behind the last car, the last bit of cover. The brightly lit lobby beckoned like a welcoming beacon, but at least twenty yards of open ground stood between them and the hospital doors.
Suddenly he realized he could no longer hear Bender’s footsteps. He counted silently to ten before inching up over the edge of his car.
Apparently having abandoned the chase, Bender was running back toward the Blazer. Gil could imagine the desperate man fumbling with the lock as he scrambled to make his escape.
Now was their chance. Maybe their only chance.
He grabbed Valerie’s hand and they started racing across the remaining tarmac when they heard a car door slam. Bender was in the Blazer. Would he come after them? Try to run them down?
His heart pounding in fear, Gil pushed Valerie in front of him as they continued their frantic dash for safety.
They were still twenty feet from the hospital door when a force of immense magnitude thumped into his back and tossed hi
m onto the scant lawn in front of the hospital. Then a loud boom threatened to burst his eardrums.
The explosion rocked the night. The noise was so loud, so penetrating, Gil had a momentary thought that a meteor had crashed through the atmosphere and was pulverizing the planet.
The blue-black night burst into sudden color.
A firestorm of white-hot flames shot a hundred feet into the air and rained down a clattering maelstrom of pieces of the Blazer. A huge chunk of flying metal landed only inches from his head.
As more debris crashed around them, he crawled on bloodied hands and knees and threw himself across Valerie’s still form. Oh, God, please let her be alive. They could resolve the other problems. Everything would be okay. If she was still alive. Tears filled his eyes and his throat burned as if the fire from the bomb had invaded his very body. He hadn’t cried since he was a small boy. Tears were for sissies. Still, the tears came as he dropped his head over Valerie’s shoulder and whispered his love into her ear.
A soft movement caught at his heart.
“Val? Honey, are you all right?”
She laughed wryly as she struggled to sit up. “You gotta stop asking me that. I’m fine, I think. A few more bruises to add to the collection. What just happened? The end of the world?”
He pointed to the still-burning hulk of the Blazer.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered.
Gil pulled her into the V between his legs and held on for dear life. “Guess that bomb is how Monica planned to take care of us.”
“You mean when she told Carl she needed the money?”
“Yeah, when I had my mind made up that she was talking to Sid Weingold, not Carl Bender. I owe Weingold an apology. Guess I wanted him to be guilty, so I interpreted all the clues to fit my supposition.”
She twisted in his arms. “Why did you want Sid to be guilty?”
He glanced back at the hospital, where a small horde of people poured out the door. They wouldn’t be alone much longer. Dipping his head, he touched his lips to a skinned spot on her forehead. “I was jealous of him, plain and simple.”