Impatiently, Harry snatched it up. “MacMillan.”
“This is Officer Lawrence with the APD. I have a note here to keep you advised of any unusual activity at the Monzano Street post office.”
He went still. “Yes?”
“A call came into 911 a few minutes ago, requesting an ambulance at that location.”
Ev’s desultory conversation with the FBI agent faded into the background. Harry gripped the phone, his eyes fixed on an aeronautical map tacked to the far wall.
“For what reason?”
“I didn’t get the whole story. Only that they needed an ambulance to transport a white female to the hospital immediately.”
“Did you get a name?”
“No, but I understand it’s one of the employees.”
His pulse stopped, restarted with a sharp, agonizing kick. “What hospital?”
“University Hospital at UNM.”
In one fluid motion, Harry slammed the phone down, shoved back his chair and grabbed his jacket. Throwing a terse explanation over his shoulder to the others, he raced out of the conference room.
Chapter 8
Sheryl called in to work early the next morning to let her supervisor know that Harry had released her from the special task force. Things were quiet for a Friday, Pat Martinez informed her. The temp had her counter station covered, but they could use her help throwing mail on the second shift.
Feeling an unaccountable lack of enthusiasm for a return to her everyday routine, Sheryl decided to run a few errands on her way in. She indulged Button with a supply of doggie treats and herself with a new novel by her favorite romance author before pulling into the parking lot of the Monzano Street station.
The moment she walked through the rear door and headed for the time clock, Sheryl got the immediate impression that things were anything but quiet. Tension hung over the back room, as thick and as heavy as a cloud. The mail carriers who hadn’t already started their daily runs crowded around the station supervisor’s desk. In the center of the throng, Pat paced back and forth with a phone glued to her ear, her face grave as she spoke to the person on the other end. Peggy, who should have been on the front counter with Elise, was hunched on a corner of Pat’s desk. Even Buck Aguilar stood with arms folded and worried lines carved into his usually impassive face.
Sheryl punched in and wove her way through the work stations toward the group clustered around Pat. The station manager’s worried voice carried clearly in the silence that gripped her audience.
“Yes, yes, I know. I’ll try to reach her again. Just keep us posted, okay?”
The receiver clattered into its cradle.
“They don’t know anything yet,” she announced to the assembled crowd. “Brian’s going to call us as soon as he gets word.”
“Brian?” Sheryl nudged her way to the front. “What’s Brian going to call about?”
“Sheryl!” Pat sprang up, relief and worry battling on her face. “I’ve been trying to reach you since right after you called to tell me you were coming in this morning.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Elise fell and went into labor.”
“Oh, no!” A tight fist squeezed Sheryl’s heart. “Is she okay? And the baby?”
“We don’t know. They took her to the hospital by ambulance an hour ago. She was frantic that we get hold of you, since you’re her labor coach. I tried your house, then Brian’s office, thinking he might know where you were. He didn’t, but he went to University Hospital to stay with Elise until we found you.”
“Get hold of Brian at the hospital,” Sheryl called, already on the run. “Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
It took her a frustrating, anxious half hour.
She sped down Juan Tabo and swung onto Lomas quickly enough, only to find both westbound lanes blocked by orange barrels. A long line of earthmovers rumbled by, digging up big chunks of concrete. Dust flew everywhere, and Sheryl’s anxiety mounted by the second as she waited for the last of them to pass. Even with one lane open each way, traffic crawled at a stop-and-go, five-mile-an-hour pace.
Cursing under her breath, she turned off at the next side street and cut through a sprawl of residential neighborhoods. The Camry’s new tires squealed as she slowed to a rolling stop at the stop signs dotting every block, then tore across the intersections. By the time the distinctive dun-colored adobe architecture of the University of New Mexico came into view, she trembled with barely controlled panic.
Elise wasn’t due for another two weeks...if then. The baby’s sonogram had showed it slightly undersized, and the obstetrician had revised the due date twice already. With the stress of her divorce coming right on top of the discovery that she was pregnant, Elise hadn’t been vague about the possible date of the baby’s conception. She and Rick had split up and reconciled twice before finally calling it quits. She could have gotten pregnant during either one of those brief, tempestuous reconciliations.
And Pat had said that Elise had fallen! Every time Sheryl thought of the hard, uncarpeted tile floors at the post office, the giant fist wrapped a little tighter around her heart. Offering up a steady litany of prayers for Elise and her baby, she squealed into the University Hospital parking lot, slammed out of the Camry, and ran for the multistory brown-stucco building.
Since she and Elise had toured the facility as part of their prenatal orientation, she didn’t need to consult the directory or ask directions to the birthing rooms. The moment the elevator hummed to a stop on the third floor, she bolted out and ran for the nurses’ station in the labor and delivery wing.
“Which room is Mrs. Hart in? Is she all right? I’m her birthing partner—I need to be with her.”
A stubby woman in flowered scrubs held up a hand. “Whoa. Slow down and catch your breath. Mrs. Hart’s had a rough time, but the hemorrhaging stopped before she went into hard labor.”
“Hemorrhaging! Oh, my God!”
“She’s okay, really. Last time I checked, she was about to deliver.”
“Which room is she in?”
The nurse hesitated. “You’ll have to scrub before you can go in, but I’m not sure it’s necessary at this point. Her husband’s with her. From what I saw a little while ago, he’s filling in pretty well as coach.”
Sheryl’s brows shot up. “Rick’s here?”
“I thought he said his name was Brian.”
Belatedly, Sheryl remembered the hospital rule restricting attendance in the birthing room during delivery to family members and/or designated coaches.
“We, er, call him ‘Rick’ for short. Look, I won’t burst in, I promise, but I need to be with Elise. Where can I scrub?”
“I’ll show you.”
A few moments later, a gowned-and-masked Sheryl entered the birthing sanctuary. Doors on either side of the long corridor revealed rooms made homelike by reclining chairs, plants, pictures and low tables littered with magazines. Most of the doors stood open. Two were shut, including Elise’s. Mindful of the nurse’s injunction, she approached it quietly.
An anguished moan from inside the room raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She nudged the door open an inch or two, and stopped in her tracks.
A trio of medical specialists stood at the foot of the bed, poised to receive the baby. Brian leaned over a groaning, grunting Elise. At least, she thought it was Brian. He was gowned and masked and wearing a surgical cap to keep his auburn hair out of his eyes, and she barely recognized him. She recognized his voice, though, as hoarse and ragged as it was.
“You’re doing great. One more push, Elise. One more push.”
Sweat glistened on his forehead. His right hand clenched the laboring woman’s. With his left, he smoothed her damp hair back from her forehead.
“Breathe with me, then pushl”
“I...can’t”
“Yes, you can.”
“The baby’s crowning,” the doctor said from the bottom of the bed. “We need a good push here, Mom.”
“Breathe, Elise.” The command came out in a desperate squeak. Brian swallowed and tried again. “Breathe, then push. Puff. Puff. Puff.”
“Puff. Puf...arrrgh!” Elise lifted half off the mattress, then came down with a grunt. Limp and panting, she snarled out a fervent litany.
“Damn Rick! Damn all men! Damn every male who ever learned how to work a zipper!”
Startled, Brian drew back. Elise grabbed the front of his gown and dragged him down to her level.
“Not you! Oh, God, not you! Don’t... Don’t leave me, Brian. Please, don’t leave me.”
“I won’t, I promise. Now push.”
Sheryl peered through the crack in the door, her heart in her throat. After sharing the ups and downs of her friend’s divorce and training with her for just this moment, she longed to rush into the room, shove Brian aside and take Elise’s hand to help her through the next stage of her ordeal. But her friend’s urgent plea and Brian’s reply kept her rooted in place. The two of them had bonded. The drama of the baby’s imminent birth had forged a link between them that Sheryl couldn’t bring herself to break or even intrude on.
“The head’s clear,” the doctor announced calmly. “Relax a moment, Mom, then we’ll work the shoulders. You’re doing great. Ready? Okay, here we go.”
Sheryl felt her own stomach contract painfully as Elise grunted, then gave a long, rolling moan.
“We’ve got him.”
One of the nurses smiled at the two anxious watchers. “He’s a handsome little thing! The spitting image of his dad.”
Brian started, then grinned behind his mask. With a whoop of sheer exhilaration, he bent and planted a kiss on Elise’s forehead.
She used her death grip on the front of his hospital gown to drag him down even farther. Awkwardly, Brian took her into his arms. She clung to him, sobbing with relief and joy. A second later, the baby gave a lusty wail.
“Don’t relax yet,” the doctor instructed when Elise collapsed back on the bed, wiped out from her ordeal. “We’ve still got some work to do here.”
Elated, relieved and hugely disappointed that she hadn’t participated in the intense drama except as an observer, Sheryl watched Brian smooth back Elise’s hair once more. A fierce tenderness came over the part of his face that showed above the mask. The sheer intensity of his expression took Sheryl by surprise. Swiftly, she thought back through the months she and Brian had been dating. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him display such raw, naked emotion.
The realization stunned her and added another layer to the wrenching turmoil that had plagued her for two nights now. If she’d had any doubts about the decision she’d made in the dark hours just before dawn this morning, she only needed to look at his face to know it was the right one.
She loved Brian, but she wasn’t in love with him. Nor, apparently, was he in love with her. Never once had she roused that kind of intense emotion in him. Never had she caused such a display of fierce protectiveness.
Slowly, Sheryl let the door whisper shut and backed away...or tried to. A solid wall of unyielding flesh blocked her way. Turning, she found herself chest to chest with Marshal MacMillan.
“Harry!” She tugged off her face mask. “What are you doing here?”
“I got word that EMS was transporting a female employee from the Monzano Street post office to the hospital. I thought...”
A small muscle worked on one side of his jaw. He paused, then finished in a voice that sounded like glass grinding.
“I thought it might be you.”
“Oh, no! Did you think the slasher had come back?”
“Among other things,” he admitted, taking Sheryl’s elbow to move her to one side as an orderly trundled by with a cart. “By the time EMS verified the patient’s identity, I was already in the parking lot, so I came up to see what the problem was.”
“Did they tell you? My friend Elise fell and went into labor.”
He nodded. “They also told me you were on the way down here, so I waited. How’s she doing?”
Sheryl relaxed against the hallway wall, strangely comforted by Harry’s presence. “Okay, I think. She and the baby both.”
“Good! The nurse said her husband was in with her. From the glimpse I had over your shoulder a moment ago, he’s certainly a proud papa.”
“Well, there’s a little mix-up about that. Elise is divorced. I was supposed to act as her coach, but I didn’t get here in time, so Brian filled in for me.”
“Brian?” A puzzled frown flitted across his face. “That was your Brian in there?”
So Harry had seen it, too. The raw emotion. The special bond Brian had forged with Elise.
Sheryl fumbled for an answer other than the one her aching heart supplied. No, he wasn’t her Brian. Not any more. Maybe he never had been. But until she talked to him, she wouldn’t discuss the matter with anyone else.
Thankfully, one of the nurses walked out of Elise’s room at that moment and spared her the necessity of a reply. Sheryl sprang away from the wall and hurried toward her.
“Is everything okay? How are Elise and the baby?”
“Mother and son are both fine,” she answered with a smile. “And Dad’s so proud, he’s about to pop. Give them another few minutes to finish cleaning up, then you can go in.”
Their voices must have carried to the occupants of the birthing room, because Brian came charging out a second later. His dark-red hair stuck straight up in spikes. The hospital gown had twisted around his waist. Huge, wet patches darkened his underarms and arrowed down his chest. Sheryl had never seen him looking so ruffled...or so excited.
“Sher! You missed it!” He tore off his mask. “It was so fantastic! Elise is wonderful. And the baby, he’s...he’s wonderful!”
“Yes, I...”
“Look, can you call the school? Elise is worried about the boys. Tell them I’ll pick them up this afternoon and bring them down to see their new brother.”
“Sure, I—”
“Thanks! I have to go back in. The doc says it’ll be a few minutes yet before you can come in. You, too...”
He blinked owlishly, as if recognizing for the first time the man who stood silently behind Sheryl. If Brian wondered why Harry had turned up at the hospital, he was too distracted to ask about it now.
“You, too, MacMillan.”
He turned away to reenter the birthing room, then spun back. “You’re never going to believe it, Sher! He’s got my hair. Elise’s is sort of sorrel, but this little guy has a cap of dark red fuzz.” He grinned idiotically. “Just like mine.”
“Brian!” Sheryl caught him just before he disappeared. “Do you want me to call your office? If you’re going to pick the boys up from school, should I tell your secretary to reschedule your afternoon appointments?”
He flapped a hand. “Whatever.”
The door whirred shut behind him.
“Well, well,” Harry murmured in the small, ensuing silence. “Is that the same man who had to schedule everything, even his meetings with his almost-fiancée?”
“No,” Sheryl answered with a sigh. “It isn’t.”
Turning, she caught a speculative gleam in the marshal’s warm brown eyes. Unwilling to discuss her relationship with Brian until she’d had time to talk to him, she deliberately changed the subject.
“If you want to go in and see Elise and the baby, I’ll show you where to find a gown and mask.”
“I’d better pass. They don’t need a stranger hovering over them right now.”
“No, I guess not.”
She hesitated, torn between the need to join Elise and a sudden, surging reluctance to say goodbye to Harry for the second time in as many days.
“Thanks for coming down to check on me, even if it wasn’t me who needed checking.”
“You’re welcome.”
It took some effort, but she summoned a smile. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
The gleam she’d caught in his eyes a moment ago returned
, deeper, more intense, like the glint of new-struck gold.
“Maybe you will.”
Sheryl spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon at the hospital. Brian left after lunch, promising to be back within an hour with Elise’s other two boys. His jubilation had subsided in the aftermath of the birth, but his eyes still lit with wonder whenever he caught a glimpse of the baby.
Lazy and at peace in the stillness of the afternoon, Elise cradled her son in her arms and smiled at the woman perched on the edge of her bed. The friendship that had stretched across years of shared work and a variety of family crises, big and small, cocooned them.
“I’m sorry you missed your tour of duty as birthing partner, Sher. I could have used your moral support. The others were easy, but I was a little scared with this one after my fall.”
“We were all scared.”
Elise brushed a finger over the baby’s dark-russet down. “I was going to call him Terence, after my grandfather, but I think I’ll name him Brian, instead. Brian Hart. How does that sound to you, little one?”
It must have sounded pretty good, as the baby pursed its tiny lips a few times, scrunched its wrinkled face, then settled once more into sleep.
“I don’t know what I would have done without Brian,” Elise murmured. “He’s...wonderful.”
Sheryl found a smile. “He says the same thing about you and little Red here.”
Her friend’s gaze lifted. “I know I’ve told you this before, but you’re so lucky to have him. There aren’t many like him around.”
“No, there aren’t.”
Sheryl’s smile felt distinctly ragged about the edges. She had to talk to Brian. Soon. This burden of confusion and guilt and regret was getting too heavy to lug around much longer.
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