“Thank you.” Paxler shrank back into his pillow, but Shawn wasn’t about to let him get away that easy.
“So tell me what you know.”
Paxler gave a beseeching look, but Shawn wasn’t about to back off. Even though the guy’s head still obviously hurt like hell.
“All right,” Paxler said. He told Shawn a fascinating tale that dovetailed right into every suspicion Colorado Confidential had about the origin of the epidemic.
Paxler had been roped into cooperating because he owed an enormous gambling debt to the Swansong casino in Silver Rapids. In exchange for not being forced to pay it all immediately, which he couldn’t afford to do, he’d been coerced into hiring that reptile Juan Cortes—not his real name—as janitor when the first disease patients reached Gilpin Hospital. Cortes had actually substituted blood samples to prevent the true disease pathogen from being completely analyzed.
Cortes’s employers had also wanted to make sure that, if the furor about the deaths of the Silver Rapids patients didn’t blow over immediately, a doctor was blamed. The vulnerable Dr. Kelley Stanton had had the dubious distinction of being selected as sacrificial goat, particularly since she had asked a lot of questions and ordered too many tests that had to be squelched. She had to be discredited so that no one paid attention to her.
Kelley. Shawn wanted to throttle both miserable s.o.b.s for involving her. He missed her, damn it.
She’d been acting polite and friendly to him all week. But he missed her.
He forced himself to concentrate again on Paxler’s story.
When things had finally seemed to calm down, Kelley’s suspicions had been resurrected by a call from Dr. Wilson Carpenter, a Silver Rapids doctor with suspicions of his own. He’d been dealt with, but Cortes had set the fire to destroy records of the Silver Rapids patients, just in case.
Cortes’s cover had been perfect, Shawn realized. No one would notice a janitor cleaning up a lab where the blood samples were swapped or a file room that caught fire. Not even he had paid attention on the days Jenny had gotten upset—days when she had come in early and seen the “janitor” bringing treats to KidClub. Apparently, the guy who had no reluctance about setting fires or even attempting murder genuinely liked kids.
Cortes had followed Kelley, informed Paxler of anything she did, anywhere she went, that might help in discrediting her. He’d hung around for months, Paxler said, to make sure no trails led to the real cause of the flu epidemic.
“Which was?” Shawn asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Paxler said in a weak voice. “But based on all this, my guess is that it was some kind of manufactured illness. Bioterrorism, if you will.”
“And the source?” Shawn pressed.
“I don’t know,” Paxler replied wearily. “But I’d check the casino, if I were you. Someone there knew about my debt and used it against me.”
Someone indeed, Shawn thought. He would let Colleen know the latest. Soon.
But he had somewhere to go first.
“IS EVERYTHING OKAY with Jenny?” Kelley asked Marge Ralston, who stood by the sign-in desk at KidClub. She had received a message to get there as soon as she could.
“She’s fine,” Marge said. The childcare coordinator wore a huge, knowing grin that Kelley couldn’t interpret. Was Cheryl there again spilling confessions? Why else would Marge look so smug? “There’s someone else here who wants to see you, though,” Marge continued.
“Who—” Kelley began, but knew immediately when Shawn strode through the door from one of the playrooms, a whole Pied Piper troupe of kids with him including Jenny, who held his hand.
What was he doing here? His undercover role was no longer necessary.
They’d spoken now and then over the past week. She’d told him how grateful she was for all he’d done. He’d apologized for doubting her and even for issuing her orders.
She’d told him she understood. She had been his assignment. And when he had told her what to do, it had sometimes been for her protection.
But did she really understand?
Maybe. It still hurt, though. For she had fallen in love with him.
And now, he was returning to his real life. To investigate some other woman, she supposed. To tell her what to do, even as he skillfully sought her secrets. Maybe get the new woman to fall for him, too.
Kelley sighed, even as she felt her pulse rate triple as she watched him. Now she knew why Marge was grinning. She couldn’t help smiling herself.
“Hi, Dr. Stanton,” he said in the voice she had come to know—and love—so well. There was a look in his gorgeous blue eyes that she didn’t understand—but if she could bottle and sell it, she’d make a fortune from women all over the world. It was hot and fiery yet uncertain and… Well, she wasn’t sure what all it contained. She only knew it made her want to rush toward him. Touch him. Embrace him.
It took all her willpower to stay still.
“Did you leave a message for me to come here?” Kelley asked, attempting to sound friendly yet remote, despite the way she trembled.
“Yeah,” he admitted, an unfamiliar catch in his voice. “I’m about to give a drawing lesson and want you to watch.”
What was he up to? Kelley couldn’t imagine. But she obediently settled herself uncomfortably into one of the tiny chairs around a miniature table and watched him whip a blank sheet of paper from a large pad. He took colored pencils from a large box and began to sketch.
Kelley drew in her breath the moment she realized what he was doing. “Oh,” she whispered, feeling tears rush to her eyes as he continued.
He glanced at her, smiled uncertainly, then turned back to his page. All the while, the children crowding around them whispered. “It’s a mommy and a daddy and a baby,” said one.
“Yeah,” said another. “A fam’ly.”
“No,” Jenny said. “See the dress. I see’d a dolly dressed like that in a store. It’s a b’ide.”
“A bride,” Kelley corrected softly. There were three figures on the page—a woman wearing a wedding gown, a man in a tuxedo and a child in between them holding their hands.
Their caricature faces were easily identifiable: Kelley, Shawn and Jenny.
Shawn finished and handed the page to Kelley. “I—er…” He cleared his throat winsomely. “As you know, I’ve a good imagination, or I wouldn’t be able to draw caricatures. But this time, I’m picturing something I really want.” He slid off the low seat onto his knees. “You can say no, of course, in front of all these impressionable, optimistic kids, but you’ll destroy them for life.” He grinned with adorable smugness—yet she could see uncertainty in his expression. He’d undergone a lot of rejection in his early life, and had opened himself up to it now. For her.
Kelley knew what he was going to say, but she let him continue.
“Now, I know you probably don’t forgive me for all the bad things I thought about you, but if you marry me, we’ll have a lifetime for me to make it up to you. I could order you to marry me, but I know you don’t like to take orders from men. So, I’ll ask you instead. I love you, Kelley. Will you marry me? Pretty please with powdered sugar on it?”
Breathless, so full of love she felt she would explode, she looked away from his adored face toward Jenny. “What do you think, sweetheart? Should we give the guy a break?”
“Yes, Mommy,” her little daughter said excitedly. “Are you gonna be a b’ide?”
Kelley stood, pulling Shawn to his feet, too. “Yes, honey,” she whispered without looking at her daughter. “Mommy is going to be a br—” She didn’t finish, and she was only vaguely aware of the cheering around them as Shawn’s mouth stole the rest of the word.
Epilogue
“So you survived being a nanny.” Colleen leaned back on her chair at the table in the secret meeting room beneath the ranch house at the Royal Flush.
“Sure did,” Shawn acknowledged. Sitting across from her beside the grinning Fiona Clark, he was dressed for ranch work a
nd he crossed his jean-clad legs nonchalantly. He looked smug. As well he might, since he’d done a good job—and not just as a childcare provider.
He’d wrapped up the arson case. Plus, he’d amassed a lot of evidence that tied the Silver Rapids flu to the Gettys’s sheep ranch.
Despite all the questions that remained about how both might be connected to the missing Langworthy baby.
“You heard, didn’t you, that your pal Juan Cortes isn’t talking, at least not much.”
“Anyone find out yet what his real name is?” Shawn asked.
“The one he used when he worked at the Swansong Casino,” Colleen said drolly, “or his real real name?”
“He actually worked there?” Fiona asked, her attention obviously stoked. Colleen’s attractive blond employee had returned from checking on another possible lead to the Langworthy case and kept pressing Colleen for a further assignment.
“Not only that, but it was at the same time that Helen Gettys, Senator Gettys’s former wife, worked there. Of course, she was Helen Kouros then.”
“So they knew each other,” Shawn said slowly, obviously mulling over the ramifications.
As had Colleen. Ad infinitum. Without, unfortunately, getting all the answers. Helen Gettys’s powerful ex-husband, Senator Franklin Gettys, owned part of the Half Spur sheep ranch. Helen had worked at the casino in Silver Rapids at the same time as Cortes. Cortes had been ordered to confuse the situation at Gilpin Hospital regarding the Silver Rapids flu epidemic.
Too many connections to be coincidental. The experiments being run at the sheep ranch were probably connected with the Silver Rapids epidemic, but she didn’t know how yet. Plus people who’d been at the casino and certain eating establishments on one particular day a few months ago had caught the disease—including Holly Langworthy, who had been pregnant with little Schyler, the kidnapped baby. Another connection. They had yet to find out who Gettys’s partner in the ranch was. Perhaps that would shed some light.
“Yes, they knew each other,” Colleen said aloud, “but your buddy Cortes claims he hasn’t seen Helen in years, knows nothing about sheep and definitely had nothing to do with the Langworthy kidnapping.”
“Helen Gettys now lives in Washington state, with her brother,” Fiona said. “While they seem to have cut all ties to Senator Gettys, the brother does have a criminal record. He also was in Colorado when Baby Langworthy disappeared. Supposedly on a camping trip.”
“Right,” Colleen acknowledged. “We’ll be following up on that lead. Meanwhile all Cortes will say is that he knows nothing. No admissions about fudging blood tests, setting the fire, blackmailing Louis Paxler or setting up your fiancée.” She smiled at Shawn. “So how are Kelley and Jenny?”
“Fine. They’re out watching the horses. Jenny’s excited about living in my cabin on the ranch. She loves ‘an’mals.’”
“So they’re staying here?” Fiona asked. “What about Kelley’s medical practice?”
“She’s considering opening her own small one around here,” Shawn said. “She’s determined to leave Gilpin Hospital behind—which is fine with me. She’s also looking for a preschool for Jenny, since the kid’ll turn four in a few months.”
“What? You haven’t offered to stay on as her nanny?” Fiona’s tone was teasing.
“Only as her new daddy.” Pride emanated from Shawn’s voice.
Fiona sighed. “How romantic. When’s the wedding?”
“Soon.” He looked at Colleen. “I’ll need time off, boss.”
“Give me a heads-up, and I’ll arrange it. Let’s just hope we get some better leads on little Schyler Langworthy’s whereabouts first.”
Shawn’s face clouded. “Yeah. I can only imagine now how awful that family must feel.”
And that from a guy who’d wanted nothing to do with families or kids a few short weeks ago. Colleen was happy for him.
But Colorado Confidential still had a big case to solve. Fast.
“Did you get anything else from Kelley’s friend Wilson Carpenter?” she asked. Not that Dr. Carpenter was likely to know anything about the missing baby’s whereabouts.
“The disappearing doctor?” Shawn replied. “Not really. But I do have a theory as to why he was sent on what was to be a very long vacation rather than a permanent disappearance.”
“And your theory is…?”
“Just that the death of yet another person connected to the flu would arouse too much additional speculation. The doctors in the practice next door would have squawked. That many people can’t be silenced unnoticed.” Shawn rose. “Anyway, I’ve got to run now. Dex is expecting me to go ride the range or something, and I’ve still got a cover to maintain here.”
“You sure do,” Colleen agreed. “Kelley knows about both your covers as a ranch hand and a private detective in Denver?”
He nodded. “She’s aware of Colorado Confidential now but I’d bet my life on her keeping it secret.”
Colleen, who’d been getting to know Kelley better, couldn’t disagree.
The moment Shawn left, Fiona said, as Colleen had anticipated, “I need a new assignment. What’s next?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that ‘interview’ you did when you went undercover as a reporter to talk to Todd Houghton.”
“Right,” Fiona said. “Our esteemed governor didn’t say anything useful.”
“He’s taken the same position, though, as Senator Gettys,” Colleen reminded her. “They both seem to think the Langworthys staged the kidnapping. If the public feels sorry enough for the family, it could help Joshua Langworthy in his gubernatorial campaign against Houghton. That’s where you come in.”
“How?” Fiona’s brown eyes narrowed.
“You’re going to investigate Joshua Langworthy. See if he knows anything about the kidnapping of his sister’s baby. It would be a heck of a thing if he really was involved, simply for political gain.”
“It certainly would,” Fiona acknowledged grimly. “What’s the plan?”
Colleen smiled, and told her.
Once Fiona left, Colleen went to the adjoining basement room—a secret surveillance room that was hidden, as was the meeting room, but that contained all sorts of useful equipment. She checked the far-ranging video monitors first, as always, to make sure nothing at the ICU office or on the ranch looked amiss, and found herself grinning as she watched Shawn talking to ranch foreman Dexter Jones.
Damn, but Dex was one handsome cowboy!
But she had to get her mind on business.
She had another assignment to make, and she knew just the man for it.
Colleen picked up the phone and called the ICU office. “Becky,” she said when the office manager answered, “have Ryan Benton give me a call. I’ve a new assignment for him. I want him to investigate Helen Gettys and her brother further.”
“The senator’s wife?” Becky sounded surprised.
“His ex-wife. Is Ryan there?”
“No,” Becky said, “but he’s only a cell phone call away. I’ll have him get in touch with you.”
“Thanks,” Colleen said. She headed for the door, then stopped herself. She needed to check her e-mail.
Good thing she had, she told herself a few minutes later. There was an important message from Wiley Longbottom, the Director of the Department of Public Safety, who’d established Colorado Confidential under the guise of ICU to help find the Langworthy baby. He’d sent her another lead—and a directive.
The e-mail said, “My conscience tells me that a look at Mills & Grommett might help your investigation.”
Mills & Grommett? From what Colleen knew about the company, it was part of the Langworthy Centennial conglomerate, a pharmaceutical research and supply outfit. Interesting.
Not for the first time, Colleen wondered about this mysterious “conscience” of Wiley’s. She suspected it was a person, one whose identity Wiley kept to himself.
It piqued her curiosity, but no matter.
She shut do
wn her computer and headed out the secret exit—a broom closet. Her mind swirled about how best to approach an investigation of M&G.
Upstairs in the old, plush barroom, she almost didn’t hear Dex’s approach. “There you are,” he said. He sounded grumpy.
He was definitely gorgeous when he scowled. There was something infinitely sexy about those hazel eyes of his.
“Yes,” she said mildly, “here I am. Anything wrong?” She almost wished she’d put on a newer pair of jeans or a shirt dressier than the old plaid thing she wore, but nearly laughed ironically at herself. It didn’t matter to Dex how she dressed. She was only his boss.
She sighed.
“You made any decisions yet about trying that new cattle feed I recommended?” he demanded.
“Yes. I’ve decided you should make the decision.” She smiled at him. “As usual.”
“Damn it, Colleen, this is your ranch. You’re supposed to be in charge.” He ran one rough hand through his salt-and-pepper hair in obvious agitation at their long-standing argument.
“I am in charge.” She tried to keep her voice level. “And what I’ve decided is to rely on my very capable foreman.” She decided to try to appease him, if only a little, and stepped behind the bar to the small refrigerator. “You look as if you need a cold drink.” She pulled out a bottle of soda. “Ice?”
“Stop trying to change the subject!” he all but shouted at her. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know you could hire experienced hands instead of training these admittedly intelligent tenderfeet to run the Flush. Something else is going on here. For all I know, you’re running an escort service.”
Controlling her amusement and exasperation, Colleen glanced up at the portrait over the bar. Her ancestress Eudora Wellesley gazed out primly. Dora had seen worse than an escort service here, in this room, where ladies of the night had once met their men for the evening, then led them upstairs.
“For the ninetieth time,” Colleen said, “I’m not running an escort service. Now do you want a drink or not?”
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