She’d ached for him. Mourned with him. And done her best to fill in for a mother who had loved her little girl with her whole being. Sarah had made it her quest to fill Tabby’s life with the happy memories all kids deserved. It was the least she could do. She grabbed her medical bag and Tabitha’s lunchbox, and they held hands as they headed to the daycare attached to the hospital.
Looking after this beautiful little girl helped take her mind off her bruised feelings.
Sarah led Tabby through the long corridor and pressed the buzzer to get into the daycare. It was supposed to be staff children only, but they’d made special dispensation for her. Good job considering the shortage of doctors they’d had lately.
They had a new Attending Physician starting on Christmas Day, poor soul. And as soon as Sarah finalized plans with the local family practitioner in Stone Creek, they were going to have to hire another one.
She kissed Tabitha goodbye, promising to pick her up at four sharp so they could get back in time for a big family supper. She’d see Cal then. They’d talk. Another wave of emotion hit. Maybe it would do them good to have a few hours apart. Time to cool off. To think about whether or not they had a future together as a couple.
Just because she loved him didn’t mean she was blind to his faults. Life wasn’t all flowers and love songs—and come to think of it, most love songs ended in a bitter twist.
She put her jacket and bag in her locker, pulled on her white coat and slung her stethoscope around her neck, took a deep breath. Here goes. She pushed through the doors, and into chaos.
Five miles beyond Stone Creek, County Hospital served a town of about fifteen thousand and a large, mainly rural community. They saw everything from dismemberment via farm equipment, gunshot wounds, car accidents, and the usual daily quota of aches, pains, fevers and childhood injuries.
She wanted to be busy. She needed the distraction. “Who’ve we got up first, Madge?” she asked the charge nurse.
“Mrs. Henriksson in exam one, Dr. Sullivan. May I say how very attractive you look today, girl? Is that for the benefit of our hot new orthopedic surgeon?”
Sarah shot Madge a wry look. She’d worn the red wraparound dress with her tall black boots as a way of bolstering her deflated spirits. She’d forgotten she was avoiding the attentions of one Reilly Spencer. She stuck her tongue out at the nurse she’d known for years. “Warn me if you see him,” she whispered.
“See who?” A deep voice spoke from behind her.
Sarah whirled. Crap. “Just a patient. How’re you settling in, Dr. Spencer?”
His eyes ran down her red dress before skipping back to her face. The guy looked genuinely interested. Considering she’d cried half the night and hadn’t slept a wink, she was surprised he didn’t run screaming through the big double doors. He squeezed her arm in an overly familiar gesture, and his warm breath stroked her ear as he leaned in. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“I will, thanks.” She moved away and shot Madge a glare over her other shoulder. She could imagine the nonsense the senior ER nurse was filling his head with. Hasn’t had a date in years. Dedicated to her work and her family. Drudge. Blah. Blah. How about getting hot and heavy with a very fine cowboy every night for the last several weeks, huh?
Her mood slumped.
She was off men. Definitely off cowboys.
She whipped through the curtain to exam one. “Mrs. Henriksson…” Whoa, holy moly. She assessed her patient’s face. One big purple contusion, topped with a broken nose. She cleared her throat as she read the chart. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Heather Henriksson raised a hand to her forehead in a self-conscious gesture. “I walked into a door.”
Sarah raised her brow, not in the mood for bullshit. “Did the door have fists?”
The woman looked away. Sarah noticed a small boy sitting on the floor beside the bed. He was maybe five. Wearing Spiderman pajamas. Crap.
“Hey, Buddy, what’s your name?”
The child looked down at the floor, and his mom reached out her hand. “This is Henry Junior.”
The almost desperate grip the mother kept on her son sent a little tug to Sarah’s heart. “And who brought you in, Mrs. Henriksson?”
The woman coughed and immediately hugged her ribs. “My husband dropped me off. He had to go run some Christmas errands.”
Making up for beating the shit out of his wife by buying a few presents and groceries? Or too ashamed to show his face?
“Do you have a headache?” Sarah asked. How could she not? Sarah had a headache just looking at her.
“My head hurts, yes.” Mrs. Henriksson touched her forehead.
Sarah examined her while the boy watched with big brown eyes. He made her think of Cal and everything he’d endured growing up. Dammit, no wonder he struggled with relationships. “Mrs. Henriksson, Heather, I’m worried you might have a broken rib and be concussed. We’re going to send you for chest x-rays and a CT scan. Is there someone who could watch Henry Junior for you?” Sarah pointed toward the little boy who tried to slide under the bed so he wouldn’t get noticed. How different he was to Tabitha, who strutted her pink glory like royalty. This kid wanted to be wallpaper. Her heart started to break. Then she started to get pissed.
“I want to keep him with me,” Heather Henriksson insisted.
“You don’t want me to call your husband?” said Sarah without inflection.
Eyes that were almost swollen shut flashed in alarm. She carefully shook her head. Sarah sat on the bed and took the woman’s free hand. She kept her voice low. “If your husband did this to you, Heather, you have to report him. You have to get out of that house before he kills you or your son.”
For a moment Sarah thought she was getting through to the woman. The opportunity was shattered when a deep male voice spoke from the other side of the curtain. Heather flinched away and the kid pretty much crawled under the bed as the curtain was flung back.
Henry Henriksson was a big man, with thick heavy shoulders, and a good-looking face. His eyes ran over their joined hands. Heather pulled hers sharply from Sarah’s grip.
“Mr. Henriksson?” Sarah stood and offered her hand to the man. She should be an actress. The top of her head came to his mid chest, but she wasn’t intimidated. “I’m Dr. Sullivan.”
The big man took Sarah’s tiny hand in his. She held on when he went to withdraw, and she turned his damaged knuckles to the light. “Ouch. Those injuries look sore, Mr. Henriksson. Would you like me to dress them?” She kept her eyes wide and her expression blank, but he knew she knew exactly what he’d done.
His gaze narrowed, and he dropped her hand. “Let’s go,” he told the woman in the bed.
“We’re not ready to release Mrs. Henriksson, yet.” Sarah made it a statement, not an option. “Your wife might have a concussion, and I think at least one of her ribs is broken. It’s going to take a few hours to run tests.”
The man shifted his weight from foot to foot, expression hard, lips drawn. If he attacked her, it would hurt, but Sarah did not move from her position in front of the injured woman. It wasn’t bravery. Sarah had always had people to stand up for her—her parents, her brothers, Cal, heck, even hospital security. This woman had no one. “I suggest you come back around noon and see where we’re at. It’ll give you the chance to finish the Christmas preparations and your wife a chance to rest. I’m sure you wouldn’t want another wasted journey or for Heather to have to be readmitted in a few hours time.” Not to mention ending up on a murder charge should this defenseless woman die from a brain bleed you caused, you sick mofo.
The man looked foiled. Then he caught sight of his son. He jerked his head. “Henry Junior, come with me. We’ll be back in a few hours and see how your mamma is getting on.” The woman on the bed started to sit upright. Any moment now, she was going to declare herself “fine” and sign herself out of the hospital.
“I asked Henry Junior if he wanted to meet Santa who’s visiting some of
the wards today. It’s no bother for him to stay and play with the other children, if that’s okay with you?” Sarah smiled at the little boy. She really should have gone into acting.
“I’ll make sure they are finished by noon, honey.” Heather Henriksson’s voice was so sweet it made Sarah want to puke. “Sorry to mess up your day like this.”
Sarah hid her disgust. Sorry I need medical attention because you hit a woman half your size so hard your fists bled. And so sorry I broke my ribs on your poor bruised hands. At least he hadn’t turned his fury on their precious child. God.
Sarah knew the drill. She’d seen it often enough in the past. She wanted to get this woman out of an abusive situation, but the chances of that happening were slim. Women, and sometimes men, were trapped in circumstances and a cycle of abuse. They couldn’t see the way out. Some were too scared to leave. Some didn’t think they deserved help. How a human being believed they deserved such treatment was beyond her. They wouldn’t treat an animal this poorly.
She didn’t get it. She would never get it.
Silence stretched taut. She braced herself. She knew exactly where he’d be spending Christmas if he laid a hand on her, and she relished the thought. Still, she didn’t want to make the situation worse for Heather and the little boy, because chances were they would go home eventually.
He took a step back, checked his watch. Sarah’s shoulders sagged.
“I’ll be back at noon.” He turned his eyes on his wife. “Make sure you’re down here waiting for me.” His tone brooked no refusal. Heather nodded.
Sarah blew out a big breath as he walked away. She turned back to the woman. “I’m going to take Henry Junior to spend a couple hours in the daycare while you have your tests done.” Heather opened her mouth to argue, but Sarah took her hand and squeezed. “He’ll be safe, and he’ll have fun. It’ll be good for him. Trust me.”
The woman finally nodded and Sarah leaned closer. “There are people who can help you, Heather. Places you can go.”
Heather bit her lip, then clutched harder at her hand. “I’m pregnant.”
Sarah almost reared back in shock. “Does he know?”
Heather’s face crumpled, and she started to cry. She nodded. “He was angry about it. Said we can’t afford another mouth to feed.” She gave a wet sniffle. “Will you make sure my baby is okay?”
Tears filled Sarah’s eyes. What was wrong with the world?
It was Christmas. Sarah was determined to make something good happen today. “Okay, Henry Junior. Let’s go see Santa.” She held out her hand and, after a slight hesitation, the little boy took it. She looked at the mom. “I’m sending you for a head CT first, then we’ll see about the baby, all right?”
The woman nodded, but misery dragged at her features. “Be a good boy, Henry Junior.”
Sarah would bet the ranch little Henry Junior was always a good boy. It wouldn’t keep him safe though. Eventually those fists would lash out in his direction. If he was lucky, he’d end up like Cal. If he was unlucky, he’d end up dead. And to think she’d been feeling sorry for herself this morning.
What an idiot.
* * *
NAT AND ELIZA had gone to get groceries to last through next week. Ezra was visiting his new lady friend—apparently even men with no teeth had a better love life than Cal did. And Ryan was checking cattle in one of the upper pastures. The house was empty of people but full of memories. It was the only true home he’d ever known. Cal had fed the horses, written Sarah, Nat, and Ryan a short letter each and put them on the mantel.
He’d thrown his gear in a kit bag and stood looking at the pale blue-gray of the jagged mountains that surrounded them. He was never going to forget this place. Even the air here seemed different. Clean, fresh, brilliant. Cal wouldn’t have considered himself fanciful, but this land held magic—from the eagles soaring over the highest peaks, to the tiny flowers that hid among the damp hemlock groves. He pressed his lips together and gave the ranch dog a last scratch on the neck. The old dog’s back leg started moving in appreciation.
Cal got in the truck and drove away, looking at the L-frame ranch house in the rearview the entire drive out.
It might be better this way, but the idea of leaving ripped out his heart. And it paled beside the idea of not seeing Sarah ever again. She was going to be so upset to get that damned letter. What sort of jerk broke things off with a letter? Especially at Christmas? His fingers gripped the steering wheel. He’d told himself it was better for her if he just walked away, but that was pure cowardice talking. He was too scared to face her. He’d known her for nearly twenty years and loved her so much he felt like he was drowning in it. But Terry’s warning echoed inside his head. The threat was very real.
But sneaking off like a chicken was not going to fly. So rather than turning the wheel left away from town, he turned it right. He needed to look Sarah in the eye when he said goodbye. Tell her exactly why he was going. He didn’t want her to think even for a minute he didn’t love and respect her. Hell, he cared for her more than anyone and would sacrifice every last person on the planet to keep her safe. She didn’t need to know that, but she did need to know she deserved better than a bum like him.
The flashing lights took him by surprise. He glanced at his speedometer and realized he’d been so distracted by the idea of going to Sarah, he’d gone ten miles over the speed limit along the straight road that led into town. As Sheriff Talbot climbed out of his cruiser, Cal started laughing. The guy had finally nailed him for something legit. Sonofabitch.
Chapter Six
SARAH BARELY HAD time to think following a road traffic accident that brought in three trauma patients, two in critical condition. She’d just sent the third teenager up to x-ray after helping wrap a cast from his wrist to his shoulder, and a matching one on his leg. He was the lucky one.
She grabbed a coffee from the break room and walked over to the desk to see where they were in the war against daily madness. She glanced left and saw Henry Henriksson talking to Sheila Goldstein in the corridor.
Crap. “Who called Child Services?” Sarah asked Madge. She’d debated and decided to try to talk Heather into filing a police report first. Then she’d forgotten all about them while fighting to save the life of someone’s teenage daughter. She needed a clone.
“Dr. Spencer alerted social services, and they called in Sheila.”
“I want my son back.” Henriksson’s voice rose over the other patients’. “And I want my wife down here, right now.” He looked up and caught Sarah’s eye. “You lied to me, bitch.” His gaze narrowed into pure hatred, and her heart knocked against her ribs. People glanced toward her nervously. Then security stepped in with Sheila trying to explain protocol to the enraged man. He flung off the hands of the security personnel, turned on his heel, and strode outside.
Madge put her palm on her chest. “Lord have mercy, I thought he was about to lose his shit right here.”
She nodded. “Me too. Who’s next?” Some people had been here for hours. She went through charts with Madge, trying to figure out who needed her most.
There was a strange ratcheting noise at the entrance. When Sarah looked across to the front door, every drop of blood drained from her head. Henriksson had come back inside, only this time he was carrying an assault rifle.
Sarah didn’t think. She ran. She had to find Henriksson’s wife and son before he did. She ran around the corner and heard gunfire as she dove into the elevator and slapped the button. A bullet dinged the metal interior just as the door closed. The guy had stepped over a line he could never come back from. She headed to level three even though Heather Henriksson was on four. She silently apologized to everyone on that floor as she got off and shouted to the staff, “Armed intruder! Lock this floor down immediately!”
She hit the stairs and started pounding the concrete steps. She burst onto the fourth floor and fled along the corridor, shouting the same message. People scattered and started shutting down the eleva
tor and securing fire doors, getting patients back to their beds and barricading themselves inside. Sarah ran into the room where they conducted the CT scans.
“Where’s Heather Henriksson?” she asked.
The technician climbed uncertainly to her feet. “She left. Said she was going to get her son and go home.”
A wave of terror shot through her. Oh, God. The daycare. She had to make sure the children were safe. But the alarm had been raised, and they would shut the place down. She knew that, but it didn’t make her worry any less. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket, texted Nat to get to Tabitha ASAP. He’d called earlier to say he and Eliza were in town. She stood there panting. Okay—think rationally for a moment. Doors into the wards were locked. The guy might be trapped inside the elevator for all she knew. The cops would be here soon, and Mr. Henriksson would be detained.
Reilly Spencer came running out of his office. It looked as if he’d been catching a quick nap. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“That guy you called social services on?” The sound of gunfire permeated the air again, sending a quiver of fear through her bones. “Let’s just say he wasn’t very happy about it.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. The place is secure, right?”
Sarah breathed out a lungful of terror. “As locked down as a place this size can be.”
Then her heart started hammering as a noise that could only be the service elevator started to rumble. She grabbed keys from the nurse’s desk and ran for the fire exit. “Get into your offices and lock the doors.” She undid the fire door, which the staff had secured.
“What are you going to do?” Spencer asked, hovering uncertainly.
Her hands shook as she got the door open. “Draw him away from patients. I’m the one who spoke to him this morning, and he’s blaming me for getting social services involved. I promised him his wife would be ready to go at noon, and he thinks I set this whole thing up.” Spencer ran toward her. There was no time to argue with him as the service elevator opened and out stepped Henry Henriksson. His eyes found her, and he raised the rifle to his eye just as Dr. Spencer slid through the open fire door and Sarah slammed it shut behind him. They both started running.
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