by Dana Mentink
She lifted an eyebrow. “You or the other officers could have returned my calls, you know. Didn’t your secretary tell you I phoned?”
“Carrie forwarded the messages like she’s supposed to.” He toyed with the radio clipped to his belt. “I figured one of the other officers would be better at handling your questions.” He tried not to notice her eyes too much. Keep it professional. “Anything else you remember from the salon?”
She considered. “The guy said ‘Tony,’ too.”
“Tony?” Now his nerves were good and truly jangled. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, why? Who is Tony?”
He forced himself to answer. “The owner’s fourteen-year-old son.” Something cold slithered in his belly. Why would a woman lie about being threatened? One really big reason: to protect the person who mattered most...her son. He’d once seen a mother who could not swim leap off a dock to save her drowning toddler. Frances would lie to protect Tony. He was certain of it. He was readying another round of questions when a nurse popped her head in, face grave. “Officer, can I see you out here for a minute?”
He went to her.
“We’re going to keep this door closed, okay?” the nurse said to Madison.
“Problem?” he asked when he got to the threshold.
She nodded.
“Be right back,” James said to Madison, following the nurse outside.
People were moving quickly outside in the corridor, their shoes squeaking on the floor. He knew the signs. Trouble.
* * *
Curiosity burned Madison’s insides. Easing herself to her feet one painful movement at a time, she stood, clinging to the bed rail. A moment of dizziness nearly overcame her, but she breathed through it. Forcing her feet to cooperate, she stopped to pull on another hospital gown, using it for a robe. She inched the door open.
Nurses were scurrying along, closing all the doors. She saw James talking to a hospital engineer next to a closed set of metal doors intended to seal off this section of the hospital from the rest. Fire? She’d worked in a hospital gift shop long enough to know that most fire alarms amounted to nothing more than a smoking bag of microwave popcorn, or a patient sneaking a cigarette in the bathroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement from behind a cart piled high with towels.
Who would be standing there, hidden between the wall and the towels, when there was clearly an emergency situation brewing? She stepped out, moving quietly toward the cart.
Again a flicker of movement, stealthy, quick.
She caught the faint scent of smoke in the air as she took another step forward. Not a false alarm after all. Hand outstretched, she meant to push the cart, move it backward to flush whoever was behind it out into the open.
Her fingers touched the cold metal bars.
“Hey,” James said, startling her. She spun so quickly she became dizzy. As she stood there clutching the gown to her body, she wished he did not have to be so good-looking, with a strong jaw, sapphire eyes and thick blond hair she wanted to touch. He took her firmly by the wrist. “You have to get back into bed and keep the door closed.”
“I’m fine.”
He frowned. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“But there’s someone behind the cart.”
James gave her a dubious look, but he let go of her wrist and swiveled the cart away from the wall. There was no one there.
“I saw...”
“You can tell me later. Back into your room.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she snapped.
“Apparently you do, and if it’s going to be me, I charge nine bucks an hour and all the potato chips I can eat.” He led Madison into her room and waited until she climbed back into bed.
Her cheeks burned. “Well, is it a fire? Can you at least tell me that?”
“We’re checking it out.” James was already heading to the door. “You’re going to be perfectly safe. Stay here.”
Madison sank down into the blankets, annoyed that even the brief foray out of bed had left her knees shaking and a strident pain in her temples. She wished James would hurry back and fill her in, but he was busy doing his cop thing, and she didn’t think he’d tell her much, anyway.
Closing her eyes and trying to breathe away the pounding in her skull, she attempted to relax. The need to know refused to be quieted. Everything is being handled and no one is going to answer any questions for you, Mads, so just deal with it.
But maybe she could find out something on social media. Perhaps some patient had heard what was going on and sent out a quick Tweet or Facebook post. She opened her eyes and reached for her cell phone just as a pillow descended over her face, strong hands sealing off her air, cutting off her scream.
Four
James didn’t pretend to be a fire expert, but the smoke that billowed out of the supply closet seemed to be pouring from one inside corner covered by a pile of blackening paper products. He couldn’t see clearly over the shoulder of the hospital maintenance engineer who was spraying chemicals onto the fire with an extinguisher. Sure, there might be flammable cleaning chemicals in the storage room, but on the floor? And the paper products just happened to be dumped there? He knew the hospital was well run and well managed. Piles of debris would not be tolerated.
Now his instincts were prickling. A fire in the supply closet would accomplish what? Create a distraction to allow someone to steal drugs? Unlikely, as the medicines were generally secured. Cause mayhem for some delinquent to enjoy? Possibly, but that didn’t happen too often in a place where everybody knew everybody else. Create a diversion for someone to get at one of the patients? A wave of cold swept through him.
“Got it knocked down,” the engineer said. “We’ll be all clear soon after we clean it up. Fire department is here, too.”
James turned quickly and headed back to Madison’s room. Cold fear. His nerves were no doubt firing without good reason. She was probably just fine, impatiently ticking off the minutes. Actually, he’d be surprised if she’d stayed put. Not exactly the obedient type. Pushing open the door, he saw a big guy leaning over her, her hands batting weakly at the pillow he held over her face and then falling limp on the sheet.
With a roar, James leaped on the guy. They went down, taking a nearby pitcher of water with them. The man was big, maybe fifty, bald headed and muscular with skin whiter than any desert resident had a right to. The guy surged to his feet, throwing James back a pace.
James tried to get a read on Madison, but the stranger was diving for the door now. James reached for his gun, but before he got it clear of the holster, his opponent tossed a rolling table at him. James threw up a hand to deflect it, sending it crashing into the end of the bed.
There was still no movement from Madison. Had he been too late?
The guy barreled through the door, and James heard a shout as he must have run into someone. Maybe it had slowed him down enough. James got on his radio and alerted Shane with a description as he raced to the doorway. “Heading west toward the stairwell. Stop him.”
“Copy that,” Shane said. James heard the chatter of radio traffic as he turned his attention to Madison.
What he would have given to be able to run the stranger down, but he didn’t dare delay. Fear thickened his throat as he ran back to Madison and shoved the pillow aside. He patted her cheeks. “Madison, wake up.”
She did not make a sound; her eyes were closed. Her pale skin might have been carved of pure marble. He yelled for a nurse and tried to find a pulse in her wrist, but there was so much adrenaline firing through his veins, he was not sure whether he was feeling his own hammering pulse or her heartbeat. Was she breathing? “Come on,” he said, giving her a shake. “You’re gonna wake up, do you hear me?”
Suddenly she gasped for breath and came to, pounding her fi
sts at him.
“Get off me,” she screamed in between violent coughs. “Get away.”
“It’s me,” he said, clutching her forearms, thrilled to know she was well enough to take a whack at him. “It’s James. Madison, look at me.”
Her wide-open eyes were wild for another moment. Slowly she began to focus, coughing hard and sucking in huge lungfuls of air.
“It’s me,” he repeated. “The guy is gone.”
She blinked. “He tried to kill me for the second time today.”
He held on, thinking she might burst into hysterical tears. What should he do in that case? Hold her comfortingly? Restrain her? Get a nurse who knew what to do? He figured it might be similar to dealing with a spooked horse: hold on and keep calm. He squeezed her forearms, letting her know he was still there and she was safe.
Instead of hysteria, something that looked a lot like red-hot anger flooded across her face, staining her cheeks pink. She wrenched out of his reach, picked up the pillow and hurled it him. “This is not acceptable,” she hollered.
He couldn’t help it. He smiled, profound relief pulsing through him. “I completely agree, ma’am.”
“Then why don’t you do something? This is your town, isn’t it? What’s the matter with the police here?”
The nurse ran in, looking from Madison to James and back again as Madison continued yelling in between coughs.
“I think she’s okay,” James said, “but you’d better check her over. She was nearly smothered a few minutes ago.”
“And that’s completely unacceptable,” Madison snapped. “Why don’t you arrest the bad guys before they try to smother people? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t that why you have a badge?”
The nurse raised an amused eyebrow. “Seems as though Ms. Coles is going to be fine.”
He smiled, stepping out into the hallway before the pillow hit the door. Shane got him on the radio.
“We lost him. Bucks saw him exit the building and run into the woods.”
“I’ll get Hawk on it. Send Marlton to watch Madison’s room in case this guy’s got a partner.”
He retrieved the pillow the guy had used to try to smother Madison and raced to the lobby for Hawk. As they headed for the woods, he knew Madison was right. The crimes were popping up in Desert Valley like groundhogs. Now the bridal-salon attacker on the loose was attempting to strangle a woman in a busy hospital? He clipped the leash to Hawk’s collar and let him get a good scent from the pillow.
“Find,” he said. Hawk took off, jerking James along with him, Shane and Bucks following.
Madison’s words echoed back at him.
“Why don’t you arrest the bad guys...?”
This time, he thought, he would. They careened through the underbrush. James slapped branches out of his way. He knew his partners were right behind him, but he was too busy protecting his face to take note of their exact location. Fury rose hot inside his chest along with the adrenaline. The tension on the long leash increased as Hawk surged forward. They were close now. The screen of bushes was so thick, he had to watch his step to avoid tripping. Hawk had no such problem. The dog was a canine bulldozer, plowing his way along, stopping every few moments to redirect. When he quivered in a way that meant, I’ve got it, James’s body went rigid, nerves electrified. The guy was close. Very close.
With a jubilant yank, Hawk surged toward a gap between two enormous pine trunks. James used all his strength to pull the dog to a halt. There was no use giving Hawk a verbal command. When he was on a hunt, that was all he could focus on.
James hauled on the leash and stopped the dog, drawing his weapon. Hawk barked and bayed at being thwarted. Shane and Bucks took positions on either side of him.
“Police! Hands up,” James shouted.
No answer but Hawk’s incessant barking.
He slowly counted to three and rushed into the clearing just past the trees. A motorbike roared to life and their mark made his escape, blazing through the forest. There was no opportunity to get off a shot with so many trees in the way. James ran after the vehicle and was quickly outpaced. Hawk could probably track the motorbike, but there was no use as James heard it roar up to the main road. The scent would be lost quickly because the day was hot with little breeze. He felt like letting out his frustration in a roar louder than Hawk’s howling. Biting back the rage, he released Hawk to continue his sniffing, which led the dog to a damp baseball cap lying on the carpet of leaves.
Hawk was about to scoop up his prize when James stopped him. “Leave it, Hawk. That’s evidence. Sorry.”
Bucks stepped up and took a picture, snared the hat with a pen. He was sweating, red-faced. He told Hawk, “Almost got him, boy. Next time.”
James fumed. Almost didn’t cut it. By this time, Chief Jones had arrived, and they briefed him. At seventy years old, Earl Jones was an imposing man with a large gut and a thick head of gray hair. His expression was fixed in the bland smile he always wore. The chief tended to cultivate that smile while he avoided conflict with his staff, particularly with his stepson, Ken Bucks. He got out an evidence bag and they secured the baseball cap.
“It’s the same guy from the bridal salon,” James said. “He wants Madison Coles dead.”
“Why?” Jones asked. “She’s a stranger in town.”
“Maybe he thinks she can ID him from the attack at the salon.”
“Why attack her in the first place?” Shane mused. At the edge of the clearing, Bella barked, eager to join in. “Place had no cash. Robbery wasn’t the motive.”
“Someone who doesn’t like reporters? Plenty of people got it in for reporters.” Jones’s tone was light, but James wondered if it was a dig at him.
“Until we investigate,” James said, “she’s not safe here.”
“Can we order her to go home?” Bucks suggested hopefully. “Back to Tuckerville?”
“She doesn’t strike me as the type to take orders,” Shane said.
The chief chuckled. “Considering my own experience with two ex-wives, I’d say that’s more than likely the truth.”
James fisted his hands on his hips, wishing they’d all take the situation as something more than a joke. “We need an officer assigned to keep an eye on her as long as she’s in Desert Valley.”
Jones considered. “I’m inclined to agree. We sure don’t want any more deaths in this town. I assume you’re volunteering for the assignment?”
“Me?” James said. “No way. I’ve already got a dog to take care of. Hawk is enough responsibility for two cops.”
Shane smiled. “But you’re so good at it. Hawk hasn’t chewed up your running shoes for, what? Like, a week now? And you still have one basketball he hasn’t flattened, right?”
“This isn’t funny,” James said.
“Absolutely not,” Shane said, nodding gravely with a hint of a grin.
Jones did not smile, but something in his expression made James think he was enjoying the situation. They’d had their share of arguments since James found himself assigned to this town with zero say in the matter. He hadn’t exactly shown an abundance of tact when he’d complained to the chief about it.
“Excellent, then,” Jones said. “Go on back and tell Ms. Coles you’ll be her protection detail as soon as she’s released from the hospital.”
“But I’ve got other cases to work on, the missing puppy and the police dance next week,” James said. Thanks to his blond hair, he was to be the bait to draw out the police dance killer, if there was one. The two rookies who’d died on the night of the police dance, a year apart, were both blond. And so was Ryder Hayes, who’d been a rookie when his wife, Melanie, was killed five years ago, also on the night of the annual police dance. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.
“Then I guess you’d better help her get her s
tory done so you can go back to work.” The chief turned his back to James and went to examine the photographs that Dennis Marlton was taking of the faint motorcycle tracks.
You’ve been dismissed, James thought. He forced his jaws to unclench. What was he getting so upset about? Was it because Madison was a reporter? Or because he found himself thinking about her red hair and vibrant eyes more than he should? No way was he going down that road. She was a job, an assignment, and he’d do it because he was a professional, not some young kid who wore his heart on his sleeve. “Lord, help me get this job done,” he muttered.
He stepped carefully around Hawk, who was sprawled in the shade, drooling. Shane clapped James on the back. “That was quick thinking, rookie. I guess you really got yourself a plum assignment this time.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, wondering how in the world he’d managed to snag himself a babysitting detail. For a reporter, no less.
* * *
Madison checked herself out of the hospital the next morning against the advice of the doctor in charge. She hadn’t slept for more than a few moments all night, even though she’d been told there was a cop stationed outside her door. Who could blame her, really? Two attempts on her life in the space of one day? She’d heard from James that they’d lost the guy in the woods. Some police work, she thought. Or maybe they hadn’t poured all that much effort into the capture. She was a stranger, after all, a nosy one who was about as welcome as the stomach flu. Something settled heavily inside her.
No time for self-pity, she thought. She had a story to write, even if it was a dull one about local business, and if she wanted to look into other crimes that was her concern.
She found herself in the lobby, heading for the receptionist, who would be able to call her a cab. While she stood at the counter, she felt dampness on her knee.
It was Hawk, happily drooling on her leg.
She could not resist a chuckle as she scratched his enormous ears.