by Laura Scott
But he couldn’t deny being concerned about the extent of her head injury.
“Which hospital are you taking her to?” he asked, as the EMTs loaded her into the back of the ambulance.
“Hospital?” she squeaked, her luminous blue eyes opening wide. “I’m fine! Just give me a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
Now he was going to argue. Big-time. “You’re going to the hospital, Shanna. End of discussion.”
The EMTs gaped at his harsh tone, and then the one closest to Shanna’s head glanced down at her. “He’s right,” the EMT said kindly. “You really need to be checked out. The doctors are going to want a CT scan of your head to make sure there’s no internal bleeding.”
“Which hospital?” he asked again, impatiently.
“Chicago Central. It’s the closest.”
“I’ll meet you there.” He watched Shanna for a few seconds, relieved when she gave up and relaxed back on the gurney. He closed the ambulance door and then turned back to the cops swarming around Shanna’s house. “What did you find?” he asked.
“Nothing resembling a weapon,” the older cop said grumpily. His name tag identified him as Officer Rawlings. “We’ll have the place dusted for prints, but whatever he used to hit her on the back of the head, he took with him.”
Quinn couldn’t help but agree. “Anything else?”
“We found her cell phone.” Rawlings raised a brow. “Looks as if you called her several times.”
He glanced at her phone display, where she’d labeled his cell number with his name. “Yeah, well she wasn’t supposed to come home alone.” He was bothered by the way she hadn’t waited for him. Didn’t she trust him? He said he’d return. “She was supposed to wait for me. There’s been some wacky guy following her, leaving threatening notes.”
“Yeah, I saw a copy of the report.” Rawlings chomped hard on a piece of gum. “Good thing for you. Otherwise we’d be taking you downtown for a chat.”
Quinn felt his temper rise, and he had to take a calming breath before responding. These guys were only doing their jobs, even if they weren’t doing them very well, at least in his opinion. “I’m not the assailant who’s been stalking her. I was at the Corner Café Coffee Shop between six and eight tonight. Plenty of people can verify that I was there.”
“Okay,” Rawlings agreed mildly. “We’ll check out your alibi. No reason to get your boxers in a bundle.”
He let that one slide. “Have you figured out how the assailant got inside?”
“Yep. There’s a broken window in the basement we think he used to gain entry. We suspect he tripped the breaker and then hunkered down to wait for Ms. Dawson to come home. I suppose you’re going to want to see everything for yourself?”
He did, but he wanted even more to make sure Shanna was okay. “Later. Right now, I’m heading to Chicago Central.”
Shanna kept her eyes closed as a halfhearted attempt to minimize the pounding in her head. Her stomach churned with nausea, but she didn’t say anything to the EMTs, hoping the sick feeling in her stomach was from knowing someone had been inside her house, and not from a potential brain injury.
She owed Quinn an apology. He’d told her to wait for him but she hadn’t, too proud, too stubborn to call him. The excuses seemed flimsy now. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t said those famous last words.
I told you so.
Of course, saying something like that didn’t seem to be Quinn’s style.
“Ms. Dawson, we’ve arrived at the hospital.” The EMT loomed over her, fussing with the IV line that they’d placed in her arm. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” Or at least she would be, once her mammoth-size headache went away.
She couldn’t help wincing a bit when they jostled her, pulling the gurney out of the back of the ambulance. As they went in through the emergency department doors, she felt like a complete fraud when a group of staff members rushed over to greet them as if she were on death’s door.
“Vitals stable, BP 110/60, pulse 98 and respirations 16,” the EMT announced as they wheeled her inside. “She has an open laceration in the back of her head, and was found unconscious at the scene.”
Good heavens, the EMT was making her sound far worse than she was. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to make eye contact with one of the staff members.
But it was no use. No one was listening to her, too intent on doing whatever medical tasks they deemed necessary. One nurse hooked her up to a heart monitor, while another checked her blood pressure again. A third one tied a tourniquet around her arm. “Tiny pinch here,” she said mere seconds before inserting the needle.
The pain in her head must be bad, since she didn’t feel the needle in her vein at all.
“Hi there, my name is Dr. Lyons.” A man old enough to be her father bent over her bedside and flashed a kind smile. “I’m just going to take a listen to your heart and lungs for a moment. Then we’ll review the extent of your injuries.”
The extent of her injuries? “It’s just my head,” she protested. But she needn’t have bothered since no one was paying any attention. The kindly doctor put his stethoscope buds in his ears and listened intently.
Despite being completely surrounded by hospital staff, she’d never felt more alone.
She closed her eyes and tried not to feel sorry for herself. She should be grateful they were all intent on doing their jobs. The sooner she was medically cleared, the sooner she’d be able to go home.
“Shanna?” Quinn’s familiar deep voice made her heart jump. She braved the light, opening her eyes to look for him.
“Sorry, sir, you can’t be in here,” one of the nurses said, putting an arm out to stop him. “No family allowed.”
She had to smile when he scowled and flashed his badge. “Police. Ms. Dawson is a victim of a crime.”
The nurse relaxed and waved him past. “You can’t question her now, so stay out of the way until after we’re finished examining her.”
Quinn came closer, careful not to interfere with the medical team. “How are you holding up?” he asked in a low voice.
“Better now that you’re here.” The honest statement slipped out before she could stop it.
His features softened, and when the doctor stepped back he inched a little closer, managing to stay out of the nurse’s way even as he reached over to take her hand.
Gratefully, she closed her fingers around his.
For a moment their gazes locked. Held. The depth of emotion in his expression startled her. Tears pricked her eyes, but she told herself they were because of her pounding head, and not just because she was so glad to see him.
“You’re going to be fine,” he said. And she wondered which of them he was trying to convince.
Within minutes, though, the staff members who’d hovered around her moved on to other tasks. Obviously, she wasn’t hurt very badly, since only one nurse remained at her bedside.
“We’re going to take you over to radiology in a few minutes, as Dr. Lyons has ordered a CT scan of your head to rule out a subdural hematoma.”
A what? Sounded like something bad, so she didn’t bother to ask. “Okay.”
“I’d like to go with her,” Quinn said. Now that everyone had dispersed, no one seemed to mind that he’d planted himself right next to her.
“Fine with me,” the nurse said with a shrug.
“You don’t have to stay,” Shanna murmured. “It’s my own fault that I’m even here in the first place.”
Quinn’s eyebrows levered up. “I hardly think it’s your fault someone broke into your house and waited there for you to come home.”
She shook her head and then winced as the slightest motion made the hammering in her head nearly unbearable. “No, I mean it’s my fault because I didn’t call you.”
Quinn stared down at their entwined hands for a long second before raising his gaze to hers. “So why didn’t you call me?”
&
nbsp; “I thought your family probably needed you more than I did.” Or at least, more than she should. But she didn’t voice that part. “When you didn’t call me, I figured you were busy with your family and forgot.” Okay, now that just sounded pathetic.
He let out a heavy sigh. “No, Shanna. I wasn’t busy with my family. The funeral arrangements were pretty much finished by the time I arrived.”
Really? Then where had he been for the hours she’d spent looking at photos? Before she could ask, a tech came over and began disconnecting her from the heart monitor.
“I’m going to wheel you over to radiology. It’s right around the corner from the trauma bay. And the scan won’t take long, just ten to fifteen minutes. Are you allergic to anything? Iodine? Shellfish?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Great.” The tech pushed her bed away and, true to his word, Quinn walked right alongside, holding her hand the entire time. Once she was taken into the scanner he had to step back. But as soon as it was complete, he returned and took her hand again.
This time, the radiology tech took her to a private room. “You’ve been cleared from a trauma perspective,” one of the nurses explained. “We’re waiting for the resident to come over to clean and stitch up your scalp laceration.”
Didn’t that sound like fun? Not. Still, she didn’t complain. The resident showed up a moment later. “Good news. Your CT scan is negative, which means you have a minor concussion but no bleeding into your brain. The laceration you have back there is going to need a few stitches, though. Once we’re finished with that, you’ll be able to go home.”
Her stomach lurched at the word home.
Stop it, she chided herself. She was lucky to have escaped with only a minor injury. And at least she had a home to go to. Closing her eyes, she offered up a quick prayer. Thank You for sparing me from greater harm, Lord.
She slowly turned over so the resident could wash and suture her head. She kept as still as possible, while he first shaved the hair away from the wound and then began to clean it. Her head pounded so badly, she couldn’t bring herself to care when she saw long strands of her hair falling to the floor. Apparently, she was going to have a bald spot on the back of her head for a while.
Could have been so much worse.
“More good news, this only needed four stitches,” the resident announced cheerfully. “I’m all finished. Just rest here for a few minutes while we get your discharge paperwork ready.”
After she rolled over on her back, she caught Quinn’s serious gaze. His hand tightened on hers. “You’re not going back home alone, Shanna.”
“You never mentioned how he got inside.”
“Broke in through the basement window and tripped the fuse so the lights wouldn’t work. Unfortunately, we didn’t find what he used to hit you with.”
The force of the blow had felt like a rock, but, honestly, it could have been anything. The thought of staying in her house alone wasn’t the least bit appealing, but it would be inappropriate to have Quinn stay with her. “I was thinking about going to a motel for the night.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but then nodded. “All right, that seems like a reasonable compromise.”
“Why do you think he left me alive?” The question had been nagging at her, even though it was hard to imagine anyone hating her enough to hurt her. But why hadn’t he made sure she was dead before he left?
Quinn blew out a heavy breath. “Best I can figure, the ringing of your cell phone scared him off. I started calling you, over and over again. Maybe he figured I was closer than I was.”
His theory made sense. “Thank you for calling,” she whispered. “You probably saved my life.”
“I should have called you sooner,” he said, his tone full of self-reproach. “So, really, it’s my fault you’re here. I got caught up in the investigation and lost track of time.”
The investigation into Brady’s murder? Her attention was diverted from her incessant headache. “Did you find something? Any evidence?”
“Not evidence, exactly,” Quinn said slowly. “But one of Brady’s roommates told me my brother hung out at the Corner Café Coffee Shop, so I went over there. I flashed his photo and just about everyone remembered Brady being there often.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Several kids told me he was always working on his laptop computer, using the free Wi-Fi services the coffee shop provided. I assumed he was probably doing homework of some sort. Until one person mentioned Brady’s article.”
She frowned. “Article? What sort of article?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I did a little digging and discovered Brady was taking a journalism course. He was also one of the reporters for the college’s online newspaper.”
She didn’t quite understand why this news was so important. “So what does that mean? I’m sure there are a lot of kids who are journalism majors.”
“Yeah, but this one kid I spoke to seemed to think Brady was hot on some story. Some story he was pretty secretive about. I’m just wondering if he stumbled into something he shouldn’t have.”
She stared at Quinn, unable to imagine what sort of information a college student could stumble upon that was bad enough to get him killed.
SIX
Shanna seemed surprised by his revelation, but they were interrupted when the gum-chewing Officer Rawlings entered Shanna’s hospital room. Quinn frowned. “Did you find something significant?”
“No.” Rawlings crossed over to the other side of Shanna’s bed. “Ms. Dawson, we’d like you to go through your home to inventory anything that might be missing.”
“Missing?” Shanna’s alabaster skin paled even more. “Do you think the intruder was trying to rob me?”
Quinn snorted his disbelief, but Rawlings ignored him. “We want to cover all possibilities. It doesn’t look like much has been disturbed, but you’d be the best one to judge for sure. Here’s my card. I’d like you to call me once you’re finished.”
Shanna seemed upset by the news. “All right.”
Quinn took the card from Shanna’s fingers and tucked it into his breast pocket. “I’ll be sure she makes a list if anything’s missing.”
Rawlings shrugged. “Fine.” He turned to Shanna. “I need a statement from you, Ms. Dawson, and I’d rather get the details while they’re fresh in your mind.”
“Okay,” she responded.
“Tell me what happened, starting with where you were before you went home.” Rawlings pulled out a small notebook and a stubby pencil, glancing at her expectantly.
“I spent most of the day at Carlyle University. I called for a cab about ten minutes to eight at night. The cabbie arrived about five minutes later, and I probably got home around eight-fifteen or so.”
Quinn tightened his grip on her hand. Five minutes. He’d missed her at Carlyle University by five minutes!
“Then what happened?” Rawlings asked.
“I came home and went in through the front door. I’m not sure why,” she mused with a frown, “because normally I go inside through the side door.”
“Hmm.” Rawlings jotted something down in his notebook.
“I thought I heard something, but figured it was just the normal creaks and groans of an older house. I flipped on the light switch, but it didn’t work.”
“Then what happened?”
She hesitated, her fingers tightening around his. “I smelled him.” Rawlings’s eyebrows rose upward. “I know that sounds crazy, but he was wearing some sort of stinky aftershave. The moment I realized I wasn’t alone, I tried to run, but he hit me on the back of the head.”
Listening to Shanna reiterate the series of events wasn’t easy. He should have been there with her.
“Anything else? Did you see him at all?”
“No. I only smelled him.”
Rawlings shut his notebook. “Okay, if you think of anything else, give me a call.”
“I will.” Shanna’s smile
was strained.
Quinn waited until after Rawlings left. “If we went to the store to test samples of aftershave, would you be able to pinpoint what he smelled like?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes. I’m sure I’d recognize it.”
Satisfied they might have at least one lead, he nodded. “Okay, plan on going tomorrow, then.”
“I need to look at more photos of college students tomorrow,” she protested. “We’ll check out the aftershave later.”
“There’s no guarantee your sister is enrolled at the university,” he pointed out.
“It’s my best lead,” she repeated stubbornly.
They were interrupted by the resident coming back into Shanna’s room. “Here you go. Here’s a prescription for a narcotic pain reliever, although it might be helpful to start with over-the-counter medication like ibuprofen first.” He went through the list of discharge instructions, stressing the importance of coming back to the hospital if her symptoms got any worse.
“Sign here.” The resident indicated the paperwork.
She signed and then swung her legs over the side of the bed. She swayed a bit, and Quinn reached out a hand to steady her.
“Which motel?” he asked as she slowly made her way outside. He steered her in the direction of his car.
“Quinn, I want to go home first.”
Home? “I thought we’d reached a compromise.”
Her face took on the all-too-familiar stubborn expression. “Home, so I can check for anything missing and pack an overnight case.”
“Home first, then a motel,” he agreed reluctantly.
She slid into the passenger seat and kept her eyes closed during the short ride back to her house. He glanced at her frequently, wondering if he should just ignore her desire to get whatever she needed and take her straight to the motel.
She had to be exhausted. Not that he blamed her. But the moment he pulled into her driveway, her eyes opened. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“As fine as I can be with a monster headache,” she said with a wry smile. She pulled out her keys. “Guess I should get my locks changed.”