by Andrews, Amy
Prognosis Temporary
Amy Andrews
Published by Amy Andrews, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
PROGNOSIS TEMPORARY
First edition. May 22, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Amy Andrews.
Written by Amy Andrews.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
PROGNOSIS SO DONE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
About the Author
This book was first published under the title Rescued By The Dreamy Doc in 2011.
CHAPTER ONE
There were some days a person just shouldn’t get out of bed. For Sebastian Walker today was one of those days. His first one on call as a police negotiator in a new city, a new state, and he’d hit the ground running. He was supposed to be spending the day putting his riverside apartment to rights. After a year in far-flung foreign hotspots he craved the familiarity of his things but his pager hadn’t got the memo.
Thank God it wasn’t a full-time gig.
Swallowing the last bite of the apple he’d grabbed as he’d walked out of his box-strewn apartment, he pulled up at the scene ten minutes after his pager had first bleeped. Not bad considering the streets of Brisbane were unfamiliar territory. Quickly checking the knot of his gun-metal grey tie in the rear view mirror, he exited his vehicle and made his way to the area cordoned off with yellow police tape, flashing his credentials to the officer in charge of the scene.
‘What have we got?’
‘Jumper. With a gun. Her name’s Noelene. She won’t say anything else. Refuses to talk to us. Says she’ll only talk to Callie Duncan.’
Sebastian heard the cluster of groans around him as he strapped on the bulletproof vest he was handed. ‘Who’s Callie Duncan?’
‘A pain-in-the-butt community mental health worker.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded. “Get her in.”
It didn’t matter how the cops around him felt about this Callie what’s-her-name. She obviously knew the woman on the bridge and if she worked in mental health then she was probably better equipped than most to deal with this situation. ‘I’m just going to have a little chat with Noelene.’
‘Callie, call for you.’
Geraldine Russell, head social worker and director of the Jambalyn Community Centre held out the receiver. The office was over worked and understaffed and if a phone was ringing the closest person picked it up regardless of their job title. Seeing Callie was juggling two stacks of charts and her pager, Geri fitted the phone into the crook of Callie’s neck.
Shrugging her shoulder higher to fit the phone in snugly against her ear, Callie said, ‘Yo. What’s up?’ She listened to the voice on the other end nodding a couple of times. ‘Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen.’
Callie dropped her shoulder and Geri hung up the phone, raising an elegantly groomed eyebrow. ‘Be where in fifteen?’
‘Grey St Bridge. They think Noelene Sykes is going to jump. She’s asking for me.’ Callie imparted the information casually as she dumped the charts on her overflowing desk, knowing Geri was going to go ballistic.
‘Oh, no.’ Geri shook her head. ‘No way.’
Callie grinned. Geri was a petite indigenous woman – barely scraping five foot – her long graying dreadlocks the only hint she was in the mid years of her fifth decade. Her lack of height and youthful appearance had often lead to misunderstandings about her authority but never for long.
‘It’s Noelene, Geri. Noelene. As if Noelene’s going to jump off a bridge. There’s obviously been some miscommunication. She’s asking for me.’
‘No.’ Geri folded her arms. ‘Not that bridge. Not today.’
Callie smiled at her friend and colleague of ten years, both understanding and appreciating Geri’s desire to protect her. Geri hadn’t even wanted her at work today. She’d tried every trick in the book to get Callie to take today off. But Callie hadn’t wanted to be home alone with the memories – at least work was a distraction.
‘Yes,’ she said, gently but firmly.
‘I’ll go. I’ll do it.’
‘It’s fine.’ Callie shook her head. ‘She wants me.’
‘No’.
Picking up her keys, Callie ignored her boss. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘You walk out of those doors and I’m firing you.’
Callie grinned over her shoulder. ‘Ha! Promises, promises.’ They both knew a chronically understaffed office needed all the good people they could get.
And Callie Duncan was very, very good at her job.
As promised, fifteen minutes later, Callie was on scene. Now if she could just get past this the insistent male whose name she’d barely heard and already forgotten in her haste to get to Noelene. She didn’t care if he was a cop or, for that matter, so damn sexy he could have been in the movies. He was in her way — that was all that mattered.
She placed her hands on her hips and stared him down, her amber eyes blazing. ‘Noelene is not going to shoot me.’
The man was unmoved, his light green stare calm and tranquil as he dropped his head to the side a little, stretching his neck. He repeated the process on the other side before straightening. ‘You’re not going out there until you put it on.’
Callie glared up at him, all brooding, broad immovable male. Way up. At six feet in her comfortable flats, craning her neck wasn’t something she did very often but with this man it was a necessity. The morning sun shone on his red hair, gilding the golden highlights. He wore it closely cropped at the back and sides but longer on top where it flopped across his forehead. Two ginger brows rose above his pale, peridot eyes.
A fashionable three-day growth of stubble stretched along his strong jaw and long-faded freckles gave his complexion a lived-in look, hinting at summer days on the beach and a penchant for surfing. Spare cheekbones sloped to interesting hollows near his mouth.
And his lips? Man...don’t even get her started on those suckers.
Frankly, the man was sexy as all giddy up and that was especially irritating right at this moment. She was working, for fucks sake!
‘It’s not necessary,’ she insisted, desperate to claw back some control of her normally sane thought processes. ‘I’ve known her for ten years. She’s not dangerous.’
He pushed the offending item towards her. ‘Maybe. But it’s the only way you’re going out on that bridge.’ His voice was deep and even with a slight gravelly quality. Very measured. Very calm. But there was an edge to it that brooked no argument.
Damn cops!
Behind what’s-his-name she could see that their little stand-off was drawing quite a crowd. Most of the cops she recognised. A person didn’t work for a decade in this business without having a close working relationship — sometimes love, sometimes hate — with the police. And she’d worked long and hard to gain their respect.
Sure, she knew they regarded her as a right royal pain in their asses. But she also knew there was grudging respect — she was the first one they rang when they had a situation or needed advice — and she was damned if she was going to cede it to this man. Not without throwing down a gauntlet or two.
It was imperative that he, and the three very interested, very rookie-looking officers standing behind, knew that she didn’t wilt at the first sign of authority. She needed them to know she wasn’t
afraid of them and that her client’s needs would always come first.
‘Fine,’ she said through gritted teeth.
Grasping her loose black T-shirt by the hem, she hauled it off over her head. Ignoring the guffaws and wolf whistles, she glared right into those weird green eyes and held out her hand. ‘Give me the damn vest.’
Callie gave him his due. While the jaws of the three fresh-faced newbies dropped to the ground, he didn’t bat an eyelid. He didn’t even lower his gaze, like every other male in the vicinity, for a quick once-over of her assets clad in black lace and navy blue satin. He just passed her the offending item and waited for her to put it on, his arms crossed over a chest broadened further by its own Kevlar padding.
He cocked an eyebrow as she secured the last strap and rectified her clothing. ‘You know you could have just put it on over the top, right?’
Callie snorted. ‘Do you think a bulletproof vest engenders trust?’ Did the man get his negotiator skills in a cereal packet? ‘Can I go now?’
He swept his hand in a flourish before her, indicating she should precede him. The action pulled his half rolled-up sleeve a little higher and she noticed thick reddish-blond hairs gracing a strong, freckle-faded forearm.
‘I’m right behind you.’
‘Imagine my surprise,’ she threw over her shoulder as she strode away.
Sebastian watched her stalk off and smiled for the first time today, following at a more sedate pace. Callie Duncan was one angry female! It wasn’t often in this field that he met someone who didn’t seem to know or even care who he was, and he liked it. It was refreshing.
She was refreshing.
He kept his eyes firmly glued to her back, distracted by the vigorous swish of her shoulder-length auburn hair as she strode towards her goal. The sun picked up the honey streaks and for a moment he felt like he was on the set of a shampoo commercial. Her back was ramrod straight — Kevlar would do that to a person - and her long-legged stride pulled the denim of her jeans across a backside that was...interesting.
In fact, Callie Duncan was just plain interesting all over. And he liked that too.
He put her age in the late thirties – so, only a couple of years younger than him - and was relieved that she wasn’t some twenty year old new grad all peppy and cute with stars in her eyes out to change the world. In fact, nothing about Callie Duncan said peppy and cute. But, then, neither did she seem jaded, like so many people of her age working in a field where triumphs were small and thanks almost non-existent.
Instead, striding towards her goal, she looked strong and fearless – committed and confident - her Amazonian frame moving with single-minded purpose. As for what she had inside that lacy bra...yeah, that was hardly appropriate right now.
‘What the hell’s going on, Noelene?’ Callie’s irritation grew as she half tripped on a cord snaking across the ground near the barricades the police had erected to cordon off the area. No doubt what’s-his-name wouldn’t approve of it as an opening statement but she knew Noelene well enough to know what the woman could or couldn’t take.
She just wished she wasn’t hyper-aware of a certain sexy, red-haired, negotiator and the rest of what appeared to be the city’s police force watching her intently.
‘Oh, thank God, Callie, it’s you.’ The breeze whipped brittle gray-blonde strands of hair across the gaunt, prematurely aging face of the mother of four. ‘I was just out for a walk...thinking.’
Noelene moved closer to the railing and Callie’s gaze followed the movement, excruciatingly aware of the drop behind. She kept her gaze trained firmly on Noelene’s anxious eyes as her heart thudded like thunder in her chest.
She hated this damn bridge.
Actually, she hated heights generally, so she wasn’t great on any bridge but this one in particular really messed with her head. Not that she was going to let any of the city’s finest catch a glimpse of the screaming girly inside.
‘With a gun?’
Noelene looked down at the object as if seeing it for the first time. ‘What? This?’ She waved it in the air.
Callie heard the unlocking of safeties and sensed the closing in of every policeman on the bridge as the tension in the scene ratcheted up several notches.
‘Noelene.’ Callie raised her hands in a stopping motion. ‘You’re making the cops really nervous. Is it even loaded?’
Noelene frowned. ‘Of course not. I have four kids.’
Right. Just as Callie had suspected. She held her hand out for it. ‘Can I have the gun?’
Noelene glanced at the weapon. ‘It was Dad’s.’
After a quick review of her client’s chart, Callie knew it was a year to the day that Noelene’s father had passed away. She nodded. ‘I know.’
Noelene handed it to her meekly and Callie heard the loud snicker as who knew how many safeties were restored to their off positions and guns were holstered. She turned back to what’s-his-name, passing it over with a quirk of her eyebrow.
‘Unloaded. Fancy that.’ Tipping her chin at the police presence behind them she muttered, ‘Think you can call your boys off now?’
He smiled at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth for the briefest of seconds, before returning to her face. ‘Oh, I know you know that’s not how this works.’
That brief downward flick and the gravel in his voice slid into all those places she kept hidden but still ached like an old wound on a cold day - especially on this day. Her bottom lip actually started tingling as if he’d licked her mouth with his tongue instead of just blasting it with a second or two of heat.
How was it possible to be exceedingly irritated and exceedingly turned on at the same time? By some guy she’d met less than half an hour ago?
Sucking in a steadying breath, she gave him a cool nod. ‘Yeah. I know.’
‘Good.’ He lowered his voice another octave. ‘Bring her in.’
Callie turned, walking the few paces back to Noelene, who was now leaning on the rail, looking down at the river sparkling in the morning sunshine.
‘Dad loved this bridge,’ she said absently. ‘He helped build it, you know? He used to always bring us kids here.’
Callie nodded. ‘Do you think we can talk away from here, Noelene? I really don’t like heights.’
‘Oh...yeah...okay.’ She moved slowly towards Callie. ‘I just thought it would be fitting, you know, to mark his anniversary. His service weapon was his most treasured possession. I thought it’d be...right to throw it off the bridge. He was in Vietnam, you know?’
Callie held out her arm and slid it around Noelene’s shoulders as she moved away from the railing. ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘You can tell me about it on the way to the police station.’
Noelene looked at her. ‘I was just looking down at the water, minding my own business.’ She frowned. ‘And this cop car pulled up, telling me not to jump...I had no intention of jumping. But they were yelling and coming towards me and I got scared.’
‘I know. Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted. I’ll be with you.’
‘I need to be there to pick the kids up from school.’
‘Yep. Don’t worry, I’ll be with you, expediting the process.’
They stepped off the bridge’s pedestrian walkway and what’s-his-name held out his hand for Noelene to help her around the maze of barricades that had been set up. Callie was grudgingly impressed by his gentle smile and his unhurried demeanour as he made sure Noelene didn’t trip.
Then he turned back for her. ‘Thank you,’ he murmured, holding out his hand.
Callie’s gaze locked with his and the world gave a giddy kind of shift — not something she welcomed, standing on a bridge. But, damn, the man was sexy. That frank gaze, those lips curled into a slight smile, his height and breadth solid and reassuring, that low murmur oozing over her like warm honey.
The background noises faded, their surroundings dimmed, time and motion coalesced in one electric moment. And if they’d been in a bar she would have taken his h
and and led him to the nearest dark corner.
But they weren’t.
Jesus. They were on a bridge — that damned bridge, for crying out loud — surrounded by what seemed like a hundred policemen. She ignored the hand.
‘All in a day’s work.’
‘Hey, Zack, how’s it going?’ Callie pressed her phone to one ear as she blindly hooked a hoop earring into her other.
‘Good thanks, Aunty Cal.’
Callie smiled at her ten-year-old nephew’s chirpy greeting. It was great to hear her little man’s voice. Since he’d gone back to live with his mother a couple of months ago she hadn’t known what to do with herself. Some of the anxiety that had knotted her stomach over the heart-wrenching decision had dissipated, but after eight years in her care, it was hard to let go entirely.
‘How’d you do in the cross-country today?’
‘I came second! You should have seen me, Aunty Cal.’
Her heart strings twanged painfully. She hadn’t missed a school event since he’d started pre-school six years ago. But she was trying to step back, give Aleisha a chance to bond with her son.
‘Mummy said I ran like the wind.’
Callie gripped the receiver hard. Her brother, Zack’s father, had been an athletics champion at school. He’d had such promise. Until everything had gone wrong.
‘I bet you did, Za Za,’ she said with a smile.
The nickname fell easily from her lips but sat uneasily in her churning gut. She wanted him here with her again with a startling ferocity. She wanted to put her arms around his skinny shoulders and hug him tight.
Like the polite little boy she raised him to be, he asked, ‘How was your day, Aunty Cal? How many people did you help?’
She smiled again marveling at how grown-up he sounded. Callie knew that Zack was very proud of the way his aunt helped people like his father — even if he didn’t really have an understanding of what that meant.
‘Zillions,’ she joked, and laughed as Zack’s boyish giggle warmed her down the phone line.