Love on the Edge: Nine Shades of Romantic Suspense, page 155
“What you really mean is what if having children lessens your edge. Made you a little less ready to jump into harm’s way? Then I say, good. From what I saw on the news tonight, you take too many chances as it is. Your father says you’re already in trouble for taking off to meet that killer on your own without back-up.”
“I had back-up—Scott.”
“Exactly. Neither of you are in conventional jobs. If Scott loves you, he’ll support your career as your father has mine. If you love him, you’ll find a way to make your lives together work.”
Denial and anger bubbled and warred within Tess. No one understood—not even her mother. Coming here was a waste of time. She should’ve stayed home. “We’re too different.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, you’re not any more different than any other two people who fall in love and have to come to terms with who they are, how they’re alike or different, and how they’ll live their lives.”
Groaning, she shoved her coffee cup away from the edge of the bar and stood. “I need a solution, not platitudes.”
“No, you need to make a decision which only you can make. First of all, you need to decide if you love Scott and if being a captain by forty is more important to your happiness than he is.”
“That simple, is it?” She clenched her jaw as if afraid of losing her teeth. “Easy for you to say. You’ve already done it.”
“Simple, yes. Easy, no.” Her mother reached across the counter and patted Tess’s hand. “Give it some time. He’s not going anywhere, is he?”
“No.”
But she was going crazy. Tess swallowed back the hurt. What happened to the independent woman she’d always thought she was? Here she was floundering around and unable to make up her mind. Could she make a one-eighty, turn her back on her long-held goals and rush into Scott’s arms like some heroine in a romance novel?
Chapter Thirty
Groggy and dizzy, Scott opened his eyes. His head ached like a son-of-a-bitch as he tried to look around. Damn. Oxygen mask over his face. IVs in his arm. Monitors filling the room. Tubes up the who-ha. Hell, he was in some kind of hospital room.
Then the memories returned in a flash. A gas leak. At home. Allison and Justin made it downstairs okay. Tam wasn’t home. He’d dragged an unconscious Carrie off the sofa.
Carrie?
He yanked down the mask. “Hey! Where’s my sister?”
No one answered. Through bleary eyes, he could just make out the figure of a nurse at the desk. “Hey! I’m awake. What about the rest of my family?”
The nurse looked up, scowled and bustled to his bedside. “Put that mask back on. It’s one-hundred percent oxygen, and it needs to go in your lungs, not out here.”
Damn thing fit tight too. He tried to mumble.
The nurse shook her head. “Breathe. Quit trying to talk while I check your CO level.” She frowned at one of the contraptions he was connected to and nodded. “Good. CO level’s coming down. O-two’s coming up. Not where we want it yet, and until it is, that mask stays on your face.”
Tried to mumble again.
“As for your family, they’re okay, better than you—except for one of your sisters. Right now, she’s in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber, but the doctor thinks she’ll be all right.”
He loosened the corner of the mask.
The nurse’s eyes bugged. “Keep that mask on your face before I have it welded in place.”
He scanned her expansive body and determined expression. The woman was clearly big enough—not to mention determined enough—to do the job.
*
Barely holding herself together, Tess waited while Lieutenant Woods read her report of Taylor’s capture. Pretty much single-handed, she’d caught the serial killer. What was the worst she could expect from Woods? A reprimand? A few days’ suspension for not following procedure?
Surely, he wouldn’t ask for her resignation. Hell no. She was the fucking hero of the hour. Even so, she clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. No matter what the lieutenant decided, she’d take her punishment. Taking Taylor down was worth every disgusting moment she’d spent in his creepy-ass company.
Would she do it all over again? Hell, yes.
Woods scowled over his glasses. “I ought to ask for your shield and service weapon.”
She swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Detective, today you showed abysmal judgment. Instead of informing me, as procedure demands, and setting up a police trap, you grandstanded and put yourself and citizens at risk.”
“Yes, sir.” Her heart slammed loud enough the lieutenant could probably hear it.
“I don’t take insubordination lightly.”
Insubordination? He was going to fire her, after all.
He cleared his throat. “Given the circumstances and the publicity surrounding the case, you’ll keep your job, but I’m placing a letter of reprimand in your jacket. See you don’t repeat this offense, O’Malley.”
“Yes, sir.” She held her breath, afraid to believe her ears. Was that it? A lousy letter of reprimand. Not a suspension. Slid by, by the skin of her ass.
“Dismissed.”
Not needing a second invitation to get the hell out, she left and waited until the door shut behind her before heaving a sigh of the pure relief.
She found her partner leaning back in his chair and grinning. “I see you still have a job.”
“Yeah.” She sat, still a little shaken from the ordeal.
“Surely, you knew he wouldn’t fire you.” Kozinsky rubbed the five o’clock shadow already on his chin.
“Did you know?”
He nodded once. “I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all I’d get was a letter in my jacket?”
“Figured it wouldn’t hurt you to sweat it for a while.”
“Gee, thanks a whole hell of a lot…partner.”
Kozinsky’s left eye twitched. She’d never seen him so nervous. Twitch. Twitch.
Her gut clenched. Something was off. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
Twitch. Twitch. He ran a finger around the inside of his collar.
Damn. Her partner’s unease was infectious. Her shoulders tightened. “What?”
He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Tess…you need to know.”
“Know what?”
“Scott Holt and one of his sisters. Some kind of gas leak at their house. Carbon monoxide poisoning.”
She staggered and grabbed the edge of the desk, then collapsed into her chair. Kozinsky called her name, but the sound of his words came from far away. Time slowed. Blood pulsed in her ears, slower and louder than physically possible. With a sickening rush, time fast-forwarded. Her breath rushed back in ragged gasps. Finally, her mouth formed the words, “Is he…”
Her partner shook his head. “No, he’s in the ICU. His sister’s in guarded condition, but they should both recover.”
“I have to get over there. Which hospital?” She forced her rubbery legs into action, sprang from her chair and raced for the door.
“Parklane,” he yelled after her.
*
All the way, she raced while images of the cherry-faced bodies she’d come across in her career loomed in her mind. At least Kozinsky hadn’t said anything about an explosion. Thank God. She shook her head. She hung a right and pulled under the portico of the doctor’s building and parked. She rushed through the granite-floored lobby and into the medical center, heading up to the fifth floor ICU.
She entered the unit, showing her badge to the charge nurse. “I’m here to investigate the circumstances behind the gas leak victims, Scott Holt…I’m not sure which of his sisters was involved.”
The heavy-set nurse raised an eyebrow. “You think it was foul play, Detective?”
“Need to rule it out. May I see Mr. Holt?”
“You can see him all you want…after his doctor says it’s okay.”
She leveled her no-bullshit gaze at the nurse. “Now.”
“He’s asleep,” the nurse said, not backing down.
Tess took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll wait.” She glanced over at Scott who was snoozing away or giving a very good imitation of it. “Mr. Holt and his family, are they going to be okay?”
“Officially, I’ll tell you this much. Two of the family were treated and released. If he continues to improve, Mr. Holt will probably be moved to the floor today and released sometime tomorrow. His sister”—the nurse glanced at a round carousel of charts—“Caroline Lackey, had significant exposure—she was closer to the leak—and is spending some time in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. She’s not talking to anyone. Condition’s guarded, but her prognosis is optimistic.”
Memories of the tall blonde who ran Scott’s office came to the fore with a sickening rush. “Close call, then.”
“Yes, very. She’s lucky her brother launched a midnight raid for a PB and J. He found her already unconscious. Got her and the rest of the family out of the house.”
“What about aftereffects?”
“They vary from one patient to another. Depends on the length of exposure,” the nurse said, slipping into teacher mode. “Just a few are diminished verbal and written communication skills. Short-term memory loss. Long-term memory loss. Nausea, poor appetite, headaches, drowsiness, apathy, ambivalence, bladder control problems. Diminished balance control. Impulsive need to count things. Honey, the list is long. There’s just no telling how she’ll be affected.”
“Omigod.”
The nurse nodded emphatically, then glanced over her shoulder. “I hear their doctor now. He’ll give you a better report than I can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, but in her book, the nurse had done a damn good job and doubted the doctor would take the time to be so concise.
He strode into Scott’s glass-walled cubicle. He was a six-footer with the build of an ex-football player gone to seed around his middle. His dark hair was streaked with swipes of white along each temple. His eyes were gray and thoughtful behind stylish glasses. Jared Silverhill, M.D., Pulmonology Associates was embroidered in cursive across the left pocket of a white lab coat so crisply starched she could almost hear it crackle.
He awakened Scott and looked askance at her. She flashed her badge, introducing herself. He nodded, then shined a light in Scott’s eyes, listened to his heart and lungs, and checked his reflexes. When through with the examination, he made notes in the chart incredibly slowly, so damn slowly he could’ve written half a novel.
“I don’t see any signs of aftereffects. You can be moved down to a medical floor as soon as there’s a bed available, and I’ll re-evaluate you in the morning,” Silverhill told Scott.
“Need to get outta here now.” He struggled to sit. Failed. Gave up. “Well, maybe one more day.”
Tess smiled to herself. That was Scott and he was definitely all right.
“I don’t think you’ll have any permanent effects from this,” Silverhill said, “but I’d like to see you in a week or so just as a precaution.”
“Do I have to stay in here? Man, these beeping monitors are driving me crazy.”
Silverhill grinned. “As I said, you’ll move to the floor today and we’ll get you off the monitors so you can get up and move around a bit. Home tomorrow.”
Scott nodded and his gaze traveled in her direction. She shot him a quick grin.
“I believe the detective has some questions for you.” The doctor shut the chart, nodded, and left to see another patient.
“I thought you were going to sleep all day,” she said, trying to keep the concern from her tone. What if he hadn’t needed that midnight snack? God, what if he’d died? How could she live through that? So much time wasted over her vain desire to reach captain before she was forty. Her mother was right. It was about winning Daddy’s approval and showing everyone she was as good, or better, than her older brothers.
“Lucky I didn’t go to sleep early last night.”
“Yeah,” she managed, then swallowed the lump in her throat. “I need to do some follow-up on that gas leak. Have you had any recent work done or had it checked?”
“I don’t think so, but Carrie would know for sure. She schedules all the household maintenance stuff. Besides, it’s summer. We don’t use the gas, except in the winter—no, there’s a gas water heater.”
“She’s a little indisposed, right now.” She chewed the inside of her lip, then said, “Tell you what…I’m going to send the gas company to check it and see what gives.”
“Sure. Say, have you interviewed Dakota yet? Is he awake?”
She shook her head. “He’s my next stop.”
“So I was just the first bullet point on your agenda today?”
She flashed a smile. “No, the lieutenant had that singular honor.”
His gaze was warm and full of mischief. “You get in big trouble for yesterday?”
Mindful to keep matters between them casual, she shrugged. “Letter of reprimand.”
“What did you expect? You’re the hero of the hour.” His eyes flickered with amusement, followed by the shy grin guaran-damn-teed to soften her oh-so-determined heart. “Y’think that letter will keep you from making captain by forty?”
“Maybe. Who knows?” He wasn’t going to forget that, was he? “Maybe it doesn’t matter as much…as other things.”
The nurse trudged into Scott’s cubicle, a no-nonsense expression on her round face. She stopped, set her hands on Texas-wide hips and cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, Detective, but we’re moving this hunk to the floor. Gotta get him ready.”
“Fine. I’ll be back…later.” Tess nodded at Scott and made her escape. His soft words and glances sent waves of need curling through her body. Why did she have to react to him every single time she saw him?
Why?
Because she was in love with him.
In the hallway outside ICU, she leaned against the wall and waited until her heart stopped racing, then punched in the number for Nashville Gas and arranged for a repairmen to be sent to the Holt-Lackeys’ house. One task accomplished. Next, she called Vanderbilt’s Neuro ICU and spoke with the charge nurse. Taylor’s brain CT was better than expected. His Glasgow Coma Scale improving. Not capable of answering questions, but he could awaken anytime.
Dammit.
Someone else was still out there.
Chapter Thirty-one
Tess headed up Twenty-first toward Vandy. The university medical center was massive and spread over several city blocks, but her target was in the main hospital building. After parking, she strode into the brick building and headed straight for the Neuro ICU. It wasn’t her first trip to interview a patient, or a suspect, for that matter.
No matter how she tried to focus on her upcoming interview with Taylor, Scott and his close brush with death kept popping up in her thoughts. He could’ve died and what would she do, if he had? Want to die along with him.
It only went to prove no one was safe anywhere. Not on the job or in a secure family home. Was her mother right, after all? Was making captain by forty supposed to be the be all and end all of her life? Her father loved and respected her, and that wouldn’t change if she tweaked her plans a bit.
No, she couldn’t give up her dream of making captain for making babies. Maybe she just needed a more inclusive, bigger dream. Could she have it all? Scott, children, and a successful career?
Modern women made the same type of decisions every day. Why was she any different? Of course, her change in plans presupposed Scott would accept her as is.
No returns. No refund. No kidding.
Tess stopped outside the double doors and turned off her phone before entering the ICU. Mentally, she crossed her fingers and hoped like hell that scum-ball Taylor was awake enough for questioning.
She walked to the nurses’ desk and showed her ID to the unit assistant. “How’s Taylor doing? I need to question him if he’s awake.”
“Bed four,” the assistant said. “His nurse is Beth Barker. She’s with him now.”
Wondering where the uniformed officer who was supposed to be guarding Taylor was, Tess frowned and entered the cubicle. Taylor’s eyes were open. He had two IVs, a heart monitor, and oxygen running, but that was about it for fancy equipment. Per regulations, he was handcuffed to the side rails.
Barker was young. Tall, thin and blond, she looked more like a supermodel than a nurse.
“I’m Detective O’Malley.” Tess flashed her badge. “Where’s the uniformed officer?”
“He went to the waiting room for coffee.” The nurse nodded at Taylor. “He’s all right for now.”
“Can he answer a few questions?”
The nurse screwed her mouth to one side. “Well…he’s doing amazingly well. His GCS is up to 14, but his speech is still confused. You can try, but I doubt you’ll get much sense out of him.” The nurse finished her chart notations and set it aside.
“I’d like to try.” She gave the caregiver a reassuring smile as if throttling the bastard was the last thing on her mind. “Definitely.”
“If you need me, I’ll be with the next patient.” The nurse straightened her shoulders and left Tess alone with her suspect.
Taylor’s face was bruised and swollen on the right. Too bad, so sad. Killing was too good for him. “Taylor. It’s Detective O’Malley.”
His eyes opened and his gazed fixed on her. “Bitch,” he hissed.
“You don’t sound so confused to me. Been playing possum for your pretty nurse?”
He cut his gaze around the room. “You again. Crazy-assed bitch, you nearly killed me.”
“Wish I had, but no matter. Your last victim survived, big boy. He identified you which means you’re going away for a very long time—that is, if you live long enough to get to prison.”
“If I were you I’d be more concerned about your boyfriend. He might already be dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but you blew that one, too. Who did your dirty work? Someone local or have you always needed help with your nastiness?”
“Who says he’s through? Maybe I gave him more than one assignment.” He gave her a crafty grin, then shut his eyes.
