Christmas Vendetta

by Valerie Hansen

  Taking a deep breath, he reached for her hand, touching it briefly before pulling away. “We need to talk.”

  “Okay. Talk.”

  “No. Not here.” Clay eyed the officers lingering in the waiting room. “Privately.”

  “Maybe later. Until I know Enid is going to be okay I can’t think about anything else.”

  Nodding, Clay blinked for a long second and turned away. The silent prayers he’d been saying since this woman had come back into his life intensified. Guilt for being secretly glad the assailant had attacked the wrong woman brought gut-wrenching angst. Her narrow focus was something he could grasp, because if Sandy Lynn was the one undergoing lifesaving surgery at that moment he knew he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else, either.

  * * *

  Night dragged by, finally bringing the dawn, when Phoebe came to find them with the news that Enid was in recovery and expected to live. Sandy Lynn jumped to her feet and covered her face with both hands while the nurse delivered more details.

  “It was touch-and-go for a while because the knife nicked her liver,” Phoebe said. “But she’s going to pull through.”

  Sandy Lynn wanted to hug her. “Thank you so much.”

  Phoebe chuckled as she sidled closer to Clay. “Hey, don’t thank me. Thank our chief surgeon. Dr. Lindford is the best.” She leaned in and looked up at Clay as she slipped her hand around his arm. “I’m going off duty. How about breakfast?”

  Relief about Enid was paramount, but a twinge of jealousy peeked in around the edges of Sandy Lynn’s consciousness. The intimate way the pretty nurse had mentioned breakfast galled in spite of every effort to ignore it. She could see that Clay was uncomfortable with Phoebe’s suggestion because he was blushing beneath the shadow of emerging whiskers. Having rough cheeks and a chin like that should have made him seem unkempt but gave him a rugged image, instead.

  Sandy Lynn sighed quietly and turned away. Truth to tell, he looked good to her no matter how he was dressed or how recently he may have shaved. The mature Clay Danforth was ten times as attractive as his youthful self had been.

  Not that I noticed, she reminded herself with a self-deprecating smirk.

  As Clay said, “Sounds like a great idea,” Sandy Lynn felt his hand cupping her elbow. “Let’s go.”

  Surprised, she looked up and saw him grinning. She peeked over at Phoebe and noticed a definite attitude adjustment. It didn’t take a genius to see exactly what Clay was doing. Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she fell into step with him. The nurse was still grasping his opposite arm, but he was the one who had chosen to include Sandy Lynn. That was a special blessing. One she appreciated beyond words despite her earlier vow to keep him at arm’s length.

  I still will. Later, she told herself. After all, this was only breakfast. And they had a chaperone, whether it pleased Phoebe or not, so what could go wrong?

  Clay stopped in front of a bank of elevators and pushed the down button. Before Sandy Lynn could ask where they were going to eat and plead for a speedy return to the surgery floor to wait for a chance to see Enid, he took care of everything. “We want to stay close and the hospital cafeteria makes decent food, right, Phoebe?”

  “If you say so.”

  This time, Sandy Lynn did start to chuckle, then stifled the sound, which resulted in a noise that sounded like a strangling mouse.

  Clay wasn’t as polite. He laughed aloud and patted her on the back between the shoulder blades. “You okay?”

  “Fine, fine. I’m just so happy that Enid’s going to recover that I’m giddy.”

  Phoebe leaned forward to peer at her. “Is that what’s wrong with you?”

  “Among other things,” Sandy Lynn agreed. “If you want the whole list, it’s going to take longer than one meal to fill you in.”

  A bell dinged. The elevator doors whooshed open. Phoebe entered first, then whirled around, arms crossed, her back against the rear wall.

  Clay waited for Sandy Lynn to follow, and he joined her, this time choosing to stand off to one side rather than between the women. If they had not been the only three people on the elevator, Sandy Lynn might have worried because she was definitely feeling malice in the air. Poor Phoebe was as mad as one of her third graders who’d had his lunch money stolen by the class bully.

  Don’t laugh, Sandy Lynn told herself. Whatever you do, don’t laugh. Keeping a straight face would have been much harder to do if she hadn’t recalled how disconsolate she’d been the night Clay had abandoned her.

  That vivid memory was just what she needed to think clearly again. To temper her joy about the way this trying night was ending, to get control of her erratic emotions and make a friendly overture.

  She smiled at the nurse. “Clay and I are just old friends. That’s all. Honest. I’m sorry to intrude on your meal.”

  The hopeful look on Phoebe’s face disappeared when Clay commented, “Nonsense. You’re not intruding on a thing. It’s just breakfast and we’re all starving, right?”

  Sandy Lynn said, “Right.” Phoebe merely glared.

  * * *

  As far as Clay was concerned, staying alert to danger was his number-one priority. Secondarily, he needed to make peace with the veteran nurse. Though he hadn’t even thought of Phoebe since he’d been back in Springfield, he figured it was not a good idea to say so. He wasn’t going to lie about it, but there was no need to be cruel.

  The cafeteria was getting busier as morning came, giving Clay the jitters. “Would you like more coffee?” he asked, hoping to keep Sandy Lynn from leaving to refill her empty mug.

  She pushed away from the table. “No, thanks. I’ll just use the ladies’ room, and then I’ll be ready to go back upstairs.” She looked to Phoebe. “Where’s the closest one?”

  The dark-haired nurse tilted her head toward the far side of the room. “Over there.”

  “Thanks.”

  Clay had stood when Sandy Lynn did. “You can go with her, Phoebe,” he said.

  Instead of taking his hint, she lifted her empty mug. “I’d like more coffee.”

  He could hardly tear his gaze away from Sandy Lynn as she crossed the room, weaving between tables that were rapidly filling with other diners. If he left their table to get coffee for Phoebe he’d lose sight of her, so he waited until Sandy had entered the restroom before fetching Phoebe’s refill.

  Hurrying back to the table, he sloshed a few drops.

  The nurse acted miffed. “Hey, watch it.”

  “Sorry.” Remaining on his feet, Clay continued to watch for Sandy Lynn’s return. He checked his watch, then compared it to the time on his cell phone. Very few minutes had passed, yet it seemed like eons to his uneasy spirit.

  The touch of a hand on his made him jump.

  “Why don’t you sit down with me while I finish my breakfast? She’ll be back,” Phoebe said. “Probably sooner than later.”

  “No. I’m going over there to wait for her,” he replied. “Nice seeing you again, Pheebs.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Clay ignored her obvious sarcasm and started away. He’d occasionally wondered how some women could get along as friends when they saw other women as rivals.

  That observation caused him to think more deeply. Was his nurse friend picking up vibes that he wasn’t aware of? Could she be sensing that Sandy Lynn was secretly interested in renewing their relationship? She sure didn’t act that way. Still, a woman’s intuition might be more sensitive than his was.

  Another conundrum? Yes. The differences between the way a woman thought and the way his mind worked were evident. Whole libraries worth of books had been written about the subject and still there was no consensus.

  He didn’t look back until he’d reached the wall next to the door to the ladies’ room. When he did, he saw a tall man in a black hoodie standing near Phoebe’s table. Surely tha
t wasn’t the thug who’d tried to harm Sandy Lynn. Or was it?

  The man’s broad back was to Clay, blocking a clear view of the nurse. Would Charles Hood—or anyone else—try to inflict harm in a room full of people?

  Clay’s fists clenched. Why not? The real question wasn’t whether or not it was Hood. The problem was making a decision to stay where he was to guard Sandy Lynn or go back to Phoebe. He’d decided to stand his ground until the hooded figure grabbed Phoebe’s arm and yanked her to her feet.

  She shouted. Resisted. Then she reached behind her for the full mug and flung hot coffee into his face.

  He yowled, let go and ran.

  Clay was halfway across the room, chasing the thug, when he heard a scuffle behind him.

  A quick glance back showed someone else, dressed in the same kind of dark clothing, dragging Sandy Lynn away in the opposite direction!

  As he tried to pivot, Clay crashed into a small dining table, tripped over an empty chair beside it and landed in a mess of spilled food and drinks.

  “Sorry.” He struggled to his feet. Sandy Lynn was disappearing out a side door, and she didn’t seem to be fighting to escape. What had they done to her? How could he have been so lax?

  Fighting emotional battles already, Clay ran, dodging tables and slipping on the slick floor because his soles were coated with bits of someone else’s meal.

  He reached the door and burst through.

  There was no sign of her!

  SIX

  Groggy though still on her feet, Sandy Lynn tried to resist being hustled along. She knew her brain wasn’t functioning properly, and she kept searching her dulled memories to figure out why.

  She’d been facing the restroom sink, washing her hands, when she’d felt a bee sting on her neck. The person she’d noticed standing nearby when she looked up wasn’t familiar. Or was she?

  Images drifted in and out of her mind. Pictures of the past, as well as the present, melded into a collage of faces and experiences. The faces in the mirror kept bothering her until she pushed them aside. One thing was clear. She wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere. Clay was waiting for her at the table. Enid would soon be brought out of recovery. Therefore, whoever was pushing and pulling her away from them had to be in the wrong.

  Wrong. That was it. Something was very wrong. It must stop. She must stop. Her spinning head and rubbery legs helped her decide what to do. She let her body go limp and slumped to the floor.

  Whoever had been guiding her along released his grip. There was shouting noise in the background. A female was screeching. Was that her? Possibly. Probably. But she was so weary. So weak. If she could just sleep for a little while she knew she’d be okay.

  The screaming tapered off. Sandy Lynn laid her head on her folded arms, curled into a ball on the floor and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was lying prone in a hospital bed and Clay was leaning over her.

  She blinked, incredulous at the tender look in his eyes. “What...?”

  “You were apparently given a sedative,” he said as he took her hand and held it. “We weren’t sure how long you’d be out, and without knowing exactly what you’d been shot with, it was risky to try to counteract it.”

  “O-okay.” She saw someone over his shoulder and blinked rapidly to help bring the face into focus. It was the nurse who had not liked her. Now, however, Phoebe—that was her name—seemed to commiserate.

  She was studying a beeping monitor next to the bed. “It’s looking better, Ms. Forrester. We haven’t gotten the results of your blood test, but since you’re coming out of it, I wouldn’t worry. Looks like you’ll be fine in a little while.”

  Sandy Lynn was recovering not only her consciousness but also her wit. “I doubt that,” she said, only slightly slurring. “I seem to be trapped in a nightmare of my own making. I’m afraid being fine isn’t in the script.”

  She watched the nurse lay a hand on Clay’s shoulder and heard her ask, “You’re staying with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then I’ll be going. Don’t worry. She’s in good hands.”

  Clay nodded. “As good as I can make them.”

  Sandy Lynn didn’t try to speak past the lump in her throat as she and Clay were left alone. Relief and gratitude filled her. What she could see of his face through the veil of her own tears told her the sentiments were shared.

  Finally she managed, “Thank you. Again.”

  A smile barely lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’d say it was my pleasure, but that’s not quite true. I’d much rather not have to rescue you.”

  “Yeah, well.” Pausing to swallow, she went on. “What am I going to do next?”

  “Beats me. We’ll think of something.”

  “We? This really isn’t your problem, you know,” Sandy Lynn said sadly. “It’s all mine. I should work out a solution.”

  “Okay. What’s the plan.”

  “I thought I’d start with staying alive.”

  “Good idea,” Clay quipped back. “After that?”

  She sobered as the weight of the future came to rest on her weary body and brain. “How long was I out? Have you heard anything about Enid?”

  “She’s resting. You may as well kick back until she’s allowed visitors.”

  Sandy Lynn yawned. “What about you?”

  “I’ll beat back the cops who want to interview you, so you can relax until you feel better. I take it you don’t remember much. You were out like a light at the end.”

  “Not really. I did see the reflection of another woman in the mirror just before I felt a sting—I thought it was a bee. I take it she gave me a shot.”

  “That’s the doctor’s conclusion. All your vital signs were okay, but you were unconscious.”

  “Lovely.” She wondered how to ask him to stay nearby without sounding needy. “If I do nap, will you arrange for a guard?”

  Clay’s expression hardened, and he got to his feet to stand next to her hospital bed. “Besides me, you mean.”

  “I didn’t say that. I just...”

  “You don’t have to explain. I get it.” He was backing away. “Sure. Leave it to me. I’ll talk to the officers waiting in the hallway, and if they don’t agree to post somebody at your door I’ll give Abe a call.”

  Sandy Lynn’s jaw dropped. She had expected Clay to confirm himself as her protector, not arrange for someone else. Clearly, his feelings were hurt and that pained her, but why was he acting so upset?

  Growing sleepy again, she let her lids droop and sighed deeply. All this was so confusing. So impossible to predict.

  Her mind drifted. Given so little information on who was after her, she tried to blame Charles again and failed. After that first time in her apartment, she hadn’t sensed his malevolent presence or heard the voice that instantly gave her shivers. Had she been wrong to begin with?

  She yawned again, covering her mouth even though there was nobody with her to notice. Sleep. I need sleep. Maybe just a tiny nap, and then I’ll get up and check on Enid.

  Eyes closed, she managed to think, Thank you, Father, for sending Clay, before she faded all the way past awareness.

  * * *

  “Look,” Clay told Harper and Allgood, the uniformed officers in the hallway, “if you want to interview Ms. Forrester, you’ll need to speak to her doctor first. Otherwise, you’re not going in.” Disliking the hard looks he was receiving, he added, “She’s not awake, anyway.”

  “When will she be?”

  Shrugging, Clay forced a smile. “How do I know? I’m not the one who knocked her out in the first place.”

  “So you say.”

  Refusing to back down, Clay said, “Me, and a cafeteria full of witnesses.”

  A taller, blond-gray, middle-aged man Clay hadn’t met before was standing behind the others, holding a small tablet
and tapping on the screen.

  Before Clay had a chance to ask who he was, he came forward with his right hand extended and introduced himself. “Detective Johansen. I take it you’re Clay Danforth.”

  Clay shook the man’s hand, finding the grip firm though not punishingly so. “Yes. I am.” He inclined his head toward the hospital room. “That’s Sandy Lynn Forrester in there. She’s been attacked more than once in the past twenty-four hours, and her roommate was seriously injured.”

  “So I’ve heard. What else can you tell me?”

  “Not much. It all started when I heard a ruckus on the floor above my apartment and called 911. I went to investigate. A masked figure ran past me and escaped. I found Enid Bloom, the roommate, on the floor and called for an ambulance, too.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Pretty much.” Clay knew he was scowling at the man and worked to hold back his temper. Johansen was different from the uniformed officers. Not only did he have more clout, he seemed willing to listen.

  Again, the detective consulted his iPad. Clay wondered if he was actually reading anything on it or simply using a stalling tactic to make the suspect, namely him, sweat. Well, he knew their tricks. They wouldn’t work on him.

  “You say you live in the same apartment building as both victims?”

  “Yes.” Clay thought he should explain. “I didn’t know Ms. Forrester lived there when I signed the lease, or I’d have found someplace else to rent.”

  “Why is that?”

  Sighing, Clay briefly laid out their past acquaintance. “That’s all it was. We lived next door to each other years ago.”

  “What about Enid Bloom?”

  “I didn’t meet her until she was injured.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  Clay set his jaw and allowed his frown to develop. “Of course I’m sure. I hadn’t seen Sandy Lynn for ten years. Not since I left Springfield to join the air force.”