by Lisa Jackson
“Hell!” Matt broke out in a cold sweat. His mind began running in circles. “Is she okay?”
“Far as anyone can tell,” Thorne said, frowning darkly. By this time they were both working their way toward the center staircase.
“How could that happen?”
“No one’s sure yet. It’s pandemonium down there. Her heart stopped beating. They had to use paddles.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“My thoughts exactly.” Thorne stopped at the door to Slade’s room and pounded hard, then shoved it open to find their youngest brother half dressed, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of a flannel shirt.
“I heard the phone ring. Figured it was bad news,” Slade muttered.
“You figured right.” Thorne filled him in quickly and the youngest McCafferty’s expression clouded over.
“For the love of Mike, we told them this would happen! The police are out to lunch, for God’s sake!” He swung a fist in the air. “Who’s doing this?”
“And why?” Thorne’s gray eyes narrowed with cold fury.
“Let’s go.” Slade stuffed his shirttails into his jeans.
“We all can’t go to the hospital,” Thorne pointed out as Slade swore a blue streak and reached for a pair of hiking boots. “Someone’s got to stay with J.R. and the girls.”
“That’s your job,” Matt decided. “You’re gonna be stepfather to the twins and you’re not a helluva lot of use, anyway, what with the bad leg.”
“But I can’t just stay here and—”
“Don’t argue. We’ve heard it all before,” Matt said. “You think you’re in charge of ‘the Randi situation,’ the one calling the shots. But you’re laid up, whether you like to admit it or not. So you have two choices. Wake up the baby and Nicole’s daughters and drag them out in the freezing cold to a hospital that’s sure to be chaos, or stay here and wait for one of us to call or relieve you.”
Thorne’s gray eyes darkened. Thick black eyebrows slammed together in frustration. “But I think—”
“For once just trust us, okay? We can handle things.” Matt was already halfway to his room, where he found his socks, boots and a pair of gloves. He yanked them on as Thorne filled the doorway, his shoulders nearly touching each side of the frame.
“I don’t like this.”
“Of course you don’t. You can’t stand not being in charge.” Matt tugged on his socks and started with his cowboy boots.
“I’d feel better if—”
“For God’s sake, just give it up, okay? I’ll feel better if you’d just shut the hell up and stay here with the kids. Coordinate. Take calls. Be Communications Central. Someone will relieve you soon and you can drive yourself to the hospital and take charge of things there again, okay? Until then, you’re on, ‘Uncle Thorne.’ Now, get out of my way.” Matt shouldered past his older brother, collected Slade and hurried down the stairs. He didn’t have time for any of Thorne’s bogus authority trips. Not now. He grabbed his jacket and hat.
His jaw tightened when he thought of Randi lying vulnerable in the hospital. God, you’d think she’d be safe there!
Outside, the snow had started again and it was cold as hell. Not bothering to button his jacket, he slid behind the wheel of his pickup and, with the flick of a wrist, twisted on the ignition. Slade climbed into the passenger side. “Let’s go.”
Matt threw his truck into gear before Slade had a chance to shut the door.
Who tried to kill his sister?
Why would someone go to such lengths to see that she was dead?
Did someone want to shut her up?
Was it revenge?
Did it have anything to do with her baby and J.R.’s mystery father?
“What the devil’s going on?” he growled, his breath fogging in the frigid air. Worry and fear took turns clawing at his gut, and his fingers clamped around the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white. He squinted through the foggy windshield as the wipers slapped haphazardly over the glass.
What if Randi didn’t make it? What if whoever was trying to kill her was successful?
“I don’t know,” Slade admitted, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes as Matt cranked the wheel at the highway, then gunned the engine. “But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.”
Amen. If nothing else, Matt intended to find out who’d done this to his sister and then he’d beat the living hell out of the bastard.
* * *
St. James Hospital was a madhouse. Word had leaked out to the press that someone had tried to murder a patient, and a television van, camera crew and reporters from two stations were already staked out in front of the front doors. Kelly managed to dodge a microphone thrust toward her by muttering a quick “No comment” as she walked outside. Another reporter was camped out in the lobby, and Kelly shoved her way through doors marked Staff Only to avoid him. She flew up the staircase to the third floor, her boots ringing on the steps, her heart pounding as if it were a drum. Outside the doors of the ICU unit, she nearly ran into Detective Espinoza, two deputies from the sheriff’s department and a policewoman with the Grand Hope force.
“Okay, so what happened?” she demanded.
“Randi McCafferty went into cardiac arrest, and it looks like someone might have helped her along by slipping something into her IV.”
“What?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
“But Randi’s okay?”
“Out of the woods for now,” Espinoza said, running a hand around his neck. His uniform, always neatly pressed, was rumpled, his usually spit-polished boots dull under the harsh hospital lights.
“Fill me in.”
“One of the doctors here, Nicole Stevenson, stopped by on her break to look in at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. She’s engaged to Thorne McCafferty.”
“The oldest brother, I know.”
“Anyway, Randi was in a private room up on the fourth floor. As Dr. Stevenson stepped off the elevator, she spotted a person in a lab coat emerging from Randi’s room. The guy—or it could have been a woman, Dr. Stevenson didn’t get that much of a look—anyway, the suspect turned and hurried down the hallway, then cut back into the employee stairwell. Dr. Stevenson didn’t think much of it, thought the person was another doctor, until she checked on Thorne’s sister. Randi wasn’t breathing. Nicole started CPR and yelled for the nurses.”
“She didn’t recognize the person running away?”
“Can’t even say if it was a man or woman.” Espinoza snorted. “All she remembers is that the suspect was about five-nine and had brown hair—long for a man, short for a woman. Medium build. She didn’t get much of a glimpse of the person’s face, but thinks he or she might have been wearing glasses.” Espinoza’s dark eyes seemed weary. “Not much to go on.”
“But better than nothing.”
“Unless it’s not our guy.”
“Or gal,” Kelly said.
“Right. Or woman.” Espinoza told Kelly that he’d already secured Randi’s private room and a crime team was going over it, though the chances of lifting the perpetrator’s fingerprints or finding other incriminating evidence were small. Espinoza had also sent the two deputies to check St. James’s staff roster and were instructed to interview anyone on duty. The policewoman was posted here, near the ICU, and for the moment, Espinoza thought, Randi was safe.
Rubbing a day’s growth of stubble along his jaw, he added, “Whoever struck earlier won’t take another chance tonight. He’ll lay low for a while. Let things cool off.”
“Unless he can’t afford to. Obviously he’s worried that when Randi wakes up, she’ll finger him.”
“We’ll keep a guard posted,” Espinoza said. “If the guy’s stupid enough to try ag
ain, we’ll be ready.”
“So what about the patient? Is she still in a coma?” Kelly asked.
Espinoza nodded and glanced at the closed double doors of the ICU unit. “So far. Before the attack a couple of the nurses thought she might be coming around.”
“Maybe that’s why the perp struck when he did.”
“Looks like.”
“Then he’ll be back.” Kelly was certain of it.
The doors to the elevator opened and two of the McCafferty brothers strode through. Kelly’s insides tightened and her stupid pulse jumped at the sight of Matt, his jaw thrust forward, his eyes burning bright in their sockets. “What the hell happened?” he demanded as if she were somehow to blame. “Where’s Randi?” His head swiveled toward the closed doorway and he took two steps toward the ICU ward.
“You can’t go barging in there,” Kelly warned, and stuck out her hand as if to physically restrain him.
“Like hell.” Matt’s gaze sliced clear to her soul. He had one hand on the door and his brother Slade was only a step behind.
“She’s right.” Espinoza flashed his badge.
“Randi’s my sister,” Matt said flatly. “And it’s gonna take a helluva lot more than a badge to stop me from seeing for myself that she’s okay. You people,” he snorted, and brushed past Espinoza. Bob stepped forward, but Kelly, recognizing Matt’s need to see for himself that his sister was alive, put a hand on Espinoza’s arm as the two McCafferty brothers entered the ICU ward.
“The nurses will shoo them out,” she said under her breath, and within seconds, Matt and Slade were back in the hallway. They were more subdued, but the anger in the set of Matt’s mouth hadn’t disappeared. “This might not have happened,” he stated, his brown eyes drilling into hers before centering on Espinoza, “if the police hadn’t been sitting on their backsides while a killer was on the loose.”
Espinoza’s dark gaze flashed fire. “We don’t know that.”
“Like hell.” Matt went nose-to-nose with the detective. Broad shoulders were tense, the cords in the back of his neck stretched taut, his muscles flexed, as if ready for a fight. “Maybe you didn’t before, but I’d say that all doubt is gone.”
“Things have changed.”
“Damned straight. My sister nearly died.” His furious gaze burned a path from Roberto Espinoza to Kelly. His lips were blade-thin, bracketed by thin white lines of rage. “Now, let’s get on with the investigation.”
“Maybe you should let us do our jobs,” Kelly snapped, more at her own reaction to the man than at Matt. Just being around him made her tense, edgy, and that silly feminine part that she so long had penned screamed to be set free whenever he was near. Her emotions were a mess. While maintaining her professionalism, she was trying to cut the guy some slack, but he was coming on pretty strong out here in the hushed corridors of St. James Hospital.
“Do your jobs? Let me know when you’ve started,” Matt growled.
“Wait a minute—”
“No.” He pushed his nose to within inches of hers and jabbed a finger in the air. His dark skin was red, his nostrils flared, his eyebrows rammed into a single line. “You wait a minute. My sister nearly died, got it? Died. Twice. I don’t think we can give you permission to take your own sweet time.”
“We’re doing everything possible to find out what happened,” she said, squaring her shoulders, not giving in an inch when she wanted nothing more than to put some distance between her body and his, to give herself more room to think.
“Then what about the maroon Ford? Kurt Striker found where Randi’s rig was scraped by another vehicle. The paint samples he took from the fender matched any number of Ford products.”
“We know that and we’re checking into it,” Espinoza said firmly as the elevator doors opened and a petite, smartly dressed woman emerged. Kelly recognized the local news reporter in her three-inch heels and tailored suit.
“How’d she get past security and get up here?” Kelly asked, stepping forward, blocking the woman’s path. “You’ll have to go downstairs,” she ordered.
“I’m with the news.”
“Jana Madrid. KABO. We’ve met before.” Kelly didn’t budge.
“I just want to talk to someone to get the facts.” She managed a camera-perfect smile. “You’re a police officer. Is it true that there was an attempt on Randi McCafferty’s life tonight, here, in the hospital?”
“No comment.”
“But—” The reporter was craning her neck, trying to see past the nurses’ station to the small crowd clustered around the ICU. “Matt McCafferty’s here.”
“You know him?” Kelly asked.
“We’ve met. Yes.” Jana’s large eyes narrowed and Kelly could almost see the gears turning in the woman’s mind. “So someone did make an attempt on his sister’s life. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get a statement from him.”
“Later.”
“What, exactly, happened here?”
“Leave, Ms. Madrid. Now.” Kelly was firm, sensing one of the deputies approaching her to help.
“I just need a few facts for a story,” Jana persisted, throwing a friendlier smile in Kelly’s direction. “Come on. If a killer’s on the loose, the public needs to be aware of it.”
“The department will issue a statement at the appropriate time, as will the hospital. Until then I’m not at liberty to answer any questions.” Kelly slapped the elevator call button.
“But the people have the right to know.”
“The people need to know facts. When we have some. Now, please, either leave the hospital alone, or I’ll have someone escort you.”
“I’ll handle it,” the deputy who’d come to assist her offered. Six-three or four-, with his blond hair shaved to barely a quarter of an inch, he stepped forward. About twenty-six and beefy, Mike Benedict was a force to be reckoned with. The reporter hesitated, started to say something, then with a quick appraisal of the no-win situation, frowned.
“Television could help with the investigation, you know. If we got a sketch of a suspect, we could air it to the community, be involved in a community watch. It’s the public’s right.”
“We’ll let you know. Now, please,” Kelly said firmly, and the woman reluctantly stepped into the elevator. The doors closed and Kelly returned to find Matt McCafferty ready to jump down Espinoza’s throat.
“So check the hell faster, would ya? Find out what’s going on and arrest the bastard who did this to Randi before she winds up dead!”
From the corner of her eye Kelly caught sight of a slim woman in a white coat striding purposefully along the hallway. Her hair was tossed off her face, and her worried gold eyes, sculpted cheekbones and full lips were set into a regal countenance. Her name tag read Nicole Stevenson, M.D.
“Where’s Thorne?” she asked without preamble. She seemed cool and sophisticated, but just beneath the surface of her eyes there was a deeper emotion. Worry. Maybe even fear. Obviously a strong woman, one who was in charge of her life professionally and personally, she was nonetheless frightened. Kelly had seen enough trauma to recognize when someone’s calm life had been breached. The killer had broken into Nicole Stevenson’s workplace, a spot she considered a haven, and attacked someone the doctor was close to. Beneath her veneer of cool professionalism, Dr. Nicole Stevenson was anxious.
“We left Thorne home with the kids,” Slade said.
“But I thought he was going to get Juanita or Jenny to stay…oh, it doesn’t matter. I thought I’d check on Randi again,” Nicole said before her gaze landed on Kelly. “Detective Dillinger.” She didn’t bother forcing a smile she didn’t feel. Obviously she, too, thought the police weren’t doing everything possible to track down Randi’s enemies or protect her from attack.
“Do that—check on Randi,” Slade said, shoving a hand ner
vously through his rumpled black hair.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Nicole swept through the doors to Intensive Care with the quiet authority of a medical professional on her own turf.
“You questioned her?” Kelly asked Espinoza.
He nodded.
“I think I’ll have a few words with her.”
“Have at. But she didn’t see much. I’ll be up on the fourth floor in the private room where she was attacked,” he said, with one last glance at the McCafferty brothers as he headed toward the elevators.
“How’s your sister doing?” Kelly asked, hitching her chin at the closed doors to ICU.
White lines of irritation were visible at the corners of Matt’s mouth, but he’d calmed a bit and the self-righteous fury she’d seen burning in his eyes had faded to some extent. “I guess we should be thankful she’s alive.”
Slade nodded. “Now, if only she’d wake up.”
“That would help,” Matt agreed, and slid his jaw to the side. “Why don’t you tell me any theories you have?” he said. “Surely you must have some idea who’s behind this.”
“Ideas, no suspects, no hard evidence.” Kelly shook her head thoughtfully. “Not much to go on. How about you? Or you?” She cut a glance toward Slade. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee in the cafeteria.”
Matt looked at the closed door to the ICU. “Just as soon as we talk to Nicole.”
“You go along,” Slade said to Matt, and braced himself against the wall with his shoulders. “I think I’ll hang out here and I’ll let Nicole know where you are so she can fill you in.”
“Fair enough.” Matt nodded sharply and fell into step with Kelly as they took the back stairs.
On the first floor, Matt walked directly toward the cafeteria, a path he’d obviously traveled often while his half sister, nephew and brother were patients at St. James. The coffee was complimentary, and they found a quiet table near the windows and a shedding ficus tree.
“I want to know what you guys have,” Matt said, sipping from a paper cup, his dark eyes blazing above the rim. “And don’t keep anything back. I’m not buying into anything being top secret or any other mumbo-jumbo. I want the facts about my sister.”
