by Gail Barrett
Hoping a walk would clear her mind, she headed in the opposite direction to the bank of elevators, then waited for one to arrive. A woman and her young daughter joined her, reminding her of the traumatized girl.
Brynn had last seen the girl at the Washington County hospital. Her horrified family had met her there, sticking close beside her even when the doctors wheeled her away for tests. She had a long road of recovery ahead, years of nightmares and distrust to overcome—a journey Brynn knew well. But she seemed strong. With her family’s support, she might make it through.
A soft ding announced the elevator’s arrival. Brynn stepped inside, then leaned against the handrail as it traveled to the bottom floor. She watched the floor numbers decrease, her mind returning to Parker McCall. She wanted to trust him. He’d saved her life. He’d risked everything to help her, putting himself on the line. Except for that one glaring omission, he’d acted honorably at every step. Should she forgive him? Could she forgive a lie of that magnitude?
Not able to come up with an answer, she exited the elevator on the first floor. Following the signs to the Courtyard Café, she walked down a hallway, past a pizza place and sandwich shop to a bright, airy room bustling with people and noise. Various scents filled the air—coffee, French fries, pizza—and her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember her last meal.
Deciding she needed an infusion of caffeine more urgently than she needed food, she ordered a large coffee from the nearest stall. Working one-handed, she loaded it with sweetener and cream, then downed several much-needed gulps. Already feeling better, she turned and scanned the room, searching for a quiet corner where she could think.
Her gaze landed on a woman sitting by the window, her face angled toward the street outside, and everything inside her froze. Her mother. The woman who’d refused to believe her. The woman who’d failed to protect her. The woman who’d turned her back on her, ignoring her desperate cries for help, leaving her at the mercy of a brutal man.
She’d come to visit her husband at the hospital, no doubt.
Brynn couldn’t move. She stood locked in place, anger erupting inside her, decades of bottled resentment threatening to explode. But the change in her mother’s appearance penetrated her fury, giving her pause. She’d put on weight since Brynn had seen her last. Her face was sallow and lined. Her hair was lanky and gray. She wore sloppy knit pants and a rumpled sweatshirt, her once-meticulous appearance now so slovenly that Brynn wondered if she’d been ill.
Did it matter? Did she care about her mother after all she’d put her through? Why should she? Her mother had enabled Hoffman’s abuse.
But surely her mother realized the truth about him now. Even she couldn’t deny the proof they’d recovered from that cabin—the photos, the necklaces, the videos in which he’d starred. Maybe she was sorry. Maybe she’d want to repair the past. Maybe she’d want to apologize for having been so blind.
Her mother lumbered to her feet. She threw her trash in a nearby receptacle, then headed down the corridor toward the exit sign.
Making a quick decision, Brynn took several more swallows of coffee, then dumped her cup in the trash. Keeping one eye on her mother, she dodged the people crowding the food court and hurried to catch up.
She reached her a minute later. “Mom, wait!” she called.
Her mother came to a stop. She turned, causing people to swerve around them, her gaze connecting with Brynn’s. Her face paled. Her eyes turned tortured, filled with something that looked a lot like remorse. “Brynn...”
Brynn didn’t trust herself to answer. Her belly churning, she stood in the busy corridor, facing the woman who’d had the power to save her—and failed.
“It...it’s true, then?” her mother asked.
“Yes, it’s true.”
Her mouth twisted. Pain racked her bloated face, her expression turning even more stricken now. “I thought I knew him. That he was a good, generous man. I couldn’t imagine him doing those despicable things to you. I didn’t think he would ever hurt a child.”
“I tried to tell you. You didn’t believe me.”
“I thought... He was so good with kids. So generous. I didn’t know.”
“You should have. You should have believed me instead of him.”
“But you liked him at first. It wasn’t until later, after we were married...”
“When he started abusing me.”
Her mother blanched. And Brynn took a long, hard look at the woman who’d raised her, knowing her world was crumpling apart. She’d based her life on a lie.
Brynn turned away. Then she headed down the corridor, past the pizza store, past a gift shop, hardly caring where she went. Her mother now knew the truth. She had to face the reality of her actions and suffer the guilt. She’d enabled an evil man to prey on defenseless kids.
Her own feelings in turmoil, Brynn wove her way through the crowd. Should she forgive her mother? Did she even want to see her again? Everything inside her rebelled against the thought. The pain was too deep, the betrayal too horrific, the shock of seeing her again too fresh. Maybe someday...or maybe not. Right now she didn’t know.
And what about Parker? Should she forgive his deceit? She had every right to be mad at him. He’d lied to her about her stepfather—a betrayal that truly hurt.
But people made mistakes. He’d had good cause to suspect her at first. And she knew deep down she could trust him. He’d proven it time and again.
Yet did she want to forgive him? She resumed walking, that thought disquieting her even more. Because frankly, she felt safer holding on to her anger, that righteous indignation that had sustained her for all these years. It felt familiar, secure. If she let it go, if she stopped thinking of herself as a victim and forgave Parker, she lost the barrier protecting her heart.
And that made her vulnerable, the feeling she dreaded most. Because once she dropped that emotional shield, Parker would see the woman inside—with all her flaws. And he might not like who he found.
She reached the elevators and pushed the button, her thoughts swirling from Parker and her mother to the accusation Haley had hurled at her. But as much as it wounded her pride to admit it, her friend was right. She was hiding behind her work. Her photos weren’t only about the runaways; they were about her. They’d always been about her—her fear, her vulnerability, her shame. Not that what she did wasn’t important; she thoroughly believed in her cause. But she’d hidden behind those photos, taking refuge in her anonymity, afraid to need, afraid to trust, afraid to subject herself to betrayal again.
The elevator arrived. She stepped inside, then watched the numbers flash as it climbed to Parker’s floor. So now she had to decide—to cling to the anger or stop blaming Parker and make herself vulnerable by taking a risk on love.
The elevator bounced to a stop. The doors slid open, and she headed to Parker’s hall. She rounded the corner, the sudden commotion bringing her to a standstill. Police officers swarmed the corridor. Doctors ran past, barking orders and talking on phones. Nurses huddled in groups in doorways and near their stations, their eyes startled, their hands covering their mouths. The PA blared overhead.
“Watch out!” a doctor said, knocking into her as he hurried past.
Clutching her sling, Brynn flattened herself to the wall, still trying to process the hectic scene. What on earth was going on? Has something happened to Parker? Fear jolting through her, she started toward his room to find out.
“Get out of the way,” someone shouted behind her. “Let the police by.”
She ducked into a doorway to let them pass. Then, eyeing an opening, she darted across the hall to a group of nurses clustered behind their desk.
“What happened?” she asked.
One of the nurses turned her way. “You can’t be here. You need to leave.”
“But what happened?”
“A man died. One of the cops they just brought in.”
Brynn’s belly flipped. A dizzy feeling roared through her head.
Not Parker. Please, not Parker. Her knees threatening to buckle, she struggled to breathe. “Which one?”
“The older one, the guy they had under arrest. Now you need to go.”
Brynn staggered to the nearest wall, the relief sweeping through her nearly causing her to collapse. Trembling badly, she closed her eyes, knowing she should probably feel pity or compassion—or even guilt since she’d inflicted the wound that had caused her stepfather’s death. But she couldn’t summon any regret. Hoffman’s death was a blessing. The world was rid of a dangerous predator. He’d never harm an innocent child again.
She opened her eyes, but the urgency swirling around her still didn’t make any sense. Nurses were huddling behind their stations. Police were racing down the hallway, going in and out of rooms. Why this sudden commotion? Why the urgency? As unfortunate as it was, people died in hospitals all the time.
Just then an officer ran up, his expression grim. “You need to leave, ma’am. We’re clearing the hall.”
“Why?”
“This is a crime scene. Several men have been murdered. And the killer’s still on the loose.”
Several men? And they’d been murdered? Shock rendered her speechless. Hoffman hadn’t died from his injuries. Someone had come here and killed him? But who...
Delgado. The man who’d killed Parker’s brother. The man who’d executed that prisoner in the warehouse. The man who’d sent the gang leader after her. He’d finished off Hoffman—and apparently, his guards. Now he was going to kill Parker, too.
And Brynn had left him alone.
“Find Lieutenant Lewis,” she told the officer. “She’s in charge of this case. She knows all the details. Tell her it’s urgent, that Delgado is here.”
Praying that he’d listen, she took off for Parker’s room at a run.
Chapter 17
Parker drifted into consciousness, loud voices and the thunder of footsteps dragging him from sleep. He opened his eyes a slit, disoriented by the sudden brightness, and battled the urge to succumb to oblivion again. He scanned the white sheet covering his legs, the IV attached to his arm, the monitors beside the bed. To one side was a skinny table bearing a cup filled with chips of ice and a remote control unit attached by a cord to the bed. He was in a hospital—but where?
He frowned, trying to clear the fog muddling his brain and remember exactly what had put him here. Images sprang to his mind—Brynn being held at gunpoint. His desperation as he tried to save her. The shock of betrayal in her eyes. Crawling under the cabin. Lowering the kidnapped girl from the window. The terrible panic that overtook him when he’d realized Brynn was gone.
Where was she? Had she survived? He sat bolt upright, his heart in a frantic race. He had to get out of here and find her fast.
Then another memory slashed through the turmoil—Brynn standing beside him, her face ashen, as they’d wheeled him into the hospital. He slumped back against his pillow in relief. She’s alive. He was sure of that.
The remainder of the night clicked into place—Lieutenant Lewis barking out orders. Riding in the helicopter to Shock Trauma. The whomp of the rotor blades. Learning that the police had captured Hoffman, that both Brynn and the child were safe.
But would Brynn forgive his deception? He’d seen the hurt in her eyes when Hoffman had revealed that Parker worked for him. Dread taking up a drumbeat inside him, he struggled to sit up again. He couldn’t let it end like this. He had to find her and beg her forgiveness. He had to explain about Hoffman and make her give him another chance.
Shouts in the corridor caught his attention. More footsteps raced past his room. He frowned at the door, unable to ignore the ruckus in the hall. Something was going on. Some kind of emergency, judging by the noise.
He tossed the blanket aside, but a sudden wave of dizziness plowed through him, and he closed his eyes. Damn. His entire body trembled as if he’d just run a marathon. He didn’t even have the strength to stand.
Another shout came from the hall. He wrenched himself into motion, knowing he had to investigate—no matter how weak he felt. He gauged the distance to the door, then eyed the IV connected to a pole. He’d have to haul it along.
He pushed aside the railing. The nurse call button’s cord got in the way, and he looped it over the side. Then he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and waited for another bout of light-headedness to subside. Air hit his naked back, and chills prickled his skin. Great. Not only was he unarmed, but he was bare-assed, wearing one of those ridiculous hospital gowns.
Suddenly the door flew open and crashed against the wall, making him start. Brynn. He took in her flushed face and panicked eyes, her red hair wild around her face. A dark bruise stood out on her cheek.
But his surge of relief instantly faltered. Brynn wasn’t prone to panic. Something was terribly wrong. His stomach took a precipitous dive. “What is it?”
“Delgado. He’s here. We need to leave.”
“What?”
She raced to his side, her bum arm wrapped in a sling. “He just murdered Hoffman. And the guards. I don’t know how. It just happened, down the hall. Now he’s on the loose. He’s going to come after you next. We need to go somewhere safe.”
Parker gave his head a swift shake, trying to make sense of her disjointed words. But Hoffman’s claim of innocence winged into his mind. So he was telling the truth. He really didn’t kill Tommy. But Delgado had—and now he was after them.
His thoughts raced as he struggled to rise. “Lieutenant Lewis. We need to tell her what’s going on.”
“She already knows. I told her about him last night. She’s got people looking for him.”
“But then...” Parker paused, suddenly confused. Delgado wasn’t dumb. He would be monitoring police communications, and he’d know they were after him. “Why would he come here? Why would he risk getting caught?” He should be miles away, trying to stay incognito, not waltzing into the hospital where his coworkers could recognize him. “And why would he kill Hoffman? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Brynn shook her head, her frantic eyes pleading with his. “I don’t know. Does it matter? Hurry. We need to hide somewhere fast.”
The panic in her voice convinced him. He grabbed the IV pole and pushed himself upright, the floor tiles cold against his bare feet. But his head began to swim. His vision hazed, and he swayed, his knees threatening to collapse. Brynn lunged over and caught him, her soft, slight body propping him up. He leaned against her, black spots dancing before his eyes. “Damn.”
“Sit down,” she said.
“But—”
“I can’t hold you. Not with one arm. Just sit down for a second, and we’ll try again.”
He perched on the edge of his bed, disgusted at how wobbly he felt. He must have lost a lot of blood. “Sorry. Just give me a minute.”
But more shouts rose in the hall. The door abruptly slammed open, and his heart sprinted into overdrive. He reached for his gun out of habit—but it wasn’t there. A spasm of fear put on a lock on his lungs.
But Lieutenant Lewis appeared in the doorway. She strode into the room, accompanied by another cop, and Parker released his breath in a rush. Thank God it’s her. If that had been Delgado, they’d both be dead.
She took a quick look around, then turned to the other cop, a detective Parker didn’t recognize. “Everything’s fine in here. I’ll stay inside. You stand guard in the hall.” He left with a nod, and she closed the door. Then she strode to the bed and stopped.
He’d never seen her look worse. Her short, gray hair was disheveled. Her usually crisp uniform was wrinkled, as if she’d been sleeping in it for days. She carried a leather satchel, her white-knuckled grip revealing her nerves. The harsh overhead light emphasized the lines in her narrow face, aging her several years.
He didn’t blame her for feeling stressed, considering the public relations nightmare she faced. Parker had been shot by a fellow officer. Colonel Hoffman—a prominent member of the community and the protégé of
Senator Riggs—had turned out to be a child molester who’d used his camp to torture girls. Sergeant Delgado was a former gang member, a murderer who’d killed Tommy and Allen Chambers in that warehouse years ago. And now Delgado had brazenly murdered Hoffman, along with the police guards protecting him. No wonder she looked ready to explode.
“What’s going on?” he asked her.
“Colonel Hoffman’s dead.”
So he’d heard. “What happened?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but a thump came from the door. She whirled around, one hand going for her gun in its holster. But after several seconds, when nothing more happened, she turned to face them again.
“Move over there,” she told Brynn, motioning to the side of the bed farthest from the door. “Stand near the wall and behind the bed.”
Brynn shot him a questioning look, and Parker nodded for her to comply. Lieutenant Lewis was taking precautions, getting a civilian out of the line of fire in case shots broke out. But it also made it harder for Brynn to escape.
An unsettled feeling took root inside him, a sliver of alarm clamoring hard. Something about this situation felt off. Something besides the obvious. “Why would Delgado kill Hoffman?” he asked Lieutenant Lewis.
She held up her hand. “Hold on.” She went back to the door and peeked outside, her voice low as she consulted with the guard.
The feeling of wrongness hit him again.
He rubbed his unshaven jaw, trying to clear his mind. He knew he was missing something important, a detail wavering just beyond his reach. Cursing the painkillers turning his brain to sludge, he struggled to figure out what.
Delgado had murdered his brother. Both Delgado and Colonel Hoffman had worked in Homicide at the time. One of them, presumably Delgado, had intercepted Brynn’s photos, destroying crucial evidence that could have convicted him of the crime.
Vern Collins had been Hoffman’s partner. He’d investigated Tommy’s case. He’d eventually left the force and taken a job at the Hagerstown prison, where that gang member had been released. Hoffman had probably asked him to do it, hoping to hide his pedophile activities by killing Brynn.
