Shades of Passion

by DePaul, Virna

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It’s not supposed to make you feel anything. But I am wondering why the thought of working with me bothers you so much.”

  “Two reasons. One, I don’t like you.”

  He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. Yet she couldn’t help it—his words hurt her. Why? She barely knew him and his dislike was irrational, not based on anything she’d actually done. “You don’t know me well enough not to like me. You don’t like what I do. There’s a difference.”

  “Not a big one.”

  Nina crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your second reason?”

  “You’re right. I don’t like what you’re trying to do. Force your mumbo jumbo beliefs on cops. We know what we need to do. We rely on our training and our instincts.”

  “And being more educated about what is motivating other people can’t help you with those instincts?”

  “When someone’s dangerous, it doesn’t matter what’s motivating them.”

  “But it matters how you treat them, doesn’t it? If you knew someone was being coerced into doing something, wouldn’t you treat them differently than someone who is intentionally causing pain to others?”

  She could see her words gave him pause. For all of two seconds. Then he shot back with, “It might impact how I feel about doing something, but it’s not going to change what I’d be doing.”

  “I think you’re lying to yourself about that. You really think you would have been objective and neutral with Michael Callahan if you’d questioned him? No. And he would have retreated. Closed up. You wouldn’t have gotten the information that you needed to find Rebecca Hyatt.”

  “I disagree with you. I would have gotten it.”

  “By force?”

  “If necessary.”

  As she stared at him, she wasn’t sure she believed him. She had little basis for how she felt, but she had some. Before he’d known she was a psychiatrist, he’d been charming. Funny. In the emergency room, although he’d challenged her several times, he’d allowed her to take the reins and handle Michael Callahan the way she saw fit. And then there was the picture she’d seen in the paper. The one of him standing in the hospital waiting room as he waited for news on Rebecca Hyatt. His expression had been fierce...and worried. His actions along with his job told her he was a complex but decent man. But even complex, decent men could lose control when they were pushed.

  “Thankfully,” she replied softly, “using force wasn’t necessary. Because I was there. Because I’ve been trained to deal with people like Michael when he’s suffering a psychotic break.”

  “How long did you spend in school? We can’t all have that kind of medical training.”

  “But you can have more than you do now.”

  “At what cost? You don’t think we’re overworked enough? While we’re spending time learning to be kinder and gentler to people who are endangering others, crimes are being committed. And people are getting away with them.”

  This was pointless. Neither one of them was going to change the other’s mind. Not today. “It’s fine if you disagree. In the end, you’re not the one making the decision about the benefits of the program. But we need to work together. And I hope you won’t make it any more unpleasant than it has to be.”

  He smiled tightly. “I wouldn’t place much hope on that if I were you.”

  As he watched her walk away, Simon wrestled with his anger, but also his attraction to her.

  It was the same attraction he’d felt for her at the hospital.

  The same attraction he’d felt every time he’d seen her.

  It had been tempered by wariness then anger and now resentment, but it was still there, impossible to ignore. And it wasn’t one-sided, either.

  But like him, she did a great job ignoring it.

  Because it was the professional thing to do? Or because he was being such a major asshole?

  On some level, he knew that was exactly how he was acting. Fuck, he might as well have thrown himself on the ground and beaten the floor with his fists. Elaina Scott had called to complain about him with far less reason. Could he really blame Nina if she did the same thing?

  Simon sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

  Asshole-ish behavior aside, he really was at a loss.

  He knew he wasn’t getting out of this partnership anymore than he’d been able to avoid seeing Dr. Shepard that first time. While that hadn’t ended badly, he also knew if he spent any significant time around Nina Whitaker, things were gonna get complicated.

  He’d had more than enough complications for a lifetime. Dating and then losing Lana had wreaked havoc on his life. He’d entered a kind of stasis after her death. He’d focused on his work. Been content with being by himself. But suddenly his body wasn’t content with that any longer.

  It wanted her. Nina.

  Yet even if he allowed himself to have her, she’d made it more than clear that she wouldn’t allow it.

  With that thought, another followed. He straightened and grinned.

  He had to agree to this partnership, but nothing the Commander said could make her participate in it if she didn’t want to. If she decided she didn’t want to work with him or requested someone else, that couldn’t be blamed on him, now could it?

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE DAY AFTER SHE AGREED to participate in Stevens’s shadow program, Nina called Karen about Stevens’s offer. Of course, Karen was thrilled and generous with her compliments despite the fact shadowing Simon had been far from her idea. Nina told her boss that several times, but it didn’t seem to matter to the other woman. Nor did Nina’s concerns about her current patients and the appointments she’d have to miss. Karen assured Nina that she’d look into it and would call Nina back in the morning.

  Sure enough, Karen called Nina’s office the next day. “It’s all been arranged. Dr. Anderson and Dr. Rodriguez will work together to cover your geriatric duties over the next week. Now, I promised you drinks. Tell me where you’d like to go. Later, you can fill me in on how next week goes.”

  Nina envisioned Karen toasting a victory far too prematurely. “The drinks you promised were conditional on the police giving the program the green light, remember? That hasn’t happened yet, Karen. And we don’t know if it will.”

  “I know that,” Karen reassured her. “I’m sure Stevens and his bosses are hoping this little exercise will work out in their favor somehow. The question is, why does Commander Stevens think you’re going to be swayed by this unconventional hookup? Is your little tête-à-tête with Detective Simon Granger a strategic one on Stevens’s part? Is there something you want to tell me, perhaps?”

  Karen couldn’t know about her attraction to Simon Granger, but Nina blushed at her deliberate choice of words and insinuating tone anyway. “I can’t possibly speak for Commander Stevens, but he did say Detective Granger had the extra time on his hands.” Pathetic, Nina thought. Even to her own ears she sounded less than convincing.

  Karen laughed. “Right. Extra time. And extra sex appeal. The guy’s gorgeous!”

  Nina blinked. “How—?”

  “I looked him up on the internet,” Karen confessed. “Along with the rest of the SIG detectives. They have their very own webpage. The best of the best. Nice. And I must say, all the men on that team are fine. I can see you and this Simon Granger together. You, with blond hair and green eyes. Him, brown hair and— What color are his eyes? I couldn’t tell on the computer screen.”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” Nina said, even as she thought: gray. Like slate, but not as hard. Or smoke, but not as insubstantial. A nice metallic color that could be cool or warm, depending on his mood. Masculine but inviting. The color made her think not of clouds during a storm, but shade from a blistering heat. Protective. Sheltering...

  “It doesn’t matter,” Karen said, jolting Nina from her thoughts. “You’d make a striking couple.”

  Nina was too hor
rified to talk at first. She’d been composing a mental poem about the color of Simon Granger’s eyes, and Karen had them practically married. Not good, she thought. So not good.

  Her voice was stiffer than she intended when she finally responded to Karen’s teasing. “I’m not looking for a hookup, Karen. And certainly not one with a cop who thinks my job is a joke. Because he does. And despite this little partnership that Stevens has arranged, you know most of the police think what we do is a joke, too.”

  “Maybe,” Karen said. “But they also don’t know who they’re dealing with. You’ll bring them around, Nina. You did it before and you’ll do it again.”

  Once more, Nina squirmed at Karen’s words. Her boss sounded a little too confident in Nina’s abilities and that confidence made Nina decidedly uncomfortable.

  She’d once had that same confidence in herself, but that had been ages ago. When she’d truly thought she could make a difference and not suffer for trying to do so. Now she knew that making a difference came with huge responsibilities. And consequences. She didn’t want the pressure of making lifesaving decisions. That’s why she’d left Charleston and began working with her patients in the first place. But yet here she was, literally about to plunge back into the fire. So be it. But she didn’t want Karen thinking she’d misled her. And she didn’t want her to take too much for granted, either. “I’ll do the best I can, Karen. I’ll shadow this cop. I’ll make my recommendations. But then I’m out. Whether Stevens supports the MHIT proposal or not, I’ll have done all I can do. I want your promise that after my week as Detective Granger’s shadow is over, you’ll handle things on your own from now on. Deal?”

  Her words were met with a tense silence. A full minute later, Karen spoke, her voice slightly stiff and far more professional than when she’d teased Nina about Simon. “Okay. If that’s what you want. I appreciate you doing this for me, Nina. I’m sure plenty of other people will, too. Goodbye.”

  Nina winced. “Karen—”

  Static buzzed on the other line.

  Quietly, Nina hung up the phone. Damn it, she hadn’t meant to offend Karen or hurt her feelings. They weren’t overly close, but Nina had always considered Karen a friend. Friends met for drinks. And teased each other about good-looking men. It didn’t always have to be about work between them and that wasn’t even what Nina wanted. But the fact still remained she was feeling pulled between her desire to live a safe and content life, and her instinct to seek a bigger payoff even if it might be at the potential expense of her peace of mind.

  All it took to sway her in favor of peace of mind was thinking of the last card Lester Davenport had sent her. And the ones he’d sent before. Because he blamed Nina for his daughter’s death.

  Just like Nina’s father blamed her for Rachel’s.

  Nina gasped and threw down the mental gates on her thoughts. Where the hell had that thought come from? She hadn’t talked to her father in months, but their relationship was fine. Sure he’d been upset with her when she’d left Charleston, but that had only proved how much he loved her. He didn’t blame her for Rachel’s death. Not really. Those things he’d said to her twenty years ago had been said in grief. He’d apologized again and again. And Nina had forgiven him. She’d forgiven herself—

  She jolted at hearing her own labored breaths and at feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. Angrily, she swiped them away. It was a major failing of hers that she cried easily. Stop it right now, Nina. You’re letting your thoughts get away from you. Lester Davenport’s card shook you more than you anticipated, that’s all. But he’s done what he needed to do. She would do the same.

  She’d been happy before getting that latest card. And she’d been content with her job before Karen had started riding her about the MHIT program.

  She’d call Karen back and arrange to have drinks, she decided. But she wouldn’t back down about the job. She’d committed herself to the shadow program for the upcoming week but after that it would be business as usual. She’d find her peace and contentment again.

  No one, not Karen, not Lester Davenport and not even Detective Simon Granger, was going to stop her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LESTER DAVENPORT PICKED up his pace as he walked down the hospital corridor. In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers. In the other, a stuffed puppy doll. He smiled as he imagined Beth’s joy upon seeing his gifts. He imagined her throwing her arms around him. And he imagined her telling him she loved him.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  She hadn’t said the words in so long. Not since she was a little girl. Certainly not since her mother had left him. And especially not since her mother had died.

  She’d blamed him for that. Even though Nadia had been diagnosed with cancer well after she’d divorced Lester, Beth had still blamed Lester for her mother’s illness. She’d told him so herself and she’d said other hateful things. Things that had made Lester say hateful things back. Things that, at one point, had even goaded Lester into slapping her.

  But he’d apologized for that. Over and over again, he’d apologized. Beth had never said she’d forgiven him. Before she could, Nadia had died. And after that, Beth had gotten sick, too. She’d begun to hurt herself, saying she wanted to join her mother. Then she’d been admitted here. To this hospital.

  At first, Lester hadn’t liked it. Hadn’t liked the staff, especially Beth’s doctor, who’d asked questions suggesting Lester was to blame for his daughter’s illness. But eventually, Beth had started talking to him again, and Lester’s feelings about the hospital and Beth’s doctor had changed.

  When Beth’s doctor told him Beth was doing better, he started making plans to bring her home. He was going to throw a big party for her, to celebrate their fresh start. They were going to be a family again and Beth would forgive him for everything. She’d tell him she loved him again, he just knew it.

  He was still smiling as he approached the nurses’ station outside Beth’s room. As he got closer, however, his gait slowed. People were shouting. Medical personnel were scrambling around. There were police there, too. And was that...?

  Yes. Yes, it was. Leo. Beth’s boyfriend. But what was he doing here?

  The punk was sitting in a chair, sprawled out disrespectfully. When he caught sight of Lester, he grinned, waved and then pointed his finger at something.

  With a feeling of dread, Lester’s gaze followed the line of his finger.

  Shock slammed into him like a ton of bricks. His stomach heaved with nausea and his fingers grew numb. The bouquet of flowers and the stuffed puppy doll fell. As soon as they hit the ground, the flowers withered and died, but the puppy doll came to life. The puppy began running around Lester’s legs. Barking. Nipping. Trying to get his attention.

  But Lester’s attention was too focused on the horrific sight before him.

  Beth hung right in front of him now, suspended by a pink ribbon tied to the ceiling. Her eyes were open but empty. Her head lolled to the side as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up. As if she no longer had the life...

  She was dead, he realized. She’d hung herself with that pink ribbon. But where had she gotten it?

  Lester tore his gaze away from his daughter and looked around for help.

  The nurses. The police. Even Leo. Everyone was gone.

  Where had they all gone?

  “Dr. Whitaker?” he called out even though he had no reason to believe she was here. But she was Beth’s doctor, after all. She’d said Beth was getting better. So where was she?

  She needed to cut Beth down. Needed to bring her back to him, just like she’d said she would.

  “Dr. Whitaker, where are you? Beth’s tried to hurt herself again. You need to help her.”

  He started running, or at least he tried to, but no matter how fast his legs pumped, he gained no ground. It was as if he was running in place or on some kind of treadmill and Beth’s body stayed exactly where it was, swaying in front of him.

  Suddenly the pink band aro
und his daughter’s neck lengthened. Like the stuffed puppy doll that Lester had dropped, it came alive. It swirled through the air, reaching out, winding itself around Lester’s body and throat, hissing like a snake.

  It was going to kill him, Lester thought, but as much as he wanted to be with Beth, he didn’t want to die. No, no, his mind screamed, he didn’t want to die. But he couldn’t escape, either.

  “Dr. Whitaker,” he screamed again. “Dr. Whitaker!”

  A shrill ringing sound ripped through the air, jolting Lester Davenport out of his nightmare. For a second, he continued to struggle for breath. Continued to believe he was being choked by the same ribbon that had taken Beth’s life. Then he realized he was simply trapped by bedding. That during his struggles, he’d pulled the twisted sheet tight against his neck until it felt like a noose. Desperately, he untangled himself from its grasp and scrambled out of bed.

  The phone rang again, but he didn’t even look at it.

  He covered his mouth with his hands and sobbed. Then he ran into the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the toilet.

  Long minutes later, he staggered out, returned to the bed and sat down. His bleary eyes took in the empty beer bottles littering the floor. He grabbed one that was half-empty and chugged down the contents. He swiped his hand over his mouth, then fell back. Just as he did, however, the phone rang again.

  Flinging his hand out, he grabbed the receiver and dragged it to his ear.

  “Hel—hello,” he croaked.

  “Mr. Davenport?”

  He frowned at the unfamiliar male voice on the other line. “Yes, this is Lester Davenport.”

  “Mr. Davenport, this is Rick Shannon with the San Francisco Reporter. I’ve been trying to contact you about your daughter, Elizabeth.”

  Images from his nightmare once again swirled around him, making his stomach heave again. He swore he could actually hear that damn dog yapping. The pink ribbon hissing. He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “My daughter is dead,” he said.

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, Mr. Davenport, and I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ve read the articles from three years ago. I know what happened.”