Needing a distraction for Pilar, Darcie spotted her iPad lying on the bedside table. Pilar worked from home and when her computer died a few weeks ago, Pilar had borrowed Darcie’s iPad. As the EMTs wheeled her out of her home, she’d insisted on bringing the iPad with her, enabling her to work tonight.
Darcie tapped the screen. “Is the job still going well?”
The corner of Pilar’s mouth tipped up. “Thanks to you. Your daily visits to Isabel have given me more time to focus on work. I am now making my quotas.”
“Have you started getting paid yet?” Darcie hated to ask such a personal question, but she was skeptical about Pilar’s new job. When Mayte went into rehab, Pilar had to leave her job as a cashier to care for Isabel, and this job seemed too good to be true. Darcie had been around the FRS team long enough to know that trusting people were often taken advantage of with work-from-home schemes.
Pilar’s smile widened, wrinkling the crow’s feet by her eyes. “My salary is directly deposited into my checking account as I finish each assignment.”
“Good.” Darcie had never been so thankful to be wrong. “It’s great that you found the perfect job.”
“God is with me, is He not?”
Darcie nodded, but didn’t say a word. God. She wasn’t sure she saw Him in any of this, or in much of anything. Not since she’d lost Haley in a freak car crash.
Pilar gestured at the iPad. “And it is wonderful that you have loaned me your iPad. You and Detective Noah have been so generous. I have saved my money and will be able to get a new computer soon.” Gratitude shone on her face. “Detective Noah has even promised to help me find a quality computer for a good price.”
“Are you ever going to start calling him just plain Noah?”
“Just plain Noah is much longer than Detective Noah, I think.” She chuckled. “But no, I will continue to use Detective with him just as I call you Nurse Darcie. It is my way of showing my respect.”
“We don’t need that, Pilar. We know you respect us and our work. In fact, I wish you would stop. At least with me.”
“Then I will.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Isabel announced from where she sat watching television.
Pilar started to move as if she planned to get up to help Isabel.
“Don’t even think about it,” Darcie warned. She squeezed Pilar’s shoulder to soften the admonition and looked down into her eyes ringed with dark circles. Assuming the care for an injured young child was taking its toll on Pilar. She wouldn’t admit it or complain at all. She loved Isabel and was thankful to have custody of her granddaughter, who’d lived many years with Mayte in terrible conditions.
Darcie firmly clasped the handles of Isabel’s wheelchair, not caring that the pressure smarted against her skin. She’d rather be in pain than think about the callout where she’d found Isabel living in a squalid apartment with drug paraphernalia all around.
Darcie’s anger from that day came roaring back. How could a mother treat her child like that? How could Mayte even have a child when Darcie’s precious Haley been taken from her?
No, stop. It does no good.
What was the point in doing so? She’d asked these questions over and over, year after year, and God never answered. She’d concentrate on what she could do. Like spend even more time with Isabel to give Pilar a break.
Darcie wheeled Isabel into the bathroom and helped her maneuver the ankle-to-hip cast weighing her down. Darcie settled Isabel in place, then turned her back to give her privacy. Maybe for Darcie to get her emotions under control, too.
She took deep breaths like she’d done daily after Haley had died. Darcie couldn’t save her own daughter, but she’d saved Isabel and could help improve her quality of life.
Darcie closed her eyes. Envisioned a happy place. A nice home for Pilar and Isabel, free from guns and gangs. Even Mayte could live there when she came out of rehab. Darcie imagined a cute little house in the sun. White with blue trim. A garden for Pilar. A swing set for Isabel. Birds chirping. Butterflies floating overhead. Maybe a rainbow or two.
A knock sounded on the door to Pilar’s room. Darcie jumped and spun. Noah’s deep voice soon rumbled through the space.
Noah. It’s just Noah.
She blew out a breath. She’d been expecting him and was honestly glad he was here. She felt safer with him around. Far safer. But that wasn’t good. She couldn’t let herself depend on him or want him in her life for any reason.
“I’m done, Darcie,” Isabel announced.
The innocence of the little girl’s voice instantly replaced Darcie’s thoughts with a smile. She helped Isabel wash her hands and get back into the chair, then stole a quick hug, drawing in the fresh scent of her strawberry shampoo. She loved the feel of the trusting child offering uncomplicated love and affection.
“Can we go see Noah?” she asked, her expression excited.
“Of course.” Darcie wheeled her into Pilar’s room.
“I’m glad you came,” Isabel said.
“I’m glad to see you, too.” Noah flashed a smiled but then stepped toward Darcie.
His worried expression set her anxiety flaring up again.
“Can I talk to you alone for a minute?” he asked.
Darcie’s gut cramped hard, but she fought back the panic and looked at Pilar. “Will you two be okay if I step into the hallway for a few minutes?”
“Yes, of course,” Pilar said, but her brow was tight with concern.
Darcie strode into a hallway similar to the ones she’d walked in during her years as a nurse. Noah moved close enough for a whiff of his spicy aftershave to overcome the familiar hospital smells. Close enough to see the small dimple in his cheek that always appeared when he smiled.
Ignore it. Ignore him. Ignore the desire to let him hold you and chase all your troubles away.
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
She would forever be in his debt for his help. She was also thankful he continued to help Isabel and Pilar, too. Darcie was able to handle a few hours here or there in his company while they focused on helping someone else. But now...now there would be an investigation into her attack. How was she going to avoid him as she’d tried to do since they’d met? To avoid the chemistry that always sparked between them?
She wasn’t about to follow her interest and risk her heart again. Not with him. Not with any man. Not after losing her precious Haley and then her ex-husband, Tom, when he abandoned her after he was unable to deal with his grief. She’d once believed the people she loved could help her deal with life’s trials. Believed that God could banish problems. But now she knew everything in her life depended on her and her alone.
She might be physically attracted to Noah, but it would go no further. He couldn’t chase away her troubles. She was the only one who could do that.
She cut off her thoughts with a finely honed self-discipline she’d developed since Haley’s death and faced him.
“I’m sorry, Darcie.” He shoved a hand into his hair, leaving short little tufts standing at attention. “We tried our best, but we weren’t able to apprehend the shooter.”
Darcie’s heart sank, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. What could she say after hearing the man who’d tried to kill her was still running free?
Noah pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “I got a quick look at the suspect’s size and body type, but I’m hoping you can give me a facial description so I can put out an alert. Then you can meet with the sketch artist first thing in the morning.”
Darcie forced herself to replay the details of her attack so she could describe the creep. “He was dark-skinned. Latino. His face was round, and he had stubble covering his chin. Maybe a full goatee—I’m not sure. He was mean-looking, Noah. So mean. Like he’d done this before. Killed someone, I mean.” The fear tha
t had nearly taken her down during the attack resurfaced, and she looked at Noah for a moment to take comfort from his warmth. His concern.
She jerked her gaze away before she started thinking she could continue to go to him for reassurance. Turning her head sent pain shooting through her tender neck, and her near-death experience came flashing back with a vengeance. Shivers started at her head, racing down her body like a rushing river. A cry of despair slipped out before she could stifle it.
“Hey.” Noah stepped closer and rested a warm hand on her arm. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Was she? Would this creep think she could identify him and come looking for her? Come after her with his gun, or even worse, try to strangle her again?
A full-on shudder claimed her body, and despite her efforts to fight back her tears, they started flowing. She tried to stop them, willed them away, but to no avail.
“Aw, no. Don’t cry.” Noah’s arms went around her and he drew her close.
She’d forgotten the feel of a man’s embrace other than from a friend, the warmth and tenderness, and she moved even closer, sobbing hard and soaking his shirt. She willingly reveled in his warmth and pushed to the recesses of her mind all thoughts of why allowing him to care for her was wrong.
She needed him. Just now. Not later. Never again. Just now.
He cradled her head and held her. Minute after minute. Standing strong. His arms enveloping her. Her fear receding. Calm returning and, along with it, her common sense. She allowed herself a few more moments to accept Noah’s compassion that eased the chill from her heart, but when her tears fully subsided, she couldn’t find an excuse to stay in his arms so she freed herself and looked up at him.
“Better?” he asked, his gaze tender as he pressed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
She didn’t know how to reply and silence hung heavy between them. She should fill the quiet with words, with something, but she didn’t want to admit that outside of his arms she felt afraid. If she did, he would insist on protecting her and that wouldn’t be good for either of them. Nor would she lie and say she was okay.
She opted to simply take another step back and ignore his question. “Do you think my attacker will try to finish what he started?”
“If he thinks you can identify him, yes.” Frowning, Noah flipped a page in his notebook. “If the attack was random—just you being in the wrong place at the wrong time—then there’s a good chance he won’t know where to find you. But there’s always the possibility that he specifically targeted you. If that’s the case, then he might know your name or how to track you down. Have you thought of a possible motive for the attack?”
“Motive? No. I have no idea who he is or why he did this. He was just suddenly there, behind me, grabbing me around the throat.” She touched her neck, feeling the tenderness.
Noah ground his teeth for a moment. “Do you think the attack could be related to your work? Like maybe you treated a guy on one of your ambulance runs, and he’s mad at you for some reason?”
“It’s possible, I suppose.” She paused to think about it. “I see people when they’re in crisis. Sometimes it sets them off, but to attack me for it? Seems far-fetched. And I don’t remember a patient who looks like him, but maybe.” She shrugged. “I treat so many people in a day...”
“Still, I’m thinking you’d remember someone mad enough to want to kill you.”
“I hope so. If I don’t, I’m not very in tune with the care they need. Which likely means this isn’t related to work.”
He jotted a note on his pad. “I’ll still request a list of your callouts for the last few weeks, and we’ll start there.”
“We?” she asked, the word fighting its way up her throat. “You’re going to be working this case?”
“The jerk was shooting to kill. He’ll be charged with attempted murder and that falls within homicide’s purview.” He studied her, his eyes a piercing gray instead of the usual muted blue. “Is that a problem?”
Of course it is. On a personal level. But what about the professional? It was a blessing to have a top Portland detective working this investigation. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”
He shoved his notebook into his pocket. “I’ll get the description out to patrol, then escort you home. If I know your squad, they’ll want to hear the whole story, and you can give me your full statement then.”
“Whole story? You think they’ll stop at that? They’re going to want to see the forensic evidence, too.” Despite her ongoing fear, the thought of her teammates having her back made her smile. “And they’ll hound you during this investigation to make sure you’re doing everything you can to bring this guy in. So be prepared.”
“No worries there.” His expression sobered. “I won’t stop until this creep is behind bars.”
The dedication in his voice surprised her, and she didn’t know how to respond so she simply stared at him. As if embarrassed at the emotions he’d displayed, he suddenly spun and pushed open Pilar’s door.
At the sound of Isabel’s voice, Darcie grabbed Noah’s arm. “Wait.”
He turned, his hand resting on the slightly open door. “What is it?”
“Since you’ve been helping with Isabel you should know that Isabel and Pilar will be staying with me in my condo.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“The condo is small and we’ll be a little cramped, but with the gunshot wound Pilar can’t care for Isabel so I’ll be taking over.”
“I’m not talking about the accommodations.” He made strong eye contact. “Since we know nothing about the shooter, this incident could be related to your relationship with Pilar and Isabel.”
“Pilar and Isabel? How?”
“Mayte may be in rehab, but she still has deep connections with the drug world.” He scrubbed a hand over his face as if the thought made him weary. “Based on the clothing the suspect wore, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gangster, and you know that means drugs. They could be trying to send a warning to Mayte.”
Darcie swiveled to look through the open doorway at Isabel. If this incident was related to her mother’s past, it was an even more compelling reason to put Isabel under the protection of the FRS at the restored firehouse where they all lived together. No matter what Noah said or thought.
Darcie widened her stance and planted her feet as she often did with unruly patients to let them know she was in charge. “Pilar has to spend the night here, but Isabel will be coming home with me today and I will pick up Pilar tomorrow.”
Noah released the door and stepped close enough that she could see slivers of black mixing with the gray in his eyes. “Let me be clear about this, Darcie, so you know the risk. If we’re dealing with gangbangers, they won’t care who gets in the way. Bringing Isabel and Pilar home with you could put you and the whole FRS team in danger.”
He spoke the truth, but what else could she do? She didn’t want to put her coworkers—her friends—in danger, but if she presented her case to them, she knew they’d all agree with her decision.
She reaffirmed her stance. “You know as well as I do that everyone on the team puts the lives and safety of others first. They’ll risk a little danger to protect an innocent child and her grandmother and none of them will even bat a lash.”
THREE
Noah paced the communal living area on the first floor of the team’s remodeled firehouse. Upper floors of the historic building held individual condos for the team members, while the kitchen, dining room and game room were available to them on the main level. Kerr Development once owned the historic building and had it slated to be sold until Darcie saved Winnie Kerr’s life on a callout. Winnie was so grateful for Darcie’s care and ensuing friendship that she remodeled the firehouse as a home for the entire FRS. She donated the buil
ding to the county, along with an endowment that allowed the team to live there rent-free. A sweet deal for all of them.
Tonight all of the team members and their significant others had gathered for a group dinner, but Darcie’s attack changed everything. They’d put dinner on hold and waited for Darcie to provide details of the assault after she took Isabel upstairs for a nap.
Noah had to give the team credit. They’d restrained their natural instinct to take charge and go barreling out the door to find Darcie’s attacker right away. Any one of them, from team leader Jake Marsh, to sniper Brady Owens, bomb expert Cash Dixon, or negotiators Skyler Hunter and Archer Reed, were capable of mounting a hunt for Darcie’s attacker. Instead, they’d patiently sat in wait. Maybe it had to do with the addition of Skyler’s husband, or Brady’s and Cash’s fiancées to the group. Maybe they served as a calming influence on the high-strung team.
Brady suddenly shot to his feet. He never sat still for long and had been whittling away on a chunk of wood, the shavings piling up near his feet. “How long does it take to get a kid to sleep?”
“Cut her some slack, honey.” His fiancée, Morgan, looked up from where she perched on the arm of the chair he’d occupied. “After Isabel’s scare, Darcie likely wants to be sure she’s sound asleep before leaving her alone.”
“I know, but—” He dropped back into the chair.
Morgan pressed a finger against his lips and surprisingly, he smiled up at her and didn’t argue, but fell silent.
Looked like Noah’s take on the significant others was on target.
Footsteps sounded above, then Noah heard the click of shoes coming down the stairway. He crossed the room to see Darcie slowly descend. She was long and lean, with legs that didn’t seem to quit. She’d changed out of her work uniform of black pants and polo shirt into jeans and a bright blue sweater with a high collar. The color highlighted the generous red tint to her hair, something he’d often thought was related to her fiery personality. And the neckline covered the bruises on her throat—a choice that he figured was probably deliberate.
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