Nightwatch

by Jo Leigh

  Once Rachel and he were inside and the locks engaged, Guy drove slowly, heading toward the second address. It was close by, only about six blocks.

  “Guy, are you sure we shouldn’t just go? Ask Richie to check it out?”

  “How about I drop you off at the hotel?”

  She shook her head. “No, let’s go.”

  He reached over and took her hand. Her skin was cold and yet the touch warmed him. She warmed him.

  They checked his Thomas Guide map and arrived at yet another depressed area, but this time, it was an apartment complex instead of a store. The address had listed 2A, but Guy didn’t hold up much hope that Stan would be waiting there.

  They parked under a streetlight a half block from the entrance. He walked around to open Rachel’s door, but she was already on the street. It felt so natural to put his arm around her shoulder, to feel her hand slip to his waist. It was as if they’d been doing this forever, walking together, touching.

  But he was also acutely aware that this was time out of his normal life. That she was here because he’d practically begged her, that she was reacting to the unusual circumstances. What he wanted was for this to last, for the closeness he felt to stay with them when they were back in Courage Bay.

  They walked up a short concrete path to a building that was crumbling. A twisted metal door hung on a loose hinge. Above that were the remnants of a security camera. “Crack house,” he said. “But I think its heyday is over, or we’d never be able to get in.”

  As it was, they walked past the flimsy door into a shadowed hallway. Offensive smells wafted from the peeling walls, and only one overhead light worked.

  They found the staircase in the middle of the hallway, past silent closed doors. He wondered if anyone lived in the building anymore, but then he heard a shout from above. Halfway up the stairs, he heard a dog bark, a baby cry.

  Rachel had taken his hand, and he held her tight as they arrived on the second floor. Across from them, the apartment door was open, and looking inside, he saw several filthy mattresses on a cluttered floor. They found 2A and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

  Guy tried the knob, and it opened with a squeal. He wasn’t sure if it was safer to leave Rachel outside or take her with him, but the way she gripped his hand, he doubted he’d have a say. He took a step, then two, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

  More mattresses, a broken television set on a cardboard box. Trash littered the floor like a carpet, and the smell of urine was strong and fetid.

  “Did you hear that?” Rachel whispered.

  He hadn’t, but he stilled and listened. A moment later, he thought he heard a moan coming from somewhere behind a door in the rear of the apartment.

  “There,” Rachel said. “Come on.” She pulled him forward as they stepped gingerly over the detritus of who knew how many junkies. She knocked on the door. “Hello? Are you all right?”

  The response was another moan.

  Rachel opened the door. Inside, a single lightbulb illuminated a room in slightly better condition than the one they had passed. There were only two mattresses in here, and a dresser with one drawer missing. Huddled in a shadow at the back of one of the beds was a girl.

  ALL RACHEL COULD really see were wide, terrified eyes. Those eyes closed as the girl clutched her stomach and moaned in pain. Rachel turned to Guy. “Call 911,” she said, then she let go of his hand and walked to the bed. “What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and low.

  “It hurts,” the girl cried, sounding no older than a teenager. She leaned back so Rachel could see her swollen belly.

  “Oh, God,” Rachel whispered. “Guy, she’s pregnant.” Rachel sat down, touched the young girl’s forehead. She was clammy but not feverish. “Are you alone here?”

  The girl’s hair was plastered to her scalp, and her arms were so thin that Rachel wondered when she’d last eaten. “They left.”

  “Who left?”

  “Every—” The word cracked as she buckled with another spasm.

  “The ambulance is on the way,” he said.

  “Help me,” Rachel said, then turned back to the girl. “How far along are you?”

  “I don’t know. Five months, I think.”

  “Can you tell me about the contractions?”

  The girl looked at her as if she was crazy. “I’m not having the baby,” she said.

  “You’re not having contractions?”

  “No. I just need some money.”

  Rachel got it. The girl wasn’t in labor, she was in withdrawal. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “No!” The girl tried to shove her away, but her arm didn’t reach far enough. “Just go away if you’re not going to help.”

  “We are going to help. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

  “I won’t go. You can’t make me.”

  Rachel didn’t argue. “Honey, where’s the father?”

  She turned her head. “He left.”

  “Who?”

  “What do you care?” She doubled over again, groaning.

  “We’re trying to find a man named Stan.”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Is he the father?”

  “No.”

  “But you know him?”

  The girl looked up at her with pleading eyes. “Give me some money and I’ll tell you.”

  Rachel doubted they’d get any real information from the girl, but Guy already had his wallet out. It wouldn’t do any harm at this point, since there was no way they were leaving her here to get more drugs. At the hospital, the doctors would try to save the baby, get the girl in detox.

  The teenager grabbed the twenty from Guy’s fingers and gripped it in her clenched fist.

  “What can you tell us about Stan?”

  “I only know one guy named Stan. He used to live here, but he moved.”

  “Did he have a pregnant girlfriend?”

  She nodded. “He wanted to give away the baby. To that adoption lady.”

  Rachel looked at Guy, then back to the bed. “Do you know her name?”

  The girl shrugged. “Ann somebody. I don’t know.”

  A siren sounded beyond the closed window, but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

  “Do you remember Stan’s girlfriend’s name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure?” Guy said, holding out another twenty.

  The pregnant girl grabbed the second bill. “Heather, I think. But she’s gone.”

  Guy put his hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Heather,” he whispered.

  The siren stopped and Guy went to guide the paramedics to the bedroom. Rachel stayed, grateful that this child would get some help. If she remained in the hospital long enough, it might make a difference in her baby’s life. But with crack addicts, that wasn’t very likely to happen.

  The paramedics took over as soon as they walked in. Guy pulled Rachel to the side. “I called Richie. Told him about the adoption angle. He’s going to get on it.”

  Rachel rested against him, comforted by his strong arm around her shoulder. The girl, who still wouldn’t give her name, struggled with the paramedics, not wanting to go, but it was clear they’d handled this kind of situation many times before. They gave her a mild sedative and finally got her on the gurney. She cussed at the EMTs, at Guy and Rachel and at someone named Eli the whole way out of the apartment and down the stairs.

  Guy talked to one of the paramedics after the girl was on board. Rachel looked up to see a small crowd standing across the street. They were mostly kids, some looking bored, some anxious. She wondered how many of them called that squalid apartment home.

  So much hopelessness. So much pain. But Rachel had realized long ago that all she could do was help the patient in front of her, do her best to keep on task, because if she let the pain in, she’d be useless.

  She looked at Guy, knowing he’d go to the ends of the earth to find Stan and stop him from harming any more innocen
ts. She understood. But his determination, his obsession, scared her.

  The ambulance doors slammed shut, and Guy came back to her side. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  They walked the half block to their car, and as he opened her door, he touched her arm. Then leaning over, he lowered his lips to hers.

  The kiss was gentle, comfortable. He touched her cheek with his cool fingers. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For being here.”

  She smiled sadly. “Her odds aren’t very good.”

  “Better than if we’d never found her.”

  She leaned against the car door. “Do you think that was his plan? To sell the babies?”

  Guy dropped his hand, closed his eyes. “It’s possible. Although if the children are all so sick…” “But they probably wouldn’t all have Noonan’s.”

  “No. Some of them might have been all right.”

  “Maybe that’s why he got so many of the girls pregnant—to increase his chances.”

  “Hell of a way to make money.”

  She shuddered. “He needs to be stopped.”

  “He will be.”

  Rachel stood up again, and this time, she kissed Guy. “You’re doing a good thing,” she said.

  “We’re doing a good thing.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IT WAS TEN-THIRTY by the time they made it back to the hotel, and Rachel was exhausted. Guy didn’t look all that chipper, either, but she could also feel an undercurrent of tension in him. Tomorrow, they’d continue the search for Stan DiGrasso, and they’d follow through on the adoption angle. But to do a good job, they both needed to sleep. It seemed days ago that they had stood by Heather’s grave, but Rachel knew that once Guy relaxed, he’d be filled with the memories. “What do you say we go get a drink?” she suggested.

  “Sure. There’s a bar on the first floor that looked quiet.”

  He got his claim ticket from the valet, and they headed to the elevator. Another couple waited with them. They were older, in their sixties, Rachel guessed, and they stood in companionable silence. Just as the elevator opened, the man, dressed in a dark suit and coat, took his wife’s hand. She smiled at him with such warmth, it made Rachel move closer to Guy. How long had that couple been together? Years and years, she mused. Sharing all the minutia of life, the breakfast dishes, the laundry. They didn’t speak at all on the ride up, but they were together in a way Rachel barely understood.

  At the main lobby, Guy took her hand as they walked to the bar. Touching him like this didn’t have that kind of comfort. She hardly knew the feel of his skin, the strength in his hands. And she found herself wanting to. Wishing things could be different. She wished she could be different—the kind of woman who could share like that.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried. But the only men in her life who’d mattered had wanted too much.

  They entered a small upscale bar. Soft jazz came from hidden speakers. The bar itself was semicircular and incredibly well stocked. The bartender was a beautiful woman, wearing a crisp white shirt and black bolo tie. Her hair was long and loose, much like Rachel’s when she let it down. Three couples sat at separate round tables, and a single man in a business suit perched at the bar itself. Guy chose a table in the farthest, darkest corner, which suited her just fine.

  “What can I get you?” he asked after she’d slipped off her coat and sat down.

  “A gin and tonic, please.”

  “Be right back.”

  He left his coat on an empty chair and headed to get their drinks. She watched him, admiring his long, lean body. He walked with grace and confidence, something she’d recognized in him from the first. This was a man who was used to being in control, and it must be killing him to feel so helpless about Heather, about Heath. It made perfect sense that he had found himself a mission. He was looking for closure and, she suspected, a form of absolution.

  The bartender gave him a generous smile, which was also understandable. Guy was a very handsome man.

  She thought about kissing him, the way they had this afternoon. He was just as good at that as he was at cooking. Better, maybe. She was a fool for a great kisser, but she hadn’t been lucky enough to find many. She wondered if Guy would be just as wonderful in bed.

  The thought made her warm, excited. She wanted to sleep with him—there was no point even trying to deny it. Not that she could afford to disregard her concerns, but maybe she could put them on hold for one night.

  She knew she’d never be thinking this way if they were back in Courage Bay.

  Guy returned with two drinks. He put hers on the table, then sat down. He ran his hand over his face and looked at her with tired eyes. “Quite a day.”

  She nodded. “A lot for anyone to take in. But I think we made progress.”

  “I hope so. I’ve been thinking about the adoption agency. It can’t be legitimate if they’re getting babies from the likes of DiGrasso.”

  “That would be to our advantage,” she said. “The police would have taken notice.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  “I like your friend,” she said.

  “Richie?”

  She nodded.

  “He’s a good guy. Not that we’re that tight. Just sailing buddies. We’ve shared a few drinks from time to time. If he’d just sent me on my way, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

  “That makes me like him all the more.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  She sipped her drink, which was cold and perfect. “It feels like three in the morning.”

  “You, too, huh? I’m exhausted, but I don’t think I could sleep to save my life.”

  “The drink will help.”

  He looked down at his glass, then back at her. “I’m too worn out to play this with much finesse,” he said. “I want to take you upstairs.” His gaze searched her, every part of her face. “I want to make love to you.”

  She felt the flush start from the inside and spread to every part that mattered. It wasn’t that the subject was a surprise, just the way he’d brought it up. “Oh,” was all she could think to say.

  He closed his eyes briefly, then leaned back in his chair. “I won’t ask again. I promised not to seduce you.” He smiled. “Guess I lied.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, not sure whether she was forgiving him for the lie, or agreeing to his proposition. She wanted to make love with him, but now that the offer was there, on the table, her confidence wavered. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Why…?”

  “Why me? Why now? We’ve known each other for a couple of years, and you never gave any sign that you were interested in more than a professional relationship.”

  He sat quite still, looking at her deeply. “I’ve tried to figure that out,” he said, “but frankly, I haven’t come up with a compelling reason.”

  “But something must have changed.”

  He nodded slowly. “Something did. When, exactly, I’m not sure. I hate to admit it, but I think it began when I came to your house.”

  She knew exactly what he was talking about. She’d been so sleepy she’d opened the door half-dressed.

  “I’d like to think I’m not so easily swayed by a beautiful woman,” he said. “And now that I’ve questioned my motives, I’ve come to realize that it may have been the spark, but it wasn’t the fire.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s…complicated.”

  She leaned forward, amazed at his candor. “Go on.”

  “This isn’t easy, but I’ll try. I’ve admired you for a long time. Actually, since the day we met. Part of my decision to hire you was that there was so much more to you than your technical skills.”

  She thought about what Allie had said. That she was a great technician but had no heart. “But I’m the Iron Lady, don’t you know that? Don’t you list
en to the hospital gossip?”

  “I can’t escape it. I’ve heard all that, and I’ve watched you with a lot of patients. What I saw was that you were tightly controlled. That your clinical approach was a mask for something much deeper. That’s what got me.” His gaze wandered her face again, more leisurely this time.

  She felt very self-conscious, perhaps even more than she had on that awful morning when she’d learned Heather was his stepdaughter. Now it was as if he were seeing her secrets.

  “I want to know what’s underneath that rigid control,” he said, his voice so low she had to strain to hear. “I think—and it’s just a theory, mind you—but I think there’s a deep and burning fire somewhere inside you. That what you show to me, to the hospital, to the patients, is a whole lot of bluff. That you, my dear Iron Lady, are a maelstrom of emotions, and that you care so much it scares the hell out of you.”

  Rachel pulled back, her heart beating so hard she could barely breathe. Never in her life had she felt so exposed. So vulnerable. She couldn’t stand it, not for another second. She stood, grabbed her coat, her purse. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Just call me when you want to leave in the morning.”

  She took a step away, not wanting to look back, but she had to. His face, shocked, worried, filled her with excuses, none of them acceptable. She did what she’d wanted to do since the moment he’d opened up to her. She fled.

  GUY FINALLY TURNED OFF his light at a quarter to twelve. He was so damn tired, and so torn up about what he’d said to Rachel.

  He’d clearly hit a chord, but he’d had no clue that it would cause such a reaction. If he’d been more discreet, more careful, she wouldn’t have run. He was a fool, and he had no excuse other than his bone-deep weariness. His impatience with anything less than the truth when it came to himself had bled where it didn’t belong. Just because he was faced with some brutal facts about his own life was no reason to go probing in someone else’s.

  He tried to get comfortable, but the pillows weren’t his. He threw one to the side of the bed and punched the other until he’d created the perfect cushion.

  Closing his eyes, he welcomed the idea of sleep, but that’s not what he got. Instead, the morning crept back in vivid images. The sound of the birds in the trees. The stain on Walter’s tie. The drone of the minister and his sterile words. But mostly what came to him was the coffin. The box, so benign by itself, held a lifetime of love and joy and pain and discovery. And was stealing a future that would never unfold.