The officer opened Ethan’s door. “Could you step out of the car, please?”
Ethan turned off the ignition, his expression pained. “It’s okay,” he said to her before climbing out, but suddenly every warning her brother had ever voiced about her being too trusting screamed through her head.
She’d known this man less than twelve hours—twelve hours in which she’d been threatened twice. He lived in a seedy neighborhood and maybe carried a gun. And she’d just let him convince her to leave the scene of a crime!
If he was really an ex-cop like he said, why didn’t he tell this guy? Play up the professional courtesy card?
Or was that why he was playing it by the book, not making waves?
Too trusting! The voice in her head screamed.
The officer patted Ethan down, glanced at the interior of the car and then said, “Do you mind if I look in your trunk?”
“Not at all. I’ve got nothing to hide,” Ethan said easily, although Kim thought she glimpsed the muscle in his jaw flinch.
The officer riffled through the trunk, and then handed Ethan back his license and registration. “Thank you, sir. Have a good day.”
Kim closed her eyes and let the air seep from her chest. He didn’t have a gun. That was good, at least.
Ethan climbed in the car. “What were you saying about your phone?”
“I dropped it in the street.” She lowered her voice. “When I heard the shot.”
“Okay, we’ll go back and find it.” He rolled down the window again. “Officer, my friend dropped her phone. I need to turn around for a minute and see if we can find it.”
“Go ahead.” The officer backed up a few steps so Ethan had room to turn on the narrow street.
Kim pointed to a pothole a few yards past the factory’s entrance. “I stumbled up there.”
Ethan parked, then scouted the area in ever-widening sweeps. After what felt like hours, he returned, frowning. “I’m sorry. There’s no sign of it.”
Her throat went dry. She felt like gagging, and it wasn’t from the sickly scent of gumdrops. “If those punks picked it up, they’ll know my friends’ numbers, my home number. With reverse lookup, they’ll figure out my address.” If they were brazen enough to chase her in broad daylight, who knew what they’d try under the cover of darkness?
Ethan slanted her a sideways look as he slid into the car beside her. “Why are you worried they’d come after you again?”
Her heart skipped as she realized that from his perspective there was no logical reason why they would. Why would they risk getting caught after they’d already gotten away?
She tried for a self-deprecating smile that felt weak even to her. “I guess because Dad drilled into our heads the importance of keeping our private information private. Residents will use anything as leverage to manipulate us.”
He regarded her steadily, intelligence shining out of his chocolate-colored eyes, and she shifted on her seat. “Is that the only reason?”
Blake’s ultimatum to her brother—I go down, you go down—flashed through her mind. She needed to talk to Darryl, find out why he thought Blake had targeted her. Find out if he’d snuck back and shot him.
No, she couldn’t ask him that. He’d be horrified that she’d think him capable. And she sure couldn’t confide in Ethan that particular fear.
His fingers brushed past her cheek and gently pulled a leaf from her hair. “Kim, I want to help you. But unless you level with me, I may not be able to protect you.”
She straightened. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
Ethan arched his eyebrow.
“Okay, today was an exception. But nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
He started the car and nodded at the officer as they passed. “Skulk around in neighborhoods like this one and you’re asking for trouble.”
“That from a man who lives here,” she said wryly.
“That from a man who doesn’t want to see you hurt.”
His words burrowed into her wounded heart and nestled there. She recalled his stricken expression when he’d knelt over her in the ditch. He’d feared the worst, and something told her he’d seen the worst before. And that the experience still haunted him. He looked at her now with a mixture of frustration and disappointment.
She dropped her gaze, fiddled with her shoelaces. “Take the next left to get to my street,” she said, loosening the laces pinching her swollen foot. She tried not to wince at the way it throbbed.
Ethan jerked the steering wheel right.
“Where are you going? I said turn left.”
“Not anywhere you’re going to be happy about.”
FIVE
Ethan flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, wishing for a fleeting second he could wrap them around her slender throat. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he growled. “Your ankle’s swelling by the minute.”
She slammed her foot to the floor. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Look at it.”
She did and frowned. “Okay, but my mom and Darryl will be worried about me.”
“So call them.”
“No phone, remember?”
He tossed her his.
She glanced at her watch and handed it back. “Never mind. Mom will still be at the hospital.”
“Good, because so will we.” Ethan stopped outside the E.R. doors and commandeered a wheelchair. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed having her lean on him. That was the problem. He was here to do a job. Period.
Out of the car before he got to her door, she scowled at the chair. “I don’t need that.”
He wheeled behind her and bumped the chair against the back of her knees. “Sit.” He leaned down to adjust the footrests, and a strawberry scent teased his nostrils. He’d always been partial to strawberries. He straightened quickly.
Noticing how good a suspect smelled was not in his job description.
A nurse wheeled Kim inside while Ethan parked.
He took the opportunity to phone the chief. “There’s likely a connection between Blake’s shooting and my investigation. I need you to keep me informed of any leads.”
“So far, all they’ve got is a witness who saw a black truck screech away. What do you have?”
“I’m not sure yet.” The ten-minute drive had netted him nothing more than a detailed description of the vandals and the strong impression that Kim was holding out on him. He couldn’t recall hearing or seeing a getaway vehicle. But he’d been so focused on getting Kim to cover, all he’d been listening for was more gunfire. “I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Details he hoped he could wheedle out of Kim during the lengthy hospital wait. “In the meantime, if investigators bring in a couple of suspects—baggy pants, wiry builds, one with a pockmarked face—do me a favor and keep them alive.”
“I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Neither do I.” Ethan pocketed his phone, but when he stepped into the waiting room Kim was gone. He knocked on the glass separating the room from the admitting desk. “Excuse me. Has Kim Corbett been taken to an examining room?”
The receptionist glanced at the list on her clipboard. “Sorry, sir, she’ll have to wait awhile yet. A nurse will come get her when an examining room is available.”
Ethan squinted out the E.R. doors. He’d monitored his rearview mirror the entire drive. No one had followed them. But if the cop who had stopped them reported their names to someone dirty…
Ethan hunted down the nurse who’d brought Kim inside. “Do you know what happened to the woman in the wheelchair?”
“A technician took her to X-ray. Second floor. Follow the green arrows.”
Ethan rushed toward the stairs.
Anyone could yank on a lab coat and pose as a hospital tech. He scaled the stairs two at a time and beelined straight for the receptionist. “Kim Corbett. Is she here?” Turning from the counter, he hunched over to haul in a breath just as a technician wheeled Kim out of the X-ray room.
Relief slammed into him, followed by annoyance, which must’ve shown on his face, because Kim gave him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to hang around here. I can catch a ride home with my mom.”
“Of course I do,” he said, feeling like a brute. After all, it wasn’t her fault he was losing it. “As if I’d abandon you,” he added, smiling at her. “You’re stuck with me until I’m sure you’re okay.”
The pleasure that flickered across her face arrowed straight to his heart.
He took over steering her chair, cursing his inappropriate reactions.
“She goes back to the E.R.,” the technician said.
Ethan wheeled her onto the elevator. A stocky, tattoo-plastered hippie stood in the back.
“Tony,” Kim exclaimed to the fifty-something man. “What are you doing here?”
The man shifted uneasily. “I’m not feeling so hot.” His gaze darted from Ethan to her elevated foot. “I heard you hurt your ankle. How is it?”
“I’ll live.”
Tony eyed Ethan suspiciously.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I forgot you haven’t met Ethan yet. He’s our newest staff member, and was kind enough to drive me here.”
Mellowing, Tony thrust out his hand. “Good to have you on board.”
What was with the man’s sudden about-face? And how had he heard about Kim’s ankle?
The elevator door swished open and Tony hurried out. “See you around.”
Ethan wheeled Kim back to the E.R., where a nurse directed them to a private examining room equipped with splints and plaster.
Ethan closed the door after her. “Was that called-in-sick-today Tony?”
Kim chuckled. “Yes.”
“How well do you know him?”
“I’ve known him since I was little. His size and the tattoos plastered down his arms used to intimidate me. But he relates well to the youth. Really well.”
“They trust him?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s a bit of an idol to some of them.”
Tony sounded like the kind of guy who’d have no trouble recruiting kids to do his bidding. Ethan pulled up a chair in front of Kim’s and, straddling the back, gave her a grave look. “Don’t you find it strange that a guy who’s never taken a sick day calls in minutes after the incident outside the manor? And, hours later, shows up at the hospital the same time the driver arrives with a gunshot wound?”
Kim’s jaw dropped. “What are you suggesting?”
“A guy almost runs you down. Then when you go to see him, you get chased by a couple of vandals, and he gets shot. I’m sorry, Kim. That doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me.”
She stared at him for a long minute. “You think Blake deliberately tried to hit me?”
“Or scare you, yes.”
“That’s crazy. I haven’t seen Blake since he was released over a year ago. He never had a beef with me.”
“Okay, so who does?”
“No one!”
“Are you sure? Because it looks to me like someone hired Blake to hurt you, and then tried to take him out before he could reveal who.”
“And you think that someone is Tony?” She let out a laugh. “This is Miller’s Bay, not Toronto.”
Ethan kneaded the muscles in the back of his neck, debating how much information he could safely dole out. “You’ve got to admit he looks the part.”
“Tony has devoted his life to helping troubled kids. He’d never do anything illegal.”
“He sports a gang tattoo that suggests otherwise.”
“His past is no secret. He did his time.”
“Everyone has secrets, Kim.”
She crossed her arms. “Why are you so convinced someone’s out to get me?”
“Because I think you’re in more danger than you realize. And I want to know why.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. Bad things happen. And today was my day.”
A nurse peeked in the door. “Miss Corbett, there’s an urgent call for you at the desk.”
Kim’s gaze flew to Ethan’s. “Who knows I’m here?”
Ethan wheeled her to the phone, where, despite the noise of staff and paramedics rushing past, he couldn’t mistake the frantic voice of her brother.
“Kim, are you all right?”
Ethan grinned. Had to like a guy who worried about his sister.
For some reason, Kim looked more annoyed than pleased by his concern. “I’m having my ankle X-rayed.”
Darryl’s voice dropped too low for Ethan to make out what he said next.
“Since when do you get so worked up over my being late?” Kim responded. She paused, listening. “Someone stole my car?” Another pause. “Oh, that. I’m sorry I worried you. I thought you’d be here visiting Dad.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Darryl’s voice blasted so loud Kim pulled the receiver from her ear. “Your tires were slashed!”
“Yes, I know.” Kim cupped her hand over the receiver and lowered her voice. “I didn’t report it because at the time the police were too busy looking for the shooter.”
“Shooter? What shooter?”
“Blake’s.”
Silence for a full thirty seconds. Then Darryl said something that made Kim’s eyes flash. Returning the phone to the nurse, she said to Ethan, “Apparently, I have a ride home.”
He smothered a chuckle. “I’m glad to see your brother looks out for you.”
“Yeah, a little too much sometimes.”
Ethan disagreed, but kept the opinion to himself. It was reassuring to know that her brother would keep an eye on her. Wheeling her back to the examining room, Ethan told himself he was relieved. He was here to find the person recruiting residents to peddle drugs, not to be Kim’s bodyguard.
Of course, she still had information that could help him. He was certain of it. He’d gotten what he could from her on the Tony and Blake front, but he still needed to figure out how Aaron fit in. And fast. Because, somehow, he didn’t think her brother would be thrilled to find him hanging around.
Ethan shut the door. “How well do you know Aaron Sheppard?”
“Oh, no. Did Darryl give him a hard time again? I told him to stop doing that.”
“So you and Aaron hang out together?” he probed.
“We’re not a couple, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not, but…” Ethan let his voice trail off. He’d been about to say he was glad to hear it, but that wasn’t appropriate.
Or was it?
He hated to play on the attraction to gain information, but then again, lives were at stake. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said aloud.
Her instant blush triggered a corresponding reaction in the region of his heart. He tried to ignore it. But after years of interviewing women too jaded to blush at much of anything, it was hard not to be charmed by Kim’s involuntary response.
“So, why are you asking?”
He deals drugs! But if she couldn’t think ill of a kid who drove his car at her, let alone a burly ex-gang member, she’d never believe it of clean-cut Aaron. “Just curious. Bad habit left over from my cop days, I guess.”
Kim’s expression softened. “Do you ever miss the job?”
He shrugged dismissively, but Kim persisted.
“Did something happen in Toronto? I mean…to make you want to give up police work?”
The compassion in her voice heightened hi
s sense of guilt. Listing his “former” occupation on his Hope Manor job application had made him a shoo-in for the new position, but it was clear Kim wouldn’t settle for his vague reason for leaving. He could tell her his cover story, but that would just heap on more guilt. And he couldn’t tell her the truth.
“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
“Not at all. You care. That’s nice.” He covered her hand with his—only to cement her trust, of course. But before he could congratulate himself on his detached professional behavior, his mouth opened and he heard himself say, “The truth is I was feeling restless and started praying for a new opportunity to open up. I wanted to do more. I wanted what I did to matter more. Then I got shot.”
As Ethan recounted the shooting, Kim’s heart wrenched. No wonder he was so paranoid about her safety. Between the sound of the gunshot and then seeing her hit the pavement, he must’ve relived that horrible day minute by minute. She cringed to think what memories the sterile white walls and cold marble floor of the examination room were stirring in him. “How long were you in the hospital?”
“Six weeks.” His gaze shifted to the window. “It was another month before I was in any shape to do more than push papers.”
“You never returned to active duty?”
The muscle in his jaw tightened, and for a moment he didn’t answer. “For half a shift.”
She gasped, imagining the worst. “What happened?”
“I lost my edge.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a weary sigh. “A doped-up break-in suspect waved a rifle in my face, and I froze.”
“I’m sorry.”
He straightened. “Don’t be. God brought me here for a reason.”
“Yes,” she said, gratitude flowing through her. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here today.”
The door burst open. Darryl stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping from her to Ethan. Just perfect. Darryl took a step toward Ethan, eyes glaring with his unmistakable get-your-hands-off-my-sister scowl.
Thankfully, the doctor came in on Darryl’s heels, cutting off her brother’s inevitable tirade. The doctor snapped an X-ray onto the light board. “Good news is you don’t have a break.” He pulled up a stool and palpated the swollen tissue. “Looks like a slight sprain. With ice and rest you’ll be back on your feet within a week.”
Shades of Truth Page 5
