“And Daniel’s going to show you how he eats his grilled cheese and soup, aren’t you Deputy Daniel?” Lorna said with such a pointedness in her voice, he quickly got the idea his face showed all the anger inside him and might be frightening his dinner guest.
Quickly he picked up his spoon and smiled at Lexie. “Sure thing. First thing you have to do is scoop some up, then you blow on it to be sure it’s not too hot.”
Lexie giggled. “I know that.”
“Did you know,” he said, leaning a little closer, “that blowing on it lets you smell how good it’s going to taste? The trick is to smell it just after you blow.”
She raised her brows a little skeptically, but spooned up some soup and leaned in to blow on it. Her nose wrinkled and he knew she was trying to smell. She blew and wrinkled her nose again.
“Well?”
She gave him a gap-toothed grin. “It smells good.” She popped the spoon into her mouth then smiled again. “It is good.”
“Of course it is,” Rachel said, coming to stop by the door, a tray of food in her hands. “It’s my mom’s secret recipe. You know how I used to eat it?”
Lexie shook her head around the spoon in her mouth.
“I used to dunk my grilled cheese in it. Now that’s yummy.” She winked, then headed out to serve her customers.
Lexie put down her spoon and picked up a piece of her grilled cheese. Pete had cut them into four triangles. She dipped the corner of one into the soup then ate it, her eyes lighting up with delight as she munched on the food.
Daniel chuckled and dug into his food, too.
They ate in companionable silence until Lexie’s plate and bowl were empty. Daniel wiped his mouth with his napkin and contemplated the next problem, now that he knew the little girl had had a hot meal. What to do with Lexie?
Rachel appeared in the doorway with two more glasses of milk and a plate of hot chocolate chip cookies. “Mom said I could take my break now and I thought I’d share some of Pete’s cookies with you Lexie, if that’s okay.”
The little girl nodded, her face once more lit up with pleasure at the sight of the cookies.
Rachel set the milk and cookies on the table, then turned to Daniel. “Mom wants to talk with you. I’ll stay with Lexie.”
Grabbing his mug, he vacated his seat for the teenage waitress and headed to find Lorna. He refilled his mug at the coffee station before walking into the busy front of the café. She was standing beside a corner booth where Deke and Libby Reynolds were seated. Which made sense. As the county social worker, Libby probably knew about Lexie and her mother.
“Deke, Libby,” he said, scooting into the booth across from them. Lorna perched on the end of the booth in case she needed to see to customers.
“Daniel,” Deke said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Heard you had a hard afternoon.”
“Was going okay until I got to the Old Thurber place.”
“Lorna said you found Lexie alone inside the house? With no sign of Rosie?” Libby asked, her voice husky with concern.
He nodded. “Lexie was buried under a pile of blankets. No mother in sight.” He gave them a brief rundown of the condition of the little girl, her thread-bare clothes and useless sneakers, as well as the trashed house and drug paraphernalia he planned to go back and bag up later as evidence.
“Only thing I could think to do was bring her here to get some hot food in her,” he said.
“And it’s a good thing you did,” Lorna said, dropping her hand on his shoulder. “I’d hate to have to refuse you as a customer if you hadn’t.”
He grinned up at her threat. For someone with so much tough and sass on the outside, the café owner had a soft marshmallow center.
“The problem is,” Libby said, drawing their attention, “with all this snow, the roads in such bad condition and half the county without power, I have no idea where to put her for the night.”
“She could stay with us,” Deke offered.
Libby smiled at him, but shook her head. “While I’d love to have her stay with us, she can’t.”
“Why not? Even with Kyle in the house, we’ve got two more extra bedrooms.”
“Because when this case goes to court, and believe me it will, I will have to give a very objective analysis of Lexie’s home situation. Her safety and welfare can’t be compromised because she spent even one hour in our home.”
“That sucks.” Deke sounded like a pouty kid. Daniel agreed with him.
“I’d take her home with me, but I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a little girl, much less have anywhere to put her,” Daniel said. He lived in a one room apartment not too far from the downtown area of Westen. It was part of an old thrashing mill from the early nineteenth century that had been converted to apartments nearly fifty years ago. While maintained well, the place really was set up for single people with no kids.
Lorna shook her head. “Rachel would love to share her room with Lexie, except with the condition of the roads, she and I are camping out in my office for the night and maybe tomorrow to keep the café open for anyone straggling in. That’s not a good situation for Lexie, even if it’s better than where’s she’s been the past twenty-four hours.”
No one said it, but they were all thinking that Lexie staying at the café was probably better than any condition the little girl had been living in, even with her mother there to take care of her.
They sat silently, contemplating what to do with Lexie at least for the night.
Suddenly, Lorna slapped a hand on the table. “I’ve got an idea,” she said, pushing herself off the vinyl booth seat and making a bee line for the cash register.
Daniel followed her path to see Melissa Compton paying her bill. Melissa was a sweet woman, quiet and shy—probably from years of being beaten by her ex-husband. Finally, on her own now, she ran the county’s halfway house for teens trying to get a new start on life. In fact, Kyle Gordon, Deke and Libby’s foster son started his time in Westen living at the house.
“What a good idea,” Libby said quietly across from him.
She and Deke were also watching Lorna talk with Melissa. A few minutes later the two ladies headed into the kitchen area behind the lunch counter.
“Why would it be good for Melissa to take Lexie? She already has that halfway house and several teens to be responsible for,” Daniel said, still staring into the kitchen area.
“Because Lexie needs someone to mother her,” Libby said. “And Melissa needs someone to mother.”
* * * * *
“My feet are killing me.” The last surgery finished, Dylan flopped down on a sofa in the staff lounge of the surgical unit, kicked off her clogs and elevated her feet on one of the plastic chairs circling the lunch table. Per her usual routine, she’d stayed with her patient all the way into the recovery room and for the first set of vitals.
Her first week out of med school as a new surgical intern, the nurses had made sure she knew the protocol. It was her responsibility to be sure the patient was stable and all the orders written correctly before she could leave the bedside. One of her male counterparts had balked at the idea that nurses should tell him what to do, leaving the chart on the counter and high-tailing it to the lounge. The nurses called to tell him the patient’s vital signs—one phone call at a time for pulse, blood pressure, respiration and temperature. Then they’d called to have their questions answered—one phone call at a time. When they started in on the page of orders, fifteen lines long but one phone call at a time, he finally got the message. Follow the routine, treat the nurses with respect, or suffer the consequences.
“What are you grinning at, Doc?” the traveling surgical tech Steve asked, plopping his big body down on the other end of the sofa. Having been by her side for every one of the cases they’d done today, he had to be as tired as she.
“Just remembering when Cardiff got taught by the nurses who was really in charge last summer,” she said, her grin widening.
“Doc
tor Beautiful thought nurses were beneath him?” the big man said with a smirk.
“He wished.” Dylan laughed. Janowski made it very apparent the first day they met that he was gay and not ashamed for anyone to know it. Not the flamboyant, in your face kind of acknowledgement of his sexual preference, but during quiet moments like this, they’d had more than one talk about which male staff member made them drool and which they labeled nothing more than tools. Cardiff was a drool worthy tool.
“Yes. I believe he had one or two sleepless nights before he figured out that pissing off the nurses wasn’t in his best interest.”
“Let me guess, you learned quick enough not to get the every-fifteen-minute-calls all night long treatment?”
Dylan grinned over at him. “I was raised by two older sisters. Both practical and loaded with tons of common sense. I also hate having to learn something twice. The nurses want to teach me how to do things to make their lives easier? Figure it would make mine easier, too.”
“The minute I met you, I knew there was more to you than a pretty face,” he said with a wink.
“Speaking of sisters,” Dylan pulled out her phone and swiped to open the screen. “Bobby called me before the last case, but I couldn’t talk. She’s left a message thirty minutes ago.”
Stay safe. Still haven’t heard from Chloe. Is phone service sketchy there?
“Crap.”
“What’s up?” Janowski asked.
“She still hasn’t heard from Chloe.”
“That’s the lawyer sister?”
Dylan nodded as she hit the call button for Chloe’s number. “Crap. It went straight to voicemail.” She shoved herself up from her seat, stretched to work out some of the kinks in her muscles and slid her feet into her crocks. “Since I gave report to Cardiff, I’m off for the next two and a half days. Guess I’ll go over to Chloe’s and check on her.”
“The roads are still pretty treacherous,” Steve said, coming to his feet, too.
“Cardiff lives out near where my sister’s condo is. He said the roads weren’t too bad out that way this evening. I need to see if Chloe is okay and if she is, I need to let Bobby know. She’ll make herself sick with worry. She’s already at risk being a first-time mother at thirty-eight. Last thing we need is her getting her blood pressure up when it could be a simple problem, like Chloe just doesn’t have power to charge her phone.”
Dylan headed to the women’s locker-room to get her coat and backpack. When she came out, all bundled for the winter weather outside the hospital, Janowski was equally impersonating an Eskimo and leaning against the hallway wall.
She lifted one questioning brow his direction.
He shrugged. “It’s dark. It’s late. Thought you could protect me on the way to my car.”
Laughing, she slipped her arm through his and hung on to him out through the ER entrance.
“Isn’t it beautiful? All this white?” she asked, pausing to take in the nearly perfect winter vision before them.
“Yep. As long as you don’t have to drive anywhere,” Janowski said with a shake of his head. “Like home. Which is really calling my name, Doc.”
She laughed, squeezing his arm and they moved forward, slipping and sliding their way around the corner on the iced-over sidewalks to the employee’s parking lot. Someone, probably maintenance or the security staff, had cleaned the snow that had fallen during the previous twenty-four hours off all the vehicles in the lot. The nearly foot of snow was a lot for Cincinnati. Probably way more up north in Westen where Bobby lived.
“Which one’s yours?” Janowski asked.
“That’s me.” She pointed to the silver Toyota 4 Runner parked an aisle over and three cars in.
“I’m in the back.” He pointed to the Jeep in the far corner of the lot. “How about I stick around to make sure you don’t have any problems starting your car and you can give me a lift over to mine?”
“It’s a deal,” she said, hitting the unlock button as they neared her car. Nothing happened. “That’s not good.”
“Try unlocking manually,” he said.
The key worked fine and a moment later she was seated behind the wheel. She pushed the start button. Silence.
“Great. It won’t start.”
“Freezing weather can be hell on batteries and cars’ electrical systems. Let’s go check mine.”
“I should probably stay with my car and call the auto service,” she said, pulling out her phone.
“Suit yourself doc, but between the weather and the bad roads, I doubt anyone will get her for a while, maybe hours. I prefer to spend that time buried in my bed, eyes clamped shut.” He stepped back, still holding the door. “I can have you over at your sister’s place then home if you want before I hit the wall and pass out.”
Dylan considered his words. He was probably right about the auto service getting here any time before midnight. Exhaustion was taking its toll on her body and mind already.
“Okay. But you let me buy you breakfast tomorrow,” she said, grabbing her bag from the passenger seat where she’d tossed it. Out of the car, she manually locked it again and went arm-in-arm with Steve to his Jeep. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any more surprises tonight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They parked outside Chloe’s condo. Dylan hated to admit it, but given how treacherous the roads had been, despite the efforts of the Department of Transportation’s crews, she was glad Steven had done the driving. He’d handled the Jeep on the skids like a man used to driving on icy roads.
“This the place?” Janowski asked, staring up at the converted Victorian.
“Yes. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century and was once a one family home of some industrialist. A few years back it was converted to four two-bedroom condos. Chloe said it reminded her of the old place where Bobby raised us, only more up-to-date.”
“So your sister raised you and Chloe?” he asked as they climbed out of the Jeep.
She shoved her hands into her coat pocket and carefully met him at the front of the car. “After our parents died. Bobby was twelve years older than Chloe, fourteen ahead of me. She quit college, got her associate teaching certificate to teach pre-K for a few years and then finished her BA in teaching all while raising Chloe and me.”
“That’s a good big sister. Steady there.” Grasping her arm as she started across a slick spot on the sidewalk, he kept her steady until they were on an area still covered with snow, but not slick. “The last thing either of us need is a trip back to the ER, this time on a stretcher.”
“Especially with Cardiff covering surgery tonight,” Dylan said and they both laughed.
They carefully made their way up the steps and inside the lighted vestibule.
“Looks like the power’s back on if it was out before,” Steven said as she took the key she had to Chloe’s place and let them inside the security door. “That’s a good thing.”
“Well, yes. If she’s here, then she’s not freezing to death…” She let the statement hang.
“But if it’s not a power outage?”
“Then she better have a damn good reason for not answering Bobby’s or my calls.” And the little niggle of worry she’d been pushing to the back of her brain all day while busy in surgery, suddenly grew into a warning bell.
She led him up the stairs to the second floor where Chloe’s condo took up the right half of the floor. At the doorway, the stopped cold.
It stood slightly ajar.
Dylan reached for the knob, but Janowski grabbed her hand, shaking his head to stop her. Reaching into his coat, he suddenly pulled out a gun, stepping between her and the door. “Stay behind me, Doc.”
Hell yes, she was staying behind him. The man had a freaking gun in his hand.
At some point she was going to have to address the fact that her new co-worker had a concealed weapon, but as she inched her way into Chloe’s apartment and saw the savage chaos of the usually neat and tidy space, she was very glad Janowski was ar
med.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the alarm system by the door. Someone had pried it open and cut the wires.
Janowski nodded.
“Oh, my God,” she whispered as they moved deeper into the condo.
“I take it this isn’t your sister’s usual decorating style?” Steven asked over his shoulder.
“You mean modern-trashed-by-tornado-and-tagged-with-spray-painted-obscenities? Not Chloe’s thing. If anyone’s place would look like this, it would be mine—well except for the spray paint part.”
He gave her a one-eyebrow lift and half a smirk.
She shrugged. What could she say? Neatness only counted in surgery to her.
“This room is clear. You stay here and I’ll check out the rest of the place. Okay?” he said, all teasing gone from his voice.
She nodded.
The way he held the gun and moved through the condo reminded her of all those action/adventure movies she used to watch with her sister Bobby, especially the ones with SWAT or Navy Seal heroes. Despite the chaos surrounding her, Janowski’s obvious training reassured her that she was at least safe with him here. She just prayed he didn’t find Chloe in one of the other rooms.
“It’s all clear. No one here,” Steven said as he came back in the room, putting his gun back into the holster under his armpit.
Dylan slumped down on the arm of the sofa. “At least Chloe’s not here dead or injured.” She paused, fear gripping her heart. “What if whoever did this has her?” She reached for the bag slung on her shoulder to get her phone only to see Janowski had his out, pushing buttons. “Are you calling the police?”
“No. Someone else you need to talk to.” He held her gaze as the phone dialed in his hand. A deep voice that sounded a little familiar answered.
“What’s wrong, Bulldog?”
* * * * *
The timer on the oven broke the lovely silence surrounding Chloe as she snuggled against Wes. It took several beeps before he moved to leave the bed.
Close To Danger (Westen Series Book 4) Page 15
