by Vella Day
She set the clinic’s alarm, doused the overhead lights, and locked the door. Yolanda had asked the staff to park next to the vacant warehouse so the patients could have the good spaces in front of the clinic. If only the city would install a few more streetlights in this part of town, walking in the dark wouldn’t be such an issue.
While the temperature was above freezing, it was still damned cold. Jamie drew her coat close, and hugged her purse to her side. Keeping her head down, she rushed toward her car.
She’d walked about fifty feet when slow moving headlights coming toward her drew her attention. Jamie might not have noticed had they not pulled to the side, stopped for maybe ten seconds then started toward her again. Were they looking for an open store at this hour? The street was all but deserted, and the shop windows were dark. This part of town wasn’t the best place to be at night. Anxiety sped through her veins.
A couple hundred feet ahead of her, the van drove into the middle of the road, angled toward her, and stopped. With the lights blinding her, Jamie squinted and looked away. The driver and passenger side van doors squeaked opened and, seconds later, slammed shut. Footsteps hit the hard pavement with thuds. Or was that her heart pounding hard against her ribs?
Oh, shit. Her sixth sense told her something was about to go down, and she was caught in the middle. Jamie swiveled her head right, then left, but detected no one else nearby.
Act casual. Jamie spun around to retrace her steps, pretending she’d forgotten something inside the safety of the clinic.
“Hey you. Stop!” The man then shouted something else, but she couldn’t make out the words.
Her pulse escalated. Run! Sprinting toward the clinic, she pumped her arms, her purse beating against her side. Oh, God. Footsteps sounded behind her.
Her legs weakened as she drew near the clinic door. If she thought screaming would help, she would have yelled her lungs out. When Jamie finally reached the front, she grabbed the door handle, and tugged to open it. Locked. Fuck. Heart racing, she unzipped her purse with shaking fingers, and fumbled for the elusive key. Damn it. She should have hooked it on her own keychain.
“Come on, come on.”
She glanced down the street. Two men, wearing baseball caps tugged low over their eyes, closed in on her. Her stomach churned. One continued in her direction, while the other slid behind the building next to the clinic. What the hell was going on?
Hurry. Cold metal contacted her now warm skin. She grabbed the key and shoved it into the lock, but it snagged. “Shit.”
Her eyes teared from the cold, making it next to impossible to see what she was doing. Jamie opened her mouth to gulp in air and pushed the key in harder. She wiggled the metal back and forth. On the third try, it finally went in. Her heart lurched. She turned the lock, yanked open the door, and rushed inside. She took one step when her addled brain clicked into gear.
Lock the damn door. Leave the silent alarm on.
If she didn’t punch in the code within thirty seconds, the security company would send help. After Jamie flicked the deadbolt closed, she ran toward the hallway door, the glowing Exit sign providing the needed light. A tight band squeezed her chest, making it damned hard to breathe, let alone to think.
Jamie was halfway down the hall, when shouts sounded from the front, and the door rattled. This can’t be happening. To hell with the security firm. From the side pocket of her purse she extracted her phone. A few quick swipes brought up the keypad, and she pressed 911.
Jamie had to find someplace to hide. She pushed open Exam Room 4, locked the door, and plastered her back against the wall, her heart banging against her ribs. She didn’t dare turn on the lights for fear they’d find her.
The phone seemed to take forever to ring. “911. What is the nature of your emergency?”
Finally. Jamie strained to hear the intruders, but she couldn’t, not over the pounding in her ears. “I’m at the free clinic on First Street,” she whispered. “Two men got out of a dark van, and are now trying to break into the clinic.” Her tongue stuck to her dry mouth.
The woman told her to stay calm, that officers were on the way, and to remain on the line.
Stay calm? Really? “I’ll try.”
Jamie slumped back against the wall, her body shaking. Nothing made sense. Why were they chasing her if they planned to break into the clinic? Why not wait until she was gone before trying to steal something? Yolanda had told her that after a gang had robbed them of drugs last year, she’d called the city and insisted they put in an alarm. They had. A lot of good it was doing Jamie now. Hopefully, the cameras would catch these guys in action.
“Ma’am?” The voice on the other end broke through her thoughts.
Jamie swallowed to wet her mouth. “Yes?”
“Where are you?”
She needed a moment for the words to sink in. “In the clinic.” Hadn’t she said that?
“I have two officers at the front door. They need you to open up.”
Relief poured through her, but her legs had turned to rubber. She straightened and groped for the knob in the dark. After twisting it open, Jamie moved as quickly down the hallway as her body would allow. She drew open the heavy wooden door that led to the waiting room, and hurried to the entrance.
Red, blue, and white flashing lights spun around the room, creating a kaleidoscope of color. Thank God, help was here.
Jamie unlocked the door and opened it. Standing in front of her was Thad Dalton, another of her friend’s fiancés, and someone else she’d seen at this weekend’s wedding.
“Jamie?” Thad ran his hands down her arms. “Are you okay?” The second man, who Thad introduced as Trent Lawson, turned on the overhead lights.
“Yes.”
Thad led her over to the chairs and had her sit down. “Tell me everything.”
In starts and stops, she explained about locking up then spotting the van that had stopped in the middle of the street. Questions about why this was happening kept bombarding her. Hadn’t she been through enough?
“Did you get a look at their faces to see if you knew them?” Trent asked.
“No. I’m sorry. They wore baseball caps and kept their heads down.”
Thad leaned forward. “Can you remember if they were close enough to see you lock up?”
She racked her brain, but no memory surfaced. “I don’t think so, but maybe.”
“Is the place alarmed?” Trent asked. “We spotted the cameras. That should help us catch these men.”
Oh, crap. “Yes.” She jumped up and punched in the number for the alarm, then returned to her seat.
“I’ll ask one of the men to call the security company.” Trent asked her for the company’s name. “I need to let them know everything’s okay.”
“It’s AA Protection Services,” she said, surprised she remembered.
Once he spoke into his shoulder radio and gave the other officers the information, Trent dragged a chair around to face her. He took out his iPad, probably for taking notes, and looked over at Thad. “If they were here to rob the place, they’d probably assume any clinic with drugs would be alarmed. Perhaps they wanted the key.”
“Even with the key, they’d have to punch in the code,” she said.
Trent raised his brow. “Maybe that’s what they needed you for.”
“You think?” Crap. Had karma decided she’d done something wrong in her past life and deserved this punishment?
Trent firmed his lips. “I have no proof of anything. It was just speculation. I’m sorry.”
She understood why he’d said it.
“You’re safe now, Jamie,” Thad said.
It was as if he could read her mind. Or had he noticed how she’d woven her fingers together? She stopped tapping her foot, and tried to slow her rapid breathing.
“I know.” She trusted Thad. Her friend and therapist, Zoey Donovan, was a lucky woman to have snagged him.
“Could these two men have been teens?” Thad asked.
<
br /> Teens? He worked for the Street Crime Unit who dealt with gangs. “Not unless teenage boys have really deep voices.” Jamie told him about the man shouting. She then closed her eyes for a moment to picture them. “They were large, but it was too dark to see much of their shape. I do remember that the one who ran around to the back had a slight limp.”
Trent jotted that down. “Can you describe the van?”
Weren’t all vans the same? “Black. Big. As I mentioned, as soon as I thought I might be in danger, I spun around and didn’t think of anything other than getting to safety.”
Trent relayed her information about the vehicle to someone on the other end of his radio mic.
“You did good,” Thad said.
Jamie held out her hand. “Then why am I shaking?”
“Because you went through a trauma.” Thad then glanced at Trent. “We should have someone patrol the place for the next couple of days.”
“I’ll let the captain know,” Trent said.
After a multitude of questions that ranged from who normally locked up, to if she had been aware of the many thefts in the past, two patrolmen knocked on the front door. Trent let them in.
“We checked a four block radius, sir, but spotted no one,” one of the cops said.
“Thanks,” Trent replied. “Keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. We don’t need them returning.”
Thad tapped her knee. “I bet you want to get out of here.”
He had no idea. “Yes, but I need to call my supervisor and tell her what happened.”
Trent returned. He swiped his iPad. “Give me her number, and I’ll take care of it.”
“I appreciate it.” Jamie was too torn up to go over the event one more time. She looked up Dr. Yolanda Withers’ contact information on her cell and gave the information to Trent.
Thad stood. “I want you to stay with us tonight.”
He was the sweetest man alive. Jamie rose and placed a hand on his arm. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine. If you could drive me to my car, and maybe follow me home, I’ll be good.”
He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”
Chapter Two
When Thad escorted Jamie into his house, it was close to ten thirty at night. Her body ached with both fatigue and frustration. Zoey should have been in bed, but there she was standing at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee in her hand, her brows pinched.
Zoey set the drink down and rushed over, opening her arms to hug Jamie hard. “Oh, Jamie. Are you okay?”
Her friend acted as if the thugs had actually harmed her. “I’m fine. They didn’t get me.”
Only after Thad and Trent arrived, had she realized things could have gone very wrong. She shivered, pushing aside the fact she’d been seconds away from possibly being attacked or killed.
“Thank goodness.” Zoey leaned back and held Jamie at arm’s length, running her gaze up and down her body. “You don’t look any worse for wear.”
“I’m just a bit shaken. That’s all.” Jamie slipped out of her coat and draped it over one of the center island stools.
“I made some decaf for you. Black. Just the way you like it.” Zoey handed her a matching mug.
“I can really use this.” Jamie brought the rich smelling brew to her lips and sipped. Divine. It was the perfect temperature—warm without being tongue-burning hot.
Thad waved the satchel he’d let her gather from home. “I’ll put this in the spare bedroom.”
Jamie appreciated he was giving them some space. “Thanks.”
While she might appear calm on the outside, her stomach was churning up a storm, and anger was close to the boiling point. The near violation was beginning to sink in.
Zoey picked up her mug. “Tell me what happened.”
“You going to charge me for the session?” Jamie gave her former therapist a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“No, missy. Now spill.”
Jamie inhaled. “The one time Yolanda asks me to close up, some thugs decide to rob the place.” The injustices of this last year came crashing down on her and she squeezed the cup tighter.
Gravity tugged on Zoey’s lips. “Thad has a punching bag in the garage. Want to take a whack at it?” Zoey acted like that would help.
“I would if I knew I wouldn’t break my hand.”
“Come here.” Zoey wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, and led Jamie over to the sofa in the family room and sat down next to her. “No one would argue that what happened to you was terrible, frightening, and undeserving, but this might be a good thing.”
Jamie studied her friend, checking to make sure her eyes were clear. “You might be a shrink, but are you sure you haven’t been smoking some wacky weed or something?” Even though every cell in Jamie’s body vibrated with irritation, Zoey’s words eased her concern.
Her friend set down her nearly empty coffee mug on the wooden table in front of them. “Anger can sometimes be a good motivator.”
“Really? If that’s the case, I should go on tour. With how pissed I am, I could motivate the hell out of people.”
Zoey smiled. “I wasn’t talking about motivational speaking.”
Jamie sipped her coffee, some of the frustration dissipating. “I’m not really following you.”
“All I’m saying is that while you’re riled up, it’s a good time to take action.”
“Action, as in trying to get the store owners to clean up the street, kind of action?” Then where would Jonathan, Larry, and those like them live? “Or action, as in bugging the city for more streetlights, and maybe even a few policemen to patrol the area?”
“I like those ideas, but I was thinking more along the lines of taking a class in self-defense from the police department.”
Jamie had considered doing that after a female friend had been mugged a few years back, but time always got away from her. “Given my size, I think I’d be better off learning to shoot a gun.”
Zoey winced. “I thought you hated weapons.”
“I do, more than anything, but I’m tired of being a victim.” When Max spoke to her at the wedding about how she seemed to think of herself as one, she’d stomped off. She could see he’d been right. “In truth, I wouldn’t feel good handling a gun, and I certainly could never shoot anyone, but having one close by might make me feel more secure.”
“I’m all for whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”
While Jamie didn’t really care for the gun option, if Zoey hadn’t had a stun gun when one of her loose cannon clients attacked her, Zoey could have died. “Working the night shift twice a week at the clinic probably isn’t a smart choice on my part. I guess I could ask for days only.” Jamie shrugged, trying to think outside the box. “Or I could get a job in a better neighborhood. The problem with that is that I like working with those in need. Besides, I really like my coworkers.”
“Keep thinking. Something will be a good fit.” Zoey’s smile brightened.
“I can’t quite tell which solution you like the best, but your eyes lit up when I said I could quit my clinic work. Are you suggesting I go back to the hospital?” Jamie wasn’t convinced it was any safer there.
Zoey shook her head. “It’s not up to me to decide. You’re the one in control. It’s your life.”
“Control. Right. My life has been out of control ever since Benny tried to take away my pain.”
“Well, keep thinking. More options equate to more power.”
Jamie leaned back against the sofa, her mind going in ten different directions. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“My rage is actually wearing off,”she said, inhaling.
“That’s good, right?”
Hadn’t Zoey just said that anger was an excellent motivator? Maybe it had already done its job by allowing her to consider her next course of action. “The problem is, now I’m kind of scared.” It had been a long time since Jamie had admitted something like that.
Zoe
y slid Jamie’s mug from her fingers. “Come here, you. I bet you could use a hug.”
For the first time since she had spotted the men, Jamie really smiled. “You have no idea.”
* * *
Max Gruden rolled over in bed thinking the loud noise came from one of his many bad dreams. When the vibrations in his head refused to stop, he cracked open an eye and spotted the glowing cell on his nightstand. “Damn.” Picking up his phone, he glanced at the clock instead of looking at the name on the screen and answered. “Gruden. It’s one in the fucking morning.”
“Sorry. It’s Rich.”
Christ. Max had worked with the man for years. The guy had to know by now how precious sleep was to someone who suffered from insomnia. “What is it?” Max barely kept his voice civil.
“There’s a fire raging at the old warehouse on First Street.”
The word fire had Max sitting up, his feet hitting the cold floor. Arson investigators usually arrived after the coals were cold. “Tell me more.”
“About half an hour ago, I was driving down First Street—don’t ask—when I spotted the fire and called it in.” The excitement in his voice urged Max to hurry.
He rummaged through his closet for something warm. “What can we do?” His brain was still fuzzy.
“Fuck, Max. I thought it would be easier to locate the source if we witnessed the fire first hand.” Rich Egland had been an inspector way back when Max had first joined the Rock Hard Fire Department more than eight years ago. Now, he worked for Max.
Rich’s logic finally sunk in Max’s sleep-weary brain. “You’re right. It’ll be easier to determine if arson is involved. Appreciate the heads up. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He disconnected the call before Rich could say more.
Once dressed, Max rushed to his car and headed to the outskirts of town. As he neared the warehouse, his heart pinched at the sight. The place was lit up like a Christmas tree. Bad memories assaulted him, but he pushed them back. He’d found closure, or so he wanted to believe.
The closest he could park was a block away. Max hightailed it to the blaze. Flashing his new fire marshal’s badge, he spoke with a cop guarding the perimeter.
