by Rita Herron
The older man scratched his craggy chin. “I heard about it. Sorry I didn’t see anything.”
Parker grimaced. The old coot had probably nodded off. “We need to check the monitors,” he said. “Our unknown subject, UNSUB, was in the stairwell. He had to get in and out of the hospital some way without drawing suspicion.” He glanced at Grace and saw her grappling for control. He’d seen plenty of witnesses fall apart after an assault, but she had kept her cool. She was gutsy, strong, smart.
And so damned beautiful, she stole his breath.
How could any man use physical force against a woman, especially her? Grace was a healer, and the most giving woman he’d ever met.
Which meant he had to find out the identity of the man who’d tried to kill her and make him pay. But he lowered his voice, hoping to soothe her. “Grace, approximately what time did the attack occur?”
“Around five. It was only minutes after I left you.”
Parker gestured toward the cameras. “Let’s check all the feeds an hour prior to that, especially ones near the elevators, doors and stairwells. We’ll move from there through the time of the attack and the following half hour. He wouldn’t have stuck around long after that.”
Banks twisted his mouth sideways in skepticism. “Sounds like a plan.”
Parker barely resisted a curse. He’d thought the hospital was better equipped than this. Had budgets run low or was the facility simply not accustomed to crime?
GRACE STUDIED THE TAPES, her eyes darting from one camera to the next. Parker, Officer Owens and the security guard were all focused on examining the shots, as well.
Unfortunately nothing jumped out at them. But the dark shadows of the hallway and corridors reminded her of the cold reality of the assault.
She leaned forward, desperately searching for some sign that would reveal the identity of her attacker.
Had the man left the hospital after she’d fallen? Or had he hidden out somewhere inside? He could have disappeared into a lab, a janitor’s closet, a patient’s room, the cafeteria, the morgue….
And what if he wasn’t an outsider but one of the staff? She’d headed toward records. What if someone had overheard and didn’t want her to see Bruno’s autopsy? Or what if someone didn’t like her asking questions about the tissue transplants?
Maybe the lab technician or doctor who’d contaminated the tissue was worried about getting caught.
One segment suddenly caught her eye. A man wearing surgical scrubs with his face averted from the camera. His body language, scrunched shoulders and shrunken posture suggested that he was hiding something. Not as confident as most of the doctors she knew.
And then there was another man in a work uniform. He, too, had his face angled away from the camera, hat pulled low on his forehead. And he was wearing work gloves.
“Can you freeze that section, then isolate the man in scrubs, then the one in the uniform?” Parker asked, as if he, too, noticed the same suspicious behavior.
The security guard shrugged, but complied. Grace narrowed her eyes, trying to discern the man’s face, any features or distinguishing marks, but the camera shot seemed out of focus and she couldn’t make out the doctor’s face.
The same was true with the man in the uniform. He had hidden himself well.
Parker pointed to the man in scrubs. “Ask one of your team to freeze-frame this and show it around the hospital. I want to know if this man is on staff.”
The guard nodded, and Parker leaned closer, studying the other man more closely. “The hat indicates he’s from a work crew. Either that or he stole the uniform as a cover.” Parker cleared his throat. “It looks like there’s an emblem for a painting company on the pocket. Maybe if we isolate that and enlarge it, we can track down the company. See if they sent a worker out here on a job, and cross-reference it with official work orders from the hospital.”
Although hope budded in Grace’s chest that this was her attacker, she also realized that they were searching for a needle in a haystack. “Or he could just be a visitor here to see a friend or family member.”
Parker gave her an encouraging look. “Maybe. But I’m going to send these tapes to our team and see what they can come up with. Maybe they can bring the photo into focus and we can ID this guy.”
Grace’s heart raced. “You think he’s the man who attacked me?”
Questions and anger darkened his eyes. “I don’t know. But if he is, we’ll nail him, Grace.”
She wanted to believe him, to trust that he meant every word that he said. That for once the justice system would work. But she’d been alone a long time, had been disappointed time and time again.
And as much as she wanted this photograph to lead them to her assailant, fear clogged her throat.
She hadn’t felt safe since her parents had been murdered. Hadn’t trusted anyone but Bruno and now he was dead.
She didn’t know if she could trust anyone now, or if she’d ever truly feel safe again.
PARKER DIDN’T KNOW if the man on camera was the perp, but he had to pursue the tape as a possible lead.
Unless Grace had DNA beneath her fingernails—then they could nail the bastard.
Until then he had to convince Grace to lie low.
Officer Owens confiscated the tapes and left to take them to the crime lab while Parker and Grace headed back to his room. Thank God his leg was healing and he felt stronger, or maybe he was just pumped with adrenaline from finally getting back to work.
And from knowing that he had to protect Grace.
He didn’t have time to convalesce. Although the captain would never agree to let him come back officially, not yet.
When they reached his room, Grace turned to him. She looked pale and shaken, and so vulnerable with the bruises darkening her neck and forehead that his gut tightened.
“Parker, thank you for going with me to view those tapes.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Grace. I was doing my job.”
“You’re not on duty, you’re a patient—”
He silenced her with a glare. “My mind isn’t damaged,” he said sharply. “I’m still competent, Grace, and I’m improving every day.”
“I know, Parker, and I’m not trying to insult you.” Her voice softened, ripping at his gut. “What I meant was that I really appreciated you being there.”
He hesitated, unable to keep from touching her another second. Her eyes were the most luminous shade of blue he’d ever seen, angel eyes. Her lips the color of raspberries. Her skin like cream.
Someone had almost strangled her earlier, and if he’d succeeded, Parker would have never known how it felt to hold her.
Her breath quickened as he gently tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. The movement revealed the length of the bruises on her neck, stirring his anger and…his need.
Unable to stand it a moment longer, he pressed his hand against her cheek. Grace deserved tenderness, love.
Which he couldn’t give her.
The thought sobered him and he started to pull away, but she leaned into his hand and closed her eyes as if she needed him. His resistance disintegrated and he pulled her into his arms.
For a moment she seemed hesitant, but finally she relaxed and rested against his chest. He was a foot taller than Grace, but she fit perfectly into his arms, and he lowered his head against hers and stroked her back. Her whispered sign of acceptance aroused every protective bone in his body.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said into her hair.
“I was so scared, Parker.”
He smiled at her confession. “I know.”
Her body shuddered and he cradled her tighter. “I promise you I’ll find out who tried to hurt you.”
She nodded and curled her fingers into his back, and his body surged to life with desire.
A desire he couldn’t follow through on.
“Kilpatrick?”
Parker stiffened at the sound of his partner’s voice, and pulled away f
rom Grace. Damn. A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks and she fussed with her hair. The gesture was so utterly female that he almost smiled again, but Bradford was watching him with his dark eyebrows drawn.
“I heard someone was attacked here,” Bradford said.
Parker nodded. “Yes, someone tried to push Grace down the stairs.”
Bradford’s gaze instantly shot to Grace, and like a seasoned detective, he zoned in on the bruises on her neck and face. “Did you see the guy?”
She shook her head no. Parker’s leg ached, so he walked over and sat on the bed to alleviate the pressure. Grace claimed the chair while Bradford stood by the bed, angling himself so he could watch both of them.
“We just came from studying the security camera tapes,” Parker said. “Owens is carrying them to the lab to have our guys examine them. We have a couple of images that need to be enhanced.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“It’s possible that Grace scratched her attacker so we might have some DNA.”
“Excellent.” Bradford shifted sideways. “Any description?”
“I’m afraid not,” Grace said, then explained about the power outage.
Outside, the storm had settled down, although dark clouds still hung low, turning the sky a dismal gray.
“Miss Gardener—”
She cut him off. “Please call me Grace.”
“Grace, can you think of anyone who’d want to hurt you?” Bradford asked.
She twisted her hands together, then stared at them as if they might offer answers. “No.”
“Do you have any enemies?” Bradford asked.
She shook her head, looking startled at the question. “Not anyone that I know of.”
Anticipating Bradford’s next question, Parker decided to ask it first. “What about a boyfriend or lover?”
Her wide-eyed gaze swung to his, and he realized he should have allowed Bradford to voice the question. She obviously thought it personal.
Which made him more curious about the answer.
He’d been thinking all along that her snooping into Bruno’s death had brought an attacker to her door, but what if it was as simple as the fact that she had an ex-boyfriend or lover she’d recently broken up with? One who wanted her back?
One so obsessed that he’d do anything, even kill her, to keep her from being with another man?
GRACE STARED at Parker, momentarily stunned by his question. Why was he asking about her prior relationships?
She’d felt the hum of attraction mounting inside of her when he’d held her, but had assumed that it had been one-sided. As a cop, he probably had terrified women falling into his arms on a daily basis.
Heck, he was so darned handsome that a woman didn’t have to be terrified to want his arms around her.
What was she thinking?
Parker was not only a patient, but a cop. The last person in the world she should pursue a relationship with.
And why did he want to know about the men she’d been involved with? Was his question personal or professional?
“Grace?” Parker’s voice resonated louder this time, as if tinged with impatience.
“What does my personal life have to do with today’s attack?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Parker said. “One possibility is that the assault on you was random. Another is that a former boyfriend or lover might be stalking you. Although in light of the fact that you might have seen a murderer the other night at the graveyard, and that you’ve been pushing the police to investigate your brother’s death, it’s doubtful.”
A cold chill slithered through her.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Parker said, “but we have to consider the fact that this perp targeted you specifically, meaning he had a motive. That means we need to consider every angle.”
So Parker wasn’t interested personally. Her skin crawled with humiliation for allowing her imagination to stray.
“It may lead to nothing,” Bradford interjected. “But at least we can eliminate any past boyfriends as suspects.”
She hated to divulge the fact that she hadn’t had anyone special in her life in a long time. Not since college and that relationship had ended disastrously. She’d woken in the throes of a nightmare one too many times, and the guy had walked out, saying she was crazy. “There’s no one,” she admitted.
Parker’s gaze seemed glued to hers. “How about someone you dated casually? Maybe someone who wanted to take it a step further but you declined?”
“There is no one,” she said, although Dr. Whitehead’s interest in her teased the back of her mind. But he was a renowned surgeon. Half the nurses at the hospital swooned over him. He certainly wasn’t obsessed with her, or dangerous.
“No, I can’t think of anyone,” she said quietly.
“What were you doing before the attack?” Bradford asked.
She glanced at Parker to ask if she should confide her suspicions and he nodded. “All these missing bodies…it made me remember that my brother’s body went missing for two days after he was sent to the morgue. I started thinking about reasons someone would steal a corpse, and wanted to look at Bruno’s autopsy and the exam report after his body was recovered.”
“A copy of his autopsy report along with that other one should be in his file,” Bradford said.
Parker nodded and reached for the file Bradford had dropped off earlier, the one he had yet to look at.
He flipped it open and searched inside, his gut churning. “I hate to tell you this, but both reports are missing.”
Chapter Eight
“Why would someone take the report?” Grace asked.
Parker tempered his irritation. “I don’t know, but we’ll request another copy. Did Bruno say anything to you about your parents’ case? Had he found a new clue?”
Tension strained Grace’s features. “No, not that I remember.”
Dr. Whitehead poked his head into the room. “There you are, Grace. I thought I might find you here.”
She jerked her head toward him and Parker grimaced. She might not be involved with Whitehead, but the man was definitely interested in her.
“This is Detective Walsh.” Grace stood to introduce the two men.
Dr. Whitehead’s smile seemed tight. Then again, if he cared for Grace, he was probably simply concerned.
“Did you find anything on the tapes?” Dr. Whitehead asked.
Parker explained about the shadowed face and that they’d check for DNA under Grace’s fingernails, then Whitehead turned to Grace. “You look exhausted. Why don’t I give you a lift home?”
She bit down on her lip. “I was getting ready to go, but I have my car.”
“You can leave it here tonight and pick it up tomorrow. I don’t think you should drive yourself, Grace.”
“I’m fine,” Grace said. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“No trouble, but if you insist on driving, I’ll follow you home and make sure you get in safely.”
She bit her lip. She claimed she wasn’t involved with anyone. Had she lied?
Did she care what he thought?
Damn it, he wished he could drive her home and check her house. Make sure no one was waiting inside.
Make certain that Whitehead didn’t get too close to her.
“That would be nice,” she said, but paused. “Parker, Detective Walsh, please let me know what you find out.”
Both men nodded, then she walked out the door with Whitehead. Parker fought back a snarl.
“What’s going on with you and Grace Gardener?” Bradford asked.
Parker cut him a scathing look. “Nothing.”
“It sure as hell looked like something.”
“Don’t go there, man. She was shaken up after the attack, and I tried to comfort her. That’s all.”
“Right. And that bear look on your face when Whitehead offered to take her home?”
Parker grimaced. Had he really been that transparent? “
It’s nothing personal. I just think he’s too smooth.”
“And too interested in Grace?”
“Look, Walsh, she’s in danger. Like you said. We have to look at everyone as a suspect.”
Walsh chuckled, annoying Parker even more, but he let it drop. “Let’s see if we can obtain another copy of that medical report on Bruno.”
Bradford nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Meanwhile I’ll continue looking at Bruno’s cases. Maybe he found a lead on his parents’ murder and that got him killed.”
“Okay, start sifting through the old files.” Bradford’s cell phone rang and he snapped it open. “Walsh.” A pause. “All right. I’ll be right there.”
He frowned as he closed the phone. “I have to go. Another decimated body was just found.”
“Where?”
“On the doorstep of an old church on Tybee Island.”
Parker’s throat convulsed. He didn’t like the sound of that.
Grace had told him that she lived on Tybee.
GRACE SHIVERED as she passed the graveyard on Tybee. Two police cars with blue lights twirling sat like guards to the entrance, another one in front of the small church.
What had happened? Had a crime occurred at the church? Had a grave been vandalized or robbed? Or had another missing body turned up here?
The stories of ghosts haunting the island echoed in her head, raising her anxiety, and as she glanced at the trees lining the road, a ghostly figure floated in and out of the darkness.
She checked her rearview mirror and saw Wilson Whitehead’s headlights behind her, and felt a small measure of comfort that he was following her home. Although she didn’t want him to come in and stay….
Five minutes later she turned into her drive and parked, climbed out, then raked her hair back from her forehead as a warm breeze tossed it across her face. The sound of Wilson’s car door slamming cut into the roar of the ocean in the distance. His shoes crunched on the clam-shelled drive as he walked toward her.
“I made it fine,” she said. “Thanks for following me home.”
“I’m going to check the inside of your cottage,” he said.
