Mission: M.D.

by Linda Turner

  Fighting tears, she told herself to keep it light when he finally released her. It wasn’t easy. The teasing smile that curved her mouth when her eyes met his cost her dearly. “Wow. What was that for?”

  “Just because,” he rasped. “A man shouldn’t have to have a reason for kissing a pretty woman. C’mon. I’ll walk you to the bakery.”

  His clinic was in the opposite direction—she should have thanked him for the offer and all his help and sent him on his way. But how could she deny herself another ten minutes of his time? Her heart pounding like a schoolgirl’s, she fell into step beside him.

  After he left her at the bakery, however, she had little time to think about him. The insurance adjuster arrived at the bakery five minutes after she did and went through the building with her. Just seeing the damage again made Rachel sick at heart. If her grandmother hadn’t smelled the smoke, the place would have burned to the ground. Fortunately, there was no serious structural damage, and the check the adjuster presented her with was more than adequate to cover the repairs. He’d hardly wished her good luck and walked out the door before she was on the phone, calling customers who could help her put the bakery back together.

  Once the word was out, electricians, plumbers, contractors and dry wall hangers were descending on her and the bakery, ready to offer assistance. She didn’t, however, forget to call Turk.

  “Hello, Dr. Garrison,” she said in a teasingly businesslike voice when he answered his cell phone. “This is Rachel Martin calling to report in, as directed. Everything’s fine, Doctor. There’s been no sign of the evil one. I’m perfectly safe. Will there be anything else, Doctor?”

  “Clod,” he chuckled. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, and all I get is criticism. You would think a woman would appreciate it, but noooo! You want to give me a hard time.”

  “Wah! What a baby.”

  “See? What’d I tell you? There you go again.”

  She hadn’t realized how desperately she needed him to tease her again until then. Blinking back tears, she asked huskily, “Did I say thank you?”

  “Yes, you did. You’re welcome. You don’t have to keep telling me, you know. I’d do just about anything for one of your doughnuts.”

  Groaning, she laughed. “I should have known. It always comes down to the doughnuts. Just for the record, I start serving at six in the morning at my house. And tomorrow morning, everything’s free.”

  “What? I thought you were going to do that when the bakery reopened.”

  “I was,” she said wryly. “But the repairs could take a while, so I decided to do it tomorrow. I’ve got to haul all my equipment over to the house, but I’m going to need it, anyway.”

  “I’ll help you move everything if you can wait until after the clinic closes,” he told her. “I’ve got patients all afternoon.”

  “Oh, that’s okay—I’ll have it done by then. I’d like to have everything set up as soon as possible so I’m not up half the night getting the kitchen in order. If you get off early, though…”

  “You’ll be the first to know it,” he promised. “Just call me, okay? And let me know you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “And the police are keeping a close watch on me, Turk. The whole town is crawling with cops. This Laureen woman would have to be an idiot to show her face in Hunter’s Ridge when everyone and their brother is looking for her.”

  “I know that and you know it,” he agreed, “but she’s crazy. Don’t underestimate her. Remember, she tracked me to Hunter’s Ridge and found a way to get into my house and change my answering machine. My God, she even burned herself so she could get into the clinic to see me. There’s no way to predict what she’ll do next.”

  A cold shiver slid down her spine. “I’ll be careful,” she said huskily. “I promise.”

  Thankful that Christopher Dunkin and his partner, Jeff Valdez, were parked in their police car at the curb in front of the bakery, she started boxing up everything she would need in the morning. Then, with Christopher and Jeff following her home, she got her car, drove back to the bakery, and started loading her car. Forty minutes later, she pulled into her driveway and smiled at the sight of Chris and Jeff, who were parked across the street and were watching her house. She knew all the cops in town—at one time or another during the afternoon, they all stopped by the bakery for coffee and doughnuts. They would make sure nothing happened to her on their watch.

  She would have to tease Turk later for being so paranoid, she told herself as she carried her first load into the house. After last night, Laureen had to know the entire town was on the look out for her. The woman might be crazy, but Rachel sincerely doubted she was stupid. She’d probably headed back to Dallas just seconds after she’d set the rags smoldering in the bakery attic. Hopefully, she’d never show her face in Hunter’s Ridge again.

  Holding on to that thought, Rachel carried one load after another into the house, then waved to Chris and Jeff as she lifted the last box from her car. They grinned, but made no move to leave. Obviously, they were there for the duration. Relieved, she hurried inside and shut and locked the door with a sigh. She was safe. Now all she had to do was figure out where she was going to put everything she’d brought from the bakery in her small kitchen.

  Frowning at the thought as she stepped into the kitchen, she started to set the box of utensils she was carrying onto the island. That was as far as she got. A split second later, someone grabbed her hair. She didn’t even have time to scream before she found a knife pressed to her throat.

  Chapter 12

  The box of cooking utensils Rachel was holding fell to the floor with a loud clatter, but all she heard was the nearly silent whisper of a knife as its cold, hard blade came to rest against her bare throat. Horrified, she froze. “Laureen?”

  At her hoarse whisper, the grip on her hair tightened ever so slightly, holding her still while the knife was pressed tighter against her skin. “So you were expecting me,” the other woman purred. “How lovely. That makes what I have to do all the easier. I don’t have to explain myself.”

  Needing to swallow, afraid of the razor-sharp edge of the knife against her throat, Rachel fought panic and just barely won. “There seems to be a misunderstanding,” she told her desperately. “Turk and I aren’t—”

  “Liar! I’ve seen you with him. I know!”

  “Then you misunderstood. I don’t want Turk. I just want a baby! Ask him. He’ll tell you. When he found out that I was just looking for a sperm donor, he was livid.”

  “He touched you,” she whispered. “He made love to you. Do you know how that sickens me? He’s my husband—not yours. He knows that.”

  She sounded so convincing that Rachel might have believed her if she hadn’t known better. “Laureen, you have to listen—”

  “He’s my husband! He was meant for me. I knew it the second I laid eyes on him, and so did he. And now he’s ruined everything. Because of you! You tempted him. Don’t deny it!” she cried when Rachel started to protest.

  “You were all over him and he loved every minute of it. And you’re both going to pay for that. No one takes what’s mine and lives to tell about it.”

  The threat was soft, little more than a whisper…and a promise. Rachel shivered and felt her fear turn to terror in the blink of an eye. When Turk had warned her Laureen was crazy, she’d taken the announcement with a grain of salt. Turk had rejected Laureen, and Rachel could understand why she would be upset, especially if she didn’t want the relationship to end. But this was more than upset. This was insanity.

  And an unsuspecting Turk was going to walk right into the middle of it when he stopped by to see her after work.

  Horrified, she knew she had to do something! But what? Chris and Jeff were parked right outside in their patrol car, watching the house from across the street. All she had to do was scream…and her throat would be slit before she could manage anything more than a muffled cry. She’d bleed to death, right on her kitchen flo
or, and no one would be the wiser until Turk walked in and Laureen stuck a knife into him, too.

  No! This couldn’t be happening. There had to be something she could do. There was no question that Laureen was dead serious—she held the knife like a woman who knew how to use it. Terrified, Rachel knew she couldn’t let that stop her from doing something. Laureen was going to kill her, anyway. If she couldn’t save herself, she had to at least try to save Turk.

  Her heart slamming against her ribs, she looked desperately around the kitchen. If she just had some kind of weapon of her own…

  Her eyes fell on the box of utensils she’d dropped when Laureen grabbed her. They were scattered across the floor at their feet. If she could just reach them…

  Later, she never remembered making a conscious decision to move. One second she was standing rigid with a knife at her throat, and the next, her knees buckled. Caught off guard, Laureen instinctively moved to catch her, and that was all the advantage Rachel needed. Even as she hit the floor, she snatched up a rolling pin and came up swinging. Before Laureen could even guess her intentions, she knocked the knife out of her hand and sent it sliding across the kitchen floor.

  “You bitch!” Laureen cried, and sprang for the weapon at the same time Rachel did. When her fingers closed on the knife first, she turned on Rachel with an evil smile. “Now…where were we?”

  She should have called by now.

  Finishing up the last of his paperwork, Turk glanced at the clock on the wall in his office and frowned. She’d called him at the top of the hour every hour all afternoon, and she’d always been right on time. So where was she?

  He reminded himself that she was moving her bakery equipment from the bakery to her house—she’d probably lost track of time, which was perfectly understandable. She was opening for business in the morning at six and had a lot on her mind. The least he could do was cut her some slack and quit worrying. The police were watching every move she made. She was perfectly safe.

  So why was he so worried?

  Because she had been so diligent about calling precisely at the top of the hour.

  Something was wrong. He didn’t want to believe it, but the thought gnawed at him, eating him from the inside out. Glancing at the clock again, he knew that he should at least give her a few more minutes, but he couldn’t. Reaching for the phone, he quickly punched in her cell phone number.

  When she didn’t answer by the fourth ring, he knew she was in serious trouble. But how? The police had been watching her all afternoon—they would have followed her home when she left the bakery. Surely, she was perfectly safe. So where the hell was she? And where was Laureen? If she wanted to hurt Rachel, she wouldn’t let a cop parked at the curb stop her.

  His heart stopping dead in his chest at the thought, he ran for the door. “Call the police and tell them to send backup to Rachel Martin’s house,” he shouted at his nurse. “Laureen’s there.”

  Running the three blocks to Rachel’s house, all he could think about was Laureen…and how determined she was to marry him. He didn’t want to think she would hurt Rachel, but he couldn’t forget the look in her eye when she’d admitted burning herself just so she could see him. She was sick…crazy. And that scared the hell out of him. If she would hurt herself, she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Rachel.

  Coming around the corner at a dead run, he immediately spied the patrol car sitting across the street in front of Rachel’s house. The officers inside didn’t have a clue anything was wrong. “Laureen’s inside,” he yelled. “She—”

  Suddenly, from inside the house, a woman screamed in terror.

  Turk paled. “Rachel!”

  He never remembered kicking in the door. A split second later, he charged into the house, only to stumble to a stop at the entrance to the kitchen, his blood turning to ice at the sight of Laureen advancing toward Rachel with a butcher knife clutched in her hand. Her eyes were wild and enraged, the glint of insanity there for anyone to see.

  “You bitch!” Laureen screamed at Rachel as she took a blind step back, then another, without ever taking her eyes off the knife. “You’ve ruined everything!”

  “Back off, Laureen!” Turk growled. “She didn’t do anything. I broke things off with you before I even met her.”

  “No, you didn’t! You just wanted me to chase you. Then she came on the scene and you wouldn’t even look at me.” Never taking her narrowed gaze from Rachel, she stalked her like a cat with a mouse, slashing the air again and again, retreating only when Rachel swung the rolling pin at her.

  Her face totally devoid of color, her heart hammering against her ribs, Rachel didn’t dare look anywhere but at the glittering blade of the butcher knife that Laureen cut the air with it. She didn’t doubt for a minute that the other woman would slash her to pieces right before Turk’s eyes if she miscalculated and swung the rolling pin too late.

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” Rachel told her. “Too many people know you started the fire last night.”

  “That’s right,” Turk said. “Look around you, Laureen. There’re are cops at every door and window, just waiting to shoot the damn knife out of your hand. If you don’t believe me, look behind you.”

  For a long minute, she didn’t look anywhere but at Rachel. Then, lightning quick, she glanced over her shoulder and spied Chris standing right behind Turk in the kitchen doorway with his service revolver drawn and aimed directly at her.

  “The house is surrounded, miss,” he growled. “Give it up before someone gets hurt.”

  “No!” she screamed. “Get back! All of you! You can’t stop me. I have to do this!” And with no more warning than that, she lunged.

  Caught off guard, Rachel jumped back…and lost her balance. She stumbled and dropped the rolling pin. In a heartbeat, Laureen was on her.

  Just that quickly, something snapped in Turk. “No!” His bellow of rage rattling the windows, he launched himself at Laureen, snatching her away from Rachel one-handed. “Enough! You hurt her and I swear I’ll—”

  Cursing him to hell and back, Laureen swung wildly at him…and stabbed him in the side. Lightning quick, she jabbed at him again, making him swear as blood dripped from a second cut on his arm.

  “Stop!” Rachel screamed. “You’re going to kill him!”

  Ignoring her, Laureen aimed straight for his heart. She never even saw Rachel snatch up the rolling pin again. It came crashing down own on her head. Without a sound, she collapsed on the floor.

  Christopher rushed forward with his gun drawn, but Laureen never moved. Half the Hunter’s Ridge police department seemed to race into the kitchen at that moment, but Rachel hardly noticed. Dropping the rolling pin, she hurried to Turk’s side. “Oh, God, you’re bleeding! We need an ambulance!”

  “I’m fine,” he assured her, checking the slashes on his side and arm. “I just need a few stitches. I don’t need to go to the hospital for that.”

  “So…what? You’re going to stitch your own knife wounds?”

  “No, of course not,” he chuckled. “The EMTs can take care of it. It’s not complicated.”

  She wanted to argue, but one look at his set chin had the words dying in her throat. “It’s your call,” she replied as a fresh-faced EMT stepped forward to examine his cuts.

  Laureen stirred then, spitting curses as she pushed herself up off the floor, but she wasn’t going anywhere fast. Chris and Jeff stood close guard while an EMT the size of linebacker checked her out. “She’s fine,” he announced flatly. “She’s got a hard head.”

  “You got that right,” Turk retorted. “Get her out of here.”

  “No!” Laureen screamed, slapping at Chris as he tried to handcuff her. “Don’t touch me! The bitch attacked me. I had a right to protect myself.”

  Distracted by Chris, she didn’t notice that Jeff had moved behind her until he suddenly grabbed her hands, snapped them behind her back, and handcuffed her before she could do anything but gasp in outrage. “You have the right to rema
in silent. Anything you say can and may be used against you…”

  “Bastard!” she screamed. “Turk, make them let me go. Tell them you love me. We’re engaged!”

  “No, we’re not,” he told her coldly. “We went out twice, Laureen. Twice! I didn’t even kiss you.”

  “But you wanted to! I know you did. We can work this out.”

  “There’s nothing to work out. I don’t love you. I never loved you and never will. You tried to kill Rachel!”

  “She deserved it! She was going to take you away from me!”

  “She can’t take me away from you. Don’t you get it? I was never yours!”

  “Don’t say that! Turk—”

  Disgusted, he turned his attention back to the young EMT who was stitching up his cuts. “Are we done yet?”

  “Just a few more stitches and you’re good to go, sir.”

  “Let’s go,” Jeff growled at Laureen. Grabbing her arm, he pushed her toward the front door.

  “Turk! Help me! Don’t be this way!”

  Turk never spared them a glance as Chris and Jeff escorted her outside to the waiting patrol car. A second later, the EMTs packed up their first aid kits, loaded them into the ambulance and advised Turk to keep his wounds clean and dry. Suddenly, everyone was gone.

  In the silence left behind, Turk reached for Rachel’s hand and drew her with him into the living room. “Sit,” he growled softly, urging her down to the couch. “You’re as pale as a ghost. Are you all right? When you didn’t call, it scared the hell out of me. I knew she had you.”

  “She was waiting for me when I brought the last load of supplies from the bakery,” she said thickly, wrapping her arms around herself as a shiver danced over her skin. “The second I stepped into the kitchen, she grabbed me and held a knife to my throat. I thought she was going to kill me right there on the spot.”