Tough As Nails

by Jackie Manning

  “Dr. Kent! Hold that elevator for a sec, okay?”

  Brianna recognized Karen, the technician from X-ray. Karen often helped comfort Brianna’s battered clients from the women’s shelter with her gentle manner while she processed their tests. Brianna grabbed hold of the doors to keep them open while Karen disappeared into a cubicle room. In a flash, she reappeared in the hall, wheeling a white-haired woman in a wheelchair, an IV pole loaded with bags of fluids wobbling beside her.

  Karen kept her gaze on the wheelchair wheels as she carefully pivoted the woman’s chair into the car. “Thanks for waiting, Dr. Kent,” she said brightly. “These elevators are so slow. I’d be waiting forever for another one and we’re in a hurry, aren’t we, Mrs. Cavanaugh?” She smiled at the old woman as Karen stabbed a finger at the third-floor button. “Want me to press eight for you?” she asked Brianna. “You’re going to Psych, right?”

  Brianna glanced at the wall panel. She distinctly remembered that the orderly had pressed the button for Kristi’s floor. But instead of the eighth floor where the Acute Psych Unit was located, the sixth-floor button was lit.

  Brianna stared at the orderly. “That’s odd. Where did you say Kristi McFarland is?”

  Instead of answering, he glared straight ahead, a muscle twitching above his left eyebrow.

  Karen glanced up at the orderly, waiting.

  “It’s confidential information,” the man said finally, scowling at Karen. “I’ll tell you, Doctor, when we don’t have nosy people listening.”

  Karen rolled her eyes, and dropped her gaze to stare at the back of her patient’s head. But the gesture wasn’t lost on the orderly. “I’m only following hospital procedure,” he said coldly. “Something that wouldn’t hurt you to do,” he said to the technician.

  Karen’s head jerked up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your ID tag is crooked,” the man said. “And your client doesn’t have her lab orders with her.”

  The elderly woman’s head bobbed, her right hand jerked the plastic tube in her vein as her eyelids fluttered open.

  Karen quickly checked the plastic IV lead around the woman’s arm, then narrowed her eyes at the orderly and gave him a who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are look. “I faxed my patient orders to the lab a few minutes ago,” she said in a deceptively soft tone. “And my ID tag is just as straight as yours.”

  Brianna noted the orderly’s name on his tag: Leonard Braewood. She would definitely report him when she finished here today. His rude attitude was not only inappropriate but offensive, especially in front of a patient.

  The elevator crept its way up to the third floor. Most days she didn’t mind the slow speed, but today she was impatient to know Kristi was all right.

  The elevator doors slid open and Karen hurried the patient’s wheelchair into the corridor. Impulsively, Brianna stepped off beside her. “I’ll take the stairs and meet you up on Psych,” she said over her shoulder to Leonard Braewood. It wasn’t her place to say something about his rudeness, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep quiet if she remained with Braewood another minute.

  “What a creep,” Karen whispered under her breath, yet loud enough for Brianna to hear.

  She smiled as Karen wheeled her charge along the west corridor. “Takes all kinds.”

  Brianna glanced back to see Braewood leaning out of the elevator, his face red.

  “Dr. Kent,” He stepped into the hall, one arm holding the door open. “I’m supposed to take you to your patient. What’ll I tell Dr. Raynard?”

  “You’ll think of something.” She opened the fire doors to the emergency stairway and raced up the stairs. Thank God the elevators were slow. She’d probably beat Braewood to the eighth floor with time to spare.

  When she reached the nurses’ station on the Psych Unit, Rita, the head nurse, looked up from her computer terminal. “Hi, Dr. Kent.” She smiled. “Here to visit a patient?”

  “What room is Kristi McFarland in, Rita?”

  “Let me see…” Rita scrolled the computer screen.

  Brianna glanced at her watch: 7:03 p.m. Mike would be on his way to the Plaza by now. With luck, she could leave here by 7:30 p.m. and be in time for the opening speech at 8:30 p.m.

  “Sorry, Dr. Kent,” Rita said, her gaze intent on the computer screen. “Is there another name she might be listed under?”

  Puzzled, Brianna shook her head. “No. My patient was brought in within the past hour. Dr. Raynard was the admitting physician.” A shimmer of regret coursed through her. No wonder Braewood was sent to take her to Kristi. More than likely, the hospital was overcrowded and Kristi had been taken to a different floor. Oh, why couldn’t she learn to curb her impatience?

  “Never mind, Rita. Hand me the phone, I’ll call E.R. to see what room they assigned for her.”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  Brianna took the phone and punched in the numbers for E.R.

  When the reception clerk answered, Brianna quickly explained the situation. “Sorry, Dr. Kent, but we have no listing for a patient named Kristi McFarland.”

  Damn. “Could I have a brief word with Dr. Raynard? I know he’s busy, but—”

  “Dr. Raynard isn’t on duty today. Would you like to speak to Dr. Davis? He’s been on call since noon.”

  Her mind was spinning with questions. “Y-yes, please.”

  “One moment, Dr. Kent.”

  In the lengthening silence, a thread of alarm edged up her spine. What the hell was going on? Where was Kristi?

  “Hi, Brianna,” Tom Davis said. “What’s up?”

  “Tom, a teenage patient of mine was brought in a little over an hour ago. Kristi McFarland. She’s a cutter. I think her boyfriend might have brought her in. I was told that—”

  “Are you sure she was taken to St. Luke’s? We’ve had no cutter in here today. In fact, it’s unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon.”

  “Quiet? You’re not expecting the victims from the five-car pileup on the Lincoln Expressway?”

  “What pileup?”

  A shiver rose through her as she realized something was terribly wrong. The strange Leonard Braewood who had been waiting for her. Dear God, who the hell was he?

  “Apparently there’s some mistake,” she said into the phone. “Sorry to bother you, Tom.” She forced the panic from her voice, not wanting to alert Tom or any of the hospital staff. First, she’d try to reach Kristi at her home. Once Brianna knew that her patient was safe, she’d deal with—

  The elevator beep sounded, breaking into her thoughts. She turned to watch the doors open. She stared, telephone pressed against her ear as her eyes locked with Leonard Braewood’s.

  Recognition and something else sparked his expression.

  He knew she’d found him out.

  She froze, her heart pounding. He glared at her with such hatred, she could feel it. Before she could move, he pressed a button and the elevator slammed shut. The arrow above the doors began its slow descent.

  “Dr. Kent. Did you know that man?”

  Brianna glanced at Rita staring back at her. She couldn’t speak. Her hands shook as she rummaged in her bag for the card with Mike’s cell phone number. She punched in the numbers.

  In seconds she heard his voice. “Landis here.”

  “Mike!” Her knees felt as if they would collapse as she whispered his name.

  “Brianna? Where are you?”

  “I-I’m at St. Luke’s. The Psych Unit on level 8. The north wing.” She took a deep breath. “It’s him. I—I think I just saw the man who…” She forced herself to say the words. “The stalker.”

  “Brianna. Are you all right?

  “I-I’m fine,” she said, knowing full well she wasn’t. But damn if she’d let anyone know it. She forced away the panic. “His name is Leonard Braewood. He’s a large man, over six foot. Dark thick hair. Full beard. He’s dressed in green scrubs. He’s in the elevator.” Her gaze caught the arrow above the elevator. “He’s stopped on the sixth
floor.” Her heartbeat raced.

  “Brianna. Are people around you?”

  “Yes. I’m at the nurses’ station.”

  “Stay where you are. I’m downstairs. In the lobby.”

  An incredible feeling of relief flooded her. “You’re at the hospital?” she asked.

  “I’m in the downstairs lobby. I’ll call hospital security and we’ll get this guy, Brianna. Stay put till I get there.”

  MIKE RACED UP the steps three at a time. His gut instinct was never wrong, and the minute he’d read her note that said she was stopping off at St. Luke’s Hospital on her way to the dinner, his inner radar had screamed an alarm inside him.

  Level 8 appeared in bright-red letters on the wall alongside a corridor entrance. He pulled open the door and lunged through at breakneck speed. The corridor was empty. He dashed to the end of the hall and turned.

  “Mike!” Brianna leaped from behind the nurses’ station. “Oh, Mike, I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.” She flew into his arms.

  He felt her tremble and he helped her to a group of chairs along the hall. “Tell me what happened.” He brushed a hair from her pale face.

  After she told him everything, Mike still couldn’t believe it. How the hell could a stranger infiltrate hospital personnel so easily? “You said you never saw him before?”

  “Never. I don’t think Karen had, either.”

  Mike pulled his phone from his hip pocket. “I’ll check his name from hospital personnel records, but my hunch is that it’s a fake.”

  “At least we have his description,” she offered.

  Rita came around the corner of the nurses’ station. “Are you Mr. Landis?” When he nodded, she continued, “There’s a call for you.”

  Mike got to his feet and reached the phone in three strides.

  “Landis here.”

  “Erickson at hospital security. No sign of him on six. All the patients have been vacated from this wing. They’ve been moved to the new section in the Jefferson Wing that’s just opened last week. Your guy must have gotten off here then took the stairs down to the lobby.”

  “I just came up the stairs. I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Then he must still be on the sixth floor. I’ll go back up there myself and look around.”

  “You’ve put your men at all exits along the ground floor, right?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah, and we’ve given this guy’s description to the guards at the parking lot, too. If he’s on the hospital campus, we’ve got him.”

  Another thought crossed Mike’s mind. “Erickson, be sure to have your men check the ID of any hospital employees you meet on the sixth floor.” The guy had obviously set this up for a long time. He’s familiar with the hospital and with all the nooks and crannies of St. Luke’s, especially the Psych Unit. He was or had been either an employee—or a patient.

  “I’ll check and call you right back.”

  Mike clicked off the phone. Brianna’s eyes were wide as she watched him.

  “They still haven’t found him?” she asked.

  “We will.”

  She ran a hand through her silvery-blond hair. “I’ve tried calling Kristi but she doesn’t answer. No answering machine.” Her lips pressed together.

  “She’ll call you if she needs you.”

  Brianna looked up. “Yes, I’m sure she will.” She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”

  “Erickson of security is a good man. Nothing more we can do here.”

  “I’d like some air.”

  “Are you up to stopping off at the police station? I’d like you to give Braewood’s description to a composite artist.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Will it take long? Maybe I should call Larry and tell him I won’t be able to make it to the awards dinner after all.”

  “Shouldn’t take too long. Maybe you can reach Kristi later this evening.”

  She straightened her shoulders, then got to her feet. “Let’s get going.”

  He walked beside her toward the elevator. He pressed the down button, and saw her flinch when the bell dinged just before the elevator doors opened. Damn, he’d catch this bastard and make him pay for what he’d put her through.

  A maintenance orderly stood beside a two-tiered cart encased with a plastic cover. Mike grabbed the plastic and yanked it off, revealing a large cardboard box. The orderly’s jaw dropped. “Hey, man, whatcha doin’?” His eyes widened as he stepped to the side.

  “Just checking.” Mike lifted the lid and looked inside to see that the carton contained a portable X-ray machine. “Sorry.”

  “Well, ya could ask, ya know.” The orderly recovered the box, then wheeled the cart into the hall, giving Mike a strange look.

  A few minutes later when Brianna and Mike were outside the front entrance, Mike hailed a taxi that had just pulled up with a fare.

  It had taken them less than an hour for Brianna to give her statement to Police Detective Sanchez, then work with the composite artist until Brianna was satisfied that the sketch of Leonard Braewood was exact.

  When Mike was finally settled in the back seat of the taxi with Brianna on their way to the Plaza, he turned to look at her. Sitting beside him, bathed in the flush of sunlight of early evening, she looked as he’d always remembered. He could smell her sexy perfume. For all that she’d been through, she looked incredible. “Is it professional for me to say how lovely you look?”

  “No, but I’ll match you.” She grinned. “You look rather fetching in that tux.”

  “Fetching?” His mouth quirked. “Not sexy, or handsome, or—”

  “Fetching.” Her eyes sparkled with humor.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been called fetching before. I can hardly wait to get home so I can look it up and find out if I’ve been insulted.”

  She smiled, but her eyes quickly filled with tears. “Thanks,” she said. “I don’t know when I’ve been more scared.”

  He covered her hand with his and forced himself to remember she was a client. All he could think of was to gather her up in his arms and never let her go. “From now on,” he managed to say, “you don’t leave my sight.”

  “So you think Leonard Braewood was—” she looked away “—the stalker?”

  “We don’t know. First, it may not be just one man. He might have other people, women.” He squeezed her hand. “Liam called back. He’s in New York and will do a full sweep of your office and apartment tomorrow. Good thing it will be Sunday. He won’t attract much attention.”

  “He’ll need a key. Should I drop one off—”

  Mike smiled. “Liam won’t need a key.”

  “But my apartment building has a security keypad on the front door.”

  “I know.”

  Her startled look faded and she shook her head. “I guess you know what you’re doing.” She leaned back and gave a deep sigh. “When will Liam have the results of the sweep?”

  “Right away. He might have to send some samples to the lab. We’ll know soon, Brianna.”

  “I’m very grateful for all you’re doing, Mike.” She turned to look at the cars and trucks whizzing by. “Do you realize how much the stalker already knows about me? My patients? My life?” She turned to stare back at him. “The way he looked at me. My God, Mike. He hates me. You could see it in his face.”

  “Try not to think about it anymore tonight. Tomorrow, I want you to rest.”

  “I can’t. I work at the shelter on weekends. I’d be there tonight except for the awards dinner.”

  “Can someone else sub for you tomorrow? It wouldn’t hurt to vary your schedule. Change the routes you travel.”

  “Because he knows my schedule, you mean.”

  He didn’t have to answer her. She knew it as well as he did.

  “Monday I have a full load of patients. Will Liam be finished with the sweep by then?”

  “Depends on what he finds. Maybe you could set up a temporary office on the TALON-6 floor.”

&n
bsp; “I’d rather not. Some of my patients are very fragile. Not only have they built up a trust in me, but in my office, its location—” She stopped and he could see the growing irony in her expression. “That bastard took all that away, didn’t he?” Her jaw clamped with determination. “Why can’t I use my office after Liam does the sweep?”

  He didn’t want to frighten her any more than she already was. But if he told her that Liam had already checked out her car in the parking garage and found a tracking device, she’d be over the edge. Tomorrow, after she was rested, he’d tell her. But if the lab reports confirmed what Liam and he believed, then they were dealing with someone who was more than just a nutcase. The electronic tracking device found behind the left front bumper of Brianna’s car was as sophisticated as anything the CIA uses today. That, combined with the sharp mind behind the electronic wizardry that Liam had found today, equaled someone who was a dangerous threat.

  Mike struggled to bite back his anger. But every time he thought of the stalker so close to her, a storm of fury warred inside him. He needed to keep his professional distance with this case, but how the hell was that possible?

  A car horn beeped and he glanced back at Brianna. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. If you want to see your clients in your office, then TALON-6 will do everything possible to see that you do.”

  Her relieved smile was his reward. He looked out the window as the taxi climbed the viaduct ramp toward the expressway and St. Luke’s Hospital slipped from view.

  Wherever you are, I’ll find you, Mike vowed silently. And when I do, so help me, you’ll wish you’d never been born.

  SEVERAL MEN in paint-splattered overalls and caps stood waiting for the elevator when it reached the sixth floor.

  He stepped off, avoiding eye contact with the painters as he moved in front of them on his way down the hall to the supply room. Across the hall, the nurses’ station stood deserted. The smell of fresh paint and cleaning supplies filled his nostrils. In this section of the wing, the patients and staff had moved to their new quarters a week ahead of schedule. That had been a bonus.