Soon, Tilly slowly approached the remaining boy, who had apparently learned his lesson. He sat still until the dog nuzzled his hand, then stroked her head gently. When Tilly finally moved away, Grace gestured, and the dog stood up on her hind legs and danced in a circle—earning a treat.
Simon had little doubt that all three kids would heal a bit faster now, thanks to the minutes of pleasure Tilly gave them.
“Show’s over, gang,” Grace said. Everyone clapped—Simon included. She seemed to notice him then and aimed her smile at him.
He momentarily considered turning his grin into a scowl. Hadn’t he vowed to stay away from her?
Instead, he felt his smile widen.
As the nurses collected the children, he gave a fake salute to Grace and headed down the hall.
Grace had noticed Simon the moment he appeared in the corridor. She had sucked in her breath when he had stopped to watch Tilly do her performance with the kids.
Sure, she would continue to run into him. Would even seek him out, if necessary to her mission. But the past would remain the past.
So why had she felt so breathless at the sight of him? And so self-conscious, as if Tilly and she were both on display and needed to impress him.
She knew the answer. He was still so damned sexy that she couldn’t help being constantly aware of his appealing maleness. And remembering what he was like in bed…
That was in the past too, she chided herself. It wouldn’t happen again.
“Let’s go, Tilly.” She snapped on her dog’s leash. They weren’t yet through with the patient therapy she’d hoped to accomplish that day, before she took on treating patients tomorrow. For now, she was relying on Kristine to do the initial recon work—like learning all the ways to approach the biohazards storage area.
Later, Grace would commence her own recon. From Colonel Otis, she had learned the location of the laboratories where patient samples were taken for testing—samples that, if from the most harmful of communicable diseases, could be turned into potentially lethal biohazards. She would visit there later, when fewer people would be wandering the hospital’s halls.
For now, Grace headed for the hospital’s senior-care unit. Some colleagues who also worked with therapy dogs were much too depressed after visiting patients whose cognition was severely impaired by age-related diseases. Grace, though, found it stirring to see people whom she’d been told barely moved, or recognized anyone, perk up at seeing an energetic, caring animal like Tilly.
Grace had told the nurses ahead of time about her impending visit. Half-a-dozen seniors, mostly in wheelchairs and with blankets over their laps, sat in a semicircle in a lounge similar to that where Tilly and she had met with the children. This therapy session, too, resulted in lots of laughter, even with some patients who stared off into the distance until Tilly bumped them with her nose.
This time, no Simon observed them. Just as well. He was too much of a distraction.
For their planned final session of the day, Grace led Tilly to the psychiatric unit. As with the senior unit, it was behind a locked door to ensure no patient walked away without a doctor’s approval. Having the door click shut behind them hadn’t bothered Grace in the seniors’ area. Here, she wasn’t clear what to expect from the patients, so she felt a little uneasy.
Ten patients waited in this lounge—eight men and two women, most in cotton robes tied over their hospital gowns.
The head nurse, whose name tag read Ellie Yong, came up to Grace. “Mostly PTSD patients,” she said softly, as if conveying something confidential. But in a major military hospital like Charles Carder, that’s what Grace had anticipated.
She soon lost her uneasiness—most of it, at least—during the nurses’ welcome. They introduced Grace and Tilly first and then the patients, calling each by name. Some were quiet, yet stared at her mistrustfully. She assumed they were still in the deepest stages of post-traumatic stress disorder. Several were apparently undergoing detoxification for drug addiction, since she scented some of the medicines often used to help.
One patient, Sgt. Norman Ivers, seemed almost angry about having the dog around, yelling at Tilly and looming over her until the poor dog lay down submissively. Grace determined to tell the nurses to keep him in his room next time Tilly and she visited.
Another, Sgt. Jim Kubowski, seemed utterly indifferent at first, but when Tilly sat in front of him and offered her paw, he shook it, then got down on the floor and hugged the dog.
One patient, PFC George Harper, seemed to really adore Tilly. Another, Pvt. Alice Johns, knelt on the floor and cried on Tilly, and Grace vowed to bring the dog back as often as possible to cheer her.
Soon, Tilly had run through her repertoire of tricks. Their visit was over. “We’ll be back soon,” Grace assured those patients who appeared to give a damn.
She enjoyed this part of her assignment, working with all kinds of patients with Tilly as a therapy dog.
Too bad the rest of her mission wasn’t as likely to give her this much enjoyment.
In the hallway outside the psychiatric unit, Grace considered what to do next. It was getting late, but there was still some daylight. She intended to explore parts of the hospital she hadn’t seen yet, but it remained too early for what she wanted to do.
Instead, she went outside onto the hospital grounds and called Kristine on her cell phone. Her aide said she was around the side of the hospital building with Bailey.
They met up at the sidewalk near the curved patient drop-off area. Grace asked softly, “Have you found anything out yet? Do you know where the entrance to that tunnel is?”
“Of course,” Kristine asserted. “That’s what I do—figure out what you’ll want to see and locate it.”
Grace laughed. “Does that mean you’ve figured out who we’re after so we can easily track down our suspect?”
The sergeant smiled. “Wouldn’t want to take away your fun, ma’am.” She gave a mock salute.
Their dogs leashed beside them, Kristine led Grace toward the emergency-room entrance at the side of the medical center’s largest wing, then around the corner to a delivery area. Fortunately, nothing was going on there. She used her security card to get all four of them back inside the facility.
The tunnel entrance was off a room filled with boxes of benign medical supplies like bandages—but not far from the door to a stairway that, Grace determined, most likely led down to the floor containing labs where fluids and other samples were tested. Made sense, she thought.
Making sure no one was around to see them, they entered the tunnel. Grace saw no particular security there, but not many people were likely to know about this passageway, except staff members who delivered the biohazards to their storage area beyond the main outdoor parking lot. Grace and Kristine and the dogs walked swiftly along the concrete corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing slightly in the confined area. It was illuminated by occasional recessed lights, and Grace’s nose wrinkled at the dry, musty scent of the surrounding emptiness.
Soon they reached the end. Kristine carefully opened the door and peered out. “We’re okay.” She held the door open, then led Grace and the dogs through a large, nearly empty parking lot toward its far end.
“There.” She pointed toward the concrete outbuilding Grace had seen briefly before—twice, including while shifted. She’d left it to Kristine to start gathering details about it.
The building was compact and nondescript, with a couple of doors visible. It could have been for storage of garden equipment, or electrical fuses and circuitry for the hospital—whatever. The fenced area around it contained yuccas and palm trees and other drought-tolerant plants that were politically correct for this dry climate. The only thing that indicated it was more than a boring, ordinary storage shed was the illuminated office at one end. In it sat a couple of uniformed soldiers.
“Have you talked to the guards?” Grace asked Kristine.
“Yep, at least the ones on duty earlier. They try to keep
their presence low-key, like they’re just guarding the parking lot and not what’s behind that door.”
“But some biohazards were stolen while guys were on watch?”
“Seems that way.”
“Interesting. I’ll need to find out the excuses given by whomever was on duty during the times samples were taken from here.”
“Count me in,” Kristine said. “Sounds like fun. The building’s not as bland as it looks, by the way.” She pointed toward the door farthest to the left. “On that side is the incineration unit where they dispose of the biohazards.”
“Why do they do it here, I wonder?” Grace mused. “Aren’t there companies that are specially rigged to pick up this kind of material to dispose of it offsite, away from the hospitals?”
“I gather it’s because of the volume and security issues,” Kristine said. “Better to deal with it here than take the chance someone will hijack a disposal truck.”
“A bit of irony,” Grace said.
“Seems that way,” her aide acknowledged. “Anyway, it’s nice and eco-friendly, I gather—everything’s burned, not much ash, nothing escapes into the air. Poof, and the danger is gone…unless the stuff’s stolen first.”
“And that’s exactly what we need to stop,” said Grace.
Grace considered asking Kristine to take Tilly back to their quarters on the air-force base, but it was time for one further piece of exploration, and she wanted her cover dog along.
A short while later, Grace walked slowly along the dimly lit corridor deep in the bowels of the Charles Carder Medical Center. Her rubber-soled shoes made no noise on the gleaming linoleum floor, although Tilly’s nails clicked lightly.
She spotted security cameras that hadn’t been doing their job reliably. Neither had other security devices, including those requiring people to use key cards to enter this floor. Many tests were conducted in the multiple labs on this level of the hospital. But all that security, including locked doors and storage cabinets, and guards out by the storage area, hadn’t prevented the disappearance of biohazard materials collected from patients with potentially dangerous communicable diseases. They weren’t always large samples, but their theft was enough to worry those who knew.
Hence Grace’s mission.
What was that? Tilly had heard the soft click, too. She had been well trained not to bark, which would scare off any subject of their hunt. Instead, she sat still on the slick floor and looked up at Grace, waiting for a command.
Grace held up her hand in the signal that meant “good girl.” Then she gave the signal for Tilly to stay.
This was only her second day here. Would it be this easy for her to discover the perpetrator of the thefts? That would be ideal for the U.S. government, and even for Alpha Force. But Grace had hoped to utilize her very special shifting powers more to fulfill her mission…
Her back against the wall, she slid along the hall toward where the click had originated—the opening of one of the many doors along this corridor?
Yes—one only a few feet away from her swung inward. Grace reached down toward her weapon, a small revolver she’d retrieved from Kristine before heading down here this night and hid in a holster strapped to her waist beneath her loose white medical jacket. As a doctor in addition to her other assets and skills, she believed in preserving life—except at the expense of another’s…or hers.
She hadn’t really expected to need to use the gun, but she was prepared, just in case.
In another instant, a man opened a door and strode into the hall.
It was Simon.
Chapter 3
“What are you doing here, Grace?” Simon demanded, knowing he sounded defensive. Was she following him?
If so, how? As always, he’d checked around the area carefully before going into the lab. Listened. Scented the air. No one had been around.
He’d have known, especially if it was Grace—wouldn’t he?
But he was imagining her everywhere now. He’d already acknowledged to himself that the tour he’d given her had been far from the first time he thought he sensed her after learning she’d be around.
Even early yesterday, when he shifted back to human form at daybreak, he had thought—worried—that she was nearby. Had even believed he caught her addictive scent.
He was often hazy, though, during and immediately after a shift, especially an uncontrolled one at the full moon. And now, even a partially controlled one. That was something he intended to fix by perfecting what he had just been working on in the lab behind him.
His formulation would not, however, help his imagination.
Grace had motioned for her dog to sit on the hallway floor beside her. Now she regarded Simon coolly yet with a hint of amusement. As if she recalled the old days, when he’d made such an effort to answer each of her questions with another question. Or to otherwise turn the discussion around against her.
It hadn’t worked well then. It wouldn’t work now.
“Tilly and I have been on a walk, exploring our new environment,” she finally responded. “And you, Simon? What brings you to this floor so late at night?” She peered around his shoulder toward the door from which he had emerged, now closed behind him.
He didn’t want her going in there and snooping—or even reporting his presence to anyone else. Of course he still had his stock, planned answers if—and, most likely, when—he was questioned about being here at this hour. He was simply too busy during the daytime to mix the homeopathic healing formulations he was working on to help his patients. When he had applied for the job at Charles Carder more than a year ago, he’d brought samples of some energy tablets and nutritional supplements he’d been working on to help recuperating infectious-disease patients regain their strength. Testimonials, too, from physicians and nurse practitioners and others who had used them. Harmless stuff that wouldn’t require any government approvals.
Genuine? Sure. But also a good cover for what he really was working on.
Though authorized to be present, he had carefully selected a lab outside the area surveyed by security cameras. Not that he would do anything obvious outside the lab that shouldn’t be caught on camera.
He had an ulterior motive for being at this location, sure. But he wouldn’t admit it to Grace. He had a feeling she had an ulterior motive, too—and was just as unlikely to spill it to him.
“Not over that old curiosity of yours, are you, Grace?” He attempted to sound amused. “Don’t worry about me. I’m approved to be here.” Partly. “I’m conducting officially sanctioned business that I can’t get to during the day. But you? Since you’re in the military and probably got briefed about this place, you may already have heard about some local thefts recently. For the safety of this hospital and its personnel, I’ve got the right to ask questions of people who may not be authorized to be in this area, and to report to those in charge. So tell me, what are you really doing here?”
Her lovely brown eyes had widened slightly before her demeanor grew bland once more. “Interesting. May I ask whom you report to about unauthorized visitors?”
She hadn’t answered his question—again. “No,” he responded to hers, “you may not.” Mostly because he’d lied. He reported, in this as in the rest of his life, only to himself—as much as he could get away with.
He had gathered, from her brief change of expression, that she was at least familiar with the thefts. Involved? Maybe. That would explain her questioning his presence. He’d keep an eye on her, just in case.
At least that gave him a good excuse. He only hoped he wouldn’t come to regret her presence any more than he already did.
Grace wanted to scream. To kick Simon right in his smug, gorgeous face—or somewhere else he’d notice.
He’d dared to remind her of the old days, even as he was baiting her all over again. Not answering her questions. Asking his own.
And still managing to get her hormones all stirred into a cauldron of seething, sexually arousing juices.
/> “Have a good night, Simon,” she finally said, signaling to Tilly to stand. They started briskly down the hall.
Grace wondered immediately if Simon would spend this night, or any others, alone. Someone as hot as he undoubtedly had a significant other waiting for him, panting, in bed. Maybe not a wife—she’d checked, and he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But a lot of married physicians didn’t wear rings because it was hard to keep them sanitized, or to avoid catching them in sensitive equipment.
Did she believe anything he said? Oh, she felt certain he had rigged some arguably legitimate reason to be in this area, even at night. But could she trust that he was keeping an eye out for whoever was stealing the biohazard samples, rather than doing it himself?
She would keep close watch on him. It was part of her mission.
She’d love every minute—especially if she could prove that Simon was the thief she was after.
Early the next morning, all four Alpha Force members, plus two dogs, gathered upstairs in the furnished quarters assigned to Grace.
As they all took seats in her compact living room, Grace asked Lt. Autumn Katers, a recent recruit, “How’s your alter ego?” Like Grace, Autumn always brought her cover animal along on missions—a female red-tailed hawk who was initially trained for falconry.
“Venus is fine. Wonderful, in fact.” Autumn settled into her seat on the bland umber sofa.
“We’ll take her out for some fresh air once we’re done talking,” said Sgt. Ruby Belmont, who had opted for one of two stiff wooden chairs dragged in from the small kitchen. “We’ll give her as much flying time as she wants.” A tall, thin woman with glasses, Ruby was Autumn’s aide on Alpha Force missions. Like all shapeshifters’ backups, she helped take care of the cover animals—and watched their shifters’ backs while they, too, were in animal form.
Grace was continually pleased by how well her aide, Kristine, accomplished her job, and believed Ruby and she got along well. Right now, Kristine sat on the other kitchen chair, and Bailey lay on the floor next to Tilly.
Guardian Wolf Page 3
