Special Agent Nanny

by Linda O. Johnston

Shawn’s jaw tightened. “You’re certain the pertinent records were destroyed?”

  Paxler nodded. “When I took over as director five years ago, the place was an administrative nightmare. One problem was the lack of standards for patient records retention. I instituted a procedure. The charts for current patients were kept with those patients. Those of patients from more than a year ago were copied into computer files and stored. But information about patients discharged less than a year ago was kept in the records storage area. There was a procedure for signing them out. The sign-out sheets were kept in another room, and weren’t touched by the fire. And no one had signed out the records for the Silver Rapids flu patients.” He sighed. “I should have kept them myself under the circumstances, but I’d no reason to believe they wouldn’t be safe there.”

  “Don’t you think it would be overkill for Dr. Stanton to destroy all those records and endanger everyone in the hospital just to get rid of a few files that might implicate her?”

  Shawn had seen arsonists set fires for less substantial reasons, just for the fun of seeing things burn. But often there was a better motive. Like covering up a truth. Or several truths…

  “Of course, but what better way to hide who set the fire and why? And she was there that night. She was the one to call the fire department, pull the alarm for the hospital system. She even came running out with her daughter, screaming that Randall had left Jenny in KidClub.” Paxler shook his head. “The poor child. I can’t imagine a mother who would subject her own daughter to such danger, but it appears that’s what happened.”

  That was one place that the story fell down, in Shawn’s estimation. He had seen Kelley with her daughter that morning. Whatever else she had done, Shawn doubted she’d have put Jenny in danger that way.

  But that might be his own first impression, coloring his judgment.

  “There’s no on else you can think of with motive to destroy the files?” he asked.

  Paxler shrugged shoulders that appeared padded beneath his suit jacket. “I can’t imagine who. And the fire department tells me now that the fire was definitely arson.”

  Shawn respected the Denver F.D.’s Fire Investigation Bureau. He’d once been among them.

  But he would double check their conclusions.

  It was possible that the fire had been an accident, as they’d initially thought. But if it had been arson, the indication seemed to be that Dr. Kelley Stanton was the one who’d played with matches.

  Whatever the answer, whatever Kelley’s involvement, Shawn would learn the truth.

  Chapter Three

  The day had felt abysmally long. Kelley couldn’t wait to go home. But mostly she couldn’t wait to see Jenny.

  Smiling at the thought of her daughter, she picked up her pace down the nearly empty halls that connected the medical building with the hospital. Before the fire, she’d often stopped to see Jenny during her lunch break. Since the fire, she only did that when she could make sure Jenny wouldn’t see her. Every time Kelley left her now, Jenny went through the agonies of separation. And there were days when Jenny threw tantrums, yelled at the other kids, even spilled their lunches on the floor.

  The counselor they’d been seeing said it would take time for Jenny to get over her fears about the fire. She was too young to understand much except how scared she’d been. Talking about it would help. But Jenny didn’t want to talk about it.

  Today Kelley hadn’t been able to get away at lunch to peek in on Jenny. Every time she’d left her office, someone had beeped her. At least her services were in demand.

  As she turned the corner to the KidClub, she recalled that morning.

  The new attendant, Shawn Jameson, might still be there.

  So what if Kelley thought him a hunk? Or that Madelyne Younger did, too? He would probably catch the attention of every woman in the hospital. But all that counted was whether he connected well with the children.

  She pushed open the door and walked in. Her grin broadened.

  Marge Ralston was there, leading some kids in an endearing off-key rendition of “I’m A Little Teapot.” Marge, in her early thirties like Kelley, loved children. A perky, curly-haired brunette, she wore paint-splashed smocks over her jeans, never caring if she got additional spots on them. She had studied to be a grade school teacher but had elected to work with little ones and was great with them.

  Kelley waved at her. Then, not seeing her daughter, she mouthed, “Where’s Jenny?”

  Without missing a beat or a teapot gesture, Marge pointed toward the door to one of the other rooms. Kelley headed there.

  And stopped in the doorway. Large, brawny Shawn Jameson sat at a tyke table surrounded by kids, looking like a giant at an elf’s tea party. He appeared tense. His eyes darted from one child to another, as if he was unsure which would do something unexpected first.

  Jenny sat beside him. She barely looked up when Kelley approached. On the table in front of her was a large paper on which she was sketching with crayons. Her drawing of uneven circles and lines was a credible rendering of a smiling pig.

  “Jenny, that’s wonderful!” Kelley exclaimed, leaning over her daughter’s shoulder.

  “Shawn teached me. He says he can teach me lots of an’mals.”

  “Me, too,” said the little girl on Shawn’s other side. Claire Fritz, Jenny’s best friend, was the daughter of a woman who worked in the hospital pharmacy. Claire also had a colorful stick drawing in front of her, as did the other five children.

  Kelley turned to thank Shawn and found herself looking straight into his blue eyes. They brightened a little as they found hers, as if the appearance of another adult put him more at ease. Her smile faltered as something seemed to spark between them, and she pulled herself upright so she was looking down on him. “This is wonderful, Shawn. Thank you.”

  He quickly pushed back his chair and rose, unfurling his long limbs. He was probably just short of six feet, Kelley guessed, for she was eight or nine inches shorter and felt dwarfed not only by his height but also by his brawny breadth. From his hurried yet easy grace, she had no doubt that what expanded his vest and shirt was muscle, not flab.

  “You’re welcome,” his deep voice rumbled. “Can I speak to you about Jenny’s behavior this morning?”

  Kelley’s gut clenched. “What happened?”

  He shook his head quickly. “Nothing bad. I just want to talk about how she was when you left her. I’ll get another attendant to keep an eye on the kids. Can we go get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria?”

  Kelley blinked. Was he just looking for an excuse to get away from the kids? If so, why was he here?

  Or was he hitting on her? That idea almost made her smile. Her miserable relationship with Randall, and their subsequent divorce, had taught her that what men thought of her was irrelevant. But to have one as handsome and as kind to kids as Shawn seem interested…? Well, that felt awfully good.

  But inappropriate. He was on the hospital staff. She had enough problems these days. She didn’t need another.

  Besides, she’d probably misread his simple invitation. Despite his apparent unease, he must like kids or he wouldn’t have taken this job. He’d be concerned about any child in his charge. He undoubtedly just wanted to discuss her troubled daughter.

  They had an appointment with Jenny’s counselor that evening. And Kelley knew all about the problem with Jenny’s behavior when Kelley left her at KidClub—all the more reason to speak with Jenny’s therapist.

  “Maybe another time,” she said. “Time to go, Jenny.”

  THAT NIGHT, SHAWN lost count of the sit-ups he did on the worn gray carpet in the shabbily furnished apartment he’d leased near the hospital for the duration of his assignment.

  When he was exhausted, he dragged his aching body up and forced it onto the tattered green sofa. The place smelled of cleaning products, but they failed to mask that the previous tenant had been a heavy smoker.

  Shawn unbuttoned his shirt, feeling slightly strange with
out the shoulder and ankle holsters he wore on his other ICU assignments. Working with kids meant carrying no firearms, which was okay. Likely, the only danger he might face on this mission was the arsonist lighting up again. Improbable, given the suspected motive. Hospital records could only burn once.

  He picked up the cool soft drink can he had left on the end table. As he took a swig of cold, sweet cola, he wished it was a beer.

  “Well, damn,” he said to the stark white walls. The television news was on mute. He let the blessed quiet and sense of solitude wash over him, a relief after being surrounded by screaming tots for what seemed forever. He liked it quiet. He liked to be alone.

  Oh, the day had gone well enough. Though he was still sweating his cover—dealing with a bunch of rowdy preschoolers—he’d found a method that at least calmed them. Sort of. For a few minutes at a time, though unfortunately not all at once.

  After learning to work with stubborn and skittish horses at the Royal Flush, and to use them for herding a few head of cattle at a time, he’d thought he had already gone beyond the call of duty to establish his cover.

  Now this.

  But damned if the kids didn’t like to draw cartoons. The talent he had thought he’d tucked away forever had come to his rescue again. And the kids were so cute and earnest about it that they’d unexpectedly made him smile.

  Other than his short conversation with Louis Paxler, he’d hardly accomplished anything that day to further his investigation. Of course, he had to establish himself and his cover. Only then could he gain people’s confidence, get them to answer questions without suspecting why he was there.

  But Shawn’s strong suit was not patience.

  And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit that Kelley had turned him down when he’d invited her for coffee.

  He’d known rejection. Hell, it had been part of his life, but he’d gotten over it. Still, figuring out Dr. Kelley Stanton and her relationship to the flu and the fire was his mission. That meant he needed to spend time with the lovely physician. Not exactly a hardship—though her presence had already caused part of his anatomy to grow hard.

  He laughed derisively at himself. Shaking his head, Shawn reached for the phone on the end table beside the couch. He had to report in.

  But before he lifted the receiver, the phone rang.

  “Jameson,” he answered.

  “You were supposed to call,” said Colleen Wellesley without preamble.

  “I was just about to.” He put the soft drink can on the table and leaned forward, alert, ready to talk.

  “Right. So how did it go? Did you learn anything?”

  Shawn responded in a tone reminiscent of the kids’ chanting. “I didn’t blow my cover yet but didn’t learn much, either. Except for where the potty is.”

  “Don’t get smart.”

  “Who, me? I take it you’re still at the ranch.”

  “Right, though I’ll be at the Denver office later in the week. Tell me about your day.”

  He pictured his solemn, serious lady-boss pacing and holding a cordless phone to her cheek beneath the curve of her chin-length brown hair. She had to be in her bedroom or one of the secure rooms in the basement to be talking like this, for she wouldn’t want the foreman, Dex, or the Castillos to overhear.

  “Okay, C., it’s like this,” he said. “I talked with the administrator, Paxler, and got a rundown of who’s who and what’s what, at least in his opinion.”

  “So he’s still cooperating? Good, but is he helpful?”

  “Yeah, a little too helpful—like he’s covering his butt and the hospital’s insurance by pointing fingers where he can.”

  “Well, you’ll have to sort out what’s true and what’s butt-protecting. Is that all?”

  “No. I’ve met Dr. Kelley Stanton and established a rapport of sorts with her daughter, so—”

  “Really?” Colleen sounded incredulous.

  “Why did you create this cover if you thought I couldn’t handle it?”

  “Did I say that? I just expected it to take you longer to settle in. You’ll have to tell me all about your experience one of these days.”

  “Right.” He would definitely not tell her how rattled he remained around a bunch of screaming munchkins. “Anyhow, now that I know the layout and have met some of the cast of characters, I’ve been working on a game plan. I should have more to report next time.”

  “Fine, but don’t push so hard that you blow your cover. We need answers fast. Real fast. But we won’t get them if we have to start over.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said firmly. “I’m in.”

  AS USUAL, KELLEY hesitated the next morning at the entry to KidClub. Jenny was holding her hand tightly. Her thumb was in her mouth.

  Inhaling deeply to steel herself for the scene to come, Kelley pushed open the door.

  Shawn Jameson, tall and broad-shouldered, looking as confident as if he had always worked there, stood to the right of the entry. Maybe he just appeared confident because he was engrossed in conversation with Marge Ralston, who was obviously hanging on his every word.

  A group of kids sat on floor mats in a far corner of the room. A TV on a stand had been wheeled in, and they were watching a public television children’s show.

  At Kelley’s side, Jenny hesitated. Kelley felt her daughter’s grip tighten.

  Shawn turned away from Marge and looked straight at Kelley as if he had been expecting her.

  Which of course he was, as he expected all the kids’ parents. He wasn’t anticipating seeing her in particular.

  Still, the way his lips curved slowly into a lazy but welcoming smile made her insides melt. She shook her head to bring herself back to reality.

  He said something else to Marge that Kelley couldn’t hear. The facility’s head caregiver continued to gaze at him as if in rapt attention. Then he broke away from Marge and approached Kelley and Jenny.

  “Good morning, Shawn,” Kelley said.

  “Hi.” He wore no vest today. Instead he had on a navy blue shirt that enhanced the deep color of his eyes. He still looked like a handsome cowboy in his jeans and boots. “How are you both?”

  “Fine, Shawn,” Jenny said softly.

  “Good. Are we going to have fun today?”

  “Can we draw an’mals?” Jenny’s voice quivered, and Kelley braced herself for her daughter’s next tearful farewell.

  “Sure,” Shawn said.

  To Kelley’s surprise, Jenny let go of her and held out her hand. After a slight hesitation Shawn took it and led her farther into the room. He met Kelley’s eyes over the child’s head.

  No separation anxiety today? Kelley was so relieved that she felt her whole face brighten.

  Shawn’s return smile was smug but brief. He looked toward Jenny. “You can choose the animals you’d like to work on,” he said. “And maybe one of these days your mama and I can talk about the animals, too.” He raised a light brown brow at Kelley, then turned his back and led Jenny from the room.

  Kelley watched with bemusement and delight.

  “Wow!” Marge joined her, grinning after the man and child as they walked into the adjoining playroom. “He’s something, isn’t he? Even Jenny is responding to him.”

  “He’s something, all right,” Kelley agreed. “He…well, he doesn’t strike me as the typical day-care worker. Do you know his background?”

  “Sure,” Marge replied. “He was in the military—army, I think. He got out after a couple of hitches and is now in college studying child psychology. He wants to work with kids, so he’s here earning a little money and learning about children on a school internship.”

  “I see,” Kelley said, though she was puzzled. He didn’t seem the type. But obviously she was wrong.

  Maybe one day she would take him up on that offer to have coffee in the cafeteria—so they could discuss his drawing talent, and the way he worked with kids.

  Now, though, it was time to leave the childcare center.

 
This morning seemed to be the start of a good day.

  IT CONTINUED THAT WAY, too, for a while.

  She ran into Juan Cortes, who gave her a hearty, “Good morning.” She’d noticed the usual treats in the KidClub, so she thanked the janitor but reiterated her offer to bring some soon.

  Next, she passed hospital administrator Louis Paxler on his way to his office. He actually managed a civil greeting.

  Then the day began to deteriorate. She saw her ex-husband at the nurse’s station talking with Cheryl Marten. They both seemed engrossed in conversation, and Kelley attempted to slip by unseen.

  No such luck. “Good morning, Kelley,” Randall said in his usual contemptuous, booming voice.

  A couple of nurses seated behind the tall U-shaped desk looked up in interest. Damn. They had an audience.

  “Good morning,” Kelley said neutrally.

  “Which patients are you seeing here today?” Randall had turned to face her. As usual, he was dressed immaculately in a pristine white lab jacket, a stethoscope around his neck. His silvery hair was combed as perfectly as an actor on a set playing a doctor’s might be.

  None of your business. “A couple of influenza cases and an infection.”

  “Take care that they survive,” he said in mock concern.

  Kelley’s chest constricted. She’d done all she could to help those poor influenza patients who’d died several months ago, yet she knew Randall was a major source of the rumors that she’d messed up.

  She’d told herself over and over that he was wrong.

  But if so, why did so many people listen to him?

  “They’ll be fine, thanks, Randall,” she said coolly, not rising to his bait.

  “I’m sure,” he said.

  Cheryl smirked over her shoulder. Kelley could have smacked her. She was the one who had left little Jenny alone the night of the fire, then had lied about it. Implicated Kelley.

  “If something happens to them,” Cheryl said, “I’ve got a friend in the fire department. I’ll alert him that our records department is in jeopardy again.”

  Oh, Lord. Kelley had heard that more than once, too—that she’d set the records room on fire to destroy the charts that would reveal what she’d done wrong in her treatment of those patients.