Special Agent Nanny

by Linda O. Johnston

  “I need to get Jenny,” she told Shawn when they were done. Hurrying with her, he accompanied her to KidClub.

  It was just past closing time. “I’m sorry,” Kelley told Marge.

  “That’s okay. Another teaching intern is in a back playroom with Jenny. She’s the last child here, but I figured you’d be awhile. I knew what was going on, sort of. But did you really shoot the janitor?” She looked at Shawn.

  He appeared endearingly embarrassed as he nodded brusquely.

  “Mr. Cortes would have shot me otherwise,” Kelley said, coming to Shawn’s rescue. She wondered why the cool, macho investigator seemed suddenly bashful.

  Maybe his stint as a childcare worker had softened him, just a little.

  It certainly had affected her.

  “Oh, hi,” said a voice from doorway. It was Cheryl Marten.

  Kelley sighed. This had been one hell of a day, and it wasn’t over yet. “Hello, Cheryl,” she said. She glanced over the nurse’s shoulder. “Is Randall with you?”

  “No. I’m meeting him later, but I’m here to check on Jenny.” Her tone was chirpy—a little too cheerful? Kelley noticed that her overly made-up cheeks were as pink as the flowers of the nurse’s smock she wore.

  “She’s fine,” Marge said, and directed Cheryl toward the room where Jenny was.

  “Thanks.” Cheryl took only a couple of steps beyond the sign-out desk and hesitated in front of Shawn. She looked up at him, though for a change she didn’t appear flirtatious. If she were, Kelley wondered if she had enough self-restraint left to keep herself from accosting the voluptuous, slutty nurse.

  Not that she had any claim on Shawn.

  “You know,” Cheryl continued, “I heard that Mr. Paxler… That he tried to kill himself. Is that true?”

  Whatever had made Shawn uncomfortable disappeared before Kelley’s eyes. He was again cool. The consummate investigator. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Do you know of any reason he’d want to commit suicide?”

  Cheryl took a quick step backward, as if he’d threatened her. “How would I know that?”

  Shawn shrugged. Kelley loved the steely glint in his blue eyes—since they weren’t aimed at her. “I don’t know. How would you know that?”

  “If you intend to say hi to Jenny,” Kelley said to the woman’s back, “please go ahead. I’m ready to take her home.” Not that she wanted to rescue Cheryl, but she wanted to get her daughter and leave.

  “Sure,” Cheryl said, turning toward Kelley. “Kelley, I heard… Were you talking to Mr. Paxler before he shot himself?”

  Kelley was puzzled about what Cheryl really wanted—it didn’t seem to be to check on Jenny. She followed Shawn’s example. “Where did you hear that?” she demanded.

  Cheryl gnawed with perfect teeth on her full bottom lip. There was a shiftiness in her eyes, an unwillingness to meet Kelley’s gaze. Why?

  “I heard some E.R. nurses talking,” Cheryl replied. When Kelley didn’t say anything else, she continued, “I can’t help being curious. Everyone around here is. Did Mr. Paxler say anything while you were talking to him?”

  Before Kelley decided how to respond, Shawn stepped in front of her. “Like what, Cheryl? Are you worried about something?”

  “I—I’ll go check on Jenny now.” She took a few steps toward the other room.

  Shawn’s voice stopped her. “From what I understand, Mr. Paxler will be fine.”

  Kelley looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t heard anything about Louis’s condition. Maybe Shawn hadn’t, either. A good investigator often told lies to get information, after all. She’d learned that from him.

  “The police intend to ask him not only if he shot himself, but also if there were others with reason to shoot him,” Shawn continued. He was suddenly so close to Cheryl that if she’d struck one of her usual poses, her chest would touch him. Instead, she shrank back.

  “I didn’t shoot him,” she said tearily. “I only wanted to protect Randall.”

  Kelley wondered how long it would take her thick eye shadow to run. And then, to Kelley’s amazement, Cheryl sank onto one of the small children’s chairs. A tale poured out of her about how she had been colluding with Etta Borand in the lawsuit against Kelley.

  “Her family needed money. They were underinsured, and her husband’s hospitalization was expensive. If someone was blamed for the infection he caught, I didn’t want it to be Randall.” She looked up at Kelley. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “That was why I left Jenny alone here the night of the fire. I’d already taken any harmful references from the files—which were burned anyway. But that night, she was asleep. I was only going to be gone a few minutes to meet with Etta, you see?”

  Kelley didn’t see at all. But she bit her tongue to avoid interrupting the woman’s story, for she sensed she hadn’t heard the whole thing.

  “By the time I finished with Etta,” Cheryl said, “the fire had started and Kelley had brought Jenny out. If she hadn’t, I’d have gone back after her myself.”

  “Sure you would,” Kelley said, not believing it. Not if it would have singed a strand of the woman’s bleached hair to rescue the child.

  With a baleful look toward Kelley, Cheryl went on. “Louis Paxler knew about the situation with Etta, but he made it clear that with Randall’s stature as a cardiac surgeon, and his own need to protect the hospital’s reputation, it would be better if someone else—Kelley—was blamed. She was already suspected of doing things wrong to treat those influenza patients.” She looked up directly at Kelley. “He told you all about that tonight, didn’t he?”

  “No,” Kelley said quietly.

  Cheryl looked taken aback, as if she realized she would have been better off staying silent. Then she said, “I’m sorry.” She stood. Instead of heading toward the room where Jenny was, she hurried toward the door.

  “One more question, Cheryl,” Shawn said. “Were you trying to protect Randall, or did you do something that might have led to Mr. Borand’s postsurgical infection?”

  Her eyes were stricken as she looked back at him, and then she fled from the room.

  “I think we can take that for a ‘yes,’” Shawn said wryly.

  SHAWN WENT INTO THE playroom with Kelley to fetch Jenny. He had a question for the child, and now, after talking to Kelley, he was sure he knew the answer.

  Jenny was seated at a table beside Stephanie, the childcare intern, who looked up as they entered. “We were putting together a puzzle,” the intern said.

  “I see,” Shawn acknowledged as Kelley approached her daughter. Jenny was dressed in small, soft blue jeans and a blue top that went well with her light-colored hair.

  “Time to leave, Jenny,” Kelley said.

  “In just a minute,” Shawn said. When she looked at him quizzically, he added, “Bear with me.”

  He went into one of the cabinets where he had begun keeping the stacks of caricatures he hadn’t handed out to the kids.

  Stuck in the middle were a couple of the pictures Jenny had drawn on days she had been particularly unruly. They included the ones from yesterday with jagged red lines that he’d figured signified fire, along with straight lines that seemed fuzzy at the bottom. Shawn hadn’t been able to figure the straight lines out—before.

  “Don’t, Shawn.” Kelley sounded distraught behind him. No wonder, after all she had gone through that day. He didn’t want to put her through any more, but this was to help Jenny.

  “It’s better,” he said gently. “You’ll see.” As if he really were a child psychologist. Ha!

  But he did think, now, that he had an idea how to relate to kids. And now, he particularly had to help Jenny.

  He knelt beside the child at the table and put his arm around her shoulder as he laid the drawing down with his other hand. He wanted to hug her tight, protect her.

  First, he had to question her. “Jenny, are the red lines fire?”

  Her brown eyes huge, she nodded solemnly.

  “And I’ll bet I
can guess what this other line is.”

  She stood up fast, but he steadied her.

  “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. Do you understand?”

  She said nothing, but she didn’t move, either.

  “Is this line supposed to be a mop?”

  Shawn heard Kelley inhale sharply but didn’t turn toward her.

  “Is it?” he asked gently when Jenny didn’t answer.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered.

  “Did you see Mr. Cortes, the janitor, set the fire?”

  “Yes,” she repeated, tears running down her face.

  Shawn folded her into his arms. A chill nearly froze his heart. “Did he threaten you?”

  When Jenny didn’t answer, Kelley, who stooped beside them, said, “She might not understand what a threat is. But now that you’ve started this… Honey, did Mr. Cortes see you the night of the fire and say something bad to you, something that scared you?”

  “No, Mommy,” Jenny responded tearily.

  That surprised Shawn. “Did he talk to you after the fire?” He pulled back to look at Jenny.

  She shook her head.

  “Never?”

  “No, but I see’d him, and I was scared.”

  Shawn thought he was beginning to understand. “So you got upset when you saw him and sometimes even threw treats he brought and other food.”

  Jenny nodded. “And I drawed fire.”

  Shawn picked her up and kept her small, fragile body snugged against him, reveling in the feeling of the girl’s head on his shoulder. “You know, that’s possible,” he told Kelley. “Cortes always brought the morning treat to KidClub early, before you two arrived. Their paths might not have crossed much.”

  “And, thank heavens, he probably didn’t know Jenny saw him set the fire,” Kelley said. “I didn’t think anything about it before, but he and I talked about the fire. I’d told him, like everyone else, that Jenny was left behind in KidClub. In case she saw what happened, I didn’t want the arsonist to know she had been wandering around.”

  “Good move.” Shawn smiled at her and was rewarded by her relieved grin.

  Jenny wriggled in his arms. “Is there going to be any more fire?” she asked softly.

  “No, honey,” he reassured her. “The police have Mr. Cortes, and he’s not going to set fires, or scare you, ever again. I promise.”

  He melted as the child hugged him tight. “Thank you, Shawn,” she said.

  He loved it. Loved this child.

  And her mother.

  Could he let them go, now that this assignment was nearly over?

  He’d never considered himself the family type. Hell, he hardly even knew what a family was.

  And yet, with Kelley and Jenny, he felt…well, whole.

  But he’d hurt Kelley. Accused her of arson and conspiring to let her patients die.

  He’d just been doing his job. But he doubted she’d ever forgive him.

  And he couldn’t really blame her.

  KELLEY MADE A BIG production of letting Jenny pick out doughnuts the next morning. They had sliced fruit at home. “We’ll get the other kids to help from now on,” she told her daughter once they’d reached the hospital, “or maybe we’ll stop morning treats. All that sugar isn’t good for you kids anyway.”

  “But I like doughnuts, Mommy,” Jenny said, then added, “And oranges and apples, too.” She took an end of the box to help carry it down the corridor, then stopped. “Mr. Cortes isn’t going to bring more, is he?” Her small brow puckered in worry, and Kelley wanted to smooth away all her daughter’s fears.

  “No, sweetheart,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll ever see Mr. Cortes again.”

  She might, though, if she had to testify against him in court.

  Shawn wasn’t at KidClub when Kelley signed Jenny in. She hadn’t expected him to be. He’d seen them to her car last night, then said goodbye. He’d called later but had seemed distracted.

  She’d missed him in her bed.

  She missed him now.

  But she would have to get used to it. She was no longer his suspect, his assignment.

  At least, she hoped not. She wasn’t sure she’d been totally cleared of suspicion in her treatment of the Silver Rapids epidemic. Still, it was getting around that she wasn’t the arsonist. Maybe the day would come soon when she’d hear acknowledgment that she’d managed those patients just fine, within accepted medical standards—as she’d always known she had done.

  She checked her calendar for the day at her office, then started on rounds. Outside her second patient’s room, she ran into Madelyne Younger.

  “Hey, kiddo,” the older doctor said, “is everything I heard about yesterday true?”

  “That depends what you heard,” Kelley said with a small laugh. She felt a little embarrassed, for the crew at the nearby nurses’ station was watching.

  “All greatly exaggerated, I expect. Except that Marge Ralston swears she was in the room with you when Cheryl Marten confessed to some pretty nasty stuff.”

  “Well…yes,” Kelley admitted.

  “In any event, I owe you one big apology if I ever made it seem as if I doubted your competence.”

  “Thanks,” Kelley said with a big smile. “I appreciate it.”

  “And I’m not the only one.” She motioned over Kelley’s shoulder. “Hey, Randall, get your butt over here.”

  Kelley wished she could just slip away. “Oh, Madelyne, don’t—”

  “No, you wait right here.”

  In moments, Randall was beside them. He scowled down his patrician nose at Kelley, but there was something uneasy in his gray eyes.

  “Don’t you have something to say to Dr. Stanton, Dr. Stanton? From Dr. Randall to Dr. Kelley, that is.”

  “I…er, Kelley, I want you to know I wasn’t aware of what Cheryl was doing.”

  Hey, Kelley thought, this is fun. She’d never imagined she’d see the day when Randall was uncomfortable. She didn’t help him. She remained quiet, regarding him with eyebrows raised expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, Kelley,” he finished.

  She just nodded at him without accepting the apology. Maybe she could get him to grovel some more.

  “You’re not finished,” Madelyne told him. “Tell Kelley exactly what you think of her doctoring skills.”

  He glared at Madelyne before turning back toward Kelley. “You’ve turned out to be a fine doctor,” he said, wincing as if the words gave him gas. “I always knew you would, Kelley.”

  He hurried away while the nurses at the station behind them cheered. Madelyne gave a giggling Kelley a high five.

  THAT TURNED OUT not to be Kelley’s only major surprise of the day. She returned to her office to find that her long-missing friend Dr. Wilson Carpenter had finally returned her phone calls. She responded immediately to his message. His phone number was an 800 toll-free number, so she didn’t know where he had called from.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded, sitting at her desk with her fists clenched.

  “On an all-expenses-paid sabbatical to Europe,” he said. “Look, Kelley, about the influenza epidemic—”

  She interrupted him. “I have a long story to tell you about that, but not now. Just tell me if you know its origins, and explain that Q fever reference you made when you called me.”

  “I still can only guess,” he said. “And maybe I was foolish to accept the trip to that prestigious medical conference in Switzerland, but thought it was my only choice.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  While she stared unseeingly toward her office window, he explained that he’d been stewing about the epidemic for weeks before he’d called her. He’d run some tests of his own that had had odd results—including Q fever antibodies—but he’d kept his doubts to himself when he didn’t hear of any diseases detected at Gilpin besides influenza. But eventually, as the suspicions ate at him, he’d needed to talk to someone and had decided to consult with Kelley.<
br />
  But he supposed he’d been too vocal in his questions at the time of the epidemic. “I think my phone line was tapped,” he said. “So when I called you, we were cut off, and I couldn’t get through again. Then came the threats, followed by a call from a physician in Switzerland who invited me to an important international infectious disease conference, all expenses paid, but only if I came right away. I was suspicious, of course, but it made sense to take it and get out of here.”

  When he’d gotten to Switzerland, he’d confirmed that his trip was subsidized by someone back home. Someone who didn’t want him around for a long time. “The conference was great, actually. But there were some elements there—well, they made it clear that my life was in danger if I tried to go home or to contact anyone. Maybe ever.”

  “So why are you back?”

  “I was tracked down—some people with connections to a supersecret undercover outfit, it seems, though I really don’t know much about it. They promised me protection if I come home right away, told me you were in trouble and that I was the cause. Is that true?”

  Kelley laughed. But she found herself wondering why Wilson had been sent overseas rather than killed. People had died from the epidemic. If, as she suspected, the disease had been manufactured, whoever had done it could be accused of murder. To cover it up, why not just kill someone else?

  But all she said to Wilson was, “Could be. I’ll explain over drinks some day. But I’ll need for you to back me about your suspicions about Q fever and the Silver Rapids epidemic. Okay?”

  “You got it.”

  “YOU CAN GET ME immunity in exchange for my testimony, can’t you? And into witness protection?” Paxler’s voice was weak, and he looked like hell lying in his hospital bed, a large bandage covering the side of his head. Nearly a week had passed since he’d been shot by Cortes, and the gray roots were already beginning to show in the hair that was visible.

  Shawn knew the police interrogators had gotten nothing from Paxler. Shawn hadn’t been permitted to see the guy until now.

  He replied to Paxler’s question the only way he could. “No promises, Louis. But I’ll put in a good word, and my agency will do all it can to ensure your security if you cooperate.”