Submerged

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  "Are you sure?"

  "Positive. What's his name?"

  "Rufus Delaney."

  She shook her head. "Never heard of him."

  Marcus deflated with a soft hiss. "Damn. I was really hoping…"

  "Me too."

  She held out the photo. This time, their fingers made contact. They stared at each other, and Rebecca wondered what he was thinking. Had he felt the frisson of electricity in his fingertips like she had?

  Marcus moved toward the window and stared at the starry sky. "Rebecca, someone hired Delaney to kill you. Someone who hates you that much has to be someone you know. Or someone you once knew. What about past relationships?"

  "You mean boyfriends before I met Wesley?"

  "Yeah. You hook up with anyone who was angry with you for some reason?"

  "Hook up?" She smiled. "You know, in today's day that term means more than go out with someone to dinner or a movie."

  "I, uh…well, I meant date."

  She laughed at his obvious discomfort. "I didn't date much. And the guys I did date were decent ones. I wasn't a rebel. I didn't 'hook up' with the bad boys."

  "What about casual friendships? Any of them end on unfriendly terms?"

  "None that I can think of."

  "You get any crank calls, any hang-ups recently?"

  "Detective Zur already asked me that. No. No hang-ups, no strange e-mail or letters, no cars following me—that I noticed. Nothing out of the ordinary. I can't even remember the last argument I had with anyone, aside from Wesley. Oh wait, I think my sister and I argued over timeouts for her children."

  She knew she sounded rather disdainful, but she was frustrated, dammit.

  Marcus let out a groan. "None of this makes any sense."

  "I know. But I'm telling you, unless it's a telemarketer ticked off because I set the phone on the table and walked away while they rambled on, I haven't got a clue who would be angry enough with me to try to kill me."

  "I'll have to remember that table trick."

  "It doesn't really work. They keep calling back."

  As Marcus sat down again, there was a knock on the door.

  "Come in," Rebecca called out.

  Wesley poked his head inside, a smile on his face. "You up for visitors?"

  She sighed. "I don't think we have anything more to say."

  She saw the frown on Marcus's face. "Marcus, this is my—uh, Wesley. Wesley, Marcus Taylor is the man who pulled us out of the car."

  Wesley opened the door all the way and stepped into the room, one hand outstretched. "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Taylor. If you hadn't been there…" He shook his head and looked at Rebecca. "My wife and kids are alive because of you."

  Rebecca noticed that Marcus gave an abrupt nod, but didn't offer his hand.

  "Becca," Wesley said, "there's someone else who'd like to see you."

  Rebecca looked over his shoulder. "Ah, the other woman."

  Tracey Whitaker gave her a timid smile and sniffed. "Rebecca. I hope you don't mind, but as soon as I heard what happened I asked Walter to drive me here. We knew Wesley would head straight here as soon as he heard." She inched near the bed. "I was so worried when I heard about the accident. And the kids. I couldn't believe it when Wesley told me what happened. And now here you are with police guards on your door. Oh my God!" She rambled for a few seconds, then said, "How are the kids?"

  Rebecca couldn't answer. Her mind was too numb from the sparkle that resonated from Tracey's left hand. "You're engaged?"

  Tracey covered the ring. "I, uh…we…Wesley and I were going to tell you later. At a better time."

  Rebecca swallowed. "There is no better time."

  "I'm sorry," Tracey said, staring at the floor.

  It wasn't that Rebecca hadn't seen this coming. She'd anticipated it a while ago. Hadn't she been the one who asked Wesley if he had wedding plans? And hadn't he said he'd tell her if there was?

  She eyed her future ex-husband. "When's the happy day?"

  "We'll pick a date as soon as the divorce is finalized," Wesley said. At least he had the decency to look shamefaced.

  "Congratulations. I hope you two will be happy." She was surprised to discover she meant it.

  Marcus stood. "Uh, I should be going, let you all talk."

  He slipped past Wesley and had one hand on the door, when Rebecca called out, "What time will you be here tomorrow to pick me up?"

  "Dr. Monroe said you'll be released at noon. I'll be here by then."

  She waved. "Bye, Marcus."

  After he was gone, she let out a yawn. "It's late, Wesley. We can talk another time."

  "My dad wanted to come by and—"

  "Not now. Later maybe. I appreciate your concern, but I'm tired."

  Wesley opened his mouth as if to argue, but Tracey tugged on his arm.

  "Hope you feel better soon," Tracey said.

  Rebecca's lips thinned. "Me too."

  "We'll go see the kids now." Wesley ushered Tracey into the hall. "Take care, Becca. Oh, we're staying in Hinton overnight. We'll come by in the morning." The door closed on his last words.

  Last thing she wanted was to see Wesley again. But Colton and Ella were his children. Of course he was concerned about them.

  In the back of her mind there was a small glimmer of doubt.

  No. Wesley had nothing to do with this.

  But what if she were wrong?

  "Mrs. Kingston?"

  "Huh?" She looked up. The guard stood in the doorway.

  "You okay, Mrs. Kingston?"

  "Yeah. But I am tired."

  "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

  "All I need is sleep." And answers.

  Chapter Thirty- Seven

  Hinton, AB – Sunday, June 16, 2013 – 7:30 AM

  In a room at the Holiday Inn, Marcus had slept his usual two hours. Upon waking, he groaned. His body felt as though it had been through the ringer. Every movement hurt, even tying his shoelaces. But that didn't stop him from rushing to the hospital to see Rebecca.

  Before going to her room, he stopped by the hospital cafeteria for breakfast.

  He spotted Zur standing by the cappuccino machine.

  "What are you doing here, John?"

  "Well, I'm not here for the menu." Zur dropped a tray with a stale-looking sandwich with mystery meat on a table, then indicated that Marcus should join him. "You visiting Mrs. Kingston again?"

  Marcus dispensed a paper cup of vanilla cappuccino. "Just about to head up."

  "How's she doing?"

  "Fine. Except her husband and his mistress showed up last night."

  Zur cringed. "Ouch."

  "Yeah, I thought it was a tacky move on Kingston's behalf."

  "The guy's not too sharp."

  Marcus nodded. "I know. That's the other reason why I'm sure he didn't orchestrate the murder attempt on his wife. Guy doesn't have the balls."

  "He had enough to screw around on her."

  "He's engaged to the woman now. Rebecca found out last night."

  "Double ouch. That's like putting salt in a wound."

  "You should've seen the look on Rebecca's face. She was so hurt. But I think she realizes her marriage is now over."

  "She already did. She's the one that filed for divorce."

  Marcus shrugged. "Wouldn't you hold out and hope things would change if you and Lily hit a rough patch?"

  "As long as I could. But not if she had feelings for another man."

  Marcus mulled on that for a fleeting moment. "Kingston's been screwing around for five years." He was engulfed in a bone-tingling shiver. "What a bastard."

  "But not a murdering bastard."

  "Still," Marcus said, "he won't win any 'husband of the year' award."

  "Maybe he'll do better the second time around. Some men do." Zur arched a brow.

  "You talking about me? Whoa, there. I'm not looking to get married anytime soon."

  Zur let out a lengthy sigh. "Marcus, Marcus…one of th
ese days, you're going to have to explore your emotions more fully. Let someone in. Love again. We've been friends far too long for me to pussyfoot around with you. You need to get a life."

  "You sound like Leo."

  "Leo Lombardo? Your 911 buddy?"

  "Yeah, you know him?"

  "We met at Jane's funeral."

  The air around Marcus grew thick.

  "Sorry," Zur said.

  "For what? Mentioning Jane's name? It's not taboo."

  Zur shifted in his chair. "Isn't it?"

  Marcus's gaze drifted to the French door that opened up to a terrarium full of plants. "I guess I haven't been very open about how I feel about Jane and Ryan. It's been tough. They're not here. I am."

  "You deserve to be here."

  "Do I?" He stared into his friend's eyes. "They had more to offer this world than I do. They should be alive. Not me."

  Zur shook his head. "If you'd died instead of them, what would've happened to Rebecca Kingston and her kids?"

  Neither spoke. Seconds turned into minutes.

  Finally, Marcus said, "You get anything from Delaney?"

  He already knew the answer. If Delaney had given up his accomplice, Zur would've filled Marcus in right away.

  "We threatened the guy with solitary, and he didn't crack."

  "Seems kind of unusual."

  "How do you mean?"

  "If Delaney had taken a job for hire and got a bit of money out of the deal, it seems he'd be happy to name whoever hired him, in exchange for maybe a lighter sentence or some perks. But he says nothing?"

  "Someone has a real hold over him."

  "You thinking mob? Are we back to the whole casino theory?"

  "I don't know, Marcus. We're going in circles here. We—" Zur bit his lip.

  "What? Spit it out?"

  Zur picked something slimy out of his sandwich and wiped his fingers on a napkin. "We were hoping whoever hired Delaney would make his move while Mrs. Kingston was in the hospital."

  "We're playing the idea of setting a trap."

  "What kind?"

  "One that involves Mrs. Kingston."

  Marcus's eyes widened. "You want to use her as bait?"

  "We'd have her covered. Lots of protection."

  "No! You can't do this."

  Zur set down the half-eaten sandwich. "Look, we're running out of options. Whoever went after Rebecca will most likely try it again. One night when she's home alone maybe, when you're not around to protect her."

  "You can't put her life at risk like that. She has children who need her."

  "We think we could escalate things, draw this person out into the open. Then we'd have him. They'd be locked away. Rebecca and her kids would be safe. Isn't that what you want?"

  "Of course. But can't you use a double or something? Maybe an undercover agent?"

  Zur let out a snort. "That's for the movies. We don't have the budget for that. Marcus, we would have someone in the washroom in her robe watching her room with cameras. We'd have officers in plainclothes positioned outside her door. And I'd be there, not far from her room."

  Marcus chewed on the plan, his gut churning in rebellion. He didn't like it. Something could go wrong.

  But what if they caught him? Rebecca would never have to worry.

  "What's the plan exactly?" he asked.

  "We'd have the doctors report a relapse in her health. Maybe she's unconscious. We'd simultaneously report on an accident somewhere, something that police would have to respond to. We'd let the news know, everyone related to the case, and we'd make it known that we had to take the guard off her door because of this faux emergency. Word'll spread fast."

  "But you'll be here."

  Zur nodded. "I'll be at the main station, a few doors from Mrs. Kingston's room."

  "And the kids?"

  "We'd move them to the fourth floor—pediatrics—to be safe."

  "How many officers near Rebecca's room?"

  "Four. They'd be positioned as nurses or patients. And then we'd wait."

  Marcus sighed. "Are you going to tell Rebecca?"

  "We already have. We needed her permission."

  "Because she'll be putting herself in harm's way."

  "Yeah, but you can rest easy. We'll have her well protected." Zur chugged back his coffee and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Marcus, I know this isn't the optimum strategy, but we're running out of leads. And ideas. If we don't try to coax this guy in, he could go underground for months."

  "And resurface when no one's expecting him."

  "Exactly."

  "I have to see Rebecca."

  Zur stood. "Let's go then. We're setting everything into place now. You'll have a few minutes before we fake her relapse. In fact, you could help make it believable."

  On the way up to Rebecca's room, Zur filled him in on all the details.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Hinton, AB – Sunday, June 16, 2013 – 7:53 AM

  In a private room in the ICU, Rebecca prepared for the performance of her life. She'd already been drilled about what to expect and how to act barely conscious if anyone entered the room after it was cleared.

  Marcus sat near the bed, massaging his temples. His clenched jaw and occasional huffs intimated he wasn't happy about the plan.

  But she had to do it. She didn't have a choice. Not if she wanted to breathe again, or live her life without fear.

  She gave Detective Zur a shaky smile. "Okay…I'm ready."

  "Great. We'll be outside your door, watching every—"

  "Rebecca, you don't have to do this," Marcus interrupted. "They can catch this guy another way."

  "What other way?" Detective Zur cut in. "We have no leads. We haven't got an inkling who hired Delaney. If we don't get him now—"

  "He'll get away and hide," Rebecca finished. "I need to do this, Marcus. So I'm not always looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone's going to come after me. Or the kids."

  A nurse hovered over her, fastening an IV line to an empty plastic pouch.

  "What's that for?" Rebecca asked.

  The nurse glanced at the detective who gave a slight nod. "We're running a fake IV drip. It'll run into this pouch, not into your arm."

  "Why would you do that?"

  The nurse bit her lip. "It's in case someone tries to…uh, tamper with your IV."

  "Tamper." Rebecca blinked, then glanced at Detective Zur. "You think someone will try to drug me?"

  "Possibly. We think they'll try to take advantage of your 'relapse' and make your death look like an accident."

  "I guess that's better than having them walk in and shoot me." She cringed. "What's stopping them from doing that?"

  Detective Zur shook his head. "Whoever planned this has been very smart up until now. He'd want to get in and out as quickly as possible. He wouldn't risk gunshots."

  "What if he has a silencer?" she asked.

  The detective glanced from Rebecca to Marcus and back to her. "I think you two watch the same movies. Listen, Mrs. Kingston, the first attempt on your life was in a remote location away from witnesses. If you and your children hadn't survived, we wouldn't have Delaney. It might even have appeared to be an accident. Like you'd taken the wrong turn and run off the road."

  "And you think whoever hired this Delaney guy still wants no witnesses and no evidence leading back to him."

  Detective Zur nodded. "And a death that looks accidental."

  "Plus, injecting you with a drug gives him time to get away," Marcus said. "Less chance he'd get caught."

  "Exactly," the detective agreed.

  "So I'm going to lie here and pretend I'm fading in and out of consciousness, and try not to fall asleep." She sighed. "I guess I can do that."

  "We have two cameras set up in your room," Zur said. "One aimed at the door and the other at your bed."

  "So you'll see everything."

  He nodded, then beckoned to an officer standing in the doorway. "We don't have time to wire your room with m
icrophones, so Corporal Raddison is going to secure a wire to your pillow."

  Rebecca took a deep breath. "But you'll get him even if he says nothing?"

  "All he has to do is make an attempt and we'll get it on tape."

  "What if he tries to smother me with a pillow?"

  "Every pillow has been removed from your room, except the one you're lying on. We’ll be here in seconds of him making a move." Zur glanced at his watch and picked up the TV remote control. "Ah, showtime."

  He flicked on a local television station, and Rebecca gasped. Her photograph was pasted across the screen. Below it, the caption read, "Hit-and-run victim suffers serious complications."

  The camera zoomed in on a female reporter standing outside the hospital. "Rebecca Kingston, a victim of a vicious hit and run that included her two children, remains in serious condition at Hinton Hospital. Sources say the woman is in and out of consciousness after lung surgery setbacks. Her two children will be released into their aunt's care later this afternoon, while Rebecca Kingston continues to fight for her life."

  A man's face flashed on the screen.

  Rebecca shivered. Rufus Delaney.

  She knew his face from the photo Marcus had shown her. This was the man who'd run her off the road.

  "Turn it off please," she said quietly.

  The detective gave her an apologetic look, then turned off the television.

  "So now all I do is lie here and wait?" she asked him.

  "Yes. I'll be able to check on you once in a while, as will one of the nurses. To make sure you're okay. We don't want you panicking and having a relapse for real."

  "I'm sure that's a big comfort," Marcus muttered.

  She reached out. "I'm fine. And I'll be fine. This was my choice."

  When he took her hand and squeezed it, she felt rejuvenated with energy.

  "I'm sticking around too," he said.

  "You can't stay on the floor," Detective Zur argued. "Your face has been plastered all over the news. For saving Rebecca and her kids."

  Marcus shrugged. "Then it'll make sense why I'm hanging around."

  The detective's lips thinned. "You can't interfere."

  "He won't," Rebecca said. "Right, Marcus? You're going to stay at a safe distance and let them do their jobs."

  "Fine."

  "You can sit in the room with the recording crew," Detective Zur said. "You'll be able to see and hear everything in this room."