by Dana R. Lynn
“Not here, Chris. We have business with the shift supervisor.”
The woman sneered. “Oh, sure. Or are you just too cowardly to face me after what you did?”
Eyes flashing, Lexie took a step forward, invading Chris’s space. The other woman obviously didn’t expect that. She stepped back, then colored furiously when she realized what she’d done. Lexie didn’t back down, Gavin noticed, pride filling him. He would back her up, but this was clearly a fight she needed to take on herself. “I did nothing. I came home from a conference and found out that my fiancé was in the hospital.”
“Because you drove him to it! I’m sure you were responsible for his death. Probably got careless with his meds.”
“Nurse Stevens!” A strident voice whipped through the air. A tall, sturdy woman with salt-and-pepper hair tied up in a tight bun bore down on them. “You need to be about your shift. I hope I don’t find that you are stirring up trouble. Again. You already have one reprimand on your record. These are my guests.”
The woman’s last name was Stevens? Like Brett Stevens? He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. He’d seen pictures of Brett. Chris resembled him a lot. Had to be his sister.
Lexie’s eyes widened. “It was you who started the rumors that I’d killed Brett, wasn’t it?” she asked Chris.
The woman started to open her mouth, no doubt to spit out more vitriol. He could see the storm gathering on her face. This was one rumor mill he could, and would, shut down.
“Nurse, one of the reasons we are here is that new evidence has surfaced. I’m assuming Brett was your brother?” She nodded, arms folded across her chest. Still belligerent, but she was listening. “We have new information that suggests your brother’s suicide attempt was actually a botched attempted murder. Please don’t hinder our investigation any longer. I’m sure you’d like to know the truth of what really happened.”
Her face whitened. He didn’t stay to give her a chance to say more. Gripping Lexie’s elbow in a protective hold, he nodded at the administrator. She met his gaze then led the way to her office. Dr. Evelyn MacGuire was embossed on the nameplate sitting on the corner of her desk.
“I understand you have questions to ask, Sergeant Jackson,” she said, gesturing for them to sit in the chairs in front of her desk.
“Yes, ma’am. It has come to our attention that Lexie—Nurse Grant—had a stalker here. We believe that he attempted to murder Brett Stevens, then attacked him a second time when he was in the hospital. After she left, the stalker followed her to LaMar Pond. He started working at the clinic where she works now under the assumed name of Dr. Henry Quinton, and is believed to be responsible for several attacks on her and some of her patients.”
“I’m sorry, but the name Dr. Quinton is not one that I’m familiar with, as I mentioned to your Chief Kennedy when he called here.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m aware of that. However, we have since learned that his name was not really Quinton. The man himself had disappeared. No doubt he’s aware we know of his fake identity. What I was hoping is that I could show his picture to some of your staff. See if any of them can identify him.”
“Let’s not be too hasty. That might not be necessary.”
“With all due respect, I’m sure the chief sent you his picture. Did you recognize him?”
She hesitated. Then her shoulders drooped slightly. “No, I did not recognize him. But then, I have only been here for a year. Miss Grant was already gone when I took this position.”
Gavin stood up. He wanted her to know he meant business. “Dr. MacGuire, I have traveled from Pennsylvania on a matter that is literally life or death. I need to speak with members of your staff who were here at the time of Nurse Grant’s employ. If I have to wait for a warrant to question your staff, someone else might die.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was facing a number of the hospital staff. Nurses, doctors and the receptionist. Several of them kept throwing curious glances at Alexa. He gave them the rundown of what had been happening.
“Let’s see that picture, Sergeant.” One of the doctors held out his hand. He took the picture Gavin handed to him and peered at it closely. He shook his head. Several others did the same. The fourth person to look started to pass the picture on, then stopped.
“Wait a minute! This is Dr. Henry! I’m almost sure of it.”
“Dr. Quinton’s first name is Henry.” Alexa’s quiet voice broke in. At once, everyone wanted to see the photo again.
“I think you’re right!” The first man squinted at the picture, holding his glasses closer to his eyes like a magnifying glass. “He shaved his head, added glasses. But it’s Dr. Henry.”
“When did you all last see him?” Now they were getting somewhere. Gavin could feel it.
“He didn’t actually work here. He was a highly sought-after surgeon and speaker. Arrogant fellow, but brilliant. Great doctor. He visited a few times while giving seminars.”
“Would he have had an opportunity to have met Nurse Grant?” Gavin asked.
“I’m sure he would have,” one of the other nurses said. “Or at least he would have seen her. Maybe. It’s a definite possibility.”
“Actually,” another nurse spoke up, frowning, “he hasn’t been here since Alexa left.”
Gavin straightened. “Really?”
One of the doctors scratched his head. “That’s right. He just sort of vanished.”
“Why would a prominent doctor feel the need to assume a new identity?” Gavin asked the group.
“That’s easy. The police were investigating him for the drowning death of his wife.”
Gavin felt his eyes widen. “He was investigated? Did they ever find any evidence?”
The nurse who had offered the information shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea. But it seems like he must have done it, right? Why run if he wasn’t guilty?”
TWELVE
Gavin was absolutely convinced Dr. Quinton was Alexa’s stalker.
“Here are the facts,” he told Alexa when they were once again in Pennsylvania, heading back to his vehicle. “Dr. Quinton was under investigation as a suspect in the drowning death of his wife. I don’t know if his fascination with you played into that. He did come looking for you and found a job where he could keep an eye on you.”
Her phone pinged. Someone had messaged her through Facebook. It was Megan. She read it. And groaned.
“I can’t believe this!”
That didn’t sound good. “What?”
She shook her head. “I’m so embarrassed. Megan messaged me. Someone on the plane took a video of us helping the man who was choking and posted it on social media. It’s going viral.”
He remembered seeing people with their phones out on the plane.
He halted. She walked a few more steps before she saw that he wasn’t following her.
“Gavin?”
“Hold on.” He pulled out his phone and did a search on YouTube. What he found chilled him to the bone.
He didn’t want to make her any more nervous than she already was, but she needed to be prepared. “Lexie, these pictures may have alerted Quinton that you went to Chicago with a cop. He’s bound to figure out why. If he thinks you’ll put two and two together, he’s going to come after you even more viciously. Plus, look at this video.”
He showed her the video posted on Facebook. “I saw this woman save a guy while heading to Chicago this morning on flight 2098.”
Her mouth opened in a shocked O.
“It would not be too hard for Quinton to find out when flight 2098 landed in Chicago. And it wouldn’t be too hard to find out what flights would be coming into Erie today,” he told her.
“What do we do?”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “It’s a good thing I have my truck today. If he’s watching for you, he’ll be expecting you to be in a poli
ce car. We’d be caught unawares. As it is, we have been warned that he might know where we are. We know to be careful.”
They almost made it to the station to pick up his cruiser. Almost. A mile away, they hit a red light. Traffic was practically nonexistent at this time of the evening. Gavin slowed the truck to a stop.
A burst of gunfire from the right hit the front end of the vehicle. Steam poured from under the hood with an explosive hiss. The needle on the coolant dial beginning rising.
“Lexie, down!”
She ducked, her knees banging the bottom of the glove compartment.
“Shots fired on Main Street!” he bellowed into his radio. “Officer and civilian under attack.”
He kept down while he answered the dispatcher’s questions, feeling like he was trapped in a cage. His truck wasn’t going anywhere, and they couldn’t see the gunman in the dark.
“Stay down, honey.”
Lexie nodded at his warning. Her eyes caught his. There was fear there, but it was controlled. She was one of kind. Lacey would have freaked out. And he shouldn’t compare Lexie with his former fiancée. The two women were nothing alike.
He glanced up. A cruiser would be there any minute.
It wasn’t going to be enough. They might not have a minute just sitting there, and they couldn’t drive without the radiator. Quinton wouldn’t stop coming. They had to get out of the car.
A second shot hit the front tire. If the stalker hit Lexie’s side of the truck just right, he’d get her. That was not a chance that Gavin was prepared to take.
“Come on! We can’t stay here and be targets. We have to run!”
Pushing open the door, he leaped down, keeping the open door before him like a shield. Lexie slid across the seat and jumped down beside him. Her window shattered.
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her along the street, dodging in and out between the cars and buildings. She ran beside him. They had less than a mile to the police station. The sound of her panting as she struggled to keep up with him broke his heart. But he couldn’t afford to let her rest.
Please, God. Let them make it.
A third shot erupted into the evening. Lexie cried out. He started to slow down.
“No, I’m okay.” She was gasping in pain but kept running. “He grazed my hip. I’ll be fine.”
They continued running, their feet sloshing through the snow and slush. He felt bad, but there were several times when he was literally pulling Lexie along. He couldn’t take the risk of stopping.
Ahead of him, a police car, sirens blaring, whipped around the corner. It raced past them. At the corner behind him, another cruiser joined in. Good.
A car pulled up beside them. “Get in,” Lieutenant Willis ordered.
He pushed Lexie toward the cruiser, keeping himself between her and the shooter. Once inside the vehicle, they collapsed against the seat. That one had been much too close. The gunman was escalating again, shooting at them in the middle of town. If it had been earlier in the day, someone might have been seriously hurt.
“Lieutenant, drive by the hospital, will you? Lexie took a bullet to the hip.”
Willis immediately changed course for the hospital. He expected Alexa to protest, but she seemed to be too exhausted. The lieutenant met his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“How’s she holding up?”
Lexie stirred. “I’m good. Tired. And a little sore.”
The sheer exhaustion in her voice tugged at Gavin. Reaching across the back seat, he looped his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her to him. He nudged her head with his hand so that it was leaning against his shoulder. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“Rest on me for a bit. We’ll be there soon.”
She didn’t respond. The urge to sweep the blond hair away from her face and kiss her forehead was strong. He resisted though. It wasn’t appropriate, and besides, he didn’t want Dan Willis to see him giving in to his emotions.
Not that Willis wouldn’t understand. He remembered very well how the lieutenant’s own wife had been in danger several years earlier.
Why had he just compared his relationship with Lexie to Willis’s with his wife? There was no way that he had a future with the beautiful woman snuggled up against his side. He might want one. But he had learned long ago that wanting something did not mean you’d get it.
Lexie’s hip needed five stitches. He held her hand all the way back to the station. Honestly though, he wasn’t sure if it was to comfort him or her. Seeing her injured had twisted him up inside in a way he couldn’t remember feeling since Leo died.
They’d just sat down in the chief’s office when her cell phone rang.
Glancing at the number, she frowned.
“Who is it?” he asked her.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen this number before.”
She answered the call, putting it on speaker.
“Hello? This is Alexa Grant.”
“Alexa?” a soft feminine voice gasped out. Alexa’s frown deepened. She didn’t look concerned. More like puzzled. “I need help,” the woman said.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know who this is.”
“It’s Linda. Linda King.”
Lexie inhaled sharply.
“Linda! Where are you? Are you hurt?” Her voice had taken on a sharp edge.
“Nee. I am not hurt. I am calling from the community phone. I am scared. I saw him. I saw the man who shot Marvin. I was behind the barn and I saw him. I thought he saw me, and I ran. I am scared he will come for me.”
* * *
A grim moment of silence filled the room when Lexie disconnected the phone. Her heart ached for Linda. To see her brother shot and to be chased by the man who did it.
“Miss Grant,” the chief addressed her. The tone in his voice made her think she wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “I think it would be best if I had one of the officers take you back to the safe house. They can stay with you until—”
“Chief Kennedy.” Lexie interrupted the man. Gavin stared at her. She grimaced. People probably didn’t argue with the chief of police as a rule. “I am sorry to argue, sir, but I really think it would be better if I came along.”
The chief raised his brow. “I don’t see how dragging a civilian along would be helpful.”
“Lexie,” Gavin began.
She shut him down with a glare. He backed away, hands up. She switched her attention back to the chief. She had to make this man understand.
“Sir, I know Linda King. I know what she looks like. Do you? Plus, she knows me and trusts me. I was the one she called, not the police. And she won’t call the police. It’s not the Amish way. I don’t know if she would even agree to talk with you. But if we find her, she might talk with me.”
“She has a point, Chief,” Gavin commented.
The chief ran his hand along his chin, thinking. Finally, he nodded. “I can see that what you say makes sense. I don’t like it. But right now, my concern is locating that young woman and keeping her safe.”
A few minutes later, Lexie was once again riding next to him in his cruiser. His presence was an anchor for her.
Linda King was no longer at the community phone booth when they arrived. The small phone booth that held the only phone the Amish community had for emergencies was empty. It was literally a small wooden shed, large enough for one person, with a phone like one would find in an old-fashioned phone booth.
They’d come in force this time. The police were taking no chances that a single officer would be taken down by a sniper.
“These footprints look fresh, sir,” Gavin said, squatting outside the booth and examining the prints that were in the new snow. Alexa stayed back, not wanting to add more footprints than necessary and hamper the investigation.
Chief Kennedy came closer to Gavin.
“They head out in that direction, toward the woods.”
As a group, the officers and Alexa headed for the trees. The snow was thinner in the wooded area, and it was harder to make out any tracks. There was no sign of Linda.
“Spread out,” the chief directed. “The girl may be around here, and she may be injured. We’re also keeping an eye out for our sniper, the man most of you know of as Dr. Quinton. Use your radios for important communications. Otherwise, let’s keep radio silence.”
The search parties spread out. Alexa found herself between Dan Willis and Gavin. It was harder to see because it was dark outside. Their twin flashlights cut through the blackness, shooting beams of light through the trees.
The temperature was dropping. They searched for over an hour. Alexa’s teeth were chattering. The warmth of her gloves and boots had long since faded. Both were now wet and soggy. Every minute, it was harder and harder to lift her feet and trudge through the mud, slush and snow.
The radios crackled to life. Sergeant Ryan Parker’s voice sliced through the stillness. “I am on the next road to the north of the house. I have found an empty buggy.”
Alexa stopped in her tracks. Linda might have come in a buggy. It would have made sense. She didn’t live close enough to the phone booth to walk, not at this time of night.
Dan decided to pull their team over to the buggy. In the few minutes it took to get there, Alexa tried to keep her mind from thinking about what might have happened to Linda. She didn’t know the girl that well. She was very shy. She was only about seventeen years old.
Linda had been courting last year. Her fiancé had been killed in a farm accident last summer. She and Marvin were all that was left of their family. Now he was in the hospital fighting for his life and she was...what? Hiding? A prisoner? She thought about all the people the stalker had hurt. Noah. Marvin. Eli. He’d even struck Waneta, Eli’s wife. She wouldn’t be surprised if he went after someone who could identify him.
Someone like sweet Linda King.
When they arrived at the buggy, all the hope she’d held that they would find the girl, or that the buggy would belong to someone else, vanished like smoke.
