We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek Book 11)

by Calle J. Brookes

  She hadn’t wanted him being ruled by his gonads like his father. She had wanted him ruled by a sense of honor that ran to his core. Honor, determination, hard work, respect—she’d pushed and pushed those with her son during his more formative years.

  She’d been so afraid she’d fail him when it mattered most.

  She’d succeeded in that, at least.

  Reggie was a good man. One of the best she’d ever known. She loved him. So much. The last thing he needed to be doing tonight was hovering over his mother. “I’m ok. Go.”

  “I…Amanda ended our relationship. Because of what happened yesterday.”

  She winced. She heard the pain. Her baby was hurting, and she couldn’t fix it. Damn that stupid bitch. “I’m sorry.”

  “If she can’t stand beside me now, then she’s not the woman for me. I’m trying to remember that.” But his hurt was right there.

  “No. She isn’t. You deserve someone who supports you.”

  “Why did he do it?” Reggie slammed one hand down on the granite countertop. He was a tall man, an inch taller than his father’s six three. Built strong, like her side of the family and hardened by his years working next to his construction crew. “What would drive him to shoot that woman? I’ve never even heard of her.”

  “It’s possible…oh, honey…you know about his affairs.”

  Reggie blanched. “Yes.”

  “He’s had far more than you realize. It took me hiring a private detective to find out about all of them.” Most of them. She’d probably always have her doubts.

  “And Izadora MacNamara? Was he having an affair with her? With Nikkie Jean Netorre? I’ve never even heard of either of them.”

  “You know her. Nikkie Jean. She used to be Dannica Carrington. Jordan and Darla’s daughter. A few years or so younger than you are, I believe.”

  He paused for a moment, confusion on his face. Of course, he wouldn’t remember that little girl from so long ago. “The one who disappeared? Rumors said she disappeared. Others said she died from cancer.”

  “Well, she didn’t die.” Jennifer wished she had. Then maybe none of this would have ever happened. “She works in the surgical department at FCGH. With your father.”

  Jennifer had her theories about that, too.

  “So why the other woman?”

  “I suspect…I suspect she’s another one of his lovers, son. Something she said put him over the edge. With what happened to Ray and with me finally being honest with him about what I know. Feel. Your father always has been emotionally weak. Fragile.”

  “I understand why you couldn’t stay,” Reggie said quietly. “I never thought Dad would do this.”

  “Me, either.”

  Jennifer stood, then wrapped her arms around him. He had a good foot of height on her now, but he was always going to be her baby.

  Her baby.

  There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to keep Reggie from hurting.

  Anything.

  She pulled in a deep breath, sucked it up like she had so many times before. She needed to be strong for her son.

  He was about all she had left now.

  20

  Allen unlocked the door to Wallace Henedy’s office two days after the man’s arrest. Rafe had volunteered him for this unpleasant task after Allen made the mistake of stopping by the other man’s office that morning. Now, he was stuck with one of his least favorite TSP detectives.

  Not a good start to his day, by any means.

  “No one’s been in here?” Detective Callum asked.

  Allen shook his head. He’d already told the man that—twice. “We had Vince change the locks immediately after everything that happened. The only ones with the keys are Vince and Rafe. I had to get one today from Rafe to let you in.”

  Callum nodded. “How’s the nurse who was shot?”

  “Holding on.” She was fighting. Her progress had been cautiously upgraded about two that morning. Her stats were stable, and everything looked good. Allen had checked her charts carefully himself.

  “Her uncle is a friend of mine. And colleague. This was senseless. The TSP is taking it personally.”

  Senseless. “Personally is a good word for it. I think we’d all like to know why he did it.”

  The Snotty Garlic tabloid had somehow gotten ahold of the security tapes of what had happened. Both inside W4HAV and in the hall. The clips were playing online in an almost continuous loop on all the local sites.

  Allen had watched them over and over. He hadn’t been able to look away for the longest time.

  There had been a madness on Henedy’s face as he’d shoved Izzie at Allen.

  Madness Allen would never forget. He’d seen it again in his nightmares last night. Nightmares where the story had a different ending. For Izzie and Nikkie Jean.

  Allen had had to look away when Henedy had attacked Nikkie Jean on the video each and every time. Allen hadn’t been able to stop himself from playing it again and again. Just hoping for why.

  Henedy had slammed Nikkie Jean into the damned wall. As small as she was.

  It was a miracle Nikkie Jean had survived relatively unscathed. She had visible bruises. Allen had checked on her himself after his shift the day before, stopping by the ranch she was now sharing with Caine.

  Watching the bullets strike Izzie was something Allen would never forget. He hadn’t needed to rewatch that video to see those images again and again.

  Nikkie Jean had been singing before Henedy had come in. Izzie…Izzie had been laughing and pirouetting across the lobby floor.

  Then Wallace Henedy had walked in.

  Izzie had been caught between Henedy and his true target.

  Izzie’s expression in that next moment was seared into his brain, his nightmares. It probably always would be.

  The way her body had jerked. The terror and confusion on her beautiful pixie face. The blank look on Henedy’s face as he’d done it. The terror on Nikkie Jean’s sweet face as she’d realized what was happening.

  He shook off the memories again as Callum asked how Henedy had been acting in the days before the attack.

  “Quiet, stuck to himself. He usually did. He’d returned after the storm. We were giving him space since his nephew had been killed. He was a part of the department, but not well-liked. Never made close connections.”

  “We’ve confirmed his nephew was stalking Dr. Coulter. You know anything about that?”

  Allen paused in putting a stack of notebooks into a bag for the detective. He sat the bag at his feet then looked at Callum. “Fin was being stalked?”

  Callum nodded. “The security guard, Henedy’s nephew, had been stalking her for weeks. You haven’t noticed anything around here? Nothing strange going on this time either?”

  Callum suspected Allen in what Logan and Banks and Jess had been involved in. There was always a look of distrust in the man’s eyes whenever their paths would cross.

  “No. Fin didn’t mention anything, either. My path rarely crossed Ray’s. Dr. Henedy spoke highly of his nephew and his son, Reggie. His entire family.”

  “We’re interviewing Henedy’s son and wife, too.”

  They started cataloging the contents of Henedy’s desk together. It was all so random. Things similar to what Allen had in his own office. Although there were a good dozen journals. He flipped through one. Patient notes. Things Henedy had learned from certain surgeries. Rambled notes that no doubt only fully made sense to Henedy. “I’ll want a copy of the list of everything taken out of this office as well. Duplicates.”

  Callum’s mouth twisted and a taunting expression hit the man’s hazel eyes. “What’s the matter? Don’t trust me?”

  “Well, the TSP has a reputation for corruption going back a century and a half, after all.” He’d seen the modern-day corruption first-hand himself. What had happened had destroyed his sister in more ways than Allen had ever been able to fix. “Just covering the hospital’s bases. I’m sure you understand. Wouldn’t want anything
to be misplaced on my watch.”

  “Noted.”

  “His wife and son will want his personal belongings.” Maybe. He’d heard from Nikkie Jean that Henedy’s wife of thirty-something years had asked for a divorce the day the shooting had happened. Combined with the loss of his nephew, it had sent him over the edge. That was what the media was reporting.

  No one knew why Wallace had shot Izzie. He’d taken one look at her and fired. It seemed so random. There were theories ranging from demon possession—the Snotty Garlic was responsible for that one—to the idea that Izzie and Nikkie Jean were Wallace Henedy’s illegitimate daughters. Again, the Garlic.

  Some enterprising tabloid reporter had found baby photos of both Izzie and Nikkie Jean and was claiming they resembled Henedy’s only son. Drama. Nothing but drama and gossip. Allen bit back the anger.

  Someone needed to buy that damned rag and shut it down completely.

  He toyed with the idea for a quick moment. He might just do it. Put Logan’s legacy to some good, at least.

  “We’re getting forensic accountants to go over the entire department’s billing practices. At every hospital where Henedy has practiced. You ever have any concerns?”

  “He wasn’t the greatest surgeon, but he was better than many I’ve seen come through the department. I didn’t hire him. Dr. Daniels did years before I signed on here. Wallace had worked here at least fourteen or fifteen years. I never had cause to fire him, though there were several instances that I questioned his judgment with patients. Nothing ever crossed the line. I know Rafe reported him to the medical board twice within the last year.” He wished he had. He wished he’d gotten rid of Henedy years ago when he’d first taken over the surgical department.

  Then none of this would have happened. That he hadn’t was all on him.

  Izzie wouldn’t be fighting for every minute of life, for every breath she took. Allen should have realized something was going on with Henedy. Guilt settled against his shoulders once again. “I hope you find the answers.”

  “We will. And if anyone else is involved, that will come out, too.”

  “I want answers, for Nikkie Jean and Izzie. They deserve that. You sure you’re the best man to find them?” Allen wanted to say so much more, but he bit his tongue. Callum might be an abrasive asshole, but Allen had more important things to deal with now.

  “I’ve got it handled.”

  The people Henedy had hurt deserved answers. If putting up with Callum brought those answers, Allen would suffer the experience. He sent Callum off with two small boxes of Henedy’s personal belongings.

  They’d found a different set of journals. Horribly misspelled and chronicling Henedy’s daily life for the past forty years, with a few notes about his patients and his family. There was a surprising amount of journals.

  Not exactly something Allen would ever want to read, but maybe it would give the TSP the answers they needed. Answers Nikkie Jean and Izzie deserved.

  21

  He had to think. Wallace had to think. He had to fix this. The girl…Izzie. She was haunting him now. He hadn’t heard she’d died. He didn’t think she had. No one had said he was now being charged with murder or anything.

  He hoped she was ok. Jacobson had been there. That man was a world-class trauma surgeon. He could have made certain the girl pulled through.

  Big brown eyes haunted him, almost every minute of the day. Especially at night.

  At night, that girl turned into Elizabeth Rosemary. Each and every time.

  That was what really haunted him.

  Her face, telling him over and over that he’d killed her. It had been his fault. He should have found a way to keep her from being hurt.

  Even Nikkie Jean didn’t haunt him as much now as that innocent nurse.

  He’d killed women before.

  They had been far from innocent.

  Wallace couldn’t deny that he’d killed women before. In his role as a physician, he was intimately acquainted with death. It hadn’t shocked him in a long, long time.

  He had killed.

  Connie. She was still out there. He didn’t think they’d even found her body yet. That was not something he had intended to happen. Not when he’d dumped her in the Value Reservoir that night.

  She hadn’t been found, not that he knew.

  Miranda had never been found.

  Yet he’d never even been asked about that woman.

  He’d gotten lucky.

  They all haunted him. They always would. All of them.

  Izzie was just the newest. That was it.

  It wasn’t that she resembled his wife so much. Wallace would never have hurt Jennifer like that. Not like that. Not even once in thirty-five years had he ever, in any way, physically hurt his wife.

  In that moment, with the gun pointed at her, all he could see was Jennifer and how she was leaving him. He’d struck out.

  Wallace prayed an innocent girl hadn’t died because of his anger.

  He didn’t want her death on his soul now, too.

  22

  Izzie fought the cloud. Something wasn’t right. Izzie pushed through the haze. She had to figure out what had happened and where she was. Drugged. She’d most certainly been sedated.

  There was beeping to her left. It was a familiar sound, but she couldn’t identify it at the moment. She wanted to turn her head but couldn’t. There were tubes in her nose and in the back of her hand. Lower.

  Yes. She’d experienced that unpleasant joy before.

  Hospital. It didn’t take her long to put that together. She forced her muscles to relax. She was in the hospital. That meant she was safe.

  Safe. She didn’t know why she had thought she was unsafe. Something significant had happened.

  She’d probably had another asthma attack and had passed out. It was rare, but it had happened to her before.

  Although this current situation felt a bit extreme for an asthma attack. That much was clear.

  She made a sound. If she was in the hospital, Annie was going to be somewhere nearby.

  Someone moved near her. Izzie’s eyes popped open.

  Yes. Hospital. Intensive care, she thought, on the 500s floor. The room looked familiar—but not from this angle. Her gaze went to the window first. It was dark out. Night. It was night.

  She looked to the other side. Someone was there.

  She was expecting it to be Annie. Or Jake. Or Nikkie Jean. Even Cherise or Jillian. There had been that one anaphylactic attack she’d had a few years ago when they’d been celebrating Jillian’s birthday. The waitress had given her a dessert with nuts by mistake. Izzie had almost died.

  When she’d opened her eyes, Jillian had been there next to her bed. Her friends had been taking turns staying with her.

  They had each other’s backs at FCGH.

  A tall man was there now. Sprawled in the chair next to her.

  Allen Jacobson. She made another sound. He didn’t make any sense.

  Why was he in her hospital room? Panic started to build. She shifted in the bed, trying to see if someone else was near. Fire shot through her chest. She cried out again. Annie. Nikkie Jean. They should be there, not him. Jake. Jake should be around somewhere.

  Unless something had happened to all them.

  Fear for them, especially Nikkie Jean shot through her. Something had happened. Nikkie Jean had been there. With her. She couldn’t remember what. She bit back another cry.

  “Relax, Izzie. You’re ok. Shh. Don’t move around too much. You’ll undo all Virat and Cage’s handiwork.” Dr. Jacobson’s hand covered hers. The touch of his flesh on hers was all that kept her from panicking completely. He was real; she wasn’t in there alone. And…she knew him. That mattered so much. “I’m checking on you. I had a late-night emergency surgery and wanted to check on you before I left. You’re ok. Safe. No one can hurt you now. You’re safe now. Everything is ok, and everyone is safe. Annie left with Turner a few hours ago.”

  “What’s...happen
ed?” His hand felt strong, hot, and solid. His tone was soothing. She was safe. In the hospital. With people who cared about her fifty feet away. She pulled in a breath as deeply as she could. Speaking took every bit of energy reserve she had. “I don’t know what happened. Tell…me.”

  “You were shot three times. Do you remember being at W4HAV with Nikkie Jean?”

  She closed her eyes as it came rushing back. Dr. Henedy. He’d…

  Tears filled her eyes when she opened them again. “Nikkie Jean...ok?”

  He smiled. He had a beautiful smile. She’d always thought that. Arrogant ass at times, but he was a beautiful man to look at. Izzie concentrated on the feel of his touch. The connection to another living being right then. “She’s fine. A little bruised, but she and Caine are both fine. Caine has her at his place, and he and his uncle and the kids are coddling her again. They’re driving her crazy. She loves it. I saw her myself this afternoon. She’s ok, I promise.”

  Her eyes closed. She couldn’t keep them open. “Good. So scared. Worried.”

  A light touch ruffled the hair over her forehead. “I know. I was, too.”

  “Anyone know...why…did this?”

  “Not yet. The TSP won’t stop until they find out. You...you rest now. You’re going to be ok. I’m not settling for anything less. Virat and Cage did a great job stitching you back up. Stay still and let your body heal.”

  “I’ll do that...”

  Something occurred to her then. That last shot. He’d been there. “You ok, too?”

  “Yes. I’m just fine.”

  “Good.” She gave him a sleepy smile as the fear slipped away. “Thanks, Jacobson. Saved me again. Starting to become a habit...”

  She focused on the warmth of his hand on hers as she drifted back under the haze one more time.

  23

  Even though in her fifties, Jennifer Henedy had a grace about her that drew a man’s eyes. Kyle Scott leaned back in his desk chair and watched Jennifer as she stalked around the office they shared. She was more agitated than he was used to seeing her.