Code of Ethics

by Lynette Eason

  “Thanks.”

  She hung up and turned to find Isaac standing behind her. She gasped and slapped a hand against her racing heart. “Whoa. That’s mean sneaking up on a girl like that.”

  “Sorry.” He held his wounded arm by the elbow, even though it was cradled in the sling. And he sounded anything but sorry. “What was that all about?”

  “That was Derek. He was doing some research into your shooting.” She passed on what she’d learned.

  “I would have told you that.”

  “You were sleeping. Want a pain pill yet?” The white outline of his lips and the flared nostrils said he needed one.

  “No.”

  “Pretty please with sugar on top?”

  His lips relaxed into a small smile for a brief second. “No, but thanks. I need to keep my wits about me.”

  “I discovered I have some Toradol. It’s good for the pain, but it won’t knock you out since it’s not a narcotic.”

  He hesitated. Then nodded. “Sure, that would be fine. I think I’ve taken that before.”

  “I should have suggested it earlier but forgot I’d thrown it in with the other stuff. I found it a bit ago when I started unloading everything.” She found the bottle and dumped one of the pills onto his outstretched hand. “You’re very fortunate, you know.”

  “I know.” He swallowed the pill without water.

  “Good. You hungry?”

  “It smells good in here.”

  “That’s because I’m a good cook.”

  “I should probably try to eat.”

  “Probably.”

  They settled at the table with the food Ruthie had prepared. “Will you tell me your side of the domestic disturbance shooting?”

  “The call came in, and my partner and I were two of the responding officers.”

  “I didn’t think detectives took that kind of call.”

  “Not normally, but we were one block over. We couldn’t just sit there.”

  “Of course.”

  “So, we arrived, went in, and the wife grabbed a gun. She started firing at her husband and didn’t have the best aim.”

  “But she managed to hit you.”

  “That she did.”

  “Are you sure it was her bullet?”

  He stilled. Finished chewing a bit of the chicken and swallowed. “Why do you ask that?”

  She leaned forward. “It’s obvious someone wants you dead. Could the domestic disturbance have been a setup?”

  For a moment he didn’t move. Then he gave a short nod. “I’ve thought of that.”

  “I see.”

  “Ballistics will tell one way or the other where the bullet came from and which gun it came from. Until then, I’m laying low . . .”

  “Wise decision.”

  “. . . while I track down Howard.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He finished off the soup and crackers and the rest of his piece of chicken, then leaned back. “I’d better stop there.”

  “I’m glad you felt well enough to eat that much, but it’s back to bed for you.”

  “I just got up.”

  “You’re telling me you’re not ready for more sleep now that you’ve eaten and the pain is under control?”

  He hesitated, then sighed. “Fine, but as soon as I wake up, we’ve got to get going. I need to check on Sally, find out if she’s seen Howard.”

  “Sounds like she’s okay at the moment.” She told him about the phone call from Officer Clark.

  “Good.”

  Isaac made it to the couch and stretched out.

  By the time she got the blanket over him, he was asleep again.

  six

  ISAAC BLINKED AND SAT UP. The blanket pooled at his waist, and he realized he was still on the couch and the sun was coming through the east window and spilling across his face.

  The room was empty, but his nose detected coffee. He swung his feet over the side and pushed himself into a sitting position. A glass of water and two pills sat on a napkin at the edge of the coffee table.

  Take the Toradol when your shoulder wakes you up. The other pill is your antibiotic.

  He downed the pills. Taking inventory, he determined that while his shoulder was on fire once more, he could stand without weaving.

  In the kitchen, he found two mugs and poured the coffee that had just finished brewing. With one hand, he hooked the handles and carried them to the open back door.

  Ruthie sat on the screened-in porch, book in hand, feet propped on the little plastic table in front of her.

  Shouldering the door open, he stepped outside.

  She looked up and smiled. “You look like you’re feeling a bit better.”

  “A bit.”

  She took the coffee from him. “How’d you know I like it black?”

  “There’s no cream or sugar set out.”

  “Hm. Observant.”

  “Occasionally.”

  “The shoulder?”

  “Hurts.”

  “The pills?”

  “Taken.”

  She laughed. “I like you, Isaac Martinez.” Then she sobered. “What are we going to do about the men trying to kill you? I think it’s only a matter of time before they track us here.”

  “I know. Which is why I’ve got to leave.”

  A frown dipped her brows. “You’re not strong enough to leave.”

  “I don’t have a choice. I’m a dead man if I stay. And not only that, I’m endangering you, as well.”

  “Brady’s here. He got here last night after you passed out.”

  “Fell asleep.” Her “passed out” description was probably more apt. The fact that he hadn’t heard a thing scared him.

  A lot.

  She gave a longsuffering sigh. “Whatever.”

  “Where is he now?” he asked.

  “Checking the perimeter.” She nodded to the radio next to her. “He said he’d let me know if he found anything.” She lowered her bare feet to the porch floor. “For now, there’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

  “I’m alarmed you feel like you can sit out here in the open. Come inside, please.”

  “It’s not exactly open.”

  “It’s a screened-in porch. Not exactly bulletproof.”

  She frowned, but she didn’t argue further and let him lead the way.

  He took a seat on the couch, letting out a low grunt when he jarred his shoulder. “Did Brady have anything to say when he got here last night?”

  “No, not much, other than that the syringe our attacker at the hospital had was filled with potassium chloride, and I could have picked a worse place to harbor a fugitive.”

  “Hey, now. I’m not a fugitive. At least not in the usual sense of the word. It’s only the bad guys who’re after me, not the law.”

  “They’re one and the same this time, aren’t they?”

  He stilled. “I don’t want to believe it, but yeah, I think so.”

  “They don’t like that you ratted one out without the proof to back it up. That cop code thing is strong.”

  He blew out a breath and raked a hand through his hair. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. “Yes. It is.” He paused. “Even my family has turned against me.”

  “I noticed your sister was rather . . . um . . .”

  “Unconcerned?”

  “No, actually, she was very concerned. She seemed like she wanted to stay but couldn’t for some reason. She was torn.”

  He could see that. “Her husband’s a cop. He probably forbade her from having anything to do with me.”

  “And yet she came to the hospital to check on you.”

  “True. We were close, once upon a time.” He took a drink of his coffee. “Potassium chloride, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s bad.”

  “Very. If he’d managed to get that in you, you wouldn’t be here.”

  He nodded.

  “You must have some suspicions about your part
ner,” she said.

  “Cole.”

  “And his buddy, Paul? I didn’t care much for either of them, even though they were friendly . . . in an intimidating sort of way.”

  “They didn’t seem to bother you any.”

  She laughed. “I have three brothers. I’ve learned to hide my pounding heart and stand up to bullies.”

  “Your brothers bullied you?”

  “I would have said so at the time, but looking back, they were just big, annoying teases.”

  His spine stiffened as a footstep creaked the wooden boards on the porch, and his fingers curled around the weapon he never left far from his reach.

  She peered through a crack in the blinds. “It’s just Brady. One of my bullies . . . er . . . brothers.”

  If he wasn’t so tense, he’d have laughed.

  After a light rap on the door, her brother stepped inside. His eyes went straight to Isaac. “Glad to see you awake.”

  “Thanks.”

  He switched his attention to Ruthie. “Heard you say something about bullies.”

  “Just that you have to stand up to them—and big brothers, too. Did you see anything out there?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure. Could be residents of the other cabins around here, or it could be someone trying to figure out which cabin to target.”

  Isaac stood with a grunt. “That’s my cue to go. I’ve got to find Sally Peterson. She can help me find Howard, who has the evidence I need to prove my story and clear my name. He was going to give it to me, then decided he’d rather make money off it, the jerk. Fortunately, Sally doesn’t live too far from here.”

  “You can’t go tracking someone down with your shoulder like that,” Brady said.

  “I don’t have much choice. I’m worried about her.”

  The window behind them exploded, sending Brady and Isaac diving for Ruthie.

  seven

  RUTHIE LANDED ON THE FLOOR, the back of her head smacking the hardwood with a painful thud. Stars danced in front of her eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t move.

  The need for oxygen outweighed the fact that someone was shooting at them. She shoved. “Get off. I can’t breathe.”

  Isaac had been faster than Brady. She must have caught him in his wounded shoulder because he gave a gasp of pain before rolling onto his good arm. He scurried to the shattered window, her weapon gripped in his right hand.

  Brady was right behind him. “Stay down, Ruthie.”

  The order was unnecessary. She had no intention of offering her head as a target.

  Several more bullets blistered the side of the cabin.

  Brady returned fire, then ducked back against the wall.

  Another crack sounded, but this time no bullets entered the room.

  Silence.

  The radio crackled. “Clear! Shooter’s down!”

  Ruthie raised her head. “Derek?” Her gaze swiveled to Brady. “You called in reinforcements?”

  “I did. Aren’t you glad?”

  “Thrilled.” She sounded nonchalant, but she had to curl her fingers into fists to hide the trembling.

  “I need to get out of here,” Isaac said. “Obviously they know where I am now.”

  Brady pulled a bag from beside the sofa. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go. Ruthie, you go home and stay out of this.”

  She laughed. “You’re out of your mind, right?”

  Brady blinked at her. “How so?”

  “That’s how so.” She pointed at Isaac, who’d slumped into the recliner, looking pale and shaky once more. “He’s my patient and in no shape to go chasing after anyone. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t tear his stitches open. He’s only”—she glanced at the clock on the mantel—“twenty-six hours post surgery. He should be resting in a bed, not chasing killers.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance. “Guess Derek called in the cavalry,” Brady said. “He’ll take care of things here. Let’s go.”

  “You fired your weapon,” Ruthie said. “Don’t you have to stay here and make a statement?” She shook her head. “Why am I telling you this? You’re the cop, and you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Then Derek.”

  “You mean Derek who shot the guy and will have to make a statement, too? Come on, Brady. You’re both stuck here.”

  “You stay here, too, Ruthie,” Isaac said.

  “Not happening.” To her brother, she said, “We’ll be fine. We’ll stay in touch and make sure you know what’s going on.”

  Brady sighed and frowned. “I can tell I’m not going to change your mind.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Fine. You guys are going to have to take off, and I’ll catch up to you in a little bit. Where exactly are you going?”

  “To find Sally Peterson,” Isaac said. He rose with a grunt. “Thanks, Brady. I owe you.”

  “Yeah, remember that, and don’t let my sister get killed because she’s helping you.”

  “Brady!” Ruthie slugged him in the bicep. He didn’t even blink.

  “He’s right,” Isaac said. “I can handle this on my own if you’ll let me have the keys to your car.”

  “Then we’ll be pulling you out of a ditch because you fell asleep at the wheel. Or some family will be planning their loved ones’ funerals because you lost consciousness for a brief moment.”

  He flinched.

  “I’m going,” she said. “I like my car too much to let all that happen.”

  Brady let out a low whistle. Isaac laughed before he winced and held a hand to his shoulder.

  Ruthie bit her lip and shook her head. “Let me grab my bag and the keys. Brady, pack those leftovers for us, will you? I brought a cooler. It’s on top of the refrigerator.”

  “Ruthie—”

  “Do it!” He raised a brow, and she drew in a breath. He wasn’t one of her interns to boss around. “Please. I’m going to Sally’s with Isaac, and I would like to eat when I get there. But first, I’m going to get the medical supplies in the bedroom.” She pointed down the hallway.

  “Fine.”

  Within minutes, they were in her car and headed down the road in the opposite direction of the sirens. “I’m sorry about this,” Isaac said.

  “Don’t worry about it. And I was just kidding about liking my car that much. Truth is, I like you and don’t want to see you get hurt.” She glanced at his shoulder. “Well, hurt any more than you already are.”

  “Thanks, Ruthie, I appreciate that.”

  “Welcome. Now, put Sally’s address in the GPS and let’s get this over with. You need to eat something and sleep while I drive. The cooler’s in the back. There’s a sandwich on top for you. Bag of chips, too.”

  “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

  She stiffened, then huffed a low laugh. “Sorry, operating room training, I guess. It’s become a bit of a habit.”

  “They’re not bad orders. I think I’ll follow them.”

  “Good.”

  Once she had directions, it didn’t take her long to find the highway and set the cruise control. They’d be there in a little over an hour.

  The yard was cute and well kept, even though it was littered with toys. Isaac couldn’t remember how many kids Sally had, but if the toys were any indication, she had more than one.

  They parked across the street and down two houses in order to be able to observe. “I just want to watch for a bit. See if anything shakes loose.”

  “You think Howard is here?”

  “I don’t know. I think it would be stupid of him. He’d be putting them all in danger. Then again, he has evidence implicating these guys in the thefts and he tried to blackmail them. I’m thinking stupid might be his middle name.”

  “Whoa.”

  “I know.”

  “You left that part out.”

  “Didn’t seem important at the time.”

  “So, he may not be real interested in giving up that evidence.”

  Isaac shrugged with his good sh
oulder. “I don’t care if he’s interested or not. It’s the only proof out there about what’s happening. These guys stealing from the evidence room are super careful. The only reason Howard got the drop on them is because they trusted the wrong guy—and Howard wasn’t interested in justice. He just got greedy and wanted a bigger cut.”

  “How well do you know Howard, anyway?”

  “Well enough. He’s a big Civil War buff and so was my grandfather. Howard would talk about the latest book he’d read or about some reenactment thing he was going to be in. He’s nice enough, and I enjoy our conversations, but we aren’t close friends or anything.”

  “How is it that they haven’t tracked down his sister? You did without any trouble. Seems like they could do the same.”

  “I don’t think so. I think Howard and Sally have been estranged for a while. He said something about that one time during one of our conversations. Something about how she thought his fascination with the Civil War was stupid, and he shouldn’t spend so much money on the paraphernalia. When I asked about her, he just shook his head and said they didn’t really talk. Then he changed the subject. The only reason I was able to find her is because I was sneaky.”

  “How so?”

  “Since I knew something was happening with the drugs and money in the evidence room, I’d kind of been keeping track of the guys who work in that area. He was one of them. I followed him to a restaurant thinking he might be meeting someone. Instead, he got on the phone, and I heard him mention something about coming into some money and bragging he had a plan. When he mentioned blackmail, I knew I was onto something. So I went over to his place later that night, started asking him questions, asked him to help me figure out what was going on.”

  “Bet that went over well.”

  “He kept his cool. I was impressed. Said he didn’t know what I was talking about and that he couldn’t help me.”

  “He wanted his money.”

  “Exactly. He’d left his phone sitting on the kitchen counter, and I snagged it on my way out. He ran the next day, but it was too late. He’d already made his blackmail demands. His place was shot up that night. If he’d been in there, he would have been Swiss cheese. My taking his phone probably saved his life. But it also allowed me access to information that the people he’s trying to blackmail don’t have—like his sister’s info.”