Книга - Foul Play

Foul Play
Elisabeth Rees


Diagnosis: MurderAfter a failed attempt on her life, Nurse Deborah Lewis knows her suspicions of foul play in the paediatric unit must be true. And her timely rescue by Cole Strachan—her ex-fiancé—allows her a second chance to prove it. The former Navy SEAL who broke her heart is the last man she wants to see…but exactly the one she needs. Though Cole can’t give her the future he once promised, he makes a new vow to help her uncover the truth and stop the culprits. And he has to keep this promise because more than Deborah's heart is at stake—this time it's her life.







DIAGNOSIS: DANGER

After a failed attempt on her life, nurse Deborah Lewis knows her suspicions of foul play in the pediatric unit must be true. And her timely rescue by Cole Strachan—her ex-fiancé—allows her a second chance to prove it. The former navy SEAL who broke her heart is the last man she wants to see…but exactly the one she needs. Though Cole can’t give her the future he once promised, he makes a new vow to help her uncover the truth and stop the culprits. And he has to keep this promise, because more than Deborah’s heart is at stake—this time it’s her life.

Navy SEAL Defenders: Bound by honor and dedicated to protection


A strange look swept over his face, like a million regrets rushing through him at once.

“Please, Deborah,” Cole said. “Let me take you home. It’s not safe.”

He picked up her bag, his muscles flexing, and she remembered how safe he used to make her feel. Now she felt nothing but regret that she’d allowed him into her life.

She took the bag. “I’ll take my chances alone.”

“You’re letting your emotions override your common sense. You need protection.”

He was right. There was a ball of fear in her belly, telling her to be cautious, but she ignored it. Yes, Cole could provide protection, but at what cost to her heart?

“I’ll take it from here.” She stalked out the door, ignoring her conflicting emotions. Cole’s presence could protect her, but every fiber of her body cried out to run from him.

When she reached the parking lot, she heard them.

Footsteps behind her.

She spun around. “Cole, is that you?”

No reply.

“Who’s there?”

A menacing voice rumbled, “Your worst nightmare.”


ELISABETH REES was raised in the Welsh town of Hay-on-Wye, where her father was the parish vicar. She attended Cardiff University and gained a degree in politics. After meeting her husband, they moved to the wild, rolling hills of Carmarthenshire, and Elisabeth took up writing. She is now a full-time wife, mother and author. Find out more about Elisabeth at elisabethrees.com (http://www.elisabethrees.com).


Foul Play

Elisabeth Rees




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

—Psalms 147:3


For my real life hero, David.


Contents

Cover (#ua1c6f927-9d03-52b3-b33f-b59ba88f3417)

Back Cover Text (#u14c03342-41eb-527c-bdfc-7509923e3783)

Introduction (#u2d807d8a-794c-5012-bc39-b880dfc0411b)

About the Author (#u7c76c30f-ec10-5c0b-a86e-8b04c0274e12)

Title Page (#u2b8cc27f-dd4a-5f86-9bf0-f1dea3315694)

Bible Verse (#u9a39f4a8-ad4f-57d1-b020-be9e4f069c8f)

Dedication (#u7257f42f-7265-5e84-ba6b-95eb306b4f45)

ONE (#ube392cc1-e7ac-58d3-aed1-b1139b620e4f)

TWO (#u1466dc25-b93e-5a9c-9ed9-e91e2097baea)

THREE (#u2f679e9c-0ed6-57d7-814e-77591900db68)

FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#ulink_3b36c714-7701-5b08-ae98-39241d128686)

The life-support machine beeped away in the darkened hospital room, echoing the reassuring sound of a heartbeat through the air.

Senior nurse Deborah Lewis checked the wires and tubes attached to the body of the tiny baby boy. His parents watched closely, grief and bewilderment evident on their faces. The deterioration of their son had come quickly, and they were unprepared.

Deborah put a hand on the mother’s shoulder. “He’s in good hands here,” she said. “Harborcreek Community Hospital has the best pediatric care in Pennsylvania.”

One of Deborah’s nurse colleagues, Diane White, appeared in the doorway. “Deborah,” Diane called into the room. “Do you have a moment?”

Deborah clipped the medical chart onto the end of the steel bed frame and smiled at the couple. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

She joined Diane in the corridor and closed the door. The atmosphere in the pediatric unit was somber. Six children had recently fallen gravely ill; three of them were now on life support. It had been a bleak few days for the medical staff of Harborcreek Hospital, which was just a few miles from the lakeside city of Erie.

Diane held a pile of laundered sheets close to her chest, looking around anxiously as she spoke. “Frank Carlisle has been here,” she said in a whisper. “He says he wants to talk to you about something important.”

Deborah stood a little closer to Diane, noticing that her friend’s baby bump was straining against the fabric of her scrubs. The mention of Frank Carlisle caused a ripple of anxiety to flow through Deborah’s body. Frank, the hospital administrator, was responsible for overseeing the smooth running of the entire hospital and was well-known for maintaining a tight ship. News of the sudden spate of emergencies in the pediatric unit had displeased him. Usually she gave Frank Carlisle a wide berth, but in this instance she needed him to listen to her. And to take action. She suspected possible medicine tampering and had raised her concerns with him over a week ago, yet he had done nothing.

“I heard you spoke to him about the number of kids falling sick in the unit,” Diane said. “And I also heard you want him to open an investigation. Are you sure that’s necessary?”

“I’m really worried,” Deborah whispered. “All these sick children are showing signs of renal failure. It just doesn’t make sense. Up until now, we’ve only seen children over ten years old with these symptoms, but now we have a baby with failing kidneys, as well. His body might not cope with the strain.”

A hospital orderly passed by, pushing an expectant mother in a wheelchair, and Deborah ushered Diane to one side. “I’ve never seen anything like it before—six children have been struck down with kidney failure in the space of just three weeks. I’m starting to wonder if someone has been interfering with patient medicine.”

Diane clutched the sheets closer to her chest. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly serious,” replied Deborah. “Frank thinks I’m being ridiculous, but I told him we need more security in our unit to be on the safe side—cameras, barriers, better alarm systems.”

“But there’s no evidence of drug tampering,” Diane said. “Do you really think Frank will spend that kind of money just as a precaution?”

Deborah raised her eyebrows. “Frank would do anything to avoid a public scandal. The good reputation of this hospital is all he lives for.” The pager on the waistband of her pants began to beep. She pulled it off impatiently. “I gotta go to the morgue.” She held the pager in her hand, shaking her head. “Why would the morgue be paging me?” Then a thought struck her and she gasped. “We haven’t had a child die recently, have we?”

“No,” Diane replied. “But maybe a dead child has been brought in and taken straight to the morgue. They might need you to do the family liaison.”

Deborah sighed. She hoped not, but as a pediatric nurse, that job fell to her from time to time. “Maybe,” she said, holding out her hands to take the bedding from Diane’s grip. “You want me to take these somewhere for you on my way?”

Diane shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Deborah put a hand gently on Diane’s growing belly. “Are you sure? If you need a break, please tell me. You’re eight months pregnant. You’re entitled to rest once in a while.”

“I’m okay, honestly,” Diane said as Deborah’s pager began to beep again. “You go.”

Deborah smiled and started to walk quickly down the corridor, feeling her blond curls bounce in rhythm with her sneakered feet. She pressed the button to call the elevator and as soon as she was shut away inside she let the smile fall from her face. Her friend’s pregnancy should be a cause for happiness and joy, yet it only served as a reminder that her own biological clock had started to tick. When she had been young and naive, she had assumed she would be a longtime wife and mom by the time she turned thirty, raising a family in the beautiful surroundings of her hometown of Harborcreek, where she lived close to her mom and dad, and a whole bunch of friends who made her feel loved and blessed. The only thing missing from her imagined vision of the future was the man she’d thought she’d marry—Cole Strachan.

She exited the elevator and began walking to the morgue, concentrating on the sound of her rubber soles squeaking on the tiled floor, trying not to remember the day Cole had ended their relationship. He’d done so shortly after enlisting in the navy, telling her that he was too young to settle down, that he needed to live a little. Come on, Debs, she muttered to herself. Ten years is too long to still be grieving. Get over it.

She fixed her gaze on the end of the long corridor as she walked through the warm sunlight streaming in from the large windows lining the passageway. Cole may have broken her heart but he had not broken her spirit. She was stronger than that.

She walked a little closer to the wall when she saw a man approaching carrying a stepladder. His head was bent over a piece of paper in his hand, no doubt trying to work out his location in this large hospital with its maze of linked corridors. Her pager began to beep again and she yanked it from her waistband, furrowing her brow at the display. The man with the stepladder passed her by, engrossed in studying his scribbled directions, narrowly missing her head with the metal rungs. She considered reprimanding him for his carelessness, but the pager alert had been upgraded to level one. She picked up her pace to seek out the hospital’s autopsy attendant, Dr. Kellerman, in order to ask him why a pediatric nurse would be required so urgently in his department.

The morgue was quiet. The front desk where the clerk normally stood to sign in new admissions was empty. Deborah used her hospital security card to open the door of the morgue, feeling the coolness of the room rush over her face.

“Dr. Kellerman,” she called. “This is Nurse Deborah Lewis from Pediatrics.”

No reply.

“Dr. Kellerman,” she repeated, edging her way through the door. “Are you here?”

She walked into the room, averting her eyes from gurneys where deceased patients were covered with white sheets, feet poking from the ends, paper tags tied around gray skin on big toes. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, creeping between the rows, heading to the room where the steel refrigeration compartments stored the bodies until collection by a funeral home. A creak on the floor caused her body to give a sharp, involuntary jump. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath, shaking her mane of curly hair and mentally chastising herself for allowing the presence of death to cause her this level of unease. She was a nurse. Dealing with loss of life was part of her job. Yet this felt different. This felt uncomfortable, as though the dead were watching her invade their resting place. Her eyes lingered on the stillness of the bodies beneath the sheets. She thought she saw a twitch, a faint hint of a movement underneath a shroud. Her heart picked up pace, and she averted her eyes, telling herself not to be absurd. Her mind was simply playing tricks on her.

Deborah pushed open the dividing door that led into the storage room and called out.

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

The hum of the refrigeration units filled the air in the white, windowless room with steel cabinets covering two walls, floor to ceiling. Each unit had a sturdy handle to slide the compartment out for easy access. One of the units had been left open, cold and empty, ready for its next inhabitant. But there was no sign of Dr. Kellerman or any of the morgue staff.

“Well,” she said under her breath. “This was clearly a waste of time.”

She turned back to the door that led into the morgue and a gasp of pure terror left her lips. Looming toward her was a shrouded figure, arms outstretched, rasping noises coming from beneath the sheet. Glancing behind the eerie figure, Deborah spotted an empty space on a gurney from where he had risen.

She was stunned into temporary paralysis, watching as the person came ever closer, looming over her, swaying on his feet like a man just learning to walk.

“No,” she managed to utter as she felt her body being pushed back. The cold, smooth steel of the refrigeration units slid against her back, and strong, clammy fingers closed around her wrists. Within seconds, she was being pulled toward the open compartment. Her sneakers jarred against the floor as she tried to stop herself slipping, but it was no use. She felt as though she’d been transported into a horror film. This wasn’t possible.

Her senses snapped back to full attention, realizing that this scenario truly wasn’t possible, and she began clawing, kicking and fighting with all her strength. This was not a dead man rising. This was a living man masquerading as the dead. And he was trying to hurt her.

Her slight body was no match for the large bulk of the man, and she realized with terror that she was powerless to prevent him from pushing her into the refrigeration unit, then holding her down and sliding the box into its place.

She filled her lungs with air and screamed with all the breath in her body as the light faded away. And she was suddenly surrounded by people who would never hear her cries.

* * *

Cole Strachan hoisted the stepladder onto his shoulder in the hospital corridor and studied the scribbled directions on the paper in his hand. This place was a nightmare to navigate, and he was hopelessly lost, having walked around for at least half an hour. He balanced the ladder against the wall and decided to take a rest. He knew Deborah worked somewhere in the hospital, but that’s just about all he knew. And it was probably all he deserved to know. His belly was a swirl of dread and excitement to think that he might see her again after ten years. Would she have changed? Would she still be beautiful? Would she still have that amazing mane of golden curls? But most important, would she forgive him?

A man in a gray suit turned a corner and came bustling toward him.

“Mr. Strachan from Secure It, I presume?” the man said with an outstretched hand. “I wondered if you might be lost, so I came looking for you.”

Cole shook hands and smiled. “You must be Frank Carlisle, the hospital administrator. Am I right?”

The man nodded. “Follow me, Mr. Strachan, and I’ll take you to the pediatric unit so you can have a look around and give us your expert opinion on our security systems.”

Cole’s heart sank at the mention of pediatrics. The last thing he ever wanted to see again was a sick child. He’d seen enough suffering of innocent children to last a lifetime, and losing his baby son to SIDS two years ago had just about finished him off. That was when he decided to come home to the place he’d been raised. He’d not only left the SEALs in Little Creek, Virginia, he’d left a wife who had divorced him and memories of a son he’d barely had a chance to get to know. Moving back to Harborcreek had been a hard decision, but it felt right. God was leading him back to a place where he belonged. And back to a woman to whom he needed to make amends.

He picked up his ladder and began walking, following the hurried footsteps of Frank Carlisle.

“So you’re looking to give the pediatric unit a security overhaul, huh?” Cole asked.

“Indeed we are,” Frank replied, leading Cole through a network of corridors. “I chose your firm because I figured that an ex–navy SEAL would give us the best security advice.” He stopped and called the elevator. “Your background is very impressive, Mr. Strachan. What brings you to the Erie area?”

“I’m from Harborcreek originally,” Cole replied, stepping into the elevator and gently easing the ladder in alongside him. “I recently came home to set up my own security company. It took off straightaway, and I already have ten employees.”

“It’s nice to have a local man working with us,” Frank said. “Most of the staff in Pediatrics are from Erie, but one of our senior nurses is from Harborcreek. Maybe you know her.”

Cole’s throat seemed to close up and lose its moisture in an instant. “Maybe I do,” he managed to say. “What’s her name?”

“Deborah Lewis.”

The elevator glided to a rolling stop and an army of butterflies began to beat their tiny wings inside Cole’s belly. “Is she a petite woman with a lot of blond curls?”

The doors smoothly opened and Frank led Cole into the corridor, using a swipe card to activate the pediatric unit door. “Yes. That’s her.”

Cole’s eyes darted around as they walked into the unit. The walls were brightly painted with cartoon characters, and he caught an aroma of disinfectant and clean laundry.

“I know her,” Cole said. “Is she here now?”

“She was supposed to be here for this meeting,” Frank said. “But she seems to have gone AWOL, I’m afraid.” Frank stopped a female doctor who was walking past. “Dr. Warren, do you know where Deborah is?”

“She got paged,” the doctor replied. “To the morgue, I think.”

Frank’s eyebrows knitted together. “But the morgue staff are on a training day today. They won’t be back until 5:00 p.m.” He scratched his head. “And why would the morgue page a nurse from Pediatrics?”

Cole detected an edge of concern in the hospital administrator’s voice. “How long has she been gone?” he asked the doctor.

Dr. Warren glanced at a clock on the wall. “About an hour or so.”

Cole saw the look that passed between the doctor and Frank, betraying their anxiety. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is there something I should know?”

“Not at all,” Frank replied briskly. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Cole narrowed his eyes. “You don’t sound so sure, if you don’t mind me saying. You sound like you’re trying to hide something.”

“Frank,” Dr. Warren said. “We should go look for her just in case something has happened.”

Cole didn’t like what he was hearing. “Why would something have happened to her?”

Frank fell silent, so it was Dr. Warren who answered. “Deborah’s been asking a lot of questions about sick children in the unit recently,” she said, dropping her voice low. “She thinks somebody may be tampering with patient medicine. That’s why Frank called you in to upgrade our security.”

Frank put his hands on his hips, clearly displeased. “This is all just rumor and suspicion at the moment,” he said. “The security upgrade is simply routine maintenance and nothing more.”

Cole crossed his arms, letting his instincts lead him where they wanted to go. “Even so, I’d rather go check on Deborah, just to make sure she’s okay.”

Frank let out a puff of air. “There really is no need, Mr. Strachan. Let’s not panic unnecessarily. She’ll be back soon enough, I’m sure.”

Cole turned without a word and pressed a button to exit the unit. “Okay. I’ll go find her myself.”

He stepped out into the long corridor that ran alongside the pediatric ward on the fifth floor and pressed the elevator button impatiently. When it failed to arrive immediately, he pushed open the stairwell door and bounded down two at a time. He exited on the first floor, where he remembered seeing a sign for the morgue. He heard Frank’s voice behind him. “Mr. Strachan, please wait.” Frank caught up with Cole as he slowed to find his bearings. “You can’t enter the morgue without an ID card.”

Cole stopped and eyeballed the middle-aged hospital administrator, who was looking sternly at him over the frames of his glasses. Cole cocked his head to the side. “Then it looks like you’ll have to come with me, after all.”

Frank clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Very well.” He extended his hand. “This way.”

Cole followed Frank’s polished shoes, which clipped softly on the floor as he led him yet again through a warren of corridors. As Cole walked, he tried to quell the whirl of emotions stirring deep inside. The thought of stepping inside a morgue was not something that appealed to him. The last time he had been inside a morgue was to collect the body of his precious baby son, Elliot. He had insisted on accompanying the funeral directors while they transported Elliot to their parlor. It was his final job as a doting father. The moment Frank opened the door of the room, Cole recognized the faint but familiar odor of death and he stopped himself from gagging. The memories evoked by smell were often the hardest to bear.

“You see,” Frank said, gesturing around. “There’s nobody here.”

“What about that room?” Cole said, walking to a door at the back.

“That’s the refrigeration room,” Frank replied. “It’s where we store bodies for the longer term. Nobody is in there at the moment.”

“I’d like to take a look.”

Frank sighed. “If it will put your mind at rest, then please look inside.” He walked to the door and turned the handle. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Deborah anyway?”

“We were high school sweethearts.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up high. “Of course,” he exclaimed. “I should’ve recognized the name. You’re the Cole Strachan.”

Cole was taken aback. Had Deborah spoken of him? “Yes, I’m the Cole Strachan. Has she mentioned me?”

Frank gave a wry smile. “A little.” He opened the door. “But trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Cole ignored the comment and walked past Frank into a room with numerous refrigeration compartments. It was empty and quiet, except for a tapping sound coming from behind the wall of steel.

“Someone is trapped in one of these units,” he said, feeling his pulse start to race. “It must be Deborah.”

He rushed to the compartments and began to slide open each one. Body after body greeted him, pale and lifeless. He and Frank worked together until, at last, Cole saw Deborah slide into view. Her delicate features were unchanged, and her hair was still as lustrous and blond as it ever was. Her eyes were closed, and her body was shaking uncontrollably from the low temperature.

“She may be hypothermic,” Cole said, gathering her into his arms, remembering how slender and lithe her limbs were. Her skin felt like ice beneath her thin cotton scrubs.

Her eyes fluttered open. “Cole?” she slurred. “Is that really you? Am I dreaming?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he said, carrying her through the morgue and out into the corridor, searching for a doctor to assess her condition. “This isn’t a dream. I’m right here.”

* * *

Deborah sat up in her hospital bed, looking at the anxious faces around the room. Frank Carlisle stood nervously by the door. Dr. Julie Warren was deep in hushed conversation with her colleague Dr. Toby Cortas, and Diane sat close to the bed, holding Deborah’s limp hand. Finally, her eyes came to rest on a face she never thought she’d see again in her life—Cole Strachan. He was gazing at her as if the past ten years had never happened. His hair was shorter than he used to wear it, speckled with the tiniest hint of gray among the strawberry blond strands, but his face was still as freckled and youthful as she remembered. His green eyes had always been his most striking feature, and clearly they still were, blinking in his usual languid, unhurried way. He sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands firmly clasped together as though he were desperately trying to maintain his calm appearance. His clothes were those of a workman: dark T-shirt and blue jeans, tool belt and steel-toed boots. It took her a few moments to realize he was actually here. It had not been a dream or mirage or delusion. Cole was here.

And she wanted him gone.

She fixed him with a stare. “Please leave,” she said, before turning her attention to Frank. “I don’t want him here.”

Diane squeezed her hand. “He saved you from the morgue storage unit,” she said gently. “And he hasn’t left your side since.”

Deborah flicked her eyes to Cole’s and lifted her head. He was looking down at the floor. “Thank you,” she said tersely. “I guess that makes us even.” She heard the hardness in her voice and she didn’t like it. This wasn’t who she was. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m grateful you helped me.” She let her head flop back on the pillows, still fatigued from the low temperatures she had been subjected to.

Frank stepped toward the bed. “I’m so sorry this happened, Deborah. Dr. Kellerman from the morgue insists that he did not page you. We’re looking into it.”

“I’ll tell you what happened,” she said. “Somebody pretended to be dead and then forced me into...” She stopped. The experience clearly had had more of an impact than she’d realized. Cole’s presence in the room made her dizziness worse. Her breathing became more labored. Dr. Warren walked to her side and placed a stethoscope on her chest.

“Calm down, Deborah,” Dr. Warren soothed. “Slow, deep breaths, okay?”

Deborah could take it no longer. She pointed to Cole and addressed the hospital administrator, who was skirting the edges of the room, hands in pockets. “What exactly is he doing here, Frank?”

“Mr. Strachan is here to help us with our security arrangements,” Frank replied. “Just like you asked.”

Deborah frowned. “So you go and hire a navy SEAL?” she asked incredulously. “Is that really necessary?”

Cole spoke. His voice was an octave lower than it used to be. It was rich and velvety and took her by surprise. “I’m not a SEAL anymore, Dee. I retired six months ago.”

Her eyes shot to his and she felt her nostrils flare. His use of her pet name was overstepping, and her glare was intended to let him know exactly where he stood.

Cole produced a business card. “I run a security firm now called Secure It. Frank called me to ask if I could install some extra features to make you all a bit safer.” He leaned over and placed the card on her bedside table. She caught a faint trace of his aftershave in the air. “But I never realized how serious it was until I got here. Whatever happened to you today was probably a deliberate attack, designed to hurt you or scare you, or both. And I want to get to the bottom of it.”

Cole’s strong, commanding voice caused the other four faces in the room to stop and turn in his direction.

“Just hold on a minute,” Frank said. “Have you considered that this might simply be a prank gone wrong? Those guys down at the morgue have a pretty dark sense of humor, you know.”

Dr. Warren exchanged a look of concern with Dr. Cortas. “Frank,” she said. “Another child became sick today with suspected renal failure—a tiny baby boy. That makes a total of six in the last three weeks. Deborah was the one who initially raised the alarm, and she’s the one who’s been pushing for an investigation, as well as extra security on the unit. That certainly would mark her as a target for anyone tampering with patient medicine.”

Frank closed his eyes and put a hand on his forehead. “The toxicology reports have all come back clean on these patients.” He opened his eyes. “There is simply no evidence to suggest foul play.”

Cole stood up. Deborah had forgotten how tall he was. His full height dwarfed everyone around him. “Deborah was attacked,” he said. “That’s evidence enough for me that she’s onto something, and somebody wants to stop her.”

“Let’s wait until an investigation is complete before we jump to conclusions about an attack,” Frank said. “The morgue staff are being interviewed by hospital security guards, and CCTV footage is being analyzed.”

Cole let out a snort of derision. “I met your security guards on my way in here. I very much doubt they could find a GI Joe in a toy store.”

Deborah suddenly felt a tear spring entirely unprompted from her eye and land on her cheek. She tried to brush it away quickly, but Diane saw it and turned to the men in the room. “You’re upsetting Deborah. She doesn’t need this now. She needs time to recover.”

Cole swiveled to look at Deborah. She refused to meet his eye, but in her peripheral vision she saw him rub his fingers roughly over his face, coming to rest on the cleft in his chin. She bowed her head low. Her tears were coming too fast to stop them, and he was the very last person she wanted to see her raw emotions.

“I’m sorry, Deborah,” Cole said. “It’s insensitive of me to argue while you need to rest.” He gesticulated toward the door. “Shall we all leave Deborah in peace for a while?”

“Thank you,” she whispered, watching the staff members leave the room until just Cole remained standing by the door. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind. Instead, he looked at her, apparently waiting for her to acknowledge him, and she raised her head, meeting his gaze with steeliness, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

“Close the door behind you,” she said flatly.

His face was pained as he gave a small nod. After the door clicked into place and she was alone with her thoughts, she picked up the small white card Cole had left on the bedside table. She rubbed her fingers over the gold embossed letters of his name, before taking the card gently between her thumb and forefinger and tearing it into teeny, tiny pieces.

* * *

Cole stood opposite Frank in the corridor with a cold and heavy sensation weighing on his chest. The iciness with which Deborah had looked at him was hard to bear. This woman who had once run through a thunderstorm to tell him how much she loved him now felt nothing but bitterness and regret. And who could blame her? He had broken all his promises. He had abandoned her without warning. But he sure wasn’t going to abandon her again, not when she so clearly needed somebody to protect her. This was the least he could do for her.

“I’d like to start work right away,” Cole said to Frank. “I’ll do a thorough check of all your current security arrangements and compile a list of changes I advise you to make.”

Frank shifted uncomfortably. “What kind of price are we talking about here?”

Cole raised his eyebrows. “What kind of price do you put on the safety of your patients and medical staff, Mr. Carlisle?”

“I would like to stress that these measures are just routine,” Frank said. “Despite the recent uptick in renal problems, we have no proof of drug tampering. It’s likely a coincidence.”

As if to mock the hollowness of his words, the hurried figure of Dr. Warren rounded a corner and pushed past them. “One of the kids has gone into acute renal failure. We need to get him on permanent dialysis before his organs totally shut down.”

“No,” Cole said under his breath, watching the staff rush into a room with a machine that they quickly connected to the body of a young boy, already yellow and jaundiced from the toxins in his blood.

Cole bowed his head and prayed for the life of this child, remembering the lives of many children he had already seen lost on the fateful Dark Skies mission in Afghanistan four years ago. He remembered the life of his own son, taken too soon to reside with his Heavenly Father. God had certainly never shielded Cole from the painful reality that children die, and He clearly wasn’t about to start now.

Cole silently acknowledged that something sinister had brought him back to Harborcreek and back to Deborah. Like the children in this unit, Deborah was in trouble, and whether she liked it or not, he would stick by her side and see her safely through. He couldn’t offer her all the things he had once promised, and she wouldn’t want them from him now anyway. But maybe if he could look after her for a little while, he would be able to somehow atone for the wrong he had done.


TWO (#ulink_451e4dab-2453-5bbc-ab87-e3f769ba11c8)

Deborah sat on the edge of the bed as Dr. Cortas gave her one final health check before allowing her to go home. She felt odd being in a sweat suit when she should have been in scrubs. She had stayed in the hospital overnight, being monitored for the potentially damaging aftereffects of her hypothermic state, and Diane had kindly gone to her home to pack an overnight bag.

Deborah’s night of sleep had been broken, full of nightmares of a shrouded man looming toward her. In her dreams she had managed to pull the shroud from the man, revealing his face as Cole’s, and she’d awoken with a start, dread invading her bones. Where was the true fear in her situation? Was it the man in the morgue, or was it Cole? Both men had strong power over her emotions.

She could scarcely believe Cole was here, looking as lean and handsome as the day he had promised to marry her. She knew they had been young at the time—only nineteen years old—but it had seemed so natural. They wrote constant emails to each other after he enlisted in the navy, but Cole’s correspondence gradually tailed off as he talked more and more about the new and exciting life he was leading. Shortly after his twentieth birthday, he had paid her one final visit, giving her the news that their relationship was over. That was the last time she had seen his face, although she continued to hear of his progress in the military through the grapevine in Harborcreek. He successfully made it all the way to the navy SEALs. And she also heard that he had gotten married. That particular piece of information had pierced her heart like a shard of shrapnel.

“You’re fortunate, Deborah,” said Dr. Cortas. “Any longer in that refrigeration unit and your hypothermia would have been severe,” He held her head in his hands to focus on her pupils. Dr. Cortas was a fairly new doctor to Haborcreek Hospital and revealed little of himself to others, but he was an exceptionally gifted physician, and Deborah felt reassured by his assessment. “You appear to have recovered well,” he continued, writing on her medical chart. “You can go home. Frank has put you on sick leave for the next three days.”

As if he had heard his name being mentioned, a soft knock echoed on the door and Frank’s head popped into view. “How do you feel, Deborah?” He opened the door wide and Cole’s large figure came into view. He was standing in the corridor wearing a snug-fitting black T-shirt and blue jeans.

“I’ve discharged Nurse Lewis,” Dr. Cortas said with a smile. “She’s doing fine.”

“Excellent news,” Frank said, stepping into the room. Cole followed. “I want you to take some time to recover, Deborah. Don’t even think about coming back to work until you’re ready.”

Deborah couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking down to Cole’s wedding band finger—it was bare. He noticed her glance and splayed his fingers out wide, telling her what she wanted to know. She was annoyed with herself for being so obvious. She didn’t want him to read too much into it.

“What did your internal investigation uncover?” she asked Frank. “Did you find the man who assaulted me?”

“Not exactly,” he said.

Cole narrowed his eyes at Frank. He clearly wasn’t happy with this response. “There was a camera positioned right over the morgue entrance,” he said. “What did you find on the footage?”

Frank looked sheepish. “The camera isn’t working, I’m afraid. It would seem like a good idea to extend our security upgrades to the whole hospital. Can you cope with that Mr. Strachan?”

“Absolutely. I’ll get my entire team on it,” Cole replied. “But we still need to find out who attacked Deborah. Did you uncover anything? And did you call the police?”

“I decided not to involve the police at this stage,” Frank said. “Dr. Kellerman concurs with me that this could be a childish prank gone wrong. The morgue staff have been known to try to scare each other by hiding under sheets.” He threw up his hands in the air. “Of course, none of them will admit to being the culprit.”

“No!” Deborah said firmly. “Pranks are meant to be funny. What happened to me was terrifying.”

Cole stepped back into the conversation. “And why would the prankster leave Deborah locked in a compartment? She could’ve died.”

Frank obviously had anticipated this question. “The compartments have an unlocking mechanism on the inside. It should be fairly simple to slide open the unit from inside by pushing on the door, but this particular one had faulty springs, so it was jammed.”

“That could be why the attacker chose this exact unit,” said Cole. “He knew she’d be trapped.”

Frank looked exasperated. “It’s highly likely that this is a prank gone terribly wrong. The hospital deeply regrets it, and it will never happen again. Trust me.”

Cole folded his arms. “That doesn’t satisfy me at all, I’m afraid. What precautions are you taking to ensure Deborah’s personal safety?”

“We’re implementing all the recommendations you made regarding our security,” Frank said. “At considerable cost to the hospital, I might add. All our workers are perfectly safe here.”

“What about when Deborah is at home?” Cole said. “How safe is she there?”

Frank smiled in a condescending way. “I’m certain that you’re overreacting, Mr. Strachan. I expect your military training encourages you to see danger all around, but here in Harborcreek, we don’t need to be on constant guard.”

“What about the children in renal failure, Frank?” Deborah challenged. “Do they need to be constantly guarded? Can you be sure that somebody isn’t tampering with their medicine?”

“Deborah,” Frank said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “This is a hospital. It’s not unusual to have a large number of sick children suffering kidney complaints.” He looked toward the doctor. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Cortas?”

Dr. Cortas clicked the top of his pen and slid it into his breast pocket. “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility,” he said. “But it is highly unusual.”

Deborah noticed the doctor’s dark eyes dart around the room before he excused himself and left.

“I understand your concerns, Deborah,” Frank said. He sat on the bed beside her. “And by the time Mr. Strachan’s team has finished upgrading our security measures, there will be no way a staff member could harm them—even if that were happening.”

Deborah stood up. “Frank,” she said, bending to look him in the eye. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, as though his sleep had been as broken as hers. “If there is even the slightest doubt that drugs have been tampered with, we should involve the police.”

The mention of police caused Frank to stand bolt upright. “And what exactly should we say to the police? Should we tell them that we have lots of sick children in a hospital?” He let out a sigh. “We don’t know that the incident in the morgue is in any way related to the renal failures. You can’t ask the police to investigate a hunch.”

Cole stepped between Frank and Deborah. “It’s not just Deborah’s hunch. Both Dr. Warren and Dr. Cortas also seem concerned about the high level of renal failure in Pediatrics.”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you have any idea what a police investigation could do to the reputation of our hospital? It could destroy the good name we’ve worked hard to build up. I’m sorry, but I won’t allow it unless it’s absolutely necessary.” With that he turned and stalked out the door.

Cole shook his head and turned to Deborah. “I guess that’s the end of that conversation. You ready to go?”

She took a step back from him. “Are you offering to take me home?”

“Sure. I got a team of support guys doing the work here, so I’m free to give you a ride.”

She looked up into his face. His stubble was the color of a burned sunset. “No, thanks. I’d rather make my own way.”

His jaw clenched. “Please, Deborah, let me help. It’s on my way home anyway.”

“You live in Harborcreek?” she exclaimed.

“I moved back three months ago.”

Deborah found her mouth opening and closing, unable to form any words.

“I’ve kept to myself,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to risk running into you before you had the chance to find out I was back.”

“So when were you going to tell me?” she challenged. “In another ten years?”

“I’d planned to call your parents this weekend and ask them to tell you I was back in town. I kept putting it off because I was worried how you’d take the news.”

Only one word formed in her mind. “Coward.”

He nodded his head. “I deserved that. You’re right. I handled it badly. I just didn’t want to hurt you any more than I have already.”

“Why did you come back anyway?” Her question sounded like an accusation.

Cole pushed his hands deep into his jeans pockets. “It’s a long story.”

“Did your wife move here with you?” she asked.

He closed his eyes. “No, she divorced me a couple of years back.”

Deborah stood in silence for a few moments. Despite her hostility toward Cole, she didn’t revel in the breakdown of his marriage. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.

“What about you?” he asked. “I see you don’t wear a ring, either.”

“I’m not married,” she said. “I was engaged to somebody for a while, but it didn’t work out.”

A strange look swept over his face. It was one of both surprise and disappointment, as if a million regrets rushed through him at once. “Please, Deborah,” Cole said. “Let me drive you home. It’s cold and rainy out there.”

He picked up her bag from the bed, his muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt, and she remembered how safe his physical strength always used to make her feel. Now she felt nothing but anger and regret that she had ever allowed him into her life.

She reached for the bag and wrested it from him. “I’ll take my chances alone. The bus is always busy, and nobody would try to attack me in public.”

“You don’t drive?” he asked, obviously remembering the fact he had given her a few lessons in his car before they broke up.

“No, I don’t drive,” she said. “I manage perfectly well without a car. I make this bus journey every day, so you really don’t need to worry.”

Cole looked skyward as if trying to keep his cool. “You’re letting your emotions override your common sense. You need protection. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.”

She knew he was right. A ball of fear was curled up in her belly, telling her to be cautious, to be on her guard, but she ignored it. Yes, Cole could provide protection, but at what cost to her sanity?

“Thanks for all you’ve done to help me,” she said. “But I’ll take it from here.” With that she stalked out the door and headed for the exit. He didn’t try to follow her, but she knew he was watching her leave, no doubt shaking his head at her stubbornness. She put aside the voice in her head telling her to stop, to turn around and take him up on his offer. Instead, she called the elevator and pressed the button to take her to the basement floor, where a bus stop was situated in the underground parking lot for the hospital staff. As the elevator glided below ground, Deborah clenched her teeth together, gripping her bag with tight fingers, trying with all her might to contain her rising level of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, Cole’s presence gave her a sense of reassurance that he could shield her from another attack, but every fiber of her body cried out to run away from him.

She carried her head high as the doors opened and she strode purposefully out into the parking lot, keeping her wits about her, checking her surroundings. The lot was full of cars and empty of people, as it usually was at this time, and the bus stop was near to the exit ramp just around the corner. It would take her only two or three minutes to walk there.

She heard the squeal of rubber tires turning quickly on asphalt and she darted between two cars, crouching low to see where the vehicle was located. A beat-up red compact came into view, radio blaring, a young man at the wheel chewing gum. He raced past her driving way too fast and was soon out of sight. She stood up, exhaling in annoyance as she heard his car scrape its underside on the exit ramp. He was a young hospital orderly, immature and reckless.

But the sound and sight of normal everyday activity reassured her, and she weaved between the vehicles, resuming her walk to the bus stop, where she reckoned several other people already would be waiting. That was when she heard footsteps behind her keeping pace with hers. They were heavy, those of a man, and she suspected that Cole had followed her to try to persuade her not to travel home alone.

She spun around. “Cole...” She stopped. The sound of footsteps melted away, and a hush descended over the lot. Nobody was there.

“Cole?” she repeated. “Is that you?”

No reply.

“Who’s there?” she called.

A menacing voice rumbled in the windowless lot lit by dim overhead bulbs. “Your worst nightmare.”

Panic hit her full force in the gut, and she dropped her bag and started to run. The heavy footsteps resumed behind her, and she cried out, trying to alert the people who would be waiting at the bus stop just around the corner.

“Help!” Her voice was weak with fear and she filled her lungs to shout louder.

Before she could make another sound she became aware of a person close behind, seeming to appear from thin air. A hand curled over her mouth, another around her throat. They were large hands, rough and calloused, exactly like the ones on the attacker in the morgue. Her screams were stifled, and her legs gave way.

Cole had been right. She had been foolish to refuse his offer of protection. And now she would pay a heavy price.

* * *

Cole turned the wheel of his cargo van sharply in the hospital’s underground parking lot, sending unsecured equipment in the back crashing to the floor. He saw Deborah, fighting hard with a heavyset man who had grabbed her by the throat. Despite being petite in size, she was holding her own, using her elbow to repeatedly strike the man in the ribs.

Cole screeched his vehicle to a halt alongside the pair, and the man released his grip in surprise. The scarf that the attacker had tied around his face left only his eyes visible, and Cole saw them widen in shock. The guy turned on his heel and ran. Cole jumped from the driver’s seat and darted toward the assailant. The man pulled a handgun from his pocket as he glanced back, and Cole decided pursuit wasn’t worth it. A hospital was no place to begin a gun battle. Plus, there was someone who needed him to stay right there. He watched the man run to the exit door and push it roughly open. He was headed for the street, not the hospital. At least that put his mind at rest.

He rushed to Deborah’s side. She had sunk to her knees and was gasping for air. He gathered her into his arms and pulled her to her feet, waiting for her to catch her breath. Then he lifted her onto the passenger seat of his van and reached for a bottle of water in the cup holder.

“Here,” he said. “Drink this.”

She sipped the cool liquid slowly, coughing occasionally and rubbing her neck where pressure had been applied.

“The guy’s gone,” he said gently. “We should go back inside and report this.”

She shook her mane of blond curls. “I just want to go home,” she replied. “I’ll make the calls from there.” She continued to rub her neck. “I don’t want to stay here one second longer.”

Cole put a hand to her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

Deborah set her amber eyes on him. “Just my pride,” she said. Her pale heart-shaped face was partially hidden by the mass of curls that used to fall against his face whenever they kissed. “You were right, Cole. I did need protection. I just didn’t want it from you.”

“Yeah, I guessed that,” he said, removing his hand from her face and placing it on his holstered weapon instead. “That’s why I decided to take matters into my own hands. I was following you. I couldn’t rest knowing you could be attacked again.”

She gave a half smile. “I always used to hate it when you were right.”

He laughed. “I remember.”

She screwed the top back on the water bottle. “Will you take me home, please?”

“Sure.”

He made sure she was safely belted in and then cast an eye across the lot before settling himself in the driver’s seat. Slowly, he drove from the basement of the hospital and out into the dull, gray September day.

He glanced over at Deborah. “You’ll need to show me the way. I don’t know where you live.”

“Head for the high school,” she said. “It’s not far from there.”

Her voice was small and she had pressed her body against the door, holding on to the handle as if her life depended on it.

“You’re okay now, Debs,” he said reassuringly. “I’m here.”

“Why is this happening?” she asked. Her question wasn’t directed at him—it was directed at a higher being.

“Something bad is going on in the pediatric unit,” he said. “And you’re trying to expose it. That makes you a target for somebody.”

She turned her body to face him. “But who would hurt a child?”

“I don’t know.” He swallowed hard as memories of the navy SEAL Dark Skies mission forced their way into his mind. “But trust me. There are some people who don’t have any morals when it comes to hurting children.”

“Do you...” she began. “Do you have any children?”

“I did,” he said quietly. “I had a son. His name was Elliot.” He took a deep breath. “He died at three months old.” Cole didn’t look at Deborah’s face, but he sensed her horror. “It was sudden infant death,” he explained. “Nobody’s fault.”

“Oh, Cole,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“My wife petitioned for divorce shortly afterward. She said we should never have gotten married in the first place.” He felt awkward, uncertain whether Deborah wanted to hear the intimate details of his life. “I was prepared to work at it, but she wanted out. And she was probably right. We were never suited.”

“So why did you marry her?” she asked, her attention suddenly fully on him.

“I don’t want to be talking about me, Debs,” he replied. “We should be talking about you and the situation at the hospital.”

“I need some time to process everything that’s happened,” she said. “It would take my mind off things if we kept the focus on you. Just for a little while.”

“Okay.” He understood the need to delay facing an unpleasant truth, and he was willing to oblige. “I wanted to settle down,” he explained. “I wanted a happy family. I didn’t stop to think that the person to share it with was more important than the romantic picture in my head. Kids should be a bonus to a happy marriage, not the glue that binds it together.” He shrugged. “But I won’t make that mistake again. It’s the single life for me from now on.”

“You don’t want to be a dad again?” she asked. “But you always said you wanted a whole football team.”

Cole thought of his last overseas mission in Afghanistan. He thought of the systematic and deliberate destruction of girls’ schools by terrorists, and of the bodies he had been forced to bury.

“A lot can change in ten years,” he said solemnly. “An awful lot. I’m not the same person I was.”

Harborcreek High School came into view as he drove through the town. They both watched the large, sandy brick building fade into the distance in the mirror, lost in their own memories of happier times. It only highlighted the gulf that had grown between them.

Deborah pointed to a street off the highway. “Turn here.”

She guided him through a neighborhood of new homes. Over the years Cole had often wondered where Deborah lived—was it the type of house she had always wanted? As he pulled up outside a small cottage-style home, he saw that it was. It had a neat front yard and a porch with lavender wound through the frame. The red shutters around the windows shone brightly against the pristine white wooden exterior.

“I’ll check the house over,” he said, turning off the engine. “And then you need to report this latest incident. Your hospital administrator should contact the police and put some special security measures in place for you.” He turned to face her. “But until that’s done, I’m not leaving your side, okay?”

Deborah’s expression was hard to read. “You’re not responsible for my safety, Cole,” she said. “You’re a busy man with a job to do.”

“Everything else can wait.” He opened the door. “At least let me come in and scout the place out before we talk about it.”

She was clearly trying very hard to affect an expression of strength and calm, but he easily saw the flash of fear in her eyes. “Thank you, Cole. I’d appreciate that.”

He smiled. Deborah was still as beautiful as the first day he had asked her out, yet the shine in her eyes had become dull, and she looked tired. He was angered by the thought that a man was determined to hurt someone as kind as Deborah. He stepped from his cargo van and slid his gun from its holster.

Apprehending that cowardly man was now at the top of Cole’s agenda, and he would not waver until the threat was neutralized.

* * *

Deborah unlocked her front door as a sensation of sickness rose in her throat. She had loved her home ever since purchasing it five years ago and hated that dread had replaced her feelings of security. The man who had attacked her in the morgue and the parking lot had left an imprint of fear on her mind that she just couldn’t shift.

Cole opened the door slowly and held his gun close. He put a finger to his lips and indicated for Deborah to stay close to the open door. He opened her kitchen cabinets, checked under the couch, behind drapes, even in her trash can. She leaned against the wall, watching him walk slowly upstairs, his face stony and expressionless. She heard him walking through the two bedrooms upstairs, hating the fact that she was reliant on him for peace of mind. He was the last person she wanted to rely on ever again.

He returned with a smile on his face. “All clear.” He holstered his gun. “Why don’t you make the call to the hospital while I fix us some tea.”

He walked into the kitchen and began opening cupboards as though he were a regular visitor. She bristled at the intrusion, yet she swallowed the irritation and said nothing. She picked up the phone and punched in the hospital administrator’s direct number.

Frank answered with his usual curt greeting. “Frank Carlisle.”

While she explained the incident in the parking lot, Cole mixed up some iced tea in a jug, occasionally glancing over at her with an expression of support and concern. His effect on her was still strong, causing her stomach to leap and flip, and she turned around, putting him out of her sight. How was it possible that he could still cause such a physical reaction after all these years?

“Well, this is a terrible thing to happen to you, Deborah, especially after the incident in the morgue.” Frank sounded genuinely shocked. “I’ll report it to the police right away. We’ll need to issue a warning to all hospital staff that we have a mugger on the prowl.”

Deborah squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “This wasn’t a mugging, Frank. The guy was trying to hurt me. He had his hands around my throat.”

“Are you okay?” Frank asked. “Why didn’t you come back inside the hospital immediately? You shouldn’t have gone home alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she said, dropping her voice. “Cole Strachan is with me. He brought me home after chasing off the attacker.”

After a moment’s silence, Frank said, “I see. Well, that’s a good thing. An ex–navy SEAL makes a perfect bodyguard.”

“Don’t you see, Frank,” she said, feeling that he was making light of her ordeal. “This second attack proves that I’m being targeted for a reason, most likely because I’m close to uncovering drug tampering at the hospital.”

Frank let out a long, weary sigh. “These two incidents may be entirely unconnected. I can’t help but feel that you’re beginning to sound a little paranoid.”

“Paranoid!” she repeated incredulously. “You weren’t the one shoved inside a freezer compartment or choked by a masked attacker. I am not paranoid.”

“Okay, okay,” Frank said calmly. “I’ll file a report with the police, and we’ll let them decide whether there is a correlation between the two incidents. Take some time to rest and recover. You sound exhausted.”

She turned around and saw Cole sitting at her kitchen table. “I am,” she admitted. “I got the wind knocked right out of my sails.”

“I apologize, Deborah,” Frank said in a sudden rush. “An emergency call is coming through. I have to go. Take care.”

The line went dead, and Deborah went to join Cole at the table, sitting opposite and running her finger down the icy condensation on her glass of iced tea.

“Frank thinks it was a mugger,” she said. “He still doesn’t believe me about the drug tampering.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that from your side of the conversation.”

He pulled his chair closer to hers. “I can help you,” he said. “I saw that you have a guest room upstairs—”

She cut him off. “No!”

“I’m trained in special ops, Deborah,” he said. “If anyone tries to get to you here, I can be ready—”

She cut him off again. “I said no.”

He shook his head. “You always were stubborn.”

She met his gaze. “And you always were persistent.”

“I prefer the word determined,” he said, raising an eyebrow, clearly trying to make her smile. It didn’t work.

“I can’t let you stay here, Cole, not even for one night.” She dropped her eyes. “I find it really hard to be around you. I wish you’d warned me you were coming back. I feel like you blindsided me.”

“I’m sorry, Debs,” he said. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I know it’s been ten years, but the hurt is still there.” She thought of the sunny day they both had sat in a coffeehouse by the lake. His words too young to settle down had hit her like a blow to the stomach. “I need time to accept that you’re back in town,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair, putting a larger gap between them. “I totally understand. But you really shouldn’t stay here alone. Is there somebody you can call?”

She swallowed away the lump in her throat. “I’ll call my brother.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” She rubbed her temples where a dull throb had begun. “I know Chad’s off work today, so he’ll be able to come over right away. You can go.”

“I’ll stay until Chad arrives.”

Deborah’s head started to pound. “No,” she said. “I need some space.” She tried to level her voice and iron out the wobble. Cole’s proximity to her was overwhelming. “You’re crowding me a little.”

Cole reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. It was the same business card he’d handed to her the previous day. He laid it flat on the table. “My numbers are here,” he said. “Call anytime you need me. And I mean anytime.”

She picked up the card. “You gave me one of these already.”

His mouth curled at the corners. “I’m kinda guessing that it might have ended up in the trash.”

Her color rose. He still knew her well.

“I live over on Franklin Street,” he said. “So I can be here in just a few minutes. I keep my cell with me at all times.”

She nodded. He rose from his chair and headed for the door. His shoulders were much wider and firmer than they used to be. He looked like a man now, rather than the boy she used to know.

“I’ll come by tomorrow on my way to the hospital,” he said. “Make sure you keep the doors and windows locked tight, okay? If Chad can’t come straight over, call me immediately.”

She nodded again. He slipped through the door and shut it behind him. She took a deep, steadying breath and sipped her iced tea before dialing her brother’s number.

Chad was more animated than usual upon hearing Deborah’s voice. “I heard some news today,” he said, interrupting her greeting. “Cole Strachan has moved back to town. A friend of mine saw him at the hospital today. I wondered if you saw him, too.”

“Yeah,” Deborah replied flatly. “I saw him.”

“Are you okay, sis?” Chad asked, trying hard to be sympathetic. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Deborah sighed. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure? You sound really down.”

“Actually,” she said, “I had a scare at work today, and I wondered if you could come over, maybe stay the night?”

“What happened?” Chad sounded concerned.

How could she explain the situation without worrying him even further? “I’ll tell you about it when you get here.”

“I got called into the office on short notice,” Chad replied. “We’re working on a big presentation. I’m here till late. Sorry, sis. Is this serious? Can you call somebody else?” Without waiting for her reply, he continued, “Is this something to do with Cole? Did he upset you today? Because if he upset you, I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

“No, Chad,” she said. “Can we stop talking about Cole, please?”

“Sure we can. Sorry. Listen, I’d love to come over any other time, but I can’t tonight. Call one of your friends or Mom. Don’t be alone, okay?”

“Okay, Chad. Don’t work too hard.”

He laughed. “I never do.”

After hanging up, she started to punch in her parents’ number. Her mom or dad would surely be able to stay with her tonight. Then she thought of all their questions, their interest in Cole, their desire to defend her against her ex-finance’s intrusion back into her life. She simply didn’t know if she had the emotional energy to cope with Cole Strachan being the number one topic of conversation. She placed the phone on its base and stood in her living room, contemplating her options. Her house was pretty secure, with strong locks on all points of entry. She would be safe here alone for one night. She could make a plan tomorrow after a good night’s rest.

She pushed down the feeling of guilt at breaking her word to Cole. After all, he had broken the biggest promise of them all.

* * *

Cole snatched his cell from the nightstand, checked the time on his clock: 3:00 a.m.

He answered it with just one word: “Deborah.”

Her garbled voice was fast and difficult to understand.

“Slow down,” he said calmly. “Take it nice and steady.”

“I hear noises,” she said. “I think somebody is trying to get in.”

“Where’s your brother?”

Her silence was the answer she clearly didn’t want to give.

“You’re alone in the house, aren’t you?” he asked as his irritation at her obstinacy was quickly replaced by concern for her well-being.

“Yes.”

He grabbed his keys from the dresser and pulled on a sweater.

“What do you hear?” he asked.

“It sounds like someone is turning a key in the lock of the front door, but the chain lock is stopping it from opening.” She gave a cry. “How could they have a key?”

“Did you go downstairs?”

“No.”

He slipped his feet into sneakers and holstered his gun. “Good. Stay out of sight until I get there. I can reach you quicker than the police.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He took the stairs in his home two at a time and headed for the front door. “What for?”

“I promised I wouldn’t stay in the house by myself tonight,” she said.

Cole broke into a run on the walkway, unlocking his vehicle with the button along the way. Was she really apologizing for breaking a promise? To him of all people. It made him realize what a good woman he had let slip through his fingers. And now it was too late.

“I’ll be there soon,” he said. “Just sit tight.”

He uttered a prayer while racing to the house. He felt God’s guiding hand upon him, giving him the strength to face up to his past so that he could help shape Deborah’s future. If he was going to defeat the danger in her life, he had to accept her occasional harsh words, her resentment toward him and her instinct to push him away. It was his responsibility to take all of that and more.

He screeched to a halt outside her house. It was shrouded in darkness, and as he slipped from the driver’s seat, the scent of calming lavender came to him on the breeze. Yet the calm was instantly broken when he saw a masked man standing on the porch watching his approach. Cole reached for his gun and the man began to back away, quickly swinging his legs over the porch rail and disappearing under the cover of the trees in the backyard.

Cole gritted his teeth and gave chase.


THREE (#ulink_4088ae8e-9142-557e-bff8-5c6c893fca98)

Cole scrambled over the fence that partitioned Deborah’s yard from her neighbor’s, in pursuit of the man in black. He landed in a child’s sandbox and almost lost his balance as the silky grains slid beneath his feet, but he managed to stay upright, holding his gun close to his shoulder. The yard was small but with plenty of nooks and crannies and overhanging trees.

He stepped carefully out of the sand and stood in the middle of the lawn, turning in circles to scan the area, noting the patio furniture, a large barbecue beneath a tarpaulin and fishing equipment leaning against the fence. He was well used to working under the cover of darkness and his vision had been specially trained to spot movement that others would not detect. His last overseas assignment, the code-named Dark Skies mission in Afghanistan, had taken place under almost total darkness and had honed his skills to such a high extent that he often didn’t need the infrared goggles supplied by the SEALs. Dark Skies had taught him to refine his steely focus, and for this situation it was the best skill he had.

He continued to turn in circles, certain the culprit was still in the yard, but confused as to why there was no sign of his presence. Then it occurred to him. He lifted his head to the branches of a mature sycamore tree in the corner. Hidden among the leafy boughs was the figure of a man, inching his way along a branch that hung over the next yard. The wood drooped with the weight of his body, and his position looked precarious.

Cole raised his gun. “I’d strongly advise you to stay right where you are, sir,” he called. “I can hit a target a lot smaller than you with my eyes closed.”

The man froze, gripping the branch tightly with his arms and legs. The bough continued to bend, creaking loudly.

Suddenly, the yard was flooded with light, and a man’s voice boomed through the night. “Who’s there?” Cole heard the click of a gun’s safety catch, and the voice said, “Drop your weapon!”

Cole could see the home’s occupant in his peripheral vision, but he didn’t take his eyes off the man tucked away in the branches of the sycamore tree. The house owner was wearing a robe tied at his bulging waist and white socks. And he was holding a black handgun out front, using both hands to steady his grip. He looked scared.

“My name is Cole Strachan,” Cole called out, not turning from his position. “I’m a retired navy SEAL. I live on Franklin Street and I’m here because of an attempted break-in at a neighboring house. I have my weapon trained on the suspect, who’s hiding in a tree in your yard.”

The man stepped out onto his deck, continuing to hold his gun defensively. “I don’t know you, mister,” he said. “And I don’t care who you are. I just want you outta my yard.” He called behind him. “Carol, call the police, honey. Right away.”

“Yes,” Cole said with force. “Please call the police. I’ll stay here until they arrive.” He saw the man in the tree inch closer to the edge. The creaking grew louder.

“Stay where you are,” Cole called again, emphasizing each word. The man froze.

Cole felt the tension of the situation mount as the seconds ticked by and the standoff continued. With a gun trained on his back, he knew that firing his weapon would be dangerous and likely to result in him being shot by the petrified owner of the house. Scared people and guns were an explosive combination.

The man in the tree started to move again and the wood gave way with a mighty snap as the branch cracked and splintered beneath the weight. The masked man fell, still clinging to the broken branch, and landed on the other side of the fence. He bellowed as his body smacked hard on the ground. The owner of the house raised his gun into the air and shot a bullet into the sky, sending Cole instinctively diving to the grass. He tasted the soft earth in his mouth and spat on the ground.

“I hear the police sirens,” the man shouted. His voice was wavering. His anxiety level was high, and Cole certainly didn’t want to add to it. The man already had discharged his weapon once and would easily do it again if spooked.

Cole raised his head from the ground, trying to listen for sounds coming from the other side of the fence. He heard the groans of a winded man hauling himself to his feet and running away. He couldn’t believe he was so close to Deborah’s attacker, yet unable to apprehend him. He clenched his jaw in frustration.

“Next time,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll be ready.”

* * *

Deborah watched from her bedroom window while Cole spoke with police officers in her neighbor’s yard. Her pulse was returning to normal as the surge of adrenaline began to wear off. She’d woken up two hours ago to the sound of a key turning in her front door. She’d sat upright in bed, immediately reaching for the card she’d so carefully placed on her nightstand before going to sleep. Cole’s voice on the end of the line had instilled a feeling of reassurance and safety, but she wished she hadn’t needed him to take control of this situation. She didn’t want anything from him, least of all his protection. She’d learned to get by without the love and security he had once offered. And she no longer wanted it.

After first taking her statement, the officers then spoke at length to Cole and her neighbor Mr. Rafferty. They then went to inspect the tree in Mr. Rafferty’s yard, where a large branch had been severed from its trunk. The four men stood together, discussing the incident, while Deborah had chosen to retreat to the safety of her bedroom. She watched Cole and Mr. Rafferty shake hands, and the officers made their way back to their vehicle. She lost sight of the four figures as they walked to the street together. Then Cole reemerged in her backyard, squatting down to inspect the footprints left in the dew on the lawn. They snaked around in circles as if the man had been uncertain which way to go. She reached for a sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, feeling her curls straining to break free from the hood. Despite two nights of poor sleep, she was wide-awake and alert, but she knew that exhaustion would hit like a ton of bricks later on.

She slipped her feet into sneakers and walked down the stairs, taking deep, steadying breaths. Every time she spoke to Cole, her stomach rebelled, refusing to be calm and still. It was maddening, but she was powerless to stop it.

“Hi,” she said, walking out onto the porch.

Cole instantly stopped what he was doing and stood up to give her his full attention.

“Are you okay, Debs?” he asked.

She nodded, but it was a lie. And she reckoned he knew it.

“The guy hasn’t been found, but the police have filed a report,” he said. “The officers said they’ll send extra patrol cars to the area.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But they’re treating it as a minor misdemeanor.”

“I told them about the attack in the parking lot, but they said the exact same thing as Frank—a probable mugging.”

“It’s up to us to prove these incidents are all connected,” Cole said. “And that means you have to let me in a bit more. It’s way too dangerous for you to be here alone, especially now that we know somebody’s been casing the house. We need a better plan.”

Deborah shivered in the freshness of the breaking dawn. Cole wore a blue sweatshirt, spotted with mud stains. His hands were stained with dirt and his hair contained pieces of moss or grass, easily seen against the light red color of the strands.

“You look like you had a fight with a tree,” she said, ignoring his statement.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was something like that.”

“You want some breakfast?” she asked, knowing she should reward Cole for his efforts. “You certainly earned it.”

“Sure,” he said. “Give me a few minutes to finish up here.”

She turned and opened the screen door to go inside.

“Deborah,” he called.

She turned back.

“We need to talk about your safety,” he said gently. “I know you don’t want to face it, but you’re in serious danger. Someone is clearly targeting you, and he won’t go away unless we unmask him.”

She looked at Cole standing on her lawn, hands resting lightly on his hips, his face a perfect expression of concern. He was right. She needed to act decisively.

“I’m going to the hospital today to talk to Frank,” she said firmly. “If he won’t call the police to investigate the possibility of drug tampering in the unit, then I will.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This has gone far enough.”

Cole gave her a broad smile. “I knew you’d find your inner strength,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’re still as feisty as ever.”

She drew herself up to her full height. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

* * *

Frank’s face turned pale, then red, then purple. “Absolutely not,” he shouted. “I will not involve the police. We still have no conclusive evidence to suggest that our patients’ drugs have been tampered with. All we have are theories and gut feelings.”

Cole stood shoulder to shoulder with Deborah in the hospital room where Frank had agreed to give them five minutes of his time.

“I chased away an intruder on Deborah’s property last night,” he said. “We think he somehow managed to get a copy of Deborah’s front door key, but the chain prevented him gaining full access. Now, why do you think someone went to the trouble of cloning Deborah’s door key in order to get into her house?”

Frank was stunned into silence. He looked at Deborah. “I’m sorry to hear about this, Deborah. Do you know how they were able to copy your key?”

“I figure that someone took it from my locker at the hospital and made a copy before I realized it was gone,” she said. A slight tremor shook her body at the thought of a stranger rifling through her belongings, or even worse, someone she knew.

“And have the locks been changed?” Frank asked.

“I did it this morning,” Cole said. “The old key is now useless.”

“But we don’t know that this incident is related to the hospital,” Frank said. “It could just be an opportunist or a random thief.”

“Oh, come on, Frank,” Cole said as his patience wore thin. “You know that Deborah was attacked by a man in the underground parking lot, as well. What else needs to happen before you wake up and smell the coffee? Deborah is the one person in the pediatric unit who’s pushing hard for an investigation into the abnormal amount of kidney failures. The fact that she’s now been targeted in three separate incidents isn’t a coincidence. It’s a campaign to silence her.”

Frank fell quiet for a while, rubbing his hand over his thinning hair. “A run of bad luck doesn’t necessarily add up to a campaign,” he replied. “Although this sounds like a rather far-fetched theory, I’ll consider contacting the police to ask for their advice.”

“Please, Frank,” Deborah said. “We really need your cooperation on this. I don’t want to go against your wishes, but I will make my own complaint if I have to.”

“I said I’ll consider it,” he repeated. “Although it may reassure you to know that we’ve had no more renal cases in the last twenty-four hours, and five of the children who’ve fallen ill are recovering well.”

“But a twelve-year-old boy now requires a transplant, isn’t that right?” Deborah challenged.

Frank nodded his head. “Dr. Cortas has put that boy on the top of the transplant list. As soon as a suitable kidney becomes available, the operation will go ahead.”

Cole decided now was the perfect time to learn more about the medical staff at the unit. “What can you tell me about Dr. Cortas, Frank? He’s new to the hospital, right?”

“That’s correct,” replied Frank. “He came here from Shoreline Medical Center in Chicago just six weeks ago. He’s a gifted and brilliant doctor who is highly regarded by all those who’ve worked with him. We’re very lucky to have him with us.”

“Why did he move from Chicago?” Cole asked. “Was he running from something?”

“As I understand it, Dr. Cortas was simply looking for a new direction rather than escaping a bad one,” Frank said. “His references were excellent.”

“And what about Dr. Warren?” Cole asked. “What is her history?”

“Julie Warren has been at Harborcreek Community Hospital for almost forty years,” Frank said, clearly a little affronted at Cole’s probing. “She’s been a dedicated and loyal doctor throughout her time with us.” He crossed his arms. “If you’re insinuating that our own physicians are responsible for causing the kidney failures of the patients in Pediatrics, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“We’re talking about the lives of small children,” Deborah reminded him. “Cole is being thorough.”

“Yes,” he replied, having the decency to at least look shamefaced. He looked Deborah up and down, as if realizing for the first time that she was wearing scrubs. “Are you working your shift today?”

“I am,” she confirmed. “I want to be here helping rather than stuck at home worrying.”

“Well, at least that’s one thing we can agree on,” Frank said, heading to the door to leave. “You’re a good nurse, Deborah, and the hospital always needs your expertise.”

As soon as he was gone, Cole took Deborah by the shoulders and turned her to him. She flinched under his touch and he was reminded of the years that had passed between them.

“Let’s be very guarded today,” he said. “I’ll be here helping with the security upgrades. If we keep our ears to the ground, we might hear something vital. Keep an eye on Dr. Cortas in particular. He looks pretty agitated to me.”

“He did look like a rabbit caught in headlights when we walked in together this morning,” Deborah agreed. “But he must be under an incredible amount of pressure. It’s bound to have an effect.”

“That’s what I love about you, Debs,” he said with a small smile. “You’re always willing to see the goodness in people.”

Cole realized what he had said. “I mean...that’s what I like about you,” he said, feeling the need to backtrack.

Deborah gave a deep sigh. “We may as well get over the fact that this is going to be awkward. You and I have a history that we can’t change. I’m willing to try to put the past behind us for the sake of the kids.”

Cole nodded in agreement. He was glad that she seemed to be softening a little toward him. “I know our history is complicated,” he said. “And I also know that my presence here is hard for you, but I want to try to make things better between us. I want to make amends.”

“Cole,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “Are you asking for my forgiveness?”

He returned her gaze. “Would you give it to me if I asked for it?”

She didn’t even need to think about it. “Of course. What kind of person would I be if I freely take God’s forgiveness and then withhold it from others?”

He smiled. Her Christian beliefs were obviously still as strong as they had been in high school. It had marked her as different and gotten her teased often, but she’d always accepted the teasing with good humor and invited people to ask questions rather than mock something they didn’t understand. He’d never once seen her lose her temper or become offended, and it was her strength of belief that had drawn him toward God. He only wished he’d had enough faith to appreciate the difference that a good, strong woman can make to a man’s life. Cole could overpower somebody with his bare hands, but he could never understand the kind of quiet power Deborah exuded when she simply sat in silence. Her power went beyond the physical, and it matched his in every way.

“Thank you, Deborah,” he said. “Your forgiveness means a lot.”

“Forgiveness doesn’t erase the past, though,” she continued. “I wish I could just instantly forget how bad I felt when you ended our relationship.” She snapped her fingers to emphasize her point. “But I try not to judge you for it, and I don’t want you to suffer because of it. I want you to be happy.”

“The ironic thing is that I didn’t realize how happy I was with you until I ended things,” he said with a dry smile. “I was too young and stupid to understand that twenty-year-old rookie navy recruits aren’t the best source of relationship advice. By the time I plucked up the courage to beg you to take me back, it was too late.”

She knitted her eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You never asked me to take you back.”

He dropped his head. He had never intended to tell her these things. It wouldn’t change the way it had turned out. But once he started, he found he couldn’t stop the words from coming.

“Three years after I broke up with you, I came back to Harborcreek with the intention of asking you all over again to marry me. I’d just successfully completed the SEAL training program and I’d grown up a lot during that time.” He took a deep breath, noticing the look of pure astonishment on Deborah’s face. “I went to your folks’ house to find you, but your dad told me you’d recently gotten engaged to a guy called Brad. He told me to leave you alone, and to let you get on with your life. I went back to Virginia and tried to forget you. After another couple of years, I married the wrong woman, and the rest is history.”

Deborah let out a quick breath and stood openmouthed for what seemed like an eternity. “I got engaged to Brad two years after we split up, but I still wasn’t over you. Thankfully, I broke it off before I made the biggest mistake of my life.” She put her hands over her face. “Oh, Cole, if only I’d known you’d come back for me. I had no idea. My dad never mentioned it.”

“He thought he was doing the right thing,” Cole said. “Don’t blame him.”

“I don’t,” she said. “But things could’ve been so much different.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shrink away. “Things are as they’re meant to be,” he said. “That’s what I believe.”

She smiled. It looked forced and unnatural. “You and I were clearly never meant to be,” she said. “Dad probably did me a favor in sending you away. There was too much water under the bridge to go back to what we had.”

He nodded mutely, silently agreeing.

An air of sadness had descended over the room and Deborah shook her mane of hair, snapping herself back to the present. “Let’s leave the past where it belongs,” she said, smoothing down her scrubs. “There are sick children who need us to be vigilant on their behalf. That’s more important than anything else right now.”

He was glad the conversation was over. His chest hurt with the pain of memories. “Keep yourself visible at all times,” he said. “If you feel threatened, call out and I’ll come find you.”

She turned and opened the door. “I hope that won’t be necessary.”

“Will you promise you’ll ask me for help if you need it?”

She waited a second before answering. “Yes.”





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