Книга - Next of Kin

Next of Kin
C.J. Carmichael


A tractor trailer jackknifes. E.R. nurse Jackie Kellison's car is slammed into the ensuing pileup. She climbs free and rushes amid the flames and wreckage to help others. And then Jackie hears a baby cry….Jackie Kellison pulls the injured baby from the wreckage as motorcycle policeman Casey Guthrie reaches the scene. The woman in the car is dead. With no time to waste, Casey transports Jackie and the infant to the E.R. on his motorbike. But attempts to find the baby girl's identity lead to a chilling conclusion–the woman in the car was a kidnapper. The baby's fate is now in the hands of Jackie and Casey…and in their hearts.







E-mail to Chief Max Zirinsky, Courage Bay Police Department

From Casey Guthrie, motorcycle patrol officer

Chief Zirinsky,

I called in last night to give the investigators a heads-up about yesterday’s pileup on the Pacific Coast Highway, but I wanted to make sure you got this in writing.

There was something really weird about that crash.

First thing that happens, a sedan in the northbound lane suddenly explodes and bursts into flames. Then the tractor-trailer rig flips trying to avoid the burning vehicle. That sets off a chain reaction and the rest you know about. Strange thing is, only moments later, a second blast of flames shoots out of the sedan. I can buy one explosion from the fuel tank, but two?

I also thought you’d like to know that Courage Bay’s emergency services were in top form. Somebody should send a note to the hospital’s chief of staff about Jackie Kellison. Kellison’s an E.R. nurse whose car was totaled in the pileup. She was amazing to watch. The minute she crawled out of her car, she started treating the other victims. I’d bet more than one person owes her for saving their life.

I’m off for the next four, but call me on my cell if any of the guys on the investigative team need more info about the explosion.

Casey




About the Author







C.J. CARMICHAEL

Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty novels for Harlequin Books and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.




Next of Kin

C.J. Carmichael







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


Dear Reader,

In cities all over North America, traffic accidents are a tragic fact of everyday life. People are injured, sometimes they die, and many lives are changed forever. But can good ever come from bad?

While writing this book, I grappled with this question, as well as with two of the most daring characters I have ever written about. Motorcycle cop Casey Guthrie and emergency-room nurse Jackie Kellison are people of strong convictions. When it comes to doing the right thing, they’re not afraid to put their careers—or their lives—on the line. When it comes to her heart, however, Jackie is much more protective.

I hope you enjoy Next of Kin and the entire exciting CODE RED series. I’d love to hear what you think about this or any of my other books. Please contact me through my Web site. Or mail me a letter through my publisher. Either way works!

Sincerely,

C.J. Carmichael

www.cjcarmichael.com




Acknowledgments


It was an honor to be asked to work on the Code Red project. I appreciate all the hard work that went into this exciting series at Harlequin—in particular the discerning eyes and good judgment of Marsha Zinberg and Margaret Learn. To all the Code Red authors, who answer e-mail so promptly and with such good nature, it’s been a great experience!

Thanks to Sergeant W. R. Martin for answering all my questions (and questions, and questions!) so thoroughly and patiently.

Linda Prenioslo—always the best, the warmest of neighbors—thanks for sharing your medical expertise.

To my friend and fellow author Eileen Coughlan, who helped me wrestle with this plot—I appreciate so much the times we get together and share our passion for writing.

And finally, to my husband, Mike, who brainstormed this book with me for the entire car trip from Calgary to Edmonton—this one’s for you!




CONTENTS


PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




PROLOGUE


HIDDEN IN THE SHADOW of a stucco pillar outside the Super Value Mall on the southeastern outskirts of Courage Bay, a diminutive blonde clutched a baby to her chest and scrutinized the passing cars. A minivan wheeled by, but she couldn’t see in the tinted windows. Next, a two-seater Jeep zipped by, then a convertible.

The baby was getting heavy in her arms and the diaper bag kept sliding off her narrow shoulder. She eyed the vehicles with increasing desperation. This hadn’t been part of the plan. Could she pull it off? The only answer she could come up with was that she had to. He’d slashed her tires, taken the money. What else could she do?

Finally she spotted a silver-gray Taurus wagon with an infant car seat in the back. The driver was an elderly woman—a grandma, maybe? The vehicle nosed into a parking place an aisle over from where the blonde was standing.

Impatiently she waited as the driver turned off her car and carefully stowed her sunglasses in a leather case on the dashboard. Finally the driver’s door opened and the lady emerged. She opened the cargo door and pulled out a slick, fold-up stroller.

Hey, I should get one of those. As soon as the blonde had the thought, she gave herself a mental kick. As if. What was she thinking? She was not keeping this baby, no way…though at two months, it was awfully cute.

With the stroller set up beside her, the lady reached into the rear seat and pulled out a bundle in several blue blankets. She fussed some more, returned one of the blankets to the car, then finally closed the door and locked it, slipping the keys into the front pocket of her lightweight jacket.

It was October in Southern California. The jacket and the blankets weren’t exactly necessary. The day was sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze coming off the ocean. Fortunately it wasn’t raining, which it could easily do at this time of year. Still waiting, she shifted the baby to her other hip. Her heart pounded so loudly now, it was all she could hear.

The moment the lady pushed the stroller into the mall, the blonde stepped out from behind the pillar and followed. Through the heavy glass doors, past a small shoe-repair shop, a chain drugstore, a beauty salon. The lady with the stroller turned left at a kiosk selling hemp jewelry and soon reached her destination: Baby Gap.

She went straight to the sales rack, flipping through the tiny items and selecting a few. Observing from a safe distance, the blonde had to force herself not to think about baby outfits herself.

Ten minutes later, with a dark blue plastic bag looped over one of the stroller handles, the lady emerged from the store. This time she stopped at a women’s wear shop and again headed directly for the discount racks. Spotting a sweater she liked, she shrugged out of her jacket and threw it over the back of the stroller.

The blonde stiffened, spotting her chance. Trying to appear nonchalant, she strolled into the lady’s line of vision and pretended to be interested in a row of T-shirts next to the stroller. She slid in as close as she dared, then brushed a hand over the jacket. The first pocket held nothing but a folded tissue.

Frantically she searched the second pocket. In front of her, the lady was admiring herself in a mirror. She swiveled, then smiled at the baby in the stroller. “What do you think, darling? Should Grandma buy this sweater?”

The blonde froze, certain that she was about to be busted. But a saleswoman walked between them at that moment.

“Oh, yes!” the saleswoman exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. “That pink really brings out the color in your cheeks.”

The blonde felt the hard metal of the car key chain and closed her fingers around it. She eased her hand out of the jacket and into the pocket of her jeans. Then she turned around and left the store.

Five minutes later she was at the silver wagon, doing up the buckles of the infant car seat. “You be good back here, okay?”

The little one was due for a bottle, but that would have to wait. With luck, once the car was moving, the baby would be lulled to sleep. In the meantime, she dug a mirror from her purse and propped it up with a blanket in front of the child’s face. She smiled as the infant gazed intently at the reflection.

“Look at the pretty baby,” she cooed as she tossed the diaper bag on the floor between the car carrier and the back of the passenger seat. After a few quick adjustments to the driver’s seat and the rearview mirror, she was ready to go. Cautiously she drove out of the mall with racing heart and damp palms. That poor grandma was in for a nasty surprise when she finished shopping, but it wasn’t her fault.

Only one man could help them now, and he lived in one of the rich neighborhoods at the other end of town. Following the roadway signs carefully—this was not the time to make a stupid mistake with directions—she was soon heading north on the Pacific Coast Highway.




CHAPTER ONE


OFFICER CASEY GUTHRIE settled on the seat of his BMW motorcycle, then kicked back the side stand. He waited patiently while the driver of the black Lexus put away his license and vehicle registration papers. God, it was a great day. He relished the warmth of the late-afternoon sun on his head and shoulders.

His dayshift was over—this ticket had been the last. After a quick shower and nap at home, he’d be heading out to party. Some guys he’d gone to the academy with were in town and wanted to hit a few bars.

The man in the Lexus shot him a dark look as he shoulder-checked before merging once more into traffic. The irate businessman was going to be even later for his meeting than he’d anticipated. Maybe next time he’d leave a few minutes early and avoid the need to rush.

But probably not.

Casey revved his BMW, then shot off behind the Lexus, following the guy for a few minutes as a mild warning to keep that speed under control. After ten minutes he pulled a U-turn at an uncontrolled intersection and headed back the way he’d come, toward the station.

That last ticket had made him a little late, so Casey decided to hit the highway rather than navigate the slower inner-city roads. As he approached the feeder lanes, he carefully shoulder-checked. Two blondes in a white convertible sped by. One waved. The other blew a kiss. Too bad he’d turned off his radar. Pulling those two over would have been fun. He might have ended up with a date for tonight.

With a sigh of regret, he merged onto the highway. The sad truth was, he was really looking forward to his shower and nap more than the night on the town with the boys. He’d probably be happier spending the evening with his big brother, Adam, and his fiancée, Faith. Since hooking up with the bright defense attorney, the ever-serious chief of detectives had lightened up considerably. Last time they’d had a meal together, Adam hadn’t mentioned a word about Casey needing to think about his future.

Paradoxically, Casey had begun to dwell on that very topic. For the past ten years, getting paid to zip around the pretty oceanside city of Courage Bay on a motorcycle all day had seemed too good to be true. But a cop couldn’t stay on motorcycle patrol forever. Where did he want to be in ten years when he was forty?

The speed limit on the highway was sixty miles an hour, so Casey opened the throttle, shooting ahead of the dawdling Corolla in front of him. Compelled by the beauty of the day, he had to fight a sudden urge to do a little speeding himself. The ocean sprawled lazily on his left, and though it was October, the beach was dotted with sunbathers and swimmers.

Was there any finer place on earth than Courage Bay, California? The urge to get home grew stronger. He forced himself to slow down a fraction. He’d be there soon enough.

In his rearview mirror he spotted a pretty brunette in a Mazda convertible coming up in the left lane. Her hair was tied back and she wore sunglasses. Her lips were moving, though she was alone in the car. Probably singing along to the radio. She looked happy.

She was also speeding. She shot right past him, but must have caught sight of his bike and the insignia on the side, because a second later her brake lights flashed once, and then again.

Raising a hand to the side of his helmet, he met her gaze in her rearview mirror and gave her a mock salute. I’m off duty, ma’am. Lucky for you.

He slowed even further and soon she was lost in the lines of traffic ahead of him. Unlike the two blondes, whom he’d immediately forgotten, this brunette stuck in his mind.



RELIEVED THAT HE HADN’T signaled her to pull over, Jackie Kellison smiled at the reflection of the good-looking motorcycle policeman in her rearview mirror. She still had half an hour before her shift at Courage Bay Hospital’s ER started, so she’d had no reason to exceed the speed limit.

But there was something about this day that made her feel a little reckless. The weather so perfect, the ocean so calm, the air so sweet. The wind must be blowing in the right direction, because not a wisp of smog spoiled the vivid blues of sky and water.

She checked the mirror again. The motorcycle cop was now several vehicles behind her. She felt mildly disappointed. He was cute, and surely she hadn’t imagined the playful grin he’d directed toward her when she’d automatically pumped on her brakes. Maybe it would have been fun to be ticketed by him.

Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, she admonished herself. Her life really was dull if she imagined getting a traffic citation would be fun.

Leaning forward, she turned the radio volume higher and resumed singing to the Dixie Chicks’ latest single. Yes, the truth was her life was extremely dull. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d done anything just because she thought it would be fun. Even speeding was rashly uncharacteristic of her these days.

Maybe the old Jackie was coming back?

No, not quite. But a modified version, someone stronger…and wiser. Michael had said she’d heal eventually, and bless his kind, patient soul, he’d been right.

She didn’t credit only Michael, gifted therapist that he was, with her mental recovery, though. She could never have managed without the support of her brothers. Since her grandfather’s death when they were all kids, Robert—or Kell, as everyone called him—and Nate had been her only family and, as a result, the three of them were very thick.

They’d been almost as devastated as her when Andrew…But no. She wouldn’t think of him now. She would just enjoy the rest of her drive to work and maybe even fantasize a little about the cute cop on that wicked motorcycle.



THE BABY IN THE BACK SEAT was crying now. Damn. She should have taken the time to warm a bottle at the mall. What was she going to do? Traffic was so heavy, she couldn’t pull over to the side. Could she somehow get a bottle from the diaper bag while she was driving?

Cautiously, the blonde reached her right arm back toward the bag. She caught the strap and managed to pull it forward a few inches until it jammed between the infant carrier and the front passenger seat.

Oh, hell. Couldn’t anything go right today?

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll get you something to eat.” The constant wailing was giving her a headache. She groped for the bag’s zipper, trying to remember into which compartment she’d packed the bottle.

In the instant she had her eyes off the road, the air suddenly shook with a huge explosion. The car in front of her burst into flames. She screamed and grabbed onto the steering wheel with all her might.

Oh, God, no. The burning car careened into the next lane, cutting off a huge tractor-trailer rig that had been passing them on the left-hand side. The rig driver hit his brakes, but couldn’t avoid the collision. She heard the most awful noise of tires screeching on pavement, metal grinding on metal. The trailer zigzagged beside her—it was going to overturn!

She was trapped by traffic on all sides. There was nowhere for her to escape.

Help me. Help me. Oh, God…dear God…



AN EXPLOSION OF SOUND cut off Jackie’s effort at positive thinking. Crashing metal, screeching tires, shattering glass. Several cars ahead of her, a huge tractor-trailer rig overturned, amid a cloud of thick black smoke. As her Mazda rushed toward the bumper of the vehicle in front of her, she slammed on her brakes. There was no way to prevent the crash. She braced herself for impact.

“Oh!” Her airbag deployed, knocking the breath from her lungs. She’d hit the car in front of her, and less than a second later felt an impact from the rear as the vehicle behind her joined the pileup.

I’ve had a car crash! For the few seconds that she couldn’t breathe, she wondered if she was going to make it. Was this what she had suffered through the last two years of her life for? To die in a traffic accident?




CHAPTER TWO


THE RED MAZDA had been out of sight for over a minute when Casey crested a hill on the highway and spotted it again amid the steady traffic ahead. He wondered where the pretty brunette was off to in such a hurry. Or maybe she was just speeding because she had a great car and it was a lovely day and she was happy to be alive. Though he was paid to control the speed on the public roadways, Casey could relate only too well.

And then with a flash of light and boom of an explosion, everything about the day changed. Flames shot from a car even farther ahead on the road.

Casey swore as he automatically reached for his radio. At that instant, a tractor-trailer unit started to weave across two lanes of the highway, the driver trying desperately to avoid the out-of-control burning vehicle.

With a quick maneuver, Casey pulled over to the shoulder, watching helplessly as the rig zigzagged across several lanes of traffic. In a chain reaction, the vehicles behind the rig began to smash into each other, one after the other, filling the air with the smell of burning rubber and the horrific noise of crashing metal and shattering glass.

The tractor-trailer finally stopped moving, settling across the highway, then tipping inward and over, crushing whatever had been in the right-hand lane next to it. The rig landed lengthwise across the highway, blocking two northbound lanes and crossing the short median strip to settle over one southbound lane, too. Automobiles in both directions crashed into each other, creating the most massive pileup he’d ever witnessed.

“Ten forty-five on Pacific Coast Highway heading north. Repeat, 10-45 on PCH. At least twenty vehicles, probably more…”

He stopped to catch his breath, realizing that he was in a mild state of shock. This one had come a little too close to home. If he’d been going just a bit faster…

“We’ve got a huge pileup blocking most, if not all, south-and northbound lanes.”

The dispatcher asked him to estimate the location.

“About five miles south of Courage Bay Hospital.” Which is damn lucky, since a lot of these unfortunate folk are going to require medical help, fast. “We’ll need everything you can get us. Backup, ambulances…”

He paused as he noticed a second blast of flames come from the burning vehicle. He frowned, wondering what could have caused two explosions in the same car. Not that it would matter to the poor driver, who had probably been incinerated with that first blast.

“What just happened?” the dispatcher asked.

Casey relayed the bare facts, then reiterated the need for help, as soon as possible. As he spoke he wove his motorbike between stopped vehicles, working his way up to the collision. Ahead, in the burning sedan, flames reached out of the gaping windows as if grasping for the sky. After a few moments the fire tapered down again.

If the second explosion had been the fuel tank, then what had caused the initial blaze? Casey made a note to discuss the anomaly with whoever headed up the investigation team later. Likely the poor devils would be here until late tonight, gathering statements from witnesses as well as physical evidence from the road and the vehicles involved in the collision.

Though he hated the carnage of serious traffic accidents, Casey had always enjoyed the process of collision reconstruction. It was like detective work, really, requiring a meticulous gathering of evidence from witnesses and from the accident scene itself.

At some point tonight, officers would carefully examine the road for skid marks, scrapes, gouges, liquid spills. They’d photograph the scene, take precise measurements with a transit, conduct a preliminary inspection of the vehicles involved. All this information would enable the officer in charge of the investigation to stand up in court and explain accurately how the accident had happened and why.

All very cool, fascinating stuff.

But right now, Casey’s job was the opposite of cool. His first concern was public safety. He circled the area with warning flares, shaking his head at the extensive damage. Somehow he had to clear a path through this mess for the emergency vehicles. The far southbound lane was probably his best bet. He began directing those drivers whose cars were still capable of moving to the side of the road.



FINALLY, JACKIE WAS ABLE to catch her breath. She flexed her hands, wiggled her toes, and decided she was okay. Her neck ached a little, but that was all. Around her the cacophony of the accident had died down. In the sudden silence she heard people calling for help.

How many drivers and passengers had been injured?

She scrambled for the cell phone she kept in her glove compartment for emergencies and dialed 9-1-1. The dispatcher seemed already aware of the incident, but still asked several questions. Ignoring a painful protest from her neck muscles, Jackie reached under the passenger seat for her first-aid kit.

After being assured that help was on its way, she disconnected her call and dropped the phone. She had to get out of here to see if she could help. She grasped the door handle, but even with a good shove from her shoulder, couldn’t get the door to budge. Her beautiful new convertible was totally wrecked.

On shaky legs she stood on her seat. Before coming to a final stop, the tractor-trailer rig had crossed the center-line, and traffic now stood at a complete halt in both directions on the highway.

God give me strength, she prayed as she climbed out the open roof. The awful sounds of crying and moaning and entreaties for help were everywhere now. She hardly knew where to turn.

The bright sun suddenly seemed an abomination. She’d never seen such devastation firsthand. In front of her was a tangle of metal and shattered glass. Just ahead of the overturned rig, a sedan burned wildly. Had the occupants made it out before the blast? She prayed so.

“Please, help me! My son is bleeding badly!”

The woman in the car in front of Jackie’s had managed to open the driver’s side window and was waving at Jackie. She sprang into action, scrambling over the torn metal of the Mazda’s hood, then jumping down to the pavement and racing to the woman’s aid.

“Where is he bleeding?” Jackie pulled on a pair of disposable latex gloves as she spoke.

“His arm.”

Peering in the passenger window, she saw a boy of about fifteen or sixteen strapped into the seat. He was shifting restlessly, and bright red blood spurted from a cut artery in his upper arm.

Jackie grasped the door handle and tugged. “How about you?” she asked the mother. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. Just please, please, look after Brayden.”

Jackie wasn’t convinced. The woman had the beginnings of a bruise on her forehead. But she was conscious and talking and able to move. That made the son the priority right now.

The door jammed. She put a foot against the car and tugged with all her might. To her amazement, the door fell to the road. She leaned in for a closer look at the boy. His respirations were rapid and shallow.

“Hi there, Brayden. That’s quite a nasty cut you have.” She was glad to see his eyelids flutter when she spoke to him. Pulling off her cardigan, she used it to stem the flow of blood. His mother was at Jackie’s side now, having extracted herself from the car.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I think so.” She hadn’t had a chance to inspect for other injuries yet. She had thick absorbent pads and bandages in her kit and did her best to dress the wound. As she worked, she spoke calmly to the mother.

“We need to stop the flow of blood until help arrives.” The matronly woman stared at her blankly, probably in mild shock.

“Here.” Jackie took one of the woman’s hands and placed it over the bandaged wound. “You need to apply firm, direct pressure right here. Can you do that?”

The woman nodded.

“Good. Help will be here soon and your son will be fine. Be strong.” She clasped a hand on the woman’s shoulder, then slipped on her stethoscope to continue her examination.

The boy’s pulse was fast, but thready. She took one of his hands and squeezed it gently. “Can you hear me, Brayden? If you’re too tired to talk, then squeeze my fingers.”

Nothing. He was probably in shock, too.

“Do you have anything warm in your van?” she asked the mother.

“A sleeping bag from my son’s sleep-over last weekend.”

“Great. Can you get it?” She kept pressure on the wound and managed to recline the boy’s seat to a supine position while the mother found the sleeping bag.

“Here it is.”

“Keep him warm,” she told the woman, then, noticing that she had started to shake, added, “Actually, why don’t you crawl under that sleeping bag with him?”

Moving on, she saw several people with minor injuries: a man with an obviously fractured arm, a woman with superficial abrasions on her face. They could wait.

The motorcycle cop who’d let her go earlier had cordoned off the accident site and was trying to clear a lane for the emergency vehicles, without much success. She saw him glance her way and nod. She nodded back, then tore off her soiled gloves and replaced them with a clean pair.

A male driver in his fifties moaned for help from his badly damaged Volvo. He’d managed to open his door and now he was crying, “Oh, my God. It hurts so bad. I know I’m going to die!”

Eyeing his pallor and noting the way he was clutching his left shoulder with his right hand, Jackie was immediately concerned. “Sir, I’m a nurse. Maybe I can help. Can you tell me what the problem is?”

“The pressure…” he gasped. “I can hardly breathe.”

“In your chest?”

He nodded.

“And your arm?”

He nodded again.

“Any history of heart disease, sir?”

“Yeah. I have angina. About five years ago I had a heart attack. It was just like this. Oh, God, I’m going to die this time, I know it.”

“Do you have your nitro spray?”

“In the glove compartment. I can’t—”

“That’s okay. I’ll get it.” She ran to the other door and quickly found the spray. “Here. Take this.”

He eagerly sprayed two shots under his tongue. Almost immediately he showed improvement. As an added precaution, Jackie gave him an aspirin to chew, then she flagged down an uninjured accident victim and asked her to sit with the man until the paramedics arrived. She scribbled quickly on a Post-It note from her kit and handed it to the quiet young woman.

“Give this to the paramedics when they arrive so they’ll know what I’ve done.” She patted the man’s hand reassuringly, then moved on again.

This time she could hear a woman calling for help. “Get me out of here! Get me out!”

She was in the front seat of a small two-door car and several people were trying to open one of the doors without success. Jackie rushed over.

When they saw her first-aid kit and the stethoscope strung around her neck, the group of people stepped aside to allow Jackie access to the driver’s side of the totaled vehicle. The damage to the car was so severe, it seemed impossible the woman inside could still be alive. But she was alive, and conscious, too, though frantic with fear, pain or probably both.

“My legs are trapped. I can’t move them!”

The woman was strapped in her seat and her air bag had deployed, saving her from massive head and neck injuries. But Jackie didn’t discount the possibility that there could be injury to the spinal cord.

“I know you must be in terrible pain, miss, but we’d better not move you until the paramedics show up. Can you wiggle your toes?” she asked hopefully.

“Nothing! Am I going to be paralyzed?”

She was good-looking, probably in her mid-twenties. “Perhaps you’ve lost feeling due to a lack of circulation,” Jackie said, offering hope. She glanced around at the crowd. “Anyone got any thick jackets, towels or blankets?”

“I have some towels. They’re a little damp…” A woman in a sundress, who’d obviously spent the day on the beach, offered two striped towels from a wicker bag.

“That’s fine.” Jackie took them gratefully and did her best to immobilize the young woman’s neck.

The reassuring sounds of sirens were all around them now. But how were the ambulances going to be able to transport these people to the hospital with any speed? The traffic snarl continued on both sides of the highway for as far as she could see. She wondered if her brother Nate was on duty today. Boy, she could sure use his help out here.

Jackie stood, pressing a hand firmly to the side of her neck where the muscles were throbbing now. She’d worked her way right up to the tractor-trailer unit. The driver seemed to be okay. He was upright in the sideways cab, free of his seat belt and talking to two men who’d emerged from their wrecked vehicles to give him a blast.

Over on the far left, she watched as the paramedics spilled from two ambulances. Jackie almost cried with relief when she saw her tall, dark-haired younger brother emerge from the first vehicle, dressed in his navy uniform.

“Nate!”

Somehow, above all the noise and commotion, he heard her. She saw him frown.

“Jackie? What the hell…?”

She wound her way through the maze of demolished cars and accident victims. “I was here when it happened, Nate. My car is probably totaled, but I’m fine.”

Her brother engulfed her in a hug and she winced at the pain that shot from her neck down her shoulder. She pulled away gently. “I’ve been around to most of the serious victims.” She told him about the bleeding boy who was in shock, the man who was almost for sure having a heart attack, the trapped young woman who couldn’t feel her legs.

“Good work, Jackie.” Nate patted her shoulder, already signaling the other paramedics where to go. She left her brother to do his job, thankful that he was here, though still concerned about the inevitable long transport times.

About to make her way back to her car, Jackie paused when she heard a faint wail. Unlike the cries and moans around her, this one was higher pitched and as steady as a stream of water from a faucet. The sound was unmistakable to anyone who’d heard it before.

A baby.

Jackie’s heart jammed up in her throat. The cry was coming from the other side of the tipped trailer. Dropping to her knees, she could see the front end of a station wagon that had been trapped under the collapsed rig. She tried calling out to the mother or father of the infant, but no one responded.

Sick fear momentarily froze her as she eyed the huge barrier that stood in her way. She had to get to that baby. But the vehicle was sandwiched between the overturned rig and the burned-out sedan.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked up with disbelief. It was the motorcycle cop. He’d removed his helmet and his light brown hair was damp with sweat.

Their eyes met with common understanding. He’d heard the cries, too.

“You a doctor?”

“Nurse.”

He paused, then nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s help that kid.” He laced his fingers and, without a second thought, she placed her sandaled foot on the perch.

“One, two, three…” He heaved as she reached up and soon she was standing on what had once been the side of the trailer. She scrambled quickly across it, the metal hard on her bare knees. The cop followed. He was right next to her when she finally spotted the remains of the trapped vehicle. The front half was completely crushed under the back end of the trailer. In the rear seat, she could see the outline of an infant carrier.

“Shit.”

She shared the cop’s opinion.

He held out his hand again and helped her down to solid ground. “Be careful of the glass,” he said. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and used it to kneel on so he could take a look inside the front seat of the car.

She turned away, focusing on the wailing baby. The rear door was jammed, but the window had smashed into a million pieces. Heeding the cop’s warning, she slipped off a sandal and used it to sweep away the residue. Thanks to safety regulations, vehicles were now manufactured with window glass that disintegrated into relatively harmless pebbles. Still, she was careful to ensure that the glass pellets fell to the ground and not into the car with the baby.

“Hey, sweetie,” she called softly. “Are you okay in there?”

The wailing halted, but only for a split second. She was encouraged that the baby had responded, even momentarily, to the sound of her voice. She leaned in through the window for a closer look.

“Oh, God.” Instinctively she pulled back. Closed her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Still on the ground trying to see into the front seat, the cop must have heard her cry out.

“This baby’s only a few months old. His face is covered with blood.” She steeled herself to reach out to the infant. Pulling aside the blue blanket he’d been wrapped in allowed her a closer look at his face. Shattered glass lay all around him, but not from the window. These shards were from something else.

She spotted the plastic frame of a mirror and shook her head at the mother’s foolishness.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetie. Let me see if I can get you out of that car seat.” She would have preferred to leave him in the padded carrier, but no way would she be able to get the awkward thing through the window. Quickly she released the metal catch at the bottom, then pushed aside the canvas straps.

“Okay, baby. You’re coming out.” As gently as possible, she lifted the light little thing from the seat and through the window.

Finally the wailing stopped as she held the child in her arms. There were more cuts on his arms and legs, and some on his scalp, too. Jackie checked for slivers of glass, wishing for a table, direct lighting and good quality sterilized tweezers.

“He okay?” The cop was standing again. Keeping a careful distance from her and the baby, he shook the glass out of his jacket, then slipped it back on.

Jackie continued her inspection of the infant. “Lots of lacerations, but most of them superficial, I hope. I’m most worried about his eyes.”

Both were puffy, but the right one was also bleeding. She mopped up the blood with some gauze and saw that his eyelid was lacerated and, even worse, a fragment of glass appeared lodged in his cornea.

She wrapped the blue blanket around his tiny body, frowning at the way the little guy turned his head from the slightest exposure to sunlight.

Not a good sign. Poor babe.

“If his injuries are as extensive as I fear, he needs to be seen by a surgeon right away.” What she could see of the injury was bad enough. But she was more worried about potential damage to the internal ocular structures.

“Poor kid.”

She thought the cop was referring to the baby’s injuries, but then she noticed his gaze dwelling on the front half of the crushed vehicle.

Oh, no. “The driver?”

He shook his head gravely. “I’m afraid the baby’s mother is dead.”




CHAPTER THREE


LIFE WAS SO UNFAIR. Jackie knew this. But why, why did the mother of a helpless infant have to die in such a senseless manner?

Jackie’s parents had been killed in an accident, too, when she was just a toddler. Her heart went out to the little one in her arms, who wouldn’t have even a vague memory of his mother’s voice to sustain him in his life.

“His eyes are really getting puffy,” the cop observed, folding back a corner of the blanket to get a look at the infant’s blood-smeared face.

Was this kid going to end up blind on top of everything else? Not if she could help it. “We’ve got to get him to the ER. But look at this mess!”

To the far left, a painfully slow procession of emergency vehicles was finally showing up on the scene. But it would be a while before they were able to deliver patients to the hospital.

“I could transport you pretty fast on my bike.” He pointed. “It’s back about fifty yards.”

Jackie didn’t hesitate. At this point there were no other reasonable options. “Let’s do it.”

The cop took the baby, freeing her to scramble back over the rig. On an impulse, she’d grabbed the diaper bag in the car, and now slipped it over her shoulder, then reached out for the baby so the cop could follow. In less than a minute they’d woven their way to his parked bike.

“My helmet won’t fit you,” he apologized. And of course they had nothing for the baby. “But I’ll get you there safe.”

Their eyes met, and in those few seconds she reminded herself that though this man was a cop, he was also a stranger. She knew nothing about him except what she’d seen since the accident.

But what she had seen inspired trust. He was tall, fit and strong, and so far he’d reacted to every situation they’d encountered with calm intelligence, unselfish bravery.

“Let’s do it.” Without another word, she slid onto the back of his bike, the baby sandwiched between them. Placing one hand on his firm shoulder, clutching the infant with the other, she took a deep breath. “Okay.”

He glanced back once, to make sure she was securely seated, then took off, hugging the shoulder of the road. They passed the sedan that had been burning briskly earlier. Firefighters had managed to haul a hose across the highway and extinguish the flames. Now they were using crowbars to pry off the passenger door.

Jackie turned away. She didn’t want an accidental glimpse of whatever charred remains were found in that car. She’d already seen so much pain and suffering, and she knew this was only the beginning. When she made it to the hospital, she would be starting a twelve-hour shift. The people being carried by stretchers into those ambulances would soon be her patients.

Her neck was killing her now. The motorcycle might be a speedy and efficient mode of transportation, but it didn’t offer a smooth ride.

Glancing down at the baby tucked against her chest, she saw that the little guy had been lulled to sleep by the movement and noise. Poor wee thing. Please let him be okay.

Beneath her left hand, the cop’s shoulder felt rigid. Strong. She couldn’t resist leaning her head against his back for support. He didn’t seem to mind, so she let herself relax against him. It was lucky for her—and this baby—that he’d been on the scene so quickly.

She wondered what his name was, whether he had a family. She guessed he was around her age. She hadn’t thought about his looks earlier, but they had registered in some far corner of her mind. Now she recalled light-brown eyes, a high forehead, a mouth that would look fabulous when he smiled.

So far he hadn’t had much reason to smile. But she guessed by the faint lines around the corners of his lips that he usually did.

But why was she thinking about him like this? He was probably married. Weren’t most people by the time they turned thirty?

She had been married when she was twenty-five.

With lights flashing and sirens blaring, they were attracting quite a lot of attention. People on the sidewalk paused to stare. Cars pulled over to make room and drivers stuck their necks out open windows.

She’d never been so glad to see the pale stucco facade of Courage Bay Hospital. Fortunately the bay driveway to emergency was clear, except for a large white van. As the cop cruised in closer, she noticed the call numbers of a local TV station, KSEA, painted in bold colors on the back of the van. Just then, a camera flash went off in her eyes. She winced and held the baby closer. The cop glided his bike past the reporter, over the sidewalk, right up to the ER doors.

Turning to her, he asked, “You okay?”

She nodded.

“Sorry if that was a little rough.”

The journalists were back, this time with video cameras. The cop put up an arm to block her from their view. “Excuse me, ma’am…sir,” he said in a polite but firm tone, “but we’ve got a medical emergency here.”

“Is the baby okay?”

“Are you the baby’s mother?”

“What’s the situation back at the accident scene? Anybody killed?”

From under the cop’s protective arm, Jackie did her best to ignore the questions. Inside the ER, she was finally on home turf and knew exactly what to do. She raced to the admittance desk. Stout, gray-haired Izzy was working triage today.

“What’s wrong, Jackie?” She eyed the bundle in her arms. “Who is that?”

“I have no idea.”

“Oh, my Lord. Here.” Izzy passed a clean tissue for Jackie to mop up the fresh blood on the baby’s face. “What happened?”

“I was in a car crash on the PCH.”

“We heard about that. We’re expecting the ambulances shortly. So you got caught in the pileup? How terrible. And the poor baby…Oh, my Lord, he doesn’t look older than a couple of months.”

Jackie lowered her voice. “His mother died in the crash. I think he may have a glass shard embedded in his right cornea. I haven’t had a chance to examine him properly yet.”

Izzy gave her another clean tissue. “We’ll get a pediatrician right away. How’d you get here so fast?” Izzy’s gaze slid over to the police officer.

He nodded and held out his hand. “Officer Guthrie.” He turned to Jackie and added, “Casey Guthrie.”

She had to swallow before she could reply in kind. “I’m Jackie Kellison.”

It only took a few seconds to exchange their names, but Jackie had the weird sense of falling into a time vortex where the moment felt long and heavy with importance. Then the baby stirred in her arms.

She faced Izzy again. “Officer Guthrie was the first one on the scene. He gave us a ride on his motorbike.”

“Well, that explains the hairdo.”

Jackie supposed more hair was out of her ponytail than in. She’d also lost her sunglasses in the fray and her cotton shorts and blouse were smeared with blood. None of that mattered at the moment.

Izzy shoved aside the paperwork she’d been dealing with. “Come on, we’ll get that little one into an examining room.” She glanced back at the cop still standing by her desk. “Nice to have met you, Officer Guthrie.”

The baby started crying again and Jackie hurried after Izzy. She managed one last glance at the motorcycle cop, regretting she’d had no chance to say a proper goodbye. They’d made a good team.

He smiled at her, and his smile was nice, just as she’d thought. Too bad she probably wouldn’t see him again.



IN THE SMALL examining room, Jackie was finally able to take a good look at her patient. While waiting for the physician, she cleaned the abrasions on the baby’s face and hands, ensuring that she hadn’t missed any tiny pieces of glass. Tenderly she undressed the fussing infant, inhaling with mild surprise when she unfastened the diaper. Well, the baby was a girl. And her diaper was sodden. When had her mother last changed it?

Jackie cleaned the bright pink bottom gently, noticing an oval-shaped birthmark on one chubby thigh. The child was working herself into a frenzy again. Would the damn doctor never get here?



CASEY LINGERED IN THE ER waiting room for a while. He made a call to the station and confirmed that since he’d been officially off duty for the past hour, he wouldn’t be part of the team investigating the collision.

He passed on the information about the burning sedan, how there’d been a second explosion following the first. He’d seen cars catch fire because of a leaking fuel line before, but this one hadn’t fit the pattern.

After he’d concluded that call, he made another, leaving a message at the hotel where his friends were staying. “Sorry, something came up at work. A collision on PCH. I won’t be able to join you guys tonight.”

There was really no reason for him to cancel. He still had time to get home and shower and go out tonight. But he didn’t want to leave the hospital.

He wanted to make sure the baby was okay. Yeah, that was part of it, but he didn’t try to kid himself that that was the whole reason.

Truth was, he wanted to see that nurse again. Jackie Kellison. Hell, she sure was something. She’d been unstoppable at the accident scene. He was willing to bet she’d saved more than one life today with her quick thinking and fast action.

Never mind that she’d been a victim in the accident herself. Beyond the emotional distress of the experience, she’d obviously suffered whiplash. He’d noticed her holding her head tighter and tighter as time went on. That ride on his bike must have been murder.

He’d liked the way she’d rested her head on his back, though. He had a feeling Jackie didn’t lean on many people and he was glad he’d been one of them.

Anyway, she’d been in the accident and helped all those people at the scene, and now it appeared she was prepared to put in her full shift. Which only made him admire her more.

The desperate crescendo of sirens told him the accident victims were finally about to arrive. Tired after his long day, yet unable to relax, Casey began pacing. He wished there was something he could do to help. Waiting wasn’t his strong suit.

Perhaps he ought to go home and have that shower, and maybe a good long nap, too. But he couldn’t take the chance of missing Jackie, so he bought himself a coffee from the vending machine, then found he couldn’t drink it.

He tossed out the paper cup, wondering why he didn’t just go on his way. Izzy was shooting him quizzical glances, as if she, too, couldn’t figure out why he was still hanging around. She’d come over earlier to tell him the baby was about to go into the operating room. Later, she’d be transferred to the hospital’s infant care wing.

She. Despite the blue blanket, the baby was a girl. Shouldn’t have made any difference, but somehow he’d felt even more protective once he’d heard that. He hoped the doctor operating on her was good, that he was well rested and at the top of his game.

An hour went by, maybe two. Finally his patience was rewarded when Jackie came out to grab a can of cola from a vending machine in the hall. Dressed in scrubs, she leaned against the machine with exhaustion, a hand on her neck as she waited for the can to drop.

“Sore, huh?”

Her head shot up at his unexpected presence and she winced.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have snuck up on you.” He wanted to make her sit down for a minute. Maybe get some ice for that neck. Or massage it for her. Instead he leaned over to snag her cola out of the machine. When he handed it to her, she pressed the cool can against the side of her neck.

“You should be at home, looking after yourself.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “It’s just a pulled muscle. I consider myself lucky.”

Whiplash would send most accident victims running for the nearest liability lawyer. Casey’s admiration for the woman increased. “How’s it going in there?”

“Not too bad. The burn victim…” She squeezed her eyes shut as if blocking a horrible mental picture. “He and our baby’s mom are the only fatalities. The really good news is that we had a young woman trapped in a car who couldn’t move her legs, but it turns out her injuries won’t be permanent.”

“What about the rig driver?”

“Amazingly, he walked away with minor cuts and a few bruises.”

“Life makes no sense sometimes.”

She looked at him as if what he had said was somehow profound. “Yes. Like that poor mother. Now that she’s dead, who’s going to look after her baby?”

He encountered tragedies like this all the time in his work. She must, too. Yet he had to agree that this particular situation hit harder than most.

“With any luck she has a good father,” he said.

“I hope they find him soon. Though I sure wouldn’t want to be the one to tell him what happened.”

He nodded, feeling again the sense of affinity that they’d shared at the accident scene. They’d been strangers, tossed into circumstances beyond their control, but their impulses had been identical. To help as many people as they could.

And now that the emergency was over, Casey was left with the strong feeling that he needed to see this woman again. Not because she was pretty, or sexy, though she was both those things. No, he felt a pull that had nothing to do with the usual reasons he sought out a woman.

“Jackie, I—”

She shifted her gaze from him to the floor and backed up a step. The movements were slight, but enough to make his confidence falter.

“I’ve got to get back in there. We need to treat a couple of fractured bones. Our baby’s still in the operating room…”

Our baby. He liked that she’d said it that way, connecting the two of them to the child they’d saved. “Is she okay? Do you think I could see her?”

The expression in her eyes softened. “That’s nice of you to be concerned. But her operation won’t be over for a while yet. I’m not sure if they’ll allow visitors after that.”

“Well, until they locate her next of kin, I feel kind of responsible for the squirt.”

“I do, too. But they will find her father soon, don’t you think?”

“Probably working on it right now.”

Jackie started to leave, then turned back. “Thanks for getting us to the hospital so quickly.”

Seeing Jackie smile at him, Casey felt an unaccustomed twisting of his heart. He really did feel the most inexplicable concern for that child—a paternal response that was shockingly out of character. He hadn’t been faking it just to win Jackie over.

But he had to admit that in the past, he wouldn’t have been above using tactics like that.

He suddenly felt ashamed.

“Jackie?”

She paused again, and he could tell she was impatient to move on.

“What time does your shift end?”

“Not for ten more hours. It was nice to meet you, Officer Guthrie.”

Then she was gone, having made it all too clear that she had no intention of seeing him again.



CASEY RODE ACROSS the street to the gas station, where he washed his regulation bike and filled it with gas. He chatted briefly with the woman at the till—he and Debbie were big fans of the Mighty Ducks—then headed the few blocks back to the station to park his bike in the garage and hand in his tickets for the day.

He found his lieutenant reading copy straight from the fax machine. Tank Gordon, in his forties but so clean-cut he could pass for ten years younger, checked him out.

“That was quite a mess on PCH today. You okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. I was on my way back to the station at the end of my shift. The collision happened right in front of my eyes. First a sedan burst into flames. A tractor-trailer rig right next to it lost control and overturned. Cars piled up on both sides of the highway.” He shook his head, remembering.

“You left the scene without clearing an exit route for the emergency vehicles.”

Casey frowned. Was he being reprimanded here? “Backup had arrived, sir. We had lots of men on hand. I figured it was more important to get an injured baby to the hospital.”

“I heard.” The lieutenant was holding a grin in check.

“Huh?”

“They’re running footage on the evening news. Picked yourself a pretty little nurse, I’ll say that for you. Reminds me of Sally Fields in her younger days.”

Used to being teased about his ability to attract lovely women, Casey bristled this time. “Jackie Kellison was amazing out there. I’ll bet she saved more than a couple of lives.”

“So you didn’t notice her huge brown eyes? Or long, bare legs?”

“Cut the B.S., Lieutenant. In case you’ve forgotten, we had an injured baby on that bike, too. Her mother was killed in the crash.”

The lieutenant sobered with that. “Yeah. I know.”

“Any luck locating next of kin?” In those hours he’d paced the ER floor, Casey had worried a lot about the father. He couldn’t stop imagining the man coming home from work and wondering where his wife and baby were. Then the phone would ring and his life, as he’d known it, would come to an end….

Lieutenant Gordon turned to watch the fax machine slowly regurgitate a new sheet of paper. “Actually, the baby’s family is turning out to be a problem.”

“What do you mean, a problem?”

“We haven’t been able to ID the woman. And that car she was driving?” Gordon pulled out the latest fax and handed it to him. “Take a look at this.”



JACKIE’S SHIFT ENDED at dawn. She didn’t change out of her uniform since the shorts and top she’d been wearing yesterday afternoon were too torn and bloody to salvage. At the water fountain, she stopped to pop two muscle relaxants. She’d considered taking them earlier in her shift, but had worried that the medication might make her drowsy.

As a result she could barely move her head more than a couple of inches to either side. She hadn’t been this bad at the beginning of her shift, but now her muscles were seizing in protest. Driving would be impossible, but that was okay.

She no longer owned a car.

Declining a sympathetic colleague’s offer of a ride home, she took the stairs up to the infant care ward on the third floor. She had to see the baby to find out about his—no, her—eyes.

She checked the board at the nursing station and saw an infant listed as “Jane Doe.” She nodded to a nurse sitting behind a computer monitor. The buxom woman, in her early forties, was ponderously inputting chart information into the system.

“Excuse me. Is Jane Doe the baby from the accident on PCH yesterday?” Twelve hours had passed since Jackie’s shift had begun. The accident had occurred on Monday, so it was now Tuesday morning, very early.

The nurse stopped typing. She seemed glad for the interruption and eyed Jackie curiously. “Yes, poor thing, that’s her. The cops still haven’t figured out who she is.”

“But the accident happened over twelve hours ago.” Something was wrong here. “The mother died in the crash, but surely they must have located her father by now.” Her father and, Jackie hoped, a mess of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles. As far as she was concerned, the more family the better.

“Well, the cop who keeps checking up on her is doing a good job looking after her for the time being.”

Cop? Was Casey Guthrie…? She shot a speculative glance down the corridor.

“He’s in with her right now,” the nurse confirmed. “Why don’t you go say hi? You two looked real good together on the six o’clock news.”




CHAPTER FOUR


JACKIE REGISTERED the woman’s teasing words with some confusion—until she remembered the reporters who’d been waiting outside the ER when Casey had driven up to the door yesterday.

It felt like forever ago now.

So they’d made the regional news broadcast. That meant her older brother Kell would know what had happened and be worrying. Of course, Nate had probably told him by now anyway. She’d have to phone them both.

“Thanks.” A hand to her sore neck, she set off down the wide corridor. The name Jane Doe was posted on the wall next to the second room on the left. She tapped the partially open door, then stepped inside.

And held her breath.

A tall, athletic man in jeans and a white T-shirt was holding a blanket-wrapped bundle and rocking back and forth on his heels like a seasoned parent. He held a cold compress gently against the patch on the baby’s eye. Jackie thought he might have been humming a soft tune, but he stopped as soon as he noticed her.

“Hi,” she said.

Casey Guthrie had changed out of uniform and cleaned himself up. Oh, did he look good. Now Jackie did care about her ratty hair and her awful, soiled uniform. She pulled out the elastic from her ponytail and tried to run her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“How’s our Janey?” Jackie moved close enough to brush her fingers over the fuzz on the baby’s head. Though she’d expected the baby to wear an eye patch, the sight of it made her own eyes tear. She distracted herself by referring to the baby’s chart.

She checked the list of medications and saw everything she would have expected from mydriatics and cycloplegics, which would keep the pupil dilated, to the antibiotics that would ward off infection.

“She’ll have to wear that pressure patch for at least a day,” Jackie said.

“Yes. I was here when the surgeon stopped by to see how she was doing. As you suspected, there was a glass shard in her eye.” Casey broke the news in a quiet, sympathetic tone. “The doctors are hoping damage won’t be permanent, but at this point they just don’t know.”

“Oh, Casey.” She moved in close enough to kiss the little one’s forehead. “Does she seem to be in pain?”

“Mostly she’s been sleeping. Nurses have been in here ’round the clock. One just left to get a clean dressing.”

Jackie noticed Casey start his rocking motion again. “You’re good with kids. Do you have any?”

Though he didn’t wear a ring, she wasn’t going to simply assume he wasn’t married.

He grinned. “No wife. No kids. But I’m glad to get a little practice in. It may come in handy when my big brother starts a family.”

She noticed he didn’t say when he had kids. Did that mean he wasn’t planning a family for himself? A nurse bustled into the room then, and he handed Janey over to her—not before touching his forefinger to the side of the baby’s cheek.

Again, Jackie felt thick, bittersweet emotion stealing over her. Where was this child’s father? She blinked away a threatening tear, then noticed Casey wasn’t gazing at the baby anymore but at her.

Oh, Lord. He must be appalled at how awful she looked.

“I haven’t had a minute to myself since I saw you last,” she confessed. “I know I look like hell.” The accident had strained the ER department to the limit, even though they’d called in extra nurses and doctors.

“You were incredible.”

Casey’s eyes shone with admiration and, oddly, that made her want to cry again, too. What a crazy day.

“Hardly.” She turned to the chart once more, not knowing what else to do, and stared at the blurred lines of writing.

“You were a real hero today.”

“No.” She wasn’t. She’d helped some people a little, but there’d been too many she couldn’t help. That poor man incinerated in his own car. And Janey’s mother crushed and trapped under the tractor-trailer rig…

She blinked rapidly, but still felt her eyes growing damp.

No, she wasn’t a hero. She’d only done her job, and now she felt so…so tired. And more taxed emotionally than she’d admitted to her co-workers.

“Let me take you home.” Casey put an arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. She was reminded of riding with him on the bike, leaning against his back for support. Strange that she’d felt comfortable enough to do that. She barely knew Casey Guthrie.

Gently she eased out from under his arm. “It’s nice of you to offer. But I can take a cab.” It was more than nice of him to offer, actually. If he’d been at the hospital for most of the night, he had to be exhausted, too.

She attempted a smile and a feeble joke. “Anyway, I don’t think I can take another ride on your motorbike.”

He laughed. “That belongs to the department. I do own a bike of my own, a sweet little Harley that I know you’d love.” He winked, acknowledging the joke. “But I brought my car this time. Come on.”

There was no polite way to avoid walking down the corridor with him and taking the elevator together to street level. Outside, in the faint light of dawn, he led her to the visitors’ lot and she made out the sleek lines of a luxury sports car.

A white convertible Saab. She thought sadly of her totaled Mazda. “Nice car. I didn’t know cops were paid that well.”

“We aren’t.” He unlocked the doors and held the passenger one open for her. She hesitated, then decided she had no energy to argue the point. If he wanted to be chivalrous, then she would let him. He waited until she was settled, then closed the door gently and loped to the driver’s side.

“As a man with no ties or responsibilities, which is the way my big brother, Adam, always describes me, I can afford to spend most of my money on toys.”

Toys meaning fast cars and motorcycles. And women, too? Jackie could only speculate. Now that the emergency was over, she was able to fully appreciate just what a hunk this motorcycle cop was. Besides his great build and hot smile, his eyes held a certain sparkle that she guessed would appeal to women. No doubt he had a very active social life.

Unlike her.

She gave him directions to her condo, a few blocks back from the beach. She’d moved here two years ago, after selling the house she’d lived in with Andrew. At the time, leaving had been painful, but no way could she have stayed. Even packing had been more than she could endure. Her brothers, bless their hearts, had taken care of all of that, including the garage, Andrew’s study, his clothes…

Don’t go there, Jackie.

As she concentrated on relaxing her muscles, she realized that the pain in her neck was easing. The medication she’d taken must have finally kicked in. She leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. Casey, thank goodness, took the corners slow and easy. She wondered if he would drop her off on the street or come up to her door.

From what she’d seen of his manners so far, he would insist on walking her to the door. At which time she would thank him politely and he would leave. She would grab a quick bite to eat, then crash into bed.

Only, what if he asked if she would see him again?

He won’t. I’m not his type.

She was sure she’d pegged him right as a real ladies’ man. And she didn’t date that sort. Never had. Not even the bold and daring old Jackie had ever cared for that kind of a guy.

Okay, if that’s true, then stop thinking about him. And definitely stop looking at him as if you’d like to eat him for breakfast.

She tried thinking about what she would eat when she was home. What, if anything, did she have in her fridge right now? Her intended trip to the grocery store yesterday had been curtailed when the unseasonably warm weather had drawn her to the beach instead.

“Hungry?” Casey asked.

“You must have been reading my mind. I was trying to remember what I had in my fridge.”

“And?”

“Condiments, mostly,” she admitted. “Though I may have a pizza in the freezer.”

Just saying the word pizza made her realize how famished she was. Several hours ago she’d grabbed an energy bar and supplemented it with two or three colas since. But that was all.

“That sounds good,” Casey said.

A frozen pizza? Was he serious? “Have you had breakfast?”

“No breakfast. Or dinner, either, come to think of it. What with running back and forth between the station and the hospital—with one quick trip home to change—I don’t think I’ve eaten in over twelve hours.”

No wonder the frozen pizza sounded good to him. “Well, in that case—”

“Thought you’d never ask. I’d love to join you.”

His grin was cheeky and sexy at the same time. She wondered if there was a woman alive who could avoid a man like this. And more important, why would she want to?

Casey was unattached, he was gorgeous, he had a good job. There was no reason in the world she shouldn’t take the opportunity to get to know him better.

No reason, that is, except for the buzzing of nervous fear in her stomach. It was past time for her to start dating again—everyone said so.

But she needed to ease into the dating scene with caution. Maybe start with a nice, quiet accountant. Work her way up to a dentist. Then, maybe…maybe, she’d be ready to date a cop. One who rode motorcycles no less.

Though, maybe she was jumping the gun here. What made her think this was a date? She and Casey had shared a harrowing experience. As a result, he’d offered her a ride home. Now he wanted to join her for pizza because he really was starving, just as she was.

As her condo complex came into view, she directed him to the visitor parking lot under the building. They rode the elevator to the second floor, then walked the long hall to her corner unit.

“It’s small,” she said as she unlocked the front door. “But I do have an ocean view from the bedroom.”

“Hmm. I’d like to see that.”

Her hand froze. She lifted her head. He was smiling at her, that sparkly expression in his eyes again, as if he thought she was something special.

At the hospital when he’d looked at her that way, she’d assumed he was admiring her medical expertise. Now she had to wonder.

“Be careful, Officer Guthrie. I’m going to think you’re flirting with me.”

He laughed. “Finally she gets it.”

Oh. Her heart skipped with an excitement she hadn’t felt in years and years. Okay, so maybe he is interested. She opened the door, suddenly lighthearted. A quick glance at her reflection in the hall mirror brought her down to earth quickly. Oh, Lord, she looked worse than she’d thought. She dropped her keys in the wicker basket by the door and flung her purse on top.

She heard Casey lock the dead bolt behind her and felt a momentary doubt. What did she really know about this man?

She shook off the fear. He was a cop for heaven’s sake. How dangerous could he be?



CASEY LIKED JACKIE’S HOME. It was casual and comfortable, without much in the way of decorating froufrou. Her slip-covered couch looked inviting, the wooden table next to it seemed like something a person could put his feet up on without scratching or breaking anything. He strode to the window, but from this angle could only see the apartment building across the street.

As Jackie headed for the counter dividing living room from kitchen, she paused by the flashing red light on her phone. That light made him wonder. Jackie didn’t wear any rings, but maybe she took them off for work. Or maybe she had a boyfriend who hadn’t yet figured out what a treasure she was and staked his claim.

“This is probably a call from my older brother. Excuse me a minute while I let him know I’m okay.”

Pretending a casual interest in the volumes on her bookshelves, he unabashedly listened as she picked up the receiver and made the connection.

“Kell, it’s me, Jackie. Sorry I missed your call. My shift just ended and I wanted to let you and Nate know that I’m okay. My car, though…” She sighed. “I’m afraid it’s totaled. I’ll have to buy a new one.”

She kept the conversation brief, not mentioning the fact that she had a visitor. After she’d hung up, she went to the stove and turned on the oven. “I’m going to shower and change, really quick. Would you pop the pizza in when the oven’s ready? Help yourself to something to drink. I have orange juice and cola and I keep filtered water in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” He watched her disappear down the hall and soon heard the pounding of water from the shower in the bathroom.

He thought about her conversation with her brother. She’d been upset about her car. Casey wondered if it was too soon in their relationship to offer to help her shop for a new vehicle. He had some contacts at a few of the dealerships. As soon as he had the thought, he laughed at himself.

His usual reaction when he met a pretty new woman was to calculate how much fun he could have without getting in too deep. But he could tell already, Jackie was not going to be just another pretty new woman to him.

Considering he knew that, logic dictated he get out of here while the getting was good. The one problem with that very rational plan was that he didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be anywhere except here, with her. Besides, he still hadn’t told her the latest development in locating Janey’s family.

He strolled to the kitchen, noticing little things like the vibrant lime-green of her tea towels and an opened envelope on the counter by her phone. The return address was from a Dr. Michael Temple, clinical psychiatrist. It looked like the sort of envelope that would contain an invoice for services rendered.

Ignoring the urge to check to see if his hunch was right, he pulled the boxed pizza from the freezer and removed the wrappings. Once he had their meal in the oven, he returned to the task of inspecting her bookshelf. He wanted clues about this woman. Her novels were mostly bestsellers, like the kinds he enjoyed. Lots of action, mystery, suspense.

Interesting, but he needed more personal information. He picked up a framed photograph of Jackie and two men, obviously her brothers. Both were good-looking guys, with thick dark hair like their sister. He was surprised when he recognized the older one from the police station. Robert Kellison—Kell—rode mounted patrol. Jackie’s other brother looked familiar, too, but Casey couldn’t place where he’d seen him before.

The photograph had been taken in the country, probably at a ranch, since the three were posed on and around a wooden fence. There was a horse in the background, a real beauty.

They looked like a close-knit bunch, he thought, noticing the easy way Jackie’s hand rested on Kell’s shoulder and the protective way both men leaned in toward their sister. He set the photo down, then was about to turn on the television to pass the time when he caught a glimpse of something silver behind a crystal vase filled with colored glass disks. Was that another picture frame? He was reaching to move the vase when Jackie came out dressed in gray sweatpants that hugged her hips and a short white T-shirt that didn’t quite meet her navel. With her damp hair brushed back behind her ears, her thickly lashed eyes appeared huge.

“Something smells good.”

He’d forgotten about the pizza. He dashed back to the kitchen and pulled it from the oven, thankful that only the edges of the crust had begun to darken. She took plates from a cupboard and put cutlery on the counter, but neither of them bothered with anything but a napkin. She inhaled her first slice standing next to him. By the second, they were on the floor in the living room. She couldn’t finish the third, but he did. And a fourth, too.

“You were hungry,” she teased.

“Apparently so.”

Her long legs were spread out on the carpet as she leaned her back against the sofa. He noticed she was still careful about how she moved her head. After cleaning his hands on an extra napkin, he went to sit on the sofa behind her.

“Tell me how this feels.” Slipping his fingers under the neckline of her T-shirt, he massaged the muscles of her shoulders. He could feel the clenched knot to the right of her neck. Gently he worked his thumbs in opposing circles. It took several minutes before she finally relaxed.

“That feels great.”

“Good.” He kept his touch gentle, enjoying the soft feel of her skin, the minty scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body between his legs.

“What a crazy day.”

She sounded drowsy. Really, he should leave and let her get some sleep. But he lingered for ten more minutes…fifteen. Finally she leaned forward, out of his grasp.

“That was so nice, Casey. But we should probably…”

She got to her feet awkwardly, leaving him no choice but to stand, as well.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve stayed too long.”

“No. It’s been nice.”

Her smile was tentative, but the moment they made eye contact, he felt again the novel certainty that this woman was somehow different from every other woman he’d met.

“Do you feel it, too?” he asked.

“What?”

He should have dropped it then, but something inside him wouldn’t let him. “That it wasn’t just a coincidence we were both on the scene of that collision today.”

“You think we were meant to help those people?”

“Yes.” And also that they were meant to meet each other. But he could tell from the way she’d begun to back away from him again that it was too soon for him to say something nearly that serious.

“Well, I’m not sure that it was fate or anything. But I’m glad we were able to be of some use.” She folded the pizza box and stuffed it into the garbage.

“Are you going to visit the baby again?” he asked.

“Yes. Definitely. I wonder if they’ve found her family yet. Do you know why it’s taking so long?”

“Her mother didn’t have any ID on her,” he explained. “Not a purse, not a wallet, not even a driver’s license in her pocket.”

She frowned. “That’s strange.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Were there any registration papers in the glove compartment?”

“Yeah. According to them, the car belongs to a Myra Bedford in Los Angeles.”

“But you don’t think the woman driving the car was Myra?”

“We know she wasn’t. About an hour after the accident, Myra Bedford reported her vehicle stolen.”

Now Jackie was really looking confused. He didn’t blame her. The situation was bizarre to say the least.

“Myra Bedford was visiting her daughter in Courage Bay. She went shopping in the Super Value Mall with her three-month-old grandson yesterday afternoon, and when she came out of the mall, she found her Taurus wagon missing.”





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