Читать книгу More Than A Lawman - Anna J. Stewart - Страница 11

Chapter 2

Big-city emergency rooms in the early morning hours on a Saturday were chaos personified. Add in a three-car pileup on the I-5, a collapsed back porch thanks to an overabundance of drunk partygoers, and the mass-testosterone-induced excitement of a road-trip bachelor party gone wrong, and Cole was looking at chaos in the rearview mirror.

“Detective Delaney, it would be better if you waited outside, please,” the duty nurse said as she switched on monitors and ordered her staff about.

“I’m staying out of the way.” Wedged in the corner by the door, he couldn’t be more out of the way if he was in the next room. Cole kept his gaze pinned to Eden’s. She was holding it together, but only barely. He was well acquainted with her aversion to hospitals and the medical profession in general. She’d be shaky under normal circumstances.

These circumstances were anything but normal. “I’m right here, Eden, okay?”

She nodded, once, sharp, and flinched as the nurse inserted an IV into her arm. That Eden pressed her lips into a tight white line told him she was either repressing a scream or debating verbally abusing her caregivers. He was tempted to advise the nurse to tie Eden’s hands down, but he didn’t want to borrow trouble. As long as he stayed in sight, as long as she knew someone who cared about her was here, she’d be okay.

His entire body itched to answer his cell. It had been buzzing on and off since he’d left the scene, but one glare from the nurse had him pocketing the device and riding out the endless minutes it took for them to evaluate and stabilize Eden’s core temperature.

As much as he wanted to be at the crime scene, his place was here, with Eden. He’d vowed to her older brother, Cole’s best friend, that he’d protect her. It had been eight years ago that Logan had left for—and never returned from—Afghanistan. Little did Cole know that oath would morph into a second job.

If there had ever been a time Eden St. Claire hadn’t pushed the boundaries of good judgment, Cole couldn’t remember it. Act first, worry later was her mantra.

But, he reminded himself, Jack McTavish was solid. Cole’s partner would keep the crime scene clear and their superiors at bay. And when he couldn’t, Cole would get a 222 text message.

Obviously it was past time to give Eden an emergency code. If for no other reason than to preserve Cole’s sanity.

Guilt then stabbed at his gut. Cole should have known something was wrong when Eden missed their weekly confab at Monroe’s Coffeehouse. Or he might have, if they hadn’t had that rip-roaring argument last week when he’d told her she was being reckless with her reporting. Instead of worrying when she didn’t show, he’d assumed she was trying to teach him a lesson and had ditched him. She’d done it in the past when she’d gotten too caught up in one of her stories.

His frustration boiled over. That crazy blog of hers had gotten out of control. Eden on Ice. Bad enough she’d gone to journalism school—as a cop, he wasn’t overly fond of interfering reporters to begin with. No, she had to supplement her crime-reporter income from the Sacramento Tribune by running a blog that kept tabs on killers, serial and otherwise, who were reputedly in California, Nevada or Oregon. She’d quickly gained a certain reputation with law-enforcement agencies—and not necessarily for the better. If Eden felt justice hadn’t been served or if one of these lowlifes was on the loose, watch out. Chances were the suspected killer featured in Eden St. Claire’s database.

Not that she’d paid any mind to others besides the Iceman in recent months. Her fixation had almost done her in once and for all.

He watched as Eden’s eyes drifted closed and her head lolled to the side.

Finally. She was asleep and Cole felt as if he could breathe. He sagged against the wall.

When was he going to learn that nothing good ever happened between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.? His father had called it “the hour of the wolf,” when evil lurked, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

And phone calls at that time?

It was never happy news.

What relief he’d felt when he’d seen her name on his caller ID vanished when the disguised voice on the other end told him to hurry...to find her...before it was too late.

Cole didn’t know what was more unsettling. The fact he hadn’t known Eden was missing or that it was the Iceman himself who had seen fit to inform him where she could be found.

Oh, his lieutenant was going to love the fact a serial killer now had Cole’s direct number.

Even worse? Tonight’s events meant that Eden had been right all along. The Iceman hadn’t left the Central Valley area. He was still killing, and, as of a few hours ago, had upped the stakes considerably.

Cole took advantage of Eden sleeping and slipped into the hallway. He kept one eye on the open door to her exam room as he answered the call from one of the evidence techs on the case. “Hey, Tammy. What’s up?”

“Thought you’d want to know. The officers you had checking on Eden’s house reported in. They found her car parked in her driveway. Her purse and cell phone are inside. Doors are locked, house and car keys were wedged under some kind of gargoyle on her front porch. No sign of a break-in.”

A shiver raced down his spine. “He knows where she lives.” And how she lived. That she kept her spare key in that hideously adorable creature was a long-running joke—and secret—between the two of them. She had an entire collection of creepy, ugly ornaments scattered about that porch and backyard.

Given the growing popularity of her blog—she had a massive following—the fact she’d captured the attention of her latest obsession and target didn’t surprise him. What nerve had she struck that awakened the Iceman from his hibernation?

“Did they find any prints?” Cole asked around a too-tight throat. He saw Eden’s feet move under the pile of blankets and shifted to be able to watch her more clearly.

“Running them now. So far all they’ve found are Eden’s. Looks like another dead end. Oh, wow.” Tammy hissed in a sharp breath. “Wrong thing to say, sorry.”

Cole found himself smiling thanks to that odd sense of humor most cops possessed. “It would have been if we’d gotten there any later. Thanks, Tammy. Let McTavish know, will you? I’ll be on scene as soon as I can.”

“Tell Eden when she’s better she owes me a bottle of Cuervo.”

Cole frowned. “Why?”

Tammy clicked her tongue. “She’ll know. Just give her the message.”

He’d better not find out Eden had been bribing his techs for information again.

“Detective Delaney?” A lanky middle-aged man in scrubs and a white coat headed toward him, the dark circles under his eyes made more pronounced by the thin wire-rim glasses. “I’m Dr. Collins. The nurse at the desk said I should talk to you about Ms. St. Claire before I examine her?”

Cole pocketed his phone and shook the doctor’s hand. “I need to be in there when you examine her.”

“Are you a family—”

“I have her medical power of attorney.” Cole recited his argument from memory. “You don’t have her file here, but suffice it to say she has a severe phobia when it comes to hospitals, and, no offense, to doctors.” The fact Eden held no control over her fear had been a topic of late-night conversation on more than one occasion. “I’m not talking issues, mind you. I’m talking full-blown panic attacks. You want me there if you want her coherent and amenable to your exam.”

“O—kay.” Dr. Collins’s grimace did little to reassure Cole that the physician understood the situation. “Has she considered therapy—”

“Preaching to the choir, Doc.” Cole gave a slow shake of his head. “Been there, tried everything. As long as there’s someone she trusts in the room, she pushes through. All the same, the sooner you get this over with, the better.” He made a beeline for Eden, much to the frustration of the nurses in her room. “Eden?” He took hold of her hand. “E? You need to wake up, okay? Just for a little while.”

He saw her tense, as if she were grinding her teeth, and her eyes opened so slowly he wondered if they’d been lined with lead.

“Sleepy.”

“It’s no wonder,” Dr. Collins said as he stood opposite Cole and accessed her test results on the nearby computer. “Your blood count is alarmingly low. Have you by any chance been diagnosed with anemia?”

“No.” Eden frowned as if it was difficult to concentrate. She stared down at her now bandaged wrists.

“I’ve done a preliminary exam and haven’t found any internal issues, Doctor,” the remaining nurse in the room said. “No swelling, no broken bones or fractures, and she’s not complaining of any pain.”

“We’ll double-check all that. In the meantime, the saline should get those numbers up. Ms. St. Claire? Eden?” Dr. Collins, clearly taking a cue from Cole, kept his voice low and calm as he asked, “I’d like to examine you, if that’s okay? Detective Delaney can stay here with you. We want you to be calm. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

Eden squeezed Cole’s hand so tightly he almost lost circulation. “All right.”

Cole blanked his mind as Dr. Collins kept his word, examining Eden with a thorough efficiency that made Cole wonder if the AMA should consider cloning him.

“Eden, the nurse said you told her you had not been sexually assaulted.”

“That’s right.” Eden’s voice was tight and her fingers went white around Cole’s hand.

“But you were unconscious for a period of time.” He hesitated. “I’d like your permission to conduct a sexual-assault exam.”

Eden squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, but a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. Cole swallowed and pretended not to notice. “Do I know how to show you a good time or what?” she joked in such a strained voice Cole’s heart constricted. “Do it,” she said.

Cole’s admiration for Eden—and all women—amplified exponentially as Dr. Collins proceeded.

A few moments went by and Dr. Collins murmured to the nurse, “No indication of sexual assault.” He gave Cole a quick nod of reassurance. “Now. Let’s see what we have here.” He skimmed his hands up her left arm, tangled with the IV line and needle poking into her skin, before checking Eden’s other arm. “Nurse? Did you or one of your assistants attempt to put a line in on her right side?”

“No, Doctor.” The nurse leaned over the bed and followed the doctor’s gaze to the bruises forming in the crook of Eden’s arm. “I did make note of a similar puncture wound in the side of her neck. Excuse me, Detective.” The nurse circled around and gently held Eden’s head to the side. “It’s small, but there’s a bruise forming.”

“We’ll get you pictures, Detective.” Dr. Collins tapped away on the bedside computer. “Her first blood results are in and there are trace amounts of Propofol in your system. I want to run more tests, but we won’t get the results until later this morning. Eden?” Dr. Collins rested his hands on the railing and bent down so she had no choice but to look at him. “Eden, I want to admit you overnight. We need to get your blood count stabilized.”

Her eyes went wide before they drooped.

“I know you don’t want to be here, but I don’t like those marks you have. Give me twelve hours, Eden. That’s all I’m asking for. And I can sedate you for most of them if you want.”

“Wh-what do you think you’ll find?” She sounded little-girl scared, a sure sign she wasn’t herself yet.

“I can’t be certain, but I need you to trust me. Just for a little while. Can you do that?”

“Cole?” Eden shifted and looked him in the eye. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Where else would I be?” He squeezed her hand as his heart started thudding an uneasy rhythm.

“’Kay. Put me out.”

“When you feel up to it—” Cole bent close and whispered to her as the nurse and Dr. Collins discussed the amount of sedative “—you and I are going to have a very long talk about what happened tonight. You hear me, Eden?”

He ignored every warning blaring in his head telling him to keep an emotional distance, but this was Eden. There wasn’t any distance to be had. “You’re done doing things this way. Understand?”

“Mmm.” She nodded as her face relaxed into a goofy smile. “I hear you. Don’t agree, though. He’s out there. Hunting.” She groggily patted his hand as the nurse injected the sedative into her IV. “Gotta get him. Gotta get all of them. For Chloe...”

And then she was out.

“Doctor?” Cole placed her hand gently on the bed.

“Outside, please.” Dr. Collins led him into the hallway and drew Eden’s door almost shut. “I can’t be certain, but given her platelet and red cell count, I’d say her blood’s been drained. Enough that I’m seeing more signs of that than the hypothermia. I’ll know more once those tests come back. If you’ll excuse me.”

Cole nodded, then caught the nurse as she came out of Eden’s room. “How much of the sedative did you give her?”

“She’ll be out for six, maybe seven hours.”

“I’ll be back in five.”