Читать книгу Silent Awakening - Elaine Barbieri - Страница 11

“I don’t believe it.”

Brady sat at his desk in a squad room functioning at full tilt around him. He was deaf to the shuffle of handcuffed prisoners being moved across the room with mumbled protests, the loud conversation at the desk behind him, the droning hum of fans intended to circulate air that never seemed cool enough on a hot summer day and the burst of laughter from the doorway at a joke not meant for tender ears. Unbuttoning his shirt collar and loosening his tie, he stared down at the report faxed to him that morning. He repeated, “I don’t believe it.”

Stansky looked up from the paperwork on his desk, which abutted Brady’s. He said, “Okay, I’ll bite. What don’t you believe?”

“Did you read this fax that came in this morning from Manderling Pharmaceuticals?”

“Did it have my name on it?”

“No.”

“Then I didn’t read it.”

“It’s in reply to the fax I sent them about the Winslow case.”

Stansky’s fair face twisted and he groaned. “Dammit, Brady, that Winslow case is all I’ve heard about for the past week. We do have other cases, you know.”

“Yeah, sure, but only this one has Wilthauer breathing down our necks.”

Stansky opened his mouth as if to reply but then shut it abruptly, and Brady’s gaze narrowed.

“Say it.”

Stansky shook his head. “Say what?”

“What you were going to say.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Say it, Joe. You know you will, sooner or later.”

Stansky paused a moment longer, then leaned across his desk to reply in a softer voice, “Look, I know Wilthauer is on our backs about this one, but I never saw you so wrapped up in a case before.” He paused again, then added, “That little CDC chick wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would she?”

“Little CDC chick?” Brady forced a surprised expression that he was sure wouldn’t fool anyone, especially Joe Stansky. The truth was, that “little chick” had a lot to do with his interest in the Winslow case. After his conversation with Captain Wilthauer, he’d called in a favor from an old buddy in the Atlanta PD. What he’d learned hadn’t confirmed his thinking.

In the first place, Miss Natalie Patterson wasn’t a “fresh from the university know-it-all” as he had thought. She was actually twenty-four years old. She’d had a brush with the radical scene in college, but she had graduated with honors and seemed to have put the past behind her. She had several years’ experience in the field, making her qualifications quite adequate for her job at the CDC. Her work at the CDC was more than adequate, too, if he were to believe the evaluations written by her supervisor, Dr. George Minter, a tough old cookie who seemed to have taken a “special interest” in her. It did not escape his notice, however, that Minter was the same man who’d named her the U.S. expert on Candoxine and recommended she be sent to NYC to supervise the testing of the liver samples.

He didn’t know why learning about her personal association with a fellow worker at the CDC, Charles Randolph, bothered him. Randolph was highly regarded at that agency. It was rumored he had a thing for her and wasn’t the type to give up. That was understandable, Brady supposed.

He’d had to face the fact that there was nothing negative in Miss Natalie Patterson’s background. The only question that remained was if she was really an expert on Candoxine. As far as he could see, the answer was that she was the best the CDC had to offer.

And…it was damned hard to admit that he had been wrong.

Stansky interrupted Brady’s thoughts to say, “That’s right, that CDC chick. You know damned well who I’m talking about.”

“Oh, you mean the CDC woman you agreed was a ‘hot little number?’”

Stansky sneered. “Right. That one. You know, the same woman who tested the Winslow barbecue food this week and discovered traces of Candoxine in the lemonade.”

“After both our lab and the Health Department lab tests failed to reveal any contaminants.”

“So she found Candoxine when our labs couldn’t. So what?”

“So you should’ve been at the Health Department lab the day the specimens were confirmed. You would’ve thought she’d won the Nobel Prize the way those doctors acted.”

Stansky retorted, “Your reaction to Natalie Patterson is unreasonable, Brady, and you know it. I don’t know why she strikes a sour note in your mind, but did it ever occur to you why those doctors may have made such a fuss over her discovery? Dr. Gregory wanted her to be temporarily assigned to his lab so the heat would be off them when the press came calling, and he didn’t want her objecting. That was pretty smart of him, if you ask me.”

Brady did not respond and Stansky said, “Just forget it, will you? What does that fax say?”

“Nothing—except that Natalie Patterson probably solved the case for us, too.”

“Give me that fax!”

Stansky read the fax, then looked up. “Maybe this Patterson cookie does deserve the Nobel Prize. I’d say this is pretty cut-and-dried. This guy Dr. Hadden Moore met Mattie Winslow in the States when he was sent here by Manderling. If everything this fax reports is true, it all went south from there. He stalked her to the extent that she signed a restraining order against him.” Stansky took a breath, then added, “You’re right. Natalie Patterson did just about solve the case for us. All we have to do now is find out if this Moore guy is still in the country. If he is, we’ll find him and Wilthauer will be happy, the Commissioner will be ecstatic and this case will be history.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong now?”

“Wilthauer wants us to keep ‘the babe’ informed on our progress in the case.”

“Us?”

Brady stared at him.

“Who’s the principal on this case?”

“Me.”

“So—the job’s all yours.”

“Maybe not.” Brady stood up abruptly. “Let’s go talk to Wilthauer.”

NATALIE WALKED ALONG the crowded New York street, weaving between loitering office workers determined to soak up as many rays as possible during a limited noon break on a sunny summer day. She avoided collision with determined street vendors selling all manner of wares—hot dogs and pretzels, knockoff jewelry and handbags, “rare” and used books, “original works of art” or anything else a wandering tourist or a willing New Yorker might buy.

She was neither a New Yorker nor a wandering tourist, but she should’ve known better than to expect to make time when traffic was at its height and taxis were unobtainable. She had finally caught a bus and had ridden as far as she could before getting off to walk the rest of the way to the police precinct assigned to the Winslow case.

She also should have known better than to wear shoes that weren’t completely broken in.

Natalie grimaced as she continued walking. It was only a few more blocks, but she was sweltering in her sober brown suit, she was hungry and every corner where crowds converged to await the signal to cross a street added to her irritation.

Chuck had called her the previous evening to say he missed her and that the days dragged without her. She had been miserable in her lonely hotel room where the droning of the TV was the only sound that broke the silence. Talking to him had lifted her spirits to the point where she sincerely began questioning her former feelings. Chuck was such a great guy. When she was new and uncertain at the CDC, he had been gracious and willing to help her with every problem. There had never been a hint of condescension in his voice or mockery in his gaze—unlike her brief encounters with the obnoxious Detective Tomasini.

Natalie stared at the flashing street signal, then finally admitted to herself the true source of her irritation. George had committed her to completing all the lab work connected with the Winslow case and she had spent the past week conducting tests on samples of the Winslow barbecue food. She had known what to expect, yet the discovery of Candoxine residue in the lemonade had made her flesh crawl. With that grisly finding behind her, she had spent her spare time at the Health Department lab occupying herself with studies regarding the ongoing West Nile virus problem in NYC and its environs. She was enjoying her participation in that important project. The work was intriguing. It took her mind off the Winslow case, and she was pleased with Dr. Gregory’s reaction to her initial efforts; yet as far as she was concerned, she wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the rapidly developing murder investigation as possible.

Also, if she were totally honest, she would have to admit that she was dreading another session with the odious detective in charge of the Winslow case.

Natalie waited impatiently for the signal to change as swiftly moving street traffic roared past and the crowd built up on the corner behind her. The image of Detective Tomasini’s mocking expression returned to mind, and her irritation swelled. Captain Wilthauer had insisted that her presence was necessary at this meeting so she could be brought up to date on the most recent information received on the case. He had also explained that he needed her help in alerting all his detectives to specific information regarding the properties of Candoxine that were essential at this point in the case. The call was a testament to her credibility—yet her discomfort did not abate.

Dr. Ruberg’s reaction to Detective Tomasini still mystified her. She simply could not fathom how such an intelligent woman could find a man like him appealing. Tomasini was—

Natalie gasped as whispered words and a lightning fast thrust in the middle of her back sent her lurching forward into the street.

Her horrified scream was simultaneous with the screech of an approaching limo’s brakes and the sharp, breathtaking burst of pain that sent her spiraling into darkness.

“A CONCUSSION…needs to rest…needs to be careful for the next week, at least…”

Mumbling and disjointed phrases in soft tones roused Natalie to wakefulness. She attempted to open her eyes, but the light hurt, and she squeezed her eyes shut again.

Finally peering out from between slitted eyelids, she saw an attractive woman in a lab coat move into her line of vision. The woman questioned, “How do you feel, Natalie? My name is Dr. Weiss. I’ve been taking care of you since your accident.”

Accident? No. It wasn’t an accident. She knew that because—

The pounding in her head started again and she couldn’t remember.

The doctor cautioned, “Lie still, please. You have a concussion. Bystanders pulled you out of the path of an oncoming car just in time when you fell into the street, but you struck your head on the curb. Headaches, scraped knees and a general soreness notwithstanding, you should be all right in a few days. You were lucky. The accident could have been fatal.”

“Not an accident…”

The doctor turned to a shadowed figure near the doorway that mumbled something in response. Natalie strained to see the person, but her vision blurred and she closed her eyes.

“What did you say, Natalie?” The doctor’s voice again. “I couldn’t understand you.”

Her eyes still closed, Natalie replied with a touch of breathlessness, “Not an accident…someone pushed me.”

The doctor shook her head sympathetically. “I’m sorry. Such careless behavior is unforgivable, but unfortunately all too common in a crowded city.”

“Not an accident,” Natalie repeated. She raised her hand to her head as a vague memory nagged. A pain stabbed sharply and she rasped, “Somebody shoved me. I felt it.”

The doctor turned back briefly toward the doorway, then replied, “We can discuss this later, Natalie. You’re in no condition to talk now.”

Her stomach suddenly queasy, Natalie insisted faintly, “It wasn’t an accident…” before surrendering to the encroaching darkness.

“WHAT DID she say?” Brady stood near the entrance to Natalie’s hospital room. He frowned as Dr. Weiss approached, awaiting her response.

“She said the accident wasn’t an accident. Somebody pushed her.” Dr. Weiss glanced at his left hand with a look that was slightly less than professional. She smiled at the absence of a ring as she continued, “I wouldn’t take what she said too seriously, though, Detective. It’s quite normal to be confused after a head injury. Somebody at the back of the crowd might have pushed a little too hard and caused her to fall into the street, but I doubt it. It’s been my experience that she probably won’t even remember what she said when she wakes up again.”

Brady shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think so, Doctor. She’s a very precise woman. She doesn’t make haphazard statements.”

Drawing Brady into the busy hospital corridor, Dr. Weiss asked, “Is that why you’re here, in an official capacity because she claims she was pushed?”

“No, I’m here because—” Brady paused. Yes, why was he here? Wilthauer had called for a squad meeting with Natalie Patterson because of the fax he’d received from Manderling. They had waited impatiently for her to arrive, only to receive a phone call from Dr. Gregory when she was already an hour late, informing them that Natalie had had an accident, that she had been taken to the hospital unconscious and that he was on his way there. Dr. Gregory had said he’d let them know more about her condition as soon as the information became available.

Brady hadn’t been inclined to wait.

Dr. Gregory and he arrived at the hospital within minutes of each other to find Natalie still unconscious. Satisfied that her injury wasn’t life-threatening, Dr. Gregory had gone back to his office. Not quite certain of the reason, Brady had stayed.

It had occurred to Brady as he watched Natalie lying in the hospital bed, a bruised patch on her forehead where she had received several stitches and raw, scraped palms the only visible signs of her injuries, that she looked far different from the self-possessed academic that she had sought to appear to be when they had previously met. Instead, she looked young, innocent, and so damned helpless and alone that it twisted him up inside. He wasn’t sure if what he felt was guilt for the way he had acted toward her or if—

Dr. Weiss asked at his continued hesitation, “Is Natalie a friend of yours?”

“We’re working together on a case.” Brady considered his response further, noting the spark of interest in the striking doctor’s eyes and the bare finger on her left hand, which still bore the mark of a ring. The doctor was obviously recently divorced and making certain he knew she was available. Under other circumstances, he might’ve been flattered enough to accept the doctor’s unspoken invitation. Instead, he heard himself add, “But she’s a…special friend.”

“Oh. She’s luckier than I thought.” Dr. Weiss added with a shrug of her shoulders, “Stay as long as you like, Detective. She should wake up soon.”

“Right.”

Brady watched the sway of Dr. Weiss’s hips as she strode down the hallway. Interesting. Dr. Weiss obviously had plenty to offer, and he had just turned it all down. For the life of him, he didn’t know why.

Brady glanced into Natalie’s room.

Not an accident. Somebody pushed me. I felt it.

Brady walked back inside, pulled the armchair closer to the bed, and sat down.

CONSCIOUSNESS CAME slowly and painfully. The throbbing in her head had not subsided, but the semidarkness of the room was a relief when Natalie opened her eyes and attempted to get her bearings.

Memory nagged again and fear stabbed her gut. She had been standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change when someone had deliberately pushed her into the path of an oncoming car.

Accident…accident…

Natalie closed her eyes, unable to hold back the tear that slipped out the corner of her eye as the pounding in her head increased. She gasped when a calloused hand smoothed it away and a deep voice said, “Are you all right, Natalie?”

She recognized that voice.

Natalie opened her eyes to the image that had haunted her angry thoughts for the past week. She said in a croaking voice, “What are you doing here?”

Detective Brady Tomasini smiled as he responded, “It’s nice to know you’re glad to see me.” It took Natalie a moment to realize she’d never seen him smile before. The transformation was startling.

He sobered as he asked, “How do you feel, Natalie? Do you want me to call the doctor?”

“Natalie?” she continued hoarsely, “When did we get on a first-name basis?”

“When they brought you into the hospital unconscious.” He asked again, “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

“No. I’m not ready for her yet.”

“The nurse?”

“No.”

“Your supper came while you were sleeping—a liquid diet, I think. Do you want anything?”

Natalie shuddered. “No.”

“Some water?”

Natalie eyed him cautiously, “Why are you being so nice?”

“All I did was ask if you wanted some water.”

Natalie swallowed with difficulty, then said, “Yes.”

She was uncertain how to react when Tomasini held the cup close to her lips and tilted the straw into her mouth, but she swallowed thankfully.

A sudden thought occurred to her and she asked abruptly, “Am I dying?”

Amused, Tomasini replied, “Not that I know of.”

“Then why—?”

“You were late for the meeting at the precinct, and Dr. Gregory called and said you’d had an accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

All sign of levity disappeared from Tomasini’s expression. “That’s what you told the doctor this afternoon when you woke up the first time.”

“It wasn’t an accident.” Natalie closed her eyes again as the pounding in her head increased. She persisted with her eyes closed, “Somebody pushed me. I felt his hands.”

Natalie opened her eyes slowly. Tomasini wasn’t laughing.

“Dr. Weiss said the sensation of being pushed was probably just a result of your concussion.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

He looked amused again. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

Natalie took a deep breath, winced at the effort, and said, “Why would somebody push me, Detective?”

“Brady.”

“What?”

“My first name is Brady. In answer to your question, I don’t know.” He added, “I’m not even completely sure I can believe what you’re telling me now. You might wake up tomorrow and forget everything you just said.”

“Somebody pushed me!”

“All right, don’t get angry. They’ll throw me out of here if I upset you.”

The sound of footsteps turned them both toward the door as a gray-haired nurse entered. Her cheerful voice reverberated in the silence of the room as she said, “So you’re awake at last. Good for you! Maybe this fellow will go home, now that he sees you’re all right.” She smiled as she turned back toward the door. “Dr. Weiss is still on call. I’ll bring her back to take a look at you. I’ll only be a minute.”

Natalie looked at Brady as the nurse left the room. She said, “You’ve been here all day?”

“No, only since they put you in here.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Have I been sitting here, waiting for you to wake up? Yes. Why? Because when you first opened your eyes, you claimed someone deliberately pushed you into the street. For some reason, I believed you and I wondered why somebody would want to kill you.”

“Kill me…” A chill ran down Natalie’s spine. “Somehow I didn’t think of it that way.”

“What did you think?”

“I don’t know.”

Natalie saw him frown as he searched her face. She noted the concern that knit his dark brows and she wondered what he saw. A slowly escalating fear gained control as she asked, “Who would want to kill me?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you. It could’ve been a random act—some psychopath with a grudge against something or other. Unfortunately, that kind of thing does happen occasionally.”

“No…I don’t think so. It was—” Memory nudged again and Natalie shuddered. Her breathing grew agitated as the memory cleared and she gasped, “It wasn’t random.”

“How do you know that?” Brady moved closer. He gripped her hand as she started to shake. He said tensely, “Natalie?”

“I know because—” Natalie’s breath quivered on her lips. Her eyes widened as she managed to choke out the words, “Because…he said my name.”

BRADY INSTINCTIVELY moved closer. He held her hand tighter, but she was suddenly trembling so badly that her teeth were chattering. Leaning closer, he whispered against her cheek, “Don’t be afraid, Natalie. You’re safe now.”

Natalie mumbled with growing incoherence, “How did this happen? I don’t understand. He said my name…my name…”

She moaned and twisted in bed. A wave of panic overwhelmed Brady and he pressed the call button. Where the hell was everybody? He turned as Dr. Weiss ordered sharply from behind him, “Step back, Detective. Move out of the way, please.”

Brady drew back to the far wall and watched as Dr. Weiss talked softly, responding to Natalie’s increasingly confused mumblings. He saw her speak to the nurse, then accept the syringe the nurse handed her a few minutes later. After injecting it into the IV, Dr. Weiss turned toward him to say, “Perhaps you’d better leave for a little while, Detective. There are some things I’ll need to take care of here that’ll take me a half hour or so. Don’t worry. Natalie will be fine while you’re gone.”

Nodding, Brady started toward the door. He had reached the hallway when he heard Dr. Weiss call out, “Wait a minute, please.” Drawing him outside the room a few moments later, Dr. Weiss said, “I heard what Natalie told you, Detective, but you have to understand that situations like this are quite common with head trauma. Natalie may even come up with more alarming delusions before this is over. She’s confused…frightened. She’s had a terrible experience and her mind is trying to make sense out of it. In my opinion, it wouldn’t be wise to put too much credence into what she says for another day, at least until she’s completely coherent.”

“You could be right, Doctor.” Refusing to add that she could also be wrong—dead wrong—Brady said, “You said you’d be busy here for a while?”

“About half an hour, at least. Natalie needs to be made more comfortable before she’s settled in for the night.” She hesitated. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get yourself a cup of coffee? I’ll make sure somebody stays with her until you return, if that’s what’s concerning you.” She patted his arm. “She’ll be much better tomorrow. You’ll see.”

Brady walked rapidly down the hospital corridor, his expression tense. He didn’t like this. Dr. Weiss could be right, of course. Everything Natalie had said could be a result of her injury, but he didn’t buy it.

Brady scrutinized the surrounding rooms as he passed. He had half an hour. Visiting hours were in effect, making it difficult as he searched the faces of the crowd moving down the hallway, but he also knew there was safety in numbers. With Dr. Weiss and the nurse in Natalie’s room, and with steady traffic moving past, Natalie would be safe enough for a while—at least long enough for him to get outside so he could use his cell phone to call the precinct and to make a quick call to the veterinary hospital.

Sarah was going to miss his nightly visit.

Wilthauer would have a fit when he called.

Stansky would be sure he’d gone crazy.

Hell, maybe he had.

Brady rang the elevator and waited anxiously. Actually, no one was more surprised than he was at the range of emotions Natalie—a virtual stranger—had raised in him. A few hours earlier, he had been gritting his teeth at the thought of seeing her at that precinct meeting; yet the moment he saw her lying in that hospital bed, battered, bruised and so damned helpless—

Brady felt an inexplicable heat rise to his face. He’d find the animal who’d pushed Natalie into the street and make sure the bastard never tried anything like that again.

He had half an hour.

The elevator doors opened and Brady stepped inside. He automatically scanned the hallway again as the elevator doors closed.

DR. HADDEN MOORE strode down the hospital hallway at a modest pace. It was almost nine o’clock and daylight was fading on the busy streets outside. Inside the hospital, the hallways had cleared of visitors and the nurses were busy dispensing meds before the patients were settled down for the night.

He wasn’t concerned by the late hour. Visiting hours didn’t apply to him. Dressed as he was in a white lab coat he had removed from the hospital linen closet, and with a stethoscope around his neck that he had found lying nearby, no one gave him a second look. The nurses’ station was vacant when he strolled past and he picked up a chart without challenge. Yet it didn’t really matter if he were challenged. He had a Ph.D. and he was completely confident that he was capable of carrying off his disguise in a convincing manner.

Hadden halted and leaned down toward the water fountain, frowning as Dr. Rita Weiss strode toward the elevator. Dr. Weiss was late leaving the hospital. His short visit to the emergency room earlier that day had been very informative. Natalie Patterson had been brought in and her injuries treated. She had been admitted and her care turned over to the recently divorced, efficient Dr. Weiss, whom a chatty clerk had helpfully pointed out to him. He had then gone to the cafeteria to pass the time until Natalie was situated in her room, the location of which the clerk had also cheerfully provided.

He had waited patiently until a later hour when he knew he could make his entrance virtually without being noticed.

His smile faltered as he approached Natalie’s room. Aware of the merits of well-planned strategy, he had resumed his surveillance of Natalie’s daily routine since she’d been assigned to the city, but she had emerged from her hotel later than usual that morning, surprising him. He had followed her covertly and had watched as she walked to the corner, failing again and again to hail a cab before finally boarding a bus in frustration.

He’d boarded the bus behind her, but she did not even look his way.

Disembarking from the rear door of the bus at the same stop as Natalie, he had then followed her cautiously as she continued on through the heavy pedestrian traffic.

He saw her irritation when she stopped at the last street corner and waited for the light to change. The crowd behind her swelled in size as she stood on the curb, alternating on obviously aching feet, and it was then that he realized he had been presented with an opportunity too irresistible for him to turn down.

No one paid attention to him as he slipped up behind Natalie in the crowd. Nor did anyone notice when, in a flash of movement too quick to perceive, he pressed the flat of his hands into the curve of her back and shoved her into the street.

He had been euphoric. Yet his euphoria came to an abrupt end only seconds later when two fellows managed to jerk her out of the limo’s path. She struck her head on the curb as they did.

He supposed that was why neither of the men had waited around after the ambulance arrived. But by that time the situation had slipped beyond his control. He’d had no recourse but to follow the ambulance in a cab in order to find out the result of his effort.

And now here he was…determined to finish what he had started.

Hadden neared Natalie’s hospital room, his heart pounding. He was about to step inside when the unexpected sight of Detective Tomasini of the NYPD dozing in a chair beside her bed halted him.

Damn the man! What was he doing here?

Hadden pulled back without being seen, then stared at Natalie lying so still in the hospital bed. Her long, dark hair was stretched across the pillow in sharp contrast with the stark white of the bed linens and the bandage she wore on her forehead. She was petite, silent, her small features delicately composed, the long, black fans of her eyelashes lying like lush crescent moons against her pale cheeks. Surrounded in immaculate white, the pale beam of light shining down on her in the semidarkness forming a gleaming halo around her head, she looked like a celestial being—innocent and so completely pure that she stole his breath.

He paused at that thought.

But Natalie Patterson wasn’t pure, and she wasn’t celestial. She was the lab technician who had foiled his perfect revenge and because of her, the entire NYPD would soon be out searching for him.

Hatred surged hotly through him as Hadden turned abruptly and started back down the hallway.

He’d be back.