Читать книгу Kansas City Cover-Up - Julie Miller - Страница 10

Chapter Three

Olivia sat on a metal stool outside the curtain of one of the ER bays at the Truman Medical Center and texted a preliminary report about the events that had transpired in the stairwell and back alley of Ron Kober’s office building to her work email while the facts were still clear in her head. Although her shift was officially over, the long hours had become a habit. She’d be in before roll call meeting in the morning, too, to type her notes into a formal report for the case file.

Annoying reporter trespassed on crime scene and interfered with officer in pursuit of suspect. Recommend citing him for being a PITA.

She listened in on the more professional exchange of medical information from the other side of the curtain.

“That should do it, Mr. Knight,” the lady doctor who’d introduced herself as Emilia Rodriguez-Grant intoned in a soft but succinct voice. Olivia breathed in, waiting for the words of dismissal that would signify an end to this obligation to the man who’d gotten hurt while in her custody. She heard the clank of a medical instrument being set onto a metal tray as Dr. Rodriguez-Grant continued. “Try not to get it wet for twenty-four hours. It’ll leave a scar, but the stitches will keep the mark thin and less noticeable—and certainly reduce your chances of the wound becoming infected.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Gabe’s deep voice replied.

Scar? Wound? Olivia’s lungs emptied out with a sigh of guilty resignation. She was well-trained and fully capable of defending herself against a violent suspect. But she’d only seen the folding chair and the gun. Chances were, that knife would have sliced through her skin if Gabriel Knight hadn’t intervened.

She deleted the last two sentences from the text and replaced them with a more accurate, less petulant account.

Reporter Gabe Knight injured in assistance of officer on scene. Recommend follow-up on allegations of ties twixt Ron Kober’s death and murder of Dani Reese.

After sending the text to her computer, Olivia stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her jeans and stretching to ease the kinks in her neck and back. Her new partner, Jim Parker, was right. She’d let her emotions interfere with the calm, logical pursuit of the facts and her duty to a citizen she’d sworn to protect and serve.

Common sense meant she couldn’t just dump Gabe Knight off at the hospital. As much as he’d butted heads and gotten in her way, she still needed an official witness statement from him, in case the man who’d escaped did have some bearing on Kober’s murder—or the death of Gabe’s fiancée. The DNA the tech from the crime lab had scraped from beneath his nails might provide a vital clue to identify the killer of one or both victims, so it had been necessary to keep him with her to maintain the chain of custody of that potential evidence. Besides, with his penchant for taking the police department to task for its shortcomings, Gabriel Knight was the last man she could risk abandoning. If he was injured worse than anything a few stitches could fix, or he blamed her for getting cut in the first place, then abandoning him at the hospital might put the department in danger of some kind of lawsuit. He’d probably make her front-page news on a dereliction of duty accusation.

Before a renewed wave of guilt and irritation could sideline her thoughts again, Olivia pulled aside the privacy curtain. “How much longer do you think you’ll be...?”

Olivia’s brain blanked for a split second when she saw Gabe Knight stripped to the trim waist of his blue jeans. She winced at the bruising he’d earned from his struggle with the perp, and suspected she had many similar marks herself.

But it wasn’t pain—or even empathy—that quickened her pulse. Focus on the woman in the green hospital scrubs and lab coat. Ignore the tapering T-shaped back of the man sitting on the stool beside the examination table. So much smooth, tanned skin. She’d bet it was warm skin, too, since there was nary a goose bump, in spite of the chill from the hospital’s air conditioning. Olivia Mary Watson!

Obeying her own mental reprimand, Olivia tore her gaze from the long stretch of Gabe Knight’s bare back, forcing her attention to the petite brunette doctor. “Um, are you about done, Dr. Grant?”

The wide shoulders shrugged and Gabe rose and turned to face her. “Kept you waiting too long, Detective?”

“Hold on, Mr. Knight.” Olivia’s wayward eyes got some naked chest time, too, before Dr. Rodriguez-Grant tugged Gabe’s arm back across the table to wrap a long piece of self-sticking gauze around his forearm. She cut the piece off the roll and patted the protective bandage into place before releasing him. “Now you’re done. We just need to finish the paperwork.”

Stop ogling! What was she, in junior high? Olivia raked her fingers through her hair, using the movement to distract her. She hardly qualified as a gawking innocent. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a man’s naked chest before. She’d grown up with three brothers, a dad and a grandpa in the house, after all. And she’d been with Marcus for almost seven months before that relationship had blown up in her face. But Gabe Knight was taller, leaner than Marcus. His black hair was a smoky dust across some nicely honed pecs that indicated he got more exercise than sitting behind a desk all day, writing crime reports and editorials critical of KCPD.

And though she prided herself on her eye for detail, those were not the details she was supposed to be paying attention to. She needed to get away from this man and get a good night’s sleep to recharge her energy and ability to concentrate.

“No rush. I just need to call my partner and let him know my status if I’m going to be much longer.” That part was true. Jim had already texted her twice, asking if she was still with the reporter and if everything was okay. He’d gone house hunting after work with his wife, but would be there pronto if she needed him. He’d also pulled up Danielle Reese’s case file and wanted to get her up to speed on the dead-end investigation. “I can go outside to make my call.”

But the ER doctor stopped her before she reached the hallway. “Hang on a sec. I have some information for you, too, Detective Watson.” Olivia stepped back into the treatment bay and made a point of watching Dr. Rodriguez-Grant roll the tray table out of her way and cross to a stainless steel counter to retrieve a prescription pad. “Are you up to date on your tetanus shot, Mr. Knight?”

Gabe nodded. “My work takes me out of the country sometimes, so I’m current.”

“Good.” The petite doctor jotted a note on the prescription pad and tore off the top sheet. “Take the full round of antibiotics and see your doctor in about ten days to remove the stitches. Of course, if it shows any signs of swelling or infection in the meantime, come back and see me.”

He took the prescription note the doctor handed him and stuffed it into the front pocket of his jeans. “Thanks.”

The doctor tucked her short, dark brown hair behind each ear and peeled off her sterile gloves before addressing Olivia. “If you need an official statement from me, Detective Watson, that was definitely a defensive knife wound. Something with a short, thin blade—or else we’d be in surgery reattaching tendons and ligaments instead of mending skin and muscle. I can send the official medical report for your files if you need them.”

“I’d appreciate that, ma’am.” Olivia quickly noted the information on her phone before reaching into the pocket behind her badge. “Here’s my card.”

The doctor smiled as she tucked the business card into her lab coat. “I know the address. My husband and brother both work for KCPD.”

A snort of derision turned her head to the man sorting through the bundle of clothing at the examination table. Was that aggravated huff a response to learning he was surrounded by KCPD fans? Or merely a frustrated testament to the stained jacket and one-sleeved shirt that had been cut apart to gain access to the wound?

Olivia turned back to Emilia, answering with a genuine smile to distract the other woman from Gabe’s possible rudeness. “I know your brother A.J. He’s a very well-respected leader at the Fourth Precinct.”

“Thank you. My husband, Justin Grant, is on the bomb squad—”

A knock on the outer door stopped the conversation and a blond nurse peeked through the gap in the curtains. “Dr. Grant? We have a girl in Bay 2 who’s having an allergic reaction to something she ate. She’s breathing on her own, but the hives—”

“I’m on my way.” She was already following the nurse to another ER bay when she glanced back to Gabe and Olivia. “Excuse me.”

“Of course.” Suddenly, Olivia was aware of how small this curtained-off area was—and that she was alone with the department’s archenemy, Gabe Knight, a man who got under her skin and into her head far too easily for her peace of mind.

Several seconds of awkward silence passed before Gabe pulled on what was left of his white shirt. “Do I need to call a cab, or will you give me a ride back to the paper?”

“Can’t wait to write an exposé about me letting the perp get away? Or allowing you to get hurt?”

The dark brow over his right eye arched, his cool demeanor easily deflecting the accusations. “I was thinking more along the lines of retrieving my car from the parking garage and driving home. I jogged over to Kober’s building from the Journal as soon as the police bulletin came through. It was just a couple of blocks from my office.”

“Do you check up on every cop in the neighborhood? Or did I just get lucky that you’re my responsibility today?”

He inhaled deeply, drawing her attention to the expanding hills and hollows peeking through the open front of his shirt. Really? She couldn’t maintain a polite distance, or a sneering disinterest in whatever testosterone he was exuding for even two seconds? This man was the enemy of KCPD. That made him her enemy, too. Right?

He pointed to the bandage wrapped around his left forearm. “This is on me. I thought that fool was going to hurt you. After seeing Dani the way I did, knowing I should have done something more, I...” The sharp angles of his cheeks and jaw softened with a wry grin. “Guess I had a caveman moment.”

“Caveman?” As tempted to laugh at the apt description of his earlier interference as she’d been tempted to reach out to him when his eyes had darkened at the memory of his murdered fiancée, Olivia eased up on the self-recriminations and settled for smiling in return. That was probably as good an apology as she was going to get from him—and more of a concession than she’d expected. “Me no need Og’s help,” she teased. “Me carry big gun.”

“You carry big attitude.” No denying that. And then he extended his hand across the examination table. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Although her instinct was to reach out to accept a proffered hand, her caution around this man left her fingers hovering in the air.

But there was no hesitation when Gabe closed the gap between them and wrapped his hand firmly around hers. Olivia’s pulse leaped as if an electrical connection had just been completed. Instead of pulling away, her fingertips squeezed around the breadth of his palm. His skin was as warm as she’d imagined, and the heat of his grip seeped beneath her skin and lit a slow, easy fire that licked its way up her arm. “For listening to my side of the story. For not leaving me there in that alley to bleed. I know holding KCPD accountable hasn’t made them my biggest fan.”

“Any cop would have brought you to the hospital. We don’t stop to evaluate whether or not we like you if you’re threatened or hurt. If someone needs our help, we do our best to deliver.”

“I’ll remember that next time we meet.” Gabe’s gaze dropped to where they still held on to each other.

Next time? Olivia quickly pulled her hand away. Was that anxiety or anticipation crawling along her spine? She supposed another encounter with the bullying reporter was inevitable, since he’d made it clear he intended to dog the Cold Case Squad’s investigation into his fiancée’s murder. Didn’t mean she had to cling to him as though...as though she liked touching him. Still, if he could make the effort to be a little more civil and respectful, then she would do the same.

Appreciating the unspoken truce, Olivia pulled her keys from her jacket pocket and headed for the door. “I’ll drive. Finish buttoning things up and meet me out in the waiting room.”

Olivia strode down the hallway, flexing her fingers down at her side to alleviate the tingling awareness that lingered, determined to leave Gabe Knight and his blue eyes, warm skin and bothersome words behind her. Whatever was out of whack with her libido this evening would surely go away once she got a good night’s sleep. But she’d only inhaled a couple of cool, reviving breaths when she heard the commotion out at the information desk in the lobby. “Oh, no.”

She recognized all five of those urgent, worried male voices. She turned the corner and her family shifted as one, like a flock of tall, robust birds, and hurried toward her.

“Livvy?” Her father’s familiar limp led the charge, his arms outstretched toward her.

There must be a sign over her head today. Trouble magnet. Just because she could handle whatever the world threw her way didn’t mean she wanted to. Thomas Watson’s beefy arms wrapped her up in a bear hug that lifted her onto her toes. “What happened? How badly are you hurt? I heard you took a gun off a perp.”

Olivia treasured a few snug moments against her dad’s chest before dropping back onto her heels and stepping away. But that only allowed space for her brothers and grandfather to circle around her. One palmed the back of her head. Another squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not what you think, Dad.”

Her second-oldest brother, the one with the glasses and the medical degree, brushed her bangs off her forehead and hunched down to study her eyes. “Tell me exactly what your physician said.”

“You’re a doctor for dead people,” she groaned, referring to his position as a medical examiner with the crime lab. She swatted his hand away. “I’m not the patient, Niall. I’m fine.”

Her oldest brother, Duff, wasn’t buying it. “The radio report said that you were headed to the ER.”

“Damn it, guys. If you’re going to eavesdrop on the police scanner, make sure you’ve got your information right. I brought in a...” What exactly was Gabriel Knight? A suspect? A lead on a murder investigation? A not-so-innocent bystander? “I brought in a person of interest who is...helping with a case. He got injured at a crime scene late this afternoon.”

Her father propped his hands at his waist and shook his head, needing a little more convincing for the fear to dissipate. “But you’re okay? You missed dinner. Dad made his Guinness bread and stew. You never miss that.”

“Oh.” She smiled at the silver-haired gentleman beside her father. “Sorry, Grandpa. I lost track of the time. Did you save me a slice?”

Seamus Watson released his double grip on his cane and squeezed her hand. “Of course, sweetie.”

Keir, the brother closest in age to her, loosened the knot of his tie. “I heard you were in pursuit of an armed suspect. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“A couple of bruises and a wounded ego for letting the guy I was chasing get away. But I’m fine.” She beamed a reassuring smile to each member of her close-knit family before reaching up to smooth the rumpled collar of her father’s blue chambray shirt. “Now you want to get the gang out of here? I’m sure somebody in this family besides me has to work in the morning. I don’t know about any of you, but I’m exhausted. Let’s all go to our respective homes, and I promise I’ll swing by the house tomorrow morning.” She winked to the eighty-year-old sweetheart beside her dad. Seamus had always been her go-to guy when she needed someone in the family to listen to her. “A toasty piece of Grandpa’s bread and an over-easy egg to dip it in is my favorite breakfast.”

“I’m glad it was just a misunderstanding and that you’re all right.” His old-country lilt was as softly reassuring as the sweet peck on the cheek he gave her. “I’ll have breakfast hot and ready for you. Good night, Livvy.”

“Good night, Grandpa.”

They were in the midst of hugs and good-nights and going on their way when her father puffed up to his full height and glared over Olivia’s shoulder. “This SOB is your person of interest?”

Olivia didn’t have to turn to know that Gabe had come up behind her. She was learning to recognize him by the size of his shadow and the subtle scent that was a mix of soap and starch and now a tinge of antiseptic. And that deep-pitched voice with the cynical undertones was unmistakable.

“Is this the rest of your family, Detective?”

The rest of her family? Although the question didn’t quite make sense, Olivia nodded. Every loud, overprotective, stubborn Irish man belonged to her. “These are my guys.”

Gabe stepped up beside her, his gaze sweeping the circle of her family. “Let me guess, you’re all cops?”

“Kansas City’s Finest.” Her father’s shoulders came back proudly as he made the claim. “Not that you’d care.”

Of course, they’d recognize the department’s harshest critic—and be less than pleased to learn he was the man she’d brought to the ER. She didn’t suppose introductions would alleviate the tension rising around her, but it couldn’t hurt to turn the rumored enemy into an actual person with a name and a stitched-up arm—or to let Gabe know just how proud she was of her family and their accomplishments.

“Dad, this is Gabriel Knight. You probably recognize his name from the Kansas City Journal. My father, Thomas Watson. Dad retired a senior detective from the department a couple years ago. This is my grandfather, Seamus, a longtime desk sergeant, also KCPD, retired.” There was no sense adding a title to the other introductions—they all wore the badges and ME card from their respective departments proudly on display. “My brothers, Duff, Niall and Keir.”

If anything, the animosity in the air thickened. Her father looked as grim as she’d ever seen him. “Introductions aren’t necessary, Livvy. We’ve met.”

She swiveled her gaze up to Gabe. He wasn’t smiling, either. He nodded, confirming her dad’s icy statement. “Watson. When I met your daughter, I wasn’t expecting to run into you. Maybe I just didn’t want to.”

“How do you two know each other?” Olivia asked.

“Your father was the cop who investigated Dani’s murder.”