Читать книгу Battle Tested - Laura Scott - Страница 13

Two fatal drug overdoses in the past week.

Exhausted from her thirteen-hour shift in the intensive care unit, First Lieutenant Vanessa Gomez made her way down the hallway of the Canyon Air Force Base hospital, grappling with the impact of this latest drug-related death.

The medication both young men had overdosed on, Tyraxal, had been touted as the best new drug on the market to treat PTSD. Of course, no meds were risk free, but she was troubled by these two recent deaths. Not just because her young brother, Aiden, also suffered from PTSD, although he wasn’t on that particular medication as far as she knew, but because she’d heard Tyraxal was highly addictive and it seemed these recent overdoses proved it.

The corridor lights abruptly went out, enclosing her in complete darkness. She froze, instinctively searching for the nearest exit sign, when strong hands roughly grabbed her from behind, long fingers wrapping themselves around her throat.

The Red Rose Killer?

It had been months since she’d received the red rose indicating she was a target of convicted murderer and prison escapee Boyd Sullivan. She struggled against her attacker, wishing now that she’d brought Eagle, her protective attack Doberman, to work with her.

No! Dear God, please help me!

She kicked back at the man’s shins, but her soft-soled nursing shoes didn’t do much damage. She used her elbows, too, but couldn’t make enough impact that way, either. Her phone was off, so she didn’t bother digging it out of her bag. The attacker’s fingers moved their position around her neck, as if searching for the proper pressure points.

“Why?” she asked in a harsh whisper as she tried to break his hold. She’d helped Boyd once after he’d gotten into a fight, tending to his wounds. So why was he intent on killing her? She clawed at his hands, but they were covered in plastic gloves.

“Because you’re in my way...” the attacker said, his voice low and dripping with malice.

The pressure against her carotid arteries grew, making her dizzy and weak. Black spots dotted her vision.

She was going to die, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Poor Aiden, he’d be left all alone...

Her knees sagged, then she heard a man’s voice. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Her attacker abruptly let go just as the lights came on. She fell to the floor, wincing against the blinding brightness while struggling to breathe. The sound of pounding footsteps echoed along the corridor.

“Are you okay?” A man wearing battle-ready camo rushed over, dropping to his knees beside her. A soft, wet, furry nose pushed against her face and a sandpapery tongue licked her cheek.

“Yes,” she managed, hoping he didn’t notice how badly her hands were shaking.

“Stay, Tango,” the stranger ordered. He ran toward the stairwell at the end of the hall, the one that her attacker must have used to escape.

“Hey, Tango,” she whispered, stroking the golden retriever’s soft coat and resting her forehead against his fur. He wasn’t Eagle, her protective Doberman, but he was obviously well trained in offering comfort.

Hearing footsteps pounding in the stairwell, she quickly lifted her head and struggled to her feet. She slipped off her shoulder bag and wrapped the strap around her hand, the only thing she could use as a weapon in the event Boyd was coming back to finish the job.

The stairwell door opened revealing a tall, muscular man with wavy, sandy-brown hair. His expression was full of concern as he approached. “Sure you’re all right?”

She nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief. “Yes. Did you see him? The man who attacked me?”

Her rescuer shook his head, his emerald green eyes heavy with remorse. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get a good look at him. Other than general statistics like medium height and build. He had a ski mask covering his head, so I can’t even tell you his hair color.”

Boyd Sullivan was medium height and build. Then again so were half the men on base.

But only Boyd Sullivan had sent her a red rose.

“Thank you.” She drew in a deep breath, hoping to calm her racing heart. “I’m First Lieutenant Vanessa Gomez. I’m one of the ICU nurses here. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t chosen that moment to come down this hallway.”

“Captain Isaac Goddard,” he said, introducing himself. “I’m glad I was here to help. Do you think this is related to Boyd Sullivan?”

Vanessa grimaced, gingerly palpating her tender neck. No doubt she’d have bruises tomorrow. “Unfortunately, yes. I believe my attacker is the Red Rose Killer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Isaac’s expression turned grim.

“Me, too.” Although she still didn’t understand Boyd’s motive for wanting her dead after she’d gone out of her way to help him.

“You need to call this in to the Security Forces, specifically to my buddy Captain Blackwood,” Isaac said. “There were rumors that Boyd was seen recently on base, but this attack on you proves it.”

She nodded and dug in her bag for her cell phone. She powered it up, her fingers still trembling from the aftermath of her attack. Vanessa sometimes turned her cell phone off when she was working in the intensive care unit. Obviously, she should have turned it on the moment she’d left the ICU, although the attack had been so unexpected, she doubted the phone would have been any help.

She shivered and punched in Justin Blackwood’s number. She had his contact information from the ad hoc investigative team that had been put together months ago when Boyd had first sent roses identifying his next targets. As she waited for him to pick up, she marveled at how Tango stood right between her and Isaac, as if willing to protect both of them.

Justin didn’t answer so she left him a brief message about her attack and the likelihood that Boyd had found her, and she asked him to return the call.

“Call the cops,” Isaac said. “They need to take your statement.”

“I’d prefer to speak directly to Justin.” Vanessa glanced up and down the empty hallway. “It’s not as if there are any clues here for them to find. He was wearing gloves, so there’s no point in dusting for prints.”

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but asked, “Where are you headed?”

“Home.” She slipped her phone into her bag. “What about you?”

He shrugged. “I was going to stop by and see if Lieutenant Colonel Flintman was around, but that can wait. Right now, I think it’s best if I walk you home.”

Normally Vanessa considered herself a strong, independent woman, more than capable of taking care of herself. She’d needed to be strong, especially for her younger brother, Aiden, who was having a rough time since returning to base four weeks ago after his latest six-month deployment. But this vicious attack at the hospital, a place she considered her second home and immune to this type of violence, had put a serious dent in her confidence. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.”

“No problem.” Isaac fell into step beside her. Tango stayed at Isaac’s left side, and she wondered about the dog’s role in Isaac’s life.

She could guess, considering Isaac had been heading to Lieutenant Colonel Flintman’s office. She’d left the doctor a message earlier that afternoon about her concern about Tyraxal. The kindly psychiatrist might have some information related to the medication, so she hoped he returned her call, soon.

Isaac might be seeing Lieutenant Colonel Flintman for the same reason Aiden did.

Not that it was any of her business.

They stood for a moment waiting for the elevator, and Isaac must have picked up on her curiosity because he gestured to the dog. “I don’t think I introduced my therapy dog, Tango.”

She belatedly noticed that Isaac sported a pair of gold wings on his collar indicating he was a pilot. She smiled at the animal. “Tango is an amazing dog, so calm and reassuring. He’s obviously good at his job.”

Isaac shrugged. “Yeah, he’s a great dog, but while I appreciate having him around, my top priority is to bring home Beacon, the dog who saved my life in Afghanistan. Beacon belonged to my closest friend, and I’ve been working day and night to get him back. After all this time, he’s finally due to arrive tomorrow.”

Instinctively, she reached out to place her hand on his arm. “I heard about your efforts to bring Beacon home, and I’m so glad it’s finally happening.”

“Me, too.” He covered her hand on his arm briefly and she found herself liking the warmth of his skin. Then he moved away when the elevator arrived, breaking the connection. He held his hand over the electronic eye until she was safely inside, then stepped in behind her.

She told herself her reaction to Isaac was nothing more than misplaced gratitude for the way he’d saved her life with his impeccable timing. Yet she couldn’t help sending him a sidelong glance, appreciating his sandy-brown hair, chiseled features, clean-cut square jaw and bright green eyes. She glanced away, telling herself to knock it off.

Outside, the October air smelled of pine trees and morning glories. She loved autumn in east Texas; it was her favorite time of year.

“Lead the way,” Isaac said, when they reached the street in front of the hospital.

“I live in a small two-bedroom house about eight blocks from here,” she said, turning left and taking the road that went past the church and veterinary clinic. “My younger brother, Aiden, has been staying with me since his return from combat four weeks ago. He’s on medical leave, suffering badly from PTSD, and I’m at a loss as to how to help him.”

Isaac didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he finally spoke. “I’m working through my own issues, so I understand what he’s dealing with.” Isaac glanced at her, his eyes shadowed by the darkness. “I hope you realize he has a long road to recovery ahead of him.”

“I understand,” Vanessa said softly. “He’s doing everything right so far, attending therapy sessions with Lieutenant Colonel Flintman and taking his medication as ordered. Aiden is also on the list to get a therapy dog of his own, but the first attempt didn’t go well, and a second one hasn’t been made available to him yet.”

“I’ll talk to him, if you think it may help,” Isaac offered.

Vanessa was humbled by his willingness to put himself out there on behalf of a stranger. “Thank you, Captain. I’d be grateful for anything you can offer.”

“Sounds good. Maybe you can introduce me tonight, if he’s around. And please, call me Isaac.”

“If you’ll call me Vanessa,” she said with a smile. Despite her recent attack, she experienced a surge of hope. She was so grateful for Isaac’s willingness to help her brother, she could have hugged him, but managed to restrain herself.

Maybe Isaac was just what Aiden needed to turn the corner on battling his illness.

Maybe this was exactly God’s plan.

Isaac couldn’t believe he’d actually told Vanessa about his PTSD, something he rarely talked about outside of therapy sessions. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the urge to hide the truth about what he was going through.

Maybe this meant he’d turned the corner on his healing process.

The sound of a car door slamming shut made Vanessa jump and nervously glance over her shoulder. He reached out to capture her hand in his, recognizing she was still suffering the aftermath of her attack.

“It’s okay, you’re safe with me,” he assured her. Would she end up having nightmares as a result of the near strangulation? He hoped not. “Tell me about Boyd Sullivan and why he wants to hurt you.”

She grimaced and shook her head. “Nothing to tell.”

Isaac chose his words carefully. “Vanessa, I know firsthand that talking through an event is better than keeping it bottled inside. And I’m willing to listen without passing any judgment.”

They took several steps heading west on Webster Street, past Canyon Drive, where most of the base housing was located, before she let out a heavy sigh. “There really isn’t anything to the story. Boyd holds a grudge against the Air Force for dishonorably discharging him and he’s coming after people who he believes are responsible for his downfall.”

He’d heard the same theories. The base had been on high alert for months now, and apparently with good reason. Sullivan was getting bold and impatient, judging by the way he’d sneaked into the hospital to attack Vanessa.

He cast a glance her way. She was beautiful, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, matching her chocolate-brown eyes. Beside him, she was petite in her pale blue scrubs covered by a white scrub jacket. Her honeysuckle scent made him think of home, and he was glad he’d been in the right place at the right time for once.

“And what about you? Did he want a personal relationship with you?” he guessed.

“Not at all,” Vanessa quickly denied. “In fact, I helped him one night while he was still in basic training, providing medical care for wounds he’d suffered as a result of a barroom brawl. He didn’t want to go to the ER and get in trouble, so I provided first aid from the kit I carry in my car. That’s why this attack doesn’t make any sense.” She paused, then added, “He told me that I was the first person to be nice to him without expecting anything in return. Does that sound like a rational reason to want me dead?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “I wonder if he thought your being nice to him meant you were interested in something more.” To be honest, Isaac couldn’t imagine any red-blooded man not being attracted to Vanessa.

He was attracted to her. Not that he was going to do anything about it. He let go of her hand, reminding himself that he wasn’t interested in another relationship. Been there, done that, didn’t work out, end of story.

In his experience women thought they could help a guy get over his issues, yet when they learned they couldn’t, they decided the guy wasn’t worth the trouble and moved on.

And maybe he wasn’t worth the trouble. He couldn’t blame Amber for leaving him when his panic attacks prevented him from leading a normal life. He especially didn’t appreciate her hovering over him. He used to think he’d get better and move on with his life, but he now understood PTSD didn’t ever go away. There were strategies to deal with it, sure, but it wasn’t like being treated for an infection that would be cured by a course of antibiotics.

No, this was more like having a chronic illness for the rest of your life.

“I’m sure he wasn’t interested in me that way,” Vanessa protested. “If he was, he didn’t pursue anything.” Then she added, “At the time I was drawn to him, not romantically, but in a maternal way. In a weird way, he reminded me of Aiden—young and a bit immature, yet trying to make something of himself. Silly now that I look back at it. Boyd wasn’t interested in anything but placing blame for everything that happened to him on someone else. Nothing was ever his fault, oh, no. It was everyone else out to get him.”

“Then why target you as someone who wronged him?”

“I have no idea.” She was silent for another block, then added, “And just so you know, I was working the night shift the night the dogs were let loose from their kennels. I know everyone believes Boyd had help from inside the base, but it wasn’t me. I’m not the one helping him.”

Isaac was surprised by the sudden vehemence in her tone. “I didn’t suggest you were.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess,” she said, her tone faintly bitter. “There are others, including the anonymous blogger, who have made it clear they believe I sent the rose to myself to deflect suspicion. The latest theory is that Boyd is getting help from a woman on base.”

He hadn’t realized the depth of what she’d been going through over the past few months. “That’s a tough break, but I’m a witness to the attack who will exonerate you once and for all.”

She lightly rubbed her neck, wincing at the tenderness. “Pictures of the bruises likely to be visible by morning should help, right?”

The thought of her golden skin marred by bruises infuriated him. If he’d been a minute later... He clenched his jaw, unwilling to think about how he may have stumbled across Vanessa’s dead body.

The level of hatred Boyd was carrying around with him was inconceivable. Must be that Boyd wanted more from Vanessa, a personal relationship of some kind. No other explanation made sense. She must have done something, or said something, that dented his fragile ego.

No point rehashing it now. She needed protection, and he intended to make sure Captain Blackwood provided it to her. Isaac wasn’t going to leave her alone, not until a Security Forces cop was stationed outside her house.

They walked the next block in silence.

At the corner, Vanessa took a left, heading past a thick hedge separating two front yards. A movement in the shrubbery caught his eye at the same time that Tango made a whining sound in the back of his throat.

Not a growl, but still a sound of distress.

Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks, reaching out to tightly grab his arm. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

“Yes.” Isaac’s pulse kicked up and he instinctively pushed Vanessa behind him in an effort to protect her. “Call the police.”

The movement in the bushes increased and Tango strained on his leash as if desperate to rush over.

Was Boyd hiding in there? Did he right now have a gun trained on them?

For a split second, his mind went back to the moment his chopper had been hit by enemy fire, spinning helplessly out of control. Temporarily lost in the past, he let go of Tango’s leash and the dog took off straight toward the bushes.

No! Stay focused on the here and now!

“Tango!” His voice came out in a strangled cry, but the golden retriever didn’t listen. The dog disappeared into the bushes.

Leaving Isaac as the only protector for Vanessa.