Читать книгу Special Agent Nanny - Linda Johnston O. - Страница 11

The Present

“You want me to what?” Shawn Jameson shoved his chair back from the table, stood and stared at Colleen Wellesley. “You can’t be serious.”

His boss crossed her arms without rising. About forty-five years old, with irritation narrowing her blue-green eyes, she appeared very serious. And that did not make Shawn happy at all. “You’ve got your orders,” she said quietly. “Your cover will be as a caregiver in the child-care center at Gilpin Hospital.” She was dressed like a rancher in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans. But that did not keep her from looking authoritative.

Shawn heard muffled laughter. He turned to glare at Fiona Clark, another Colorado Confidential operative, who had joined Colleen and him in the secret, basement meeting room of the Royal Flush Ranch. By the time he was able to turn a fierce gaze on her, the blond former FBI agent had pasted a sympathetic expression on her face. But there was mirth in her brown eyes.

Fiona, like Shawn, was dressed similarly to Colleen for hard work on the ranch—but that was not all they were here for. In keeping with his cover, Shawn wore a leather vest over a comfortable blue work shirt that was tucked into well-worn, faded jeans. He’d bought his boots in Texas when, while in training, he’d visited the Smoking Barrel Ranch, the cover for the original Confidential agency.

Shawn turned back toward Colleen. What could he do? These were his first orders directly from her, though she’d been his employer for a while. He had joined the staff of Investigations, Confidential and Undercover, a private investigation agency known as ICU, a couple of years ago. At first, he’d been aware that there was a secretive boss, known only as C. Wellesley, in the background calling the shots. He had only recently learned she was a woman, and even more recently met her. Here. On the ranch. When she had recruited him into Colorado Confidential, a very new, very special covert arm of the Colorado Department of Public Safety. He’d undergone training here for the past few months. It was definitely time to go to work.

But this…?

“What the hell—er, heck—do I know about tending a bunch of kids?” He ran his fingers through his short, dark blond hair in frustration. “You hear that? I don’t even know how the hell to watch my language.”

“You’ll learn,” Colleen said mildly. “Either that, or the kids’ll bring home some interesting new vocabulary.”

“Damn.” This wasn’t getting Shawn anywhere. He thought fast, taking his seat at the table once more. “Look, Colleen,” he said in a cool and logical tone. “You have someone here who can undoubtedly do a better job with this than me—Fifi.”

A growl issued from behind him. Fiona hated that nickname, but she had earned his use of it now by laughing at him.

“The fact that Fiona is female doesn’t mean she’d do better with this cover than you, Shawn,” Colleen said mildly. “And this assignment requires someone with your particular expertise—arson investigation. You do know something about that, don’t you?”

She knew full well he did. He had devoted his life to fighting fires—and to bringing down the people who set them. With good reason. Damned good reason.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “I know something about that.”

“There’s more to the situation than the fire that destroyed the records department of Gilpin Hospital six weeks ago,” Colleen continued. “Wiley Longbottom thinks that the fire could be connected to the flu epidemic that ran through Silver Rapids a few months back.” Longbottom was the director of the Colorado Department of Public Safety. Colleen reported to him. “He believes there’s a chance the flu was caused by the same type of microbe found in the blood samples Michael took from the sheep at the Half Spur Ranch.”

Michael Wellesley, Colleen’s brother, had just returned from an undercover assignment at that sheep ranch, which was partially owned by powerful Colorado senator Franklin Gettys. Not a man you wanted to accuse of anything without indisputable proof. He’d also brought back an unanticipated reward, his new love, Nicola Carson. She’d been the target of an assassin, and was staying at the Royal Flush under Michael’s personal protection.

Colleen continued in a deceptively mild voice, “And if so, we definitely need more information. When we got the test results from the Center for Disease Control, the blood samples showed antibodies for Q fever.”

“That’s a disease carried by livestock anyway, isn’t it?” Fiona asked.

“Yes, but Wiley thinks the Silver Rapids flu epidemic might not have been flu after all. It may have been an outbreak of Q fever. And while Q fever is often found in livestock, a human epidemic of that proportion is…suspicious. And the whole mess could have some bearing on the Langworthy kidnapping.”

“How?” Shawn demanded, stunned by Colleen’s implication that the flu could have a human source. If so, no doubt someone had a vested interest in covering it up.

“The missing baby’s mother, Holly Langworthy, was one of the people infected. At the time, she was still pregnant with little Schyler. We have to look into the fire and the flu, in case the baby’s disappearance is somehow related.”

Ah, Shawn thought. That was the crux of it. Colorado Confidential’s first major case wasn’t just high priority. It was the priority. Schyler, the infant grandson of one of Colorado’s most influential citizens, Samuel Langworthy, had been kidnapped. So far, regular law enforcement agencies with jurisdiction, even the FBI, were stymied. The Department of Public Safety had turned to the newly constituted covert agency, the country’s fourth Confidential organization, for help.

It was a case they couldn’t afford to blow. A baby’s life was at stake. More lives might hang in the balance.

“There’s a doctor on staff at the hospital, Dr. Kelley Stanton,” Colleen continued. She slowly drummed one finger on the table as if using the rhythm to remind her of the facts. Her hands were blunt nailed and work roughened. She owned this ranch, which, Shawn knew, had been in her family for generations.

“Dr. Stanton is a suspect in the arson,” Colleen went on. “She was involved with treating the flu patients, including two elderly people who died. You’ll have access to her by working at the child-care center, since she has a three-year-old daughter who goes there. Rumors around the hospital suggest she set the fire to hide her negligence in treating those patients.”

“A pretty nasty allegation,” Shawn noted.

“That would be ugly enough,” Colleen agreed. “But if Wiley’s right and there’s some relation to the kidnapping, this Dr. Stanton could be more than a quack who wants to hide some mistakes. She could be helping to cover up an act of bioterrorism as well as the kidnapping. And Wiley isn’t wrong very often. So…?” She looked directly into Shawn’s eyes and paused.

Colleen was waiting for his assent. “Yeah,” he said. He knew he would regret it. He also knew he had no choice.

“Good.” Colleen rose. “I’ll get things set up. You’ll start in three days.”

A SHORT WHILE LATER, Shawn left the others behind and stealthily oozed his way from behind the huge, movable wine rack that hid the door to the secret basement room. He had to think about this new assignment. Prepare himself for it mentally.

He headed upstairs, into the plush room that had once been the bar. One of Colleen’s ancestors had once run the Royal Flush as a saloon and bordello. The room maintained the flamboyant ambiance, complete with sexy red velvet curtains. It still housed the original long bar of dark pine, which had obviously been well polished over the many intervening years. The faint, pungent-sweet scent of fine wood preservative hung in the air. The ranch’s caretakers, Raven and Melody Castillo, took great care of the place.

Too bad the room wasn’t still used as a bar. Shawn could have used a drink. A good, stiff one.

Behind the bar was a portrait of a woman, who seemed out of place in the sumptuous and suggestive room— Eudora Wellesley, he’d been told. Colleen’s ancestress. There was nothing flamboyant or even particularly attractive in her appearance. In fact, she was dressed primly, in dark clothes, and there was a set to her mouth as if the lady was shocked by the things that had gone on in this room. And yet, the artist had painted a sparkle into her alert gray eyes.

Grumbling to himself, Shawn headed outside. He wasn’t the imaginative sort. This new twist to his career as an arson investigator turned covert agent was giving him fits.

As he stepped through the front door onto the porch, he nearly ran into Dexter Jones, the foreman. His other boss, for his cover at the Royal Flush as ranch hand.

“You seen Ms. Wellesley?” Dex asked. The foreman was in his early fifties. He kept his hair, obviously once dark but now sprinkled with silver, no-nonsense short. He seemed a no-nonsense guy, dedicated to making sure the ranch ran smoothly.

As smart and wily as tough-acting Dex seemed, the foreman supposedly had no idea of what went on in the basement. But Shawn sensed the man’s strong suspicion that more went on at the Royal Flush than just ranching.

As part of his Colorado Confidential cover, Shawn had to act as if he’d no clue what Dex was talking about when the older man blew off steam by guessing what his lady boss was really up to.

“I saw Ms. Wellesley a while ago,” Shawn told him. “I came in to ask whether she was going to ride Dora today, and if so when she wanted me to have her saddled.” Dora was Colleen’s horse, a mare she’d named after the illustrious lady whose picture hung over the bar. The bay and white paint was a lot prettier, in Shawn’s estimation, than her namesake.

“And she said—?”

“She’d let me know. I think she’s back in her room on the phone. Or maybe she’s getting changed. In any event, she said she didn’t want to be disturbed for the next hour.”

“Right,” Dex muttered, and turned on his heel without entering the house.

If Shawn wasn’t mistaken, the gruff foreman had a thing for his employer. That wasn’t any of Shawn’s business.

But his new assignment certainly was.

Shawn walked down the porch steps and to the side of the main house. He inhaled crisp, clean air tinged with the scent of the nearby horse enclosure. To his left was the winding road to the ranch, and beyond it the meandering South Platte River. To his right were rolling green acres of ranchland, surrounded by the massive, tree-covered slopes of the Rocky Mountains. Some of the ranch’s red Hereford cattle grazed in the distance.

Heaven.

But he wouldn’t be here much longer. In three days, he’d be back in Denver. Investigating Dr. Kelley Stanton. The main focus of his assignment.

Colleen would provide further details first, the results of the initial investigation into the woman and her background as well as information about the hospital fire.

A fire in a hospital, damn it. He felt his teeth grind.

Sure, the fire had been confined to a records room, but who knew what damage it could have done? People could have been killed.

What would drive a woman with a young child to set a fire? Shawn would sure as hell find out.

“OKAY, SWEETHEART. We’re here.” Not that Kelley had any doubt that Jenny knew full well that they’d arrived at the Gilpin Hospital KidClub day-care center. As soon as they went through the door into the main playroom, the blond three-year-old, clad today in a flowered T-shirt and matching red slacks, stopped prancing at her mother’s side and stood still, thumb in her mouth. With her other hand, she clutched Kelley’s midcalf-length black skirt. Tears filled her brown eyes.

Before the fire, Jenny had been eager to come here to play. She had always dashed into the midst of the kids who started their day in this charming room adorned with bright rainbows on the walls. Mostly, the little ones congregated at one of the child-size tables, coloring until it was time for the caregivers to begin planned activities.

But since the fire, her daughter had demonstrated every symptom of separation anxiety—tears, protests and tantrums.

It broke Kelley’s heart every morning. She’d spent days at home with Jenny after the fire, and had taken her to a kind counselor. But Kelley couldn’t stay off work indefinitely. When Jenny had started to recover emotionally, Kelley had returned to her demanding medical practice. Luckily her office was in the adjoining building, and she spent a lot of time seeing patients in the hospital itself. She dropped by often to look in on Jenny, staying far in the background so that her daughter, busy playing, wouldn’t notice her.

Once Jenny got used to being there each day, she seemed to thrive once more, with all the other children to play with and the excellent staff who watched over the kids while teaching them things commensurate with their ages and abilities.

But those first minutes when she dropped Jenny off…

“Good morning.” At the gruff, masculine voice, Kelley raised her gaze from her daughter—until she stared into eyes as blue as a cloudless winter sky. They looked about as cold, too. But the man behind them was one of the most gorgeous hunks Kelley had ever seen.

She felt her face flush at the direction her thoughts had veered. But that didn’t deter her mind from noting the breadth of shoulders beneath an off-white shirt and leather vest, the slim cut of faded brown jeans, the sturdiness of a set jawline and the short hair that was a cross between dirty gold and golden brown. And the cowboy boots.

“Good morning,” she returned, knowing her tone was quizzical. Was he the father of one of the half dozen kids settled at places along the tables? Kelley forced herself not to look at his hands to see if he wore a wedding ring. That wasn’t her business. Besides, a man who looked like him had to be taken. Either that or he had a bevy of beautiful women at his beck and call.

Not that Kelley cared. She wasn’t interested in any man, great-looking or not. In her experience, not one was worth a fraction of the aggravation he caused.

“And who is this?” The man looked down at Jenny, who clutched at Kelley’s clothes all the tighter. The smile on the man’s face looked sour, as if he had sucked on a lime.

“This is Jenny Stanton,” Kelley said, her tone cheerful for her daughter’s benefit. “Are you the daddy of one of the kids?”

“No, I’m the new caregiver.”

What? Kelley stared. He certainly didn’t look like the other child-care providers, who were mostly college-age men and women who studied teaching and needed to earn money in their spare time. A few were career preschool teachers. But this man…?

He knelt in front of Jenny. “My name is Shawn,” he told her. Then he rose. “Shawn Jameson. And you’re Mrs. Stanton?”

No. Kelley nearly shuddered. She definitely wasn’t Mrs. Stanton. That implied she was Randall Stanton’s wife.

She hadn’t been his wife for two years now. And that was fine with her.

It was her turn to force a smile onto her lips. “I’m Dr. Kelley Stanton,” she told the man. “I’m one of the doctors on staff here.”

Was it her imagination, or did Shawn Jameson’s straight, thick brows dip just a little before he resumed his uncomfortable smile? “Very nice to meet you, Dr. Stanton.” He stressed the word “doctor,” but it did not sound like an apology. She hadn’t expected one, but neither had she expected to be subtly insulted.

Didn’t he like doctors? If so, he shouldn’t be working in a hospital, even with children. Especially with these children, since many were doctors’ kids. But maybe she’d imagined his inflection.

“Good to meet you, too,” she clipped out, then knelt, gently extracting her skirt from Jenny’s hand. “Okay, sweetheart. Time for me to go, but I’ll be back for you soon.”

“No, Mommy,” Jenny said in her sweet little girl’s voice. “I don’t want you to go.”

Kelley inhaled, knowing the scene that was to come. Hating it, for she always felt as if she were hurting Jenny. “I have to, honey, but—”

“But we’re going to have a great time here today, Jenny.”

Kelley looked up in gratitude as Shawn Jameson took Jenny’s hand and tried to gently lead her away.

Jenny began to cry.

Shawn’s blue eyes widened. Surely that wasn’t fear Kelley saw in them? He glanced at her as if for help, but she mouthed, “Thanks,” and backed away.

Jenny began to cry even louder.

“Would you like a piece of doughnut?” Shawn asked, gesturing toward a box on the tall reception desk. “Or some fruit?” As usual, the treats had been left there that morning.

Kelley swallowed her objection to his bribing her child with sweets. It didn’t help anyway. Jenny did not calm down.

“Then let’s go color with your friends.” Shawn tugged on Jenny’s hand. The child was no match for the brawny man and followed him, but her sobs didn’t stop. He led her to an empty seat at the closest table and urged her into a chair. “Here are some nice crayons and a pad of paper,” Shawn said. “Would you like to draw something?”

“No,” Jenny wailed, pushing her chair back from the table.

“Well…would you like a cup of juice, Jenny?”

Kelley continued to watch from the doorway, wondering if she should go rescue her child. Or the man. He seemed to be growing panicked. None of the other caregivers were in the room. They were probably with kids in the facility’s other rooms. Or maybe in the kitchen, working on the day’s snacks.

In any event, this did not look good.

“I don’t want juice,” Jenny screamed. “I want my mommy!”

She looked at Kelley. So did Shawn. Kelley took a deep, uneven breath but did not move. If things didn’t improve in a minute, though, she would have to step in.

If she did, if she had to complain about this man, he could lose his job. That might be a good thing, but on his first day? Didn’t he deserve a chance?

Besides, Kelley had enough enemies these days. She didn’t need another if she could avoid it.

But why didn’t he seem to know what to do with the child? Worse, why did he appear so rattled? Surely he had worked with kids before. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been hired.

“Mommy!” Jenny shrieked again, rising from her chair. She looked as if she was about to run toward Kelley, who wondered if she should just leave. Maybe things would calm down when she was gone.

Maybe they wouldn’t.

The other children watched the exchange, eyes huge. The lower lips of a couple began to quiver, as if they might cry in sympathy for Jenny. Or for their own absent parents.

Obviously Shawn noticed, for he looked around nervously.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing a pad of paper and some crayons from the table. He looked desperate. What was he going to do? “Do you have any pets at home, Jenny?”

No, Kelley wanted to tell him. Don’t remind her. Jenny wanted a puppy or a kitten. Having a pet was even a recommended therapy to help Jenny recover from the trauma of the fire. But the timing wasn’t right.

If Kelley were a stay-at-home mom, the way Randall had wanted her to be, she would be able to take care of a pet. But that wasn’t reality. It wasn’t what Kelley wanted, either for herself or her daughter. She wanted Jenny to have a strong role model.

Not the kind of role model Kelley herself had had.

“I don’t have no pets,” Jenny told Shawn, shaking her head sadly. But at least she was no longer crying.

“Would you like one?”

It was time for Kelley to intervene. The man couldn’t be allowed to distract her daughter by making her feel bad about other things.

As Jenny nodded in response to his question, Shawn said, “Well, then, you shall have one.”

That was it. Kelley began crossing the room toward them, but Shawn Jameson must have noticed, for he held up one large hand. Kelley paused, but only for a minute. If he didn’t stop—

And then she got it. Kneeling on the floor beside the pint-size table, Jameson used the crayons to sketch on the pad. In a moment, the outline of a fuzzy spaniel puppy took shape, one with big, sad eyes and a lolling tongue. And that with only a few strokes on the paper.

It was an adorable caricature.

“Here you are, Jenny,” Shawn said. “This is your new puppy. And—” he made a few more strokes on the page. A child appeared beside the dog—a child with Jenny’s straight, blond hair and soulful chocolate-brown eyes. She wore a crown, like a princess.

“For me?” Jenny asked in obvious delight. Her tears had dried, replaced by a big, amazed grin.

“For you,” Shawn replied. “But you’ll have to think of a name for the dog.”

“Okay,” Jenny replied, her small brows knit as she gave the matter a lot of thought.

Before she came up with a name, the other kids were crowding around, looking at her drawing. Demanding, “Me, too, Shawn. Please. Me next,” all in a chorus that earned from Shawn Jameson a foolish, pleased grin.

Kelley turned toward the door. No matter what the man’s qualifications, he had obvious talent in one direction. And the kids loved it.

Maybe he would work out after all.

SHAWN WATCHED AS Dr. Kelley Stanton left KidClub.

“Okay, Teddy,” he told the nearest child and began to sketch a kitty-cat, as requested.

Amazing. He had all but forgotten his old ability to draw caricatures. Thank heavens it had come back to him when he’d really needed it. As he’d once really needed it to survive.

“I’ll call my puppy Gilly,” Jenny told him solemnly as he continued to sketch on the pad. “For Gilpin. That’s this hospital.”

“And a damn—er, darned good name that is,” he told her. He knew the hospital had been named for William Gilpin, the first governor of Colorado Territory back in the mid-1800s. A nearby county bore his name, too.

Jenny was a cute kid. Looked like her mother. Shawn had silently evaluated Dr. Kelley Stanton with the eyes of an artist.

And an arson investigator.

She was certainly a woman whose appearance was arresting. And he might have to be the one to ensure she was arrested.

Her auburn hair glinted, as if someone had painted flames through the shimmering brown. Her face was heart shaped, her expression even more solemn than her daughter’s. As if she had forgotten how to smile.

And no wonder, if she set fires for a hobby.

Even if she was innocent of that, she might have treated the flu patients from Silver Rapids improperly, as the current rumors unearthed by Colleen indicated.

Two people had died from that flu outbreak, right here at Gilpin Hospital. Two of Dr. Kelley Stanton’s patients.

Did she know anything about that flu? Its origin? Whether it was actually an outbreak of Q fever, antibodies for which had been found in the blood of sheep on a ranch that had already been investigated by Colorado Confidential?

Finding out might help rescue a child even younger than her own sweet daughter. A child who had been kidnapped, whose mother had caught the flu and whose kidnapping could in some way be related to that very strange epidemic in Silver Rapids.

The lovely Dr. Stanton just might be in the middle of the whole thing.

Lovely? Hell, she was extraordinary-looking. Shawn had an urge not only to draw her caricature, but to paint her.

Nude.

He laughed ruefully aloud.

“What’s so funny, Shawn?” Jenny asked.

“I just thought of a joke.” Yeah. Very funny. He had a very sudden, very real urge to make love to this kid’s mother. A possible arsonist, of all people.

There was nothing he hated more than someone who set fires.

Someone like that had damn near ruined his life.

He turned to little Teddy, who sat at the table beside him.

“Here you are. Here’s your kitty and you, together.”

“Thanks!”

Shawn couldn’t help but feel a burst of pleasure at the honest wonder and gratitude in the little boy’s fervent exclamation.

“Me next,” chorused the other kids.

Shawn started on his next work of art. Maybe he’d found his way to manage this assignment after all.

He’d begun to make friends with little Jenny Stanton.

Now all he had to do was get to know her mother well enough to start asking questions. A lot of them.

And the fact this woman made his fingers itch to touch her… Hell, he’d just have to get over it.