Next of Kin

E-mail to Chief Max Zirinsky, Courage Bay Police Department

From Casey Guthrie, motorcycle patrol officer

Chief Zirinsky,

I called in last night to give the investigators a heads-up about yesterday’s pileup on the Pacific Coast Highway, but I wanted to make sure you got this in writing.

There was something really weird about that crash.

First thing that happens, a sedan in the northbound lane suddenly explodes and bursts into flames. Then the tractor-trailer rig flips trying to avoid the burning vehicle. That sets off a chain reaction and the rest you know about. Strange thing is, only moments later, a second blast of flames shoots out of the sedan. I can buy one explosion from the fuel tank, but two?

I also thought you’d like to know that Courage Bay’s emergency services were in top form. Somebody should send a note to the hospital’s chief of staff about Jackie Kellison. Kellison’s an E.R. nurse whose car was totaled in the pileup. She was amazing to watch. The minute she crawled out of her car, she started treating the other victims. I’d bet more than one person owes her for saving their life.

I’m off for the next four, but call me on my cell if any of the guys on the investigative team need more info about the explosion.

Casey

C.J. CARMICHAEL

Hard to imagine a more glamorous life than being an accountant, isn’t it? Still, C.J. Carmichael gave up the thrills of income tax forms and double-entry bookkeeping when she sold her first book in 1998. She has now written more than twenty novels for Harlequin Books and strongly suggests you look elsewhere for financial planning advice.

Next of Kin

C.J. Carmichael

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

In cities all over North America, traffic accidents are a tragic fact of everyday life. People are injured, sometimes they die, and many lives are changed forever. But can good ever come from bad?

While writing this book, I grappled with this question, as well as with two of the most daring characters I have ever written about. Motorcycle cop Casey Guthrie and emergency-room nurse Jackie Kellison are people of strong convictions. When it comes to doing the right thing, they’re not afraid to put their careers—or their lives—on the line. When it comes to her heart, however, Jackie is much more protective.

I hope you enjoy Next of Kin and the entire exciting CODE RED series. I’d love to hear what you think about this or any of my other books. Please contact me through my Web site. Or mail me a letter through my publisher. Either way works!

Sincerely,

C.J. Carmichael

www.cjcarmichael.com

Acknowledgments

It was an honor to be asked to work on the Code Red project. I appreciate all the hard work that went into this exciting series at Harlequin—in particular the discerning eyes and good judgment of Marsha Zinberg and Margaret Learn. To all the Code Red authors, who answer e-mail so promptly and with such good nature, it’s been a great experience!

Thanks to Sergeant W. R. Martin for answering all my questions (and questions, and questions!) so thoroughly and patiently.

Linda Prenioslo—always the best, the warmest of neighbors—thanks for sharing your medical expertise.

To my friend and fellow author Eileen Coughlan, who helped me wrestle with this plot—I appreciate so much the times we get together and share our passion for writing.

And finally, to my husband, Mike, who brainstormed this book with me for the entire car trip from Calgary to Edmonton—this one’s for you!

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

PROLOGUE

HIDDEN IN THE SHADOW of a stucco pillar outside the Super Value Mall on the southeastern outskirts of Courage Bay, a diminutive blonde clutched a baby to her chest and scrutinized the passing cars. A minivan wheeled by, but she couldn’t see in the tinted windows. Next, a two-seater Jeep zipped by, then a convertible.

The baby was getting heavy in her arms and the diaper bag kept sliding off her narrow shoulder. She eyed the vehicles with increasing desperation. This hadn’t been part of the plan. Could she pull it off? The only answer she could come up with was that she had to. He’d slashed her tires, taken the money. What else could she do?

Finally she spotted a silver-gray Taurus wagon with an infant car seat in the back. The driver was an elderly woman—a grandma, maybe? The vehicle nosed into a parking place an aisle over from where the blonde was standing.

Impatiently she waited as the driver turned off her car and carefully stowed her sunglasses in a leather case on the dashboard. Finally the driver’s door opened and the lady emerged. She opened the cargo door and pulled out a slick, fold-up stroller.

Hey, I should get one of those. As soon as the blonde had the thought, she gave herself a mental kick. As if. What was she thinking? She was not keeping this baby, no way…though at two months, it was awfully cute.

With the stroller set up beside her, the lady reached into the rear seat and pulled out a bundle in several blue blankets. She fussed some more, returned one of the blankets to the car, then finally closed the door and locked it, slipping the keys into the front pocket of her lightweight jacket.

It was October in Southern California. The jacket and the blankets weren’t exactly necessary. The day was sunny and warm, with a gentle breeze coming off the ocean. Fortunately it wasn’t raining, which it could easily do at this time of year. Still waiting, she shifted the baby to her other hip. Her heart pounded so loudly now, it was all she could hear.

The moment the lady pushed the stroller into the mall, the blonde stepped out from behind the pillar and followed. Through the heavy glass doors, past a small shoe-repair shop, a chain drugstore, a beauty salon. The lady with the stroller turned left at a kiosk selling hemp jewelry and soon reached her destination: Baby Gap.

She went straight to the sales rack, flipping through the tiny items and selecting a few. Observing from a safe distance, the blonde had to force herself not to think about baby outfits herself.

Ten minutes later, with a dark blue plastic bag looped over one of the stroller handles, the lady emerged from the store. This time she stopped at a women’s wear shop and again headed directly for the discount racks. Spotting a sweater she liked, she shrugged out of her jacket and threw it over the back of the stroller.

The blonde stiffened, spotting her chance. Trying to appear nonchalant, she strolled into the lady’s line of vision and pretended to be interested in a row of T-shirts next to the stroller. She slid in as close as she dared, then brushed a hand over the jacket. The first pocket held nothing but a folded tissue.

Frantically she searched the second pocket. In front of her, the lady was admiring herself in a mirror. She swiveled, then smiled at the baby in the stroller. “What do you think, darling? Should Grandma buy this sweater?”

The blonde froze, certain that she was about to be busted. But a saleswoman walked between them at that moment.

“Oh, yes!” the saleswoman exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. “That pink really brings out the color in your cheeks.”

The blonde felt the hard metal of the car key chain and closed her fingers around it. She eased her hand out of the jacket and into the pocket of her jeans. Then she turned around and left the store.

Five minutes later she was at the silver wagon, doing up the buckles of the infant car seat. “You be good back here, okay?”

The little one was due for a bottle, but that would have to wait. With luck, once the car was moving, the baby would be lulled to sleep. In the meantime, she dug a mirror from her purse and propped it up with a blanket in front of the child’s face. She smiled as the infant gazed intently at the reflection.

“Look at the pretty baby,” she cooed as she tossed the diaper bag on the floor between the car carrier and the back of the passenger seat. After a few quick adjustments to the driver’s seat and the rearview mirror, she was ready to go. Cautiously she drove out of the mall with racing heart and damp palms. That poor grandma was in for a nasty surprise when she finished shopping, but it wasn’t her fault.

Only one man could help them now, and he lived in one of the rich neighborhoods at the other end of town. Following the roadway signs carefully—this was not the time to make a stupid mistake with directions—she was soon heading north on the Pacific Coast Highway.

CHAPTER ONE

OFFICER CASEY GUTHRIE settled on the seat of his BMW motorcycle, then kicked back the side stand. He waited patiently while the driver of the black Lexus put away his license and vehicle registration papers. God, it was a great day. He relished the warmth of the late-afternoon sun on his head and shoulders.

His dayshift was over—this ticket had been the last. After a quick shower and nap at home, he’d be heading out to party. Some guys he’d gone to the academy with were in town and wanted to hit a few bars.

The man in the Lexus shot him a dark look as he shoulder-checked before merging once more into traffic. The irate businessman was going to be even later for his meeting than he’d anticipated. Maybe next time he’d leave a few minutes early and avoid the need to rush.

But probably not.

Casey revved his BMW, then shot off behind the Lexus, following the guy for a few minutes as a mild warning to keep that speed under control. After ten minutes he pulled a U-turn at an uncontrolled intersection and headed back the way he’d come, toward the station.

That last ticket had made him a little late, so Casey decided to hit the highway rather than navigate the slower inner-city roads. As he approached the feeder lanes, he carefully shoulder-checked. Two blondes in a white convertible sped by. One waved. The other blew a kiss. Too bad he’d turned off his radar. Pulling those two over would have been fun. He might have ended up with a date for tonight.

With a sigh of regret, he merged onto the highway. The sad truth was, he was really looking forward to his shower and nap more than the night on the town with the boys. He’d probably be happier spending the evening with his big brother, Adam, and his fiancée, Faith. Since hooking up with the bright defense attorney, the ever-serious chief of detectives had lightened up considerably. Last time they’d had a meal together, Adam hadn’t mentioned a word about Casey needing to think about his future.

Paradoxically, Casey had begun to dwell on that very topic. For the past ten years, getting paid to zip around the pretty oceanside city of Courage Bay on a motorcycle all day had seemed too good to be true. But a cop couldn’t stay on motorcycle patrol forever. Where did he want to be in ten years when he was forty?

The speed limit on the highway was sixty miles an hour, so Casey opened the throttle, shooting ahead of the dawdling Corolla in front of him. Compelled by the beauty of the day, he had to fight a sudden urge to do a little speeding himself. The ocean sprawled lazily on his left, and though it was October, the beach was dotted with sunbathers and swimmers.

Was there any finer place on earth than Courage Bay, California? The urge to get home grew stronger. He forced himself to slow down a fraction. He’d be there soon enough.

In his rearview mirror he spotted a pretty brunette in a Mazda convertible coming up in the left lane. Her hair was tied back and she wore sunglasses. Her lips were moving, though she was alone in the car. Probably singing along to the radio. She looked happy.

She was also speeding. She shot right past him, but must have caught sight of his bike and the insignia on the side, because a second later her brake lights flashed once, and then again.

Raising a hand to the side of his helmet, he met her gaze in her rearview mirror and gave her a mock salute. I’m off duty, ma’am. Lucky for you.

He slowed even further and soon she was lost in the lines of traffic ahead of him. Unlike the two blondes, whom he’d immediately forgotten, this brunette stuck in his mind.

RELIEVED THAT HE HADN’T signaled her to pull over, Jackie Kellison smiled at the reflection of the good-looking motorcycle policeman in her rearview mirror. She still had half an hour before her shift at Courage Bay Hospital’s ER started, so she’d had no reason to exceed the speed limit.

But there was something about this day that made her feel a little reckless. The weather so perfect, the ocean so calm, the air so sweet. The wind must be blowing in the right direction, because not a wisp of smog spoiled the vivid blues of sky and water.

She checked the mirror again. The motorcycle cop was now several vehicles behind her. She felt mildly disappointed. He was cute, and surely she hadn’t imagined the playful grin he’d directed toward her when she’d automatically pumped on her brakes. Maybe it would have been fun to be ticketed by him.

Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, she admonished herself. Her life really was dull if she imagined getting a traffic citation would be fun.

Leaning forward, she turned the radio volume higher and resumed singing to the Dixie Chicks’ latest single. Yes, the truth was her life was extremely dull. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d done anything just because she thought it would be fun. Even speeding was rashly uncharacteristic of her these days.

Maybe the old Jackie was coming back?

No, not quite. But a modified version, someone stronger…and wiser. Michael had said she’d heal eventually, and bless his kind, patient soul, he’d been right.

She didn’t credit only Michael, gifted therapist that he was, with her mental recovery, though. She could never have managed without the support of her brothers. Since her grandfather’s death when they were all kids, Robert—or Kell, as everyone called him—and Nate had been her only family and, as a result, the three of them were very thick.

They’d been almost as devastated as her when Andrew…But no. She wouldn’t think of him now. She would just enjoy the rest of her drive to work and maybe even fantasize a little about the cute cop on that wicked motorcycle.

THE BABY IN THE BACK SEAT was crying now. Damn. She should have taken the time to warm a bottle at the mall. What was she going to do? Traffic was so heavy, she couldn’t pull over to the side. Could she somehow get a bottle from the diaper bag while she was driving?

Cautiously, the blonde reached her right arm back toward the bag. She caught the strap and managed to pull it forward a few inches until it jammed between the infant carrier and the front passenger seat.

Oh, hell. Couldn’t anything go right today?

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll get you something to eat.” The constant wailing was giving her a headache. She groped for the bag’s zipper, trying to remember into which compartment she’d packed the bottle.

In the instant she had her eyes off the road, the air suddenly shook with a huge explosion. The car in front of her burst into flames. She screamed and grabbed onto the steering wheel with all her might.

Oh, God, no. The burning car careened into the next lane, cutting off a huge tractor-trailer rig that had been passing them on the left-hand side. The rig driver hit his brakes, but couldn’t avoid the collision. She heard the most awful noise of tires screeching on pavement, metal grinding on metal. The trailer zigzagged beside her—it was going to overturn!

She was trapped by traffic on all sides. There was nowhere for her to escape.

Help me. Help me. Oh, God…dear God…

AN EXPLOSION OF SOUND cut off Jackie’s effort at positive thinking. Crashing metal, screeching tires, shattering glass. Several cars ahead of her, a huge tractor-trailer rig overturned, amid a cloud of thick black smoke. As her Mazda rushed toward the bumper of the vehicle in front of her, she slammed on her brakes. There was no way to prevent the crash. She braced herself for impact.

“Oh!” Her airbag deployed, knocking the breath from her lungs. She’d hit the car in front of her, and less than a second later felt an impact from the rear as the vehicle behind her joined the pileup.

I’ve had a car crash! For the few seconds that she couldn’t breathe, she wondered if she was going to make it. Was this what she had suffered through the last two years of her life for? To die in a traffic accident?

CHAPTER TWO

THE RED MAZDA had been out of sight for over a minute when Casey crested a hill on the highway and spotted it again amid the steady traffic ahead. He wondered where the pretty brunette was off to in such a hurry. Or maybe she was just speeding because she had a great car and it was a lovely day and she was happy to be alive. Though he was paid to control the speed on the public roadways, Casey could relate only too well.

And then with a flash of light and boom of an explosion, everything about the day changed. Flames shot from a car even farther ahead on the road.

Casey swore as he automatically reached for his radio. At that instant, a tractor-trailer unit started to weave across two lanes of the highway, the driver trying desperately to avoid the out-of-control burning vehicle.

With a quick maneuver, Casey pulled over to the shoulder, watching helplessly as the rig zigzagged across several lanes of traffic. In a chain reaction, the vehicles behind the rig began to smash into each other, one after the other, filling the air with the smell of burning rubber and the horrific noise of crashing metal and shattering glass.

The tractor-trailer finally stopped moving, settling across the highway, then tipping inward and over, crushing whatever had been in the right-hand lane next to it. The rig landed lengthwise across the highway, blocking two northbound lanes and crossing the short median strip to settle over one southbound lane, too. Automobiles in both directions crashed into each other, creating the most massive pileup he’d ever witnessed.

“Ten forty-five on Pacific Coast Highway heading north. Repeat, 10-45 on PCH. At least twenty vehicles, probably more…”

He stopped to catch his breath, realizing that he was in a mild state of shock. This one had come a little too close to home. If he’d been going just a bit faster…

“We’ve got a huge pileup blocking most, if not all, south-and northbound lanes.”

The dispatcher asked him to estimate the location.

“About five miles south of Courage Bay Hospital.” Which is damn lucky, since a lot of these unfortunate folk are going to require medical help, fast. “We’ll need everything you can get us. Backup, ambulances…”

He paused as he noticed a second blast of flames come from the burning vehicle. He frowned, wondering what could have caused two explosions in the same car. Not that it would matter to the poor driver, who had probably been incinerated with that first blast.

“What just happened?” the dispatcher asked.

Casey relayed the bare facts, then reiterated the need for help, as soon as possible. As he spoke he wove his motorbike between stopped vehicles, working his way up to the collision. Ahead, in the burning sedan, flames reached out of the gaping windows as if grasping for the sky. After a few moments the fire tapered down again.

If the second explosion had been the fuel tank, then what had caused the initial blaze? Casey made a note to discuss the anomaly with whoever headed up the investigation team later. Likely the poor devils would be here until late tonight, gathering statements from witnesses as well as physical evidence from the road and the vehicles involved in the collision.

Though he hated the carnage of serious traffic accidents, Casey had always enjoyed the process of collision reconstruction. It was like detective work, really, requiring a meticulous gathering of evidence from witnesses and from the accident scene itself.

At some point tonight, officers would carefully examine the road for skid marks, scrapes, gouges, liquid spills. They’d photograph the scene, take precise measurements with a transit, conduct a preliminary inspection of the vehicles involved. All this information would enable the officer in charge of the investigation to stand up in court and explain accurately how the accident had happened and why.

All very cool, fascinating stuff.

But right now, Casey’s job was the opposite of cool. His first concern was public safety. He circled the area with warning flares, shaking his head at the extensive damage. Somehow he had to clear a path through this mess for the emergency vehicles. The far southbound lane was probably his best bet. He began directing those drivers whose cars were still capable of moving to the side of the road.

FINALLY, JACKIE WAS ABLE to catch her breath. She flexed her hands, wiggled her toes, and decided she was okay. Her neck ached a little, but that was all. Around her the cacophony of the accident had died down. In the sudden silence she heard people calling for help.

How many drivers and passengers had been injured?

She scrambled for the cell phone she kept in her glove compartment for emergencies and dialed 9-1-1. The dispatcher seemed already aware of the incident, but still asked several questions. Ignoring a painful protest from her neck muscles, Jackie reached under the passenger seat for her first-aid kit.

After being assured that help was on its way, she disconnected her call and dropped the phone. She had to get out of here to see if she could help. She grasped the door handle, but even with a good shove from her shoulder, couldn’t get the door to budge. Her beautiful new convertible was totally wrecked.

On shaky legs she stood on her seat. Before coming to a final stop, the tractor-trailer rig had crossed the center-line, and traffic now stood at a complete halt in both directions on the highway.

God give me strength, she prayed as she climbed out the open roof. The awful sounds of crying and moaning and entreaties for help were everywhere now. She hardly knew where to turn.

The bright sun suddenly seemed an abomination. She’d never seen such devastation firsthand. In front of her was a tangle of metal and shattered glass. Just ahead of the overturned rig, a sedan burned wildly. Had the occupants made it out before the blast? She prayed so.

“Please, help me! My son is bleeding badly!”

The woman in the car in front of Jackie’s had managed to open the driver’s side window and was waving at Jackie. She sprang into action, scrambling over the torn metal of the Mazda’s hood, then jumping down to the pavement and racing to the woman’s aid.

“Where is he bleeding?” Jackie pulled on a pair of disposable latex gloves as she spoke.

“His arm.”

Peering in the passenger window, she saw a boy of about fifteen or sixteen strapped into the seat. He was shifting restlessly, and bright red blood spurted from a cut artery in his upper arm.