Beast in the Tower

Buzzing her lips to dispel a gathering tension, Kit dipped into her jeans pockets to find more change. She pulled out several folded dollar bills from the tips she’d jammed inside. But change for a single phone call? She found one quarter.

“Come on.” Fatigue made her easily frustrated. All she wanted was to ensure Matt was okay and that Germane wasn’t doing anything foolish. Kit set the coin on the counter and dug for more. A measly dime. A movie ticket stub that had gone through the laundry. A penny. “I thought you were supposed to be lucky.”

Kit swallowed hard, squelching the sarcastic thought. The Snows made their own luck. They took care of what needed to be taken care of without some random flip of a coin to make their lives easier or not. But she was getting a little tired of being stuck in the “or not” category. She glanced toward the nurses’ station, wondering if they could make some change for her. But the desk had been deserted by the skeleton staff out making their rounds.

With her pockets practically empty and her patience wearing thin, Kit decided she was just going to have to hike downstairs to the main lobby. If she couldn’t make a call there, then she’d hail a cab. Of course, the pitiful sum lying on the counter beneath the phone wouldn’t get her two city blocks, much less back to the heart of downtown. And without the coat she’d left back at the diner, it would be a mighty cold walk home. Maybe Tariq would do her a favor and let her ride for free. But she couldn’t even make that call without another quarter for the phone.

Her shoulders stiffened with an unconscious bracing that was almost as second nature as breathing. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to find her way home at night. Alone. On foot. She’d spent too many nights out looking for a brother who just couldn’t seem to forgive the world and grow up. “Be there, Matty,” she prayed, scraping the cash back into her pocket and pulling the receiver from her ear. “Please be there.”

“Operator. May I help you?”

“What?” Hallelujah! Kit quickly drew the friendly voice back to her ear. “Yes. I have an emergency. Of sorts. I’m at Truman Medical Center, and I need to call home to make sure everyone’s all right. At the very least, I need to call for a ride, but I don’t have the right change. I know it’s late…”

The operator didn’t need to hear any more excuses. “In the event of an emergency, you can reach the phone company by dialing zero. No charge for a limited call. What number are you trying to reach?”

Kit recited the number for her apartment, thanked the operator and tapped an anxious foot in time with the ringing of the phone. It was hard to block the unsettling images that were half memory, half imagination. Her waiting at the police station to post bail. Matt turning his back on her and walking away when she wanted to hug him in her arms and keep him close. The three muggers returning to the scene of the crime and breaking into the diner. Meeting Matt on the street. Forcing him to join their little crime spree. Or worse—making him their next victim.

Kit shifted on her feet, hating how easy it had become to imagine the worst. “C’mon, guys. Pick up.”

Her home number rang three times. Four.

A crackle of static buzzed in her ear, and the line went dead.

“Limited call, my ass.” Kit jiggled the disconnect button, trying to get a dial tone again. “Operator? Op—?”

Every light on the floor went out, plunging her into darkness. Kit grabbed the edge of the counter, anchoring herself in the sudden, disorienting abyss. “What the heck?”

Almost instantly, a hum of disembodied voices and quick movement rolled down the hallways from the patients’ rooms. But they sounded far away from the bubble of black silence that engulfed her in the lobby.

An uneasy fear quickly replaced her frustration. “Hello?”

She’d welcome any answer from the phone or the nurses’ station. But, blinded by the instant night, Kit didn’t know where to turn. Which distant voice to call to.

“Where’s that backup?”

“Ten-second delay.”

“Check every patient.”

“Why does this always happen at night?”

“Critical systems are still online.”

Kit curled her toes into her boots, staying put out of the staff’s way. She clutched the dead receiver to her chest and held on, counting off an eternity until those ten seconds passed and the backup generators kicked on.

…two one-thousand, three one-thousand…

A breeze swept across the back of her neck, raising goose bumps beneath her ponytail. Someone was right here.

Before she could turn around, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. In the same instant a strong arm looped around her waist and dragged her back against an unyielding chest. Kit screamed behind the muzzle and twisted in her assailant’s grasp.

“Shh. Be still,” a deep voice grated against her ear.

Still? Like hell.

Kit threw down the phone and clawed at the glove. The leather was soft, supple, warm. But the hand inside wouldn’t budge. Protests rang inside her ears but found no outlet. Had the mugger in the Chiefs parka followed her to the hospital? Was this surprise attack his way of keeping her from saying anything to the police?

Man, had he picked the wrong cookie to mess with.

She kicked at an instep, braced her foot against the wall and tried to shove him off balance. His arm slipped, then grabbed again, hooking beneath the swell of her breasts. When he fought to regain his hold on her, he palmed one feminine mound and squeezed. Even through layers of a sweater and glove, Kit lurched at the contact, alarmed as heat bloomed beneath his way too personal grasp. The man cursed and jerked his hand away. A surer grip tightened around her jaw, stifling any cry for help. Then, just as she thought she might wiggle her way free, the vise of hard arm and harder body lifted her clear off the floor. He carried her forward a step, pinning her between the counter and the wall of his chest.

“I said be still.” The lips that brushed the warning against her neck startled her into silence as much as the man’s alarming strength did. His hips cupped her bottom, his thighs pressed into hers. His moist breath burned a path behind the shell of her ear. Kit held her breath. Oh, God. What did he want from her? What did he— “I won’t hurt you,” the gravelly voice promised. “I just need you to listen.”

Understanding the unspoken bargain that cooperation was her best deterrent against more unwanted gropes and her only chance at freedom, Kit nodded.

Suspended in the darkness, deprived of sight, Kit could do little but absorb the impressions of heat and masculinity that bombarded her senses. He wasn’t the same man who’d attacked Helen. There was no trace of an accent in his unusual voice. He wore a tailored leather coat, not a parka. He was too tall to be the mugger’s sidekick. And while he could have been the third man who’d thrown her up against the wall, she was beginning to think this guy had a different purpose beyond intimidation. The men in the alley had been more than willing to hurt her. And though there was something disturbingly intimate about being pressed shoulder-to-thigh against a stranger in the darkness, this man made no effort to take advantage of her vulnerable position.

That wasn’t the only detail she noticed.

With every deepening breath, Kit inhaled medicinal soap and leather, along with the odd scent of roses. Though shadowy in form, there was no mistaking the reality and substance of this man. He was lanky. Long-limbed. Solid. The crisp chill of winter clung to his coat, but his mouth radiated a heat against her skin that was dangerously enticing. The beeps of distant monitors chirped in the distance, but it was the gravelly husk of his low-pitched whisper that commanded her attention.

“Thank you for taking care of Helen.”

Helen? He knew Helen? Kit mumbled the question against his hand.

“I will repay my debt to you.”

Her toes touched the floor as he released his grip on her. Kit sucked in a deep breath and worked the stiffness from her jaw. “What debt? Who—”

“No. Don’t turn around.” A large palm at the center of her back seared her to the bone. The heat of that firm, commanding touch was enough to hold her in place. “Don’t.”

Kit pressed her lips together and peered straight ahead into the darkness. A chill swept in and raised goose bumps beneath her sweater as his hand left her. Hadn’t ten seconds passed yet? Or had she lost all track of time the instant her vision had failed her?

“I don’t want your money. Who are you?” The heat was gone. He was gone. “Wait.” Ignoring his order, Kit whirled around.

Ten.

Emergency lights flickered on, bathing the lobby and hallways with a greenish glow. Kit blinked until her eyes adjusted to the eerie twilight. “Hey.” What happened to Tall, Dark and Creepy? “Mister?”

She thought she caught a glimpse of black stealing around the corner. The sweep of movement was longer and more flowing than the white coats and colorful uniforms of the nurses and staff. Kit hurried after it. “Wait. Tell me about Helen. The hospital needs to know her last name and address.”

By the time she skirted the corner, the shadowy figure had vanished. “No way.”

The dead-end hallway was empty. The door to a utility closet stood ajar and Kit peeked inside. Nothing.

Almost nothing.

She squinted as a small box on the closet’s back wall caught her eye. Kit touched it with her fingertips, then flinched from its ticking pulse. It was some sort of timer linked to an electrical conduit. Was it just an unlikely coincidence that this door stood open? Was that box part of the backup generator system? Or had the man with the ruined voice done something to the power grid? Why? Surely not just to cop a free feel and thank her for being a good neighbor to Helen.

Helen.

With suspicion thumping her heart against her chest, Kit ran back the opposite direction, past the warning call of the attending nurse, back to the ICU rooms. “Helen?”

The white-haired woman still lay in her bed, unmoved, unconscious. But there was something different, something out of place. Kit zeroed in on the unexpected spot of color on the white blanket.

“What is going on?” Kit’s whisper fogged the viewing window.

Instead of wiping it clear, she pushed open the door and went inside the chilled room for a closer look. A single pink long-stemmed rose lay next to Helen’s hand. The familiar scent and suspicious timing told Kit that he had brought the flower, and that the dark, powerful scrawl on the card tied to the rose was his.

Kit leaned in closer to decipher the handwriting in the dim light. “Helen Hodges. Age: 72. Allergies: Penicillin.” The back side of the card listed medications for asthma and arthritis, as well as an insurance number.

“Not much of a romantic, is he.” But definitely someone who cared enough to ensure that Helen Hodges received the proper treatment. Someone who cared, period. Kit wrapped her fingers around the woman’s fragile hand. “Who was he, Helen?”

Who was the secretive man with the warm lips and ruined voice?

A son who had an aversion to hospitals, perhaps? A grandson who preferred the darkness? A lawyer or accountant who was afraid he’d get stuck with the hospital bill if he was seen?

“Is he a criminal? Ex-husband?” No. His body had been too young and strong to be a contemporary of Helen’s. “Is he part owl or bat?”

But Kit’s tired attempt at humor couldn’t even elicit her own smile. “Do you even know he was here?”

The pale, expressionless face gave no answer.

A sweep of warmer air told Kit the door had opened behind her. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, quickly ascertaining that he hadn’t returned.

“You need to leave, Miss Snow.” Judging by the sharp tone, any sympathy the nurse had felt for Kit’s persistent vigil had worn off. “We can’t have anyone extra in the way when the main power’s off-line like this.”

“The monitors never stopped working, did they?” Kit was thinking out loud as much as asking a question. “He didn’t jeopardize the patients. He just wanted to remain anonymous.”

But why?

Why?

“He?” the nurse asked.

“You didn’t see anyone besides me come into this room, did you?” But Kit already knew the answer was no.

“Good night, Miss Snow.”

Kit acknowledged the dismissal with a nod. “Her name is Helen Hodges. There’s health information on the card here. I’d double check everything, of course, but I have a feeling it’s accurate.”

“Now.”

Pulling the rose’s soft bud into Helen’s palm, Kit closed her slender fingers around it. “He must care about you an awful lot to go to all this trouble.” The nurse cleared her throat and Kit raised her hands in surrender. “I’m going. I’m going.”

As soon as Kit stepped outside the door, every light on the floor flashed back on. She reached for a wall and braced herself while her eyes readjusted to the harsh intrusion of brightness. First the darkness had blinded her, and now the sudden glare rendered her just as helpless.

A perfect diversion.

“Damn.”

Curious to know more about the man who’d grabbed her like an attacker while insisting he meant her no harm, Kit hurried to the lobby. Empty. No one but uniformed staff prowled the hallways. She went back to the utility closet to inspect her only clue to the man’s appearance and mysterious vanishing act.

But the timing device had disappeared now, as well.

She could almost chalk up the entire incident as a fantasy of her weary imagination. The blackout had lasted a matter of seconds. The backup lights had run just a minute or two longer. Everything was back to normal. Back to quiet. Back to her being alone in the middle of the night without the change to call home.

Then she detected it. The lingering scents of leather and soap stirred her pulse. That man—Helen’s unseen friend—had been in here. He had caused that precise, patient-friendly power outage.

Kit strolled back to the phones, trying to organize her observations into a pattern that made sense. The man in the leather coat and gloves had sought her out in the darkness for a reason. He’d come to see Helen. But he’d come for Kit, too.

She caught her breath and froze, knowing for certain that their meeting hadn’t been accidental.

I will repay my debt.

And Kit had a funny feeling he wasn’t talking about the stack of quarters scattered across the telephone counter in the lobby.

Chapter Three

“Where were you last night?” Kit looked up from her bowl of soggy cereal and glared at the eighteen-year-old with the spiked golden-brown hair and the annoyingly alert blue gaze, so unlike her own sleep-deprived eyes. Man, the kid had gall.

As relieved as she’d been to find Matt asleep in his bed when Tariq had finally dropped her off at four this morning, Kit suspected her brother’s loud snore had been a ruse to keep her from asking any questions. Granting them both a couple hours of peace, she’d turned off the bedside lamp, planted a kiss on his cheek and silently promised that once she got a little rest and felt slightly more human, a conversation was going to happen.

Welcome to slightly more human.

“I was at the hospital.” Needing something with a little more crunch to sustain her, Kit carried her bowl to the sink and reached for an apple from the basket of fruit on the counter. Kit hissed at the pain that stabbed through her shoulder, and quickly pulled her arm back to her side. “Wow.”

“Kit? You okay?” Was that concern she heard in Matt’s voice? When she turned around, she caught a glimpse of the sweet baby brother she’d once been so close to. But his I-don’t-give-a-damn mask slipped back into place before she could relish the connection. He stuffed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and chewed around the matter-of-fact question. “Did you get hurt?”

The fist-size bruise that had turned her right collar bone and shoulder joint an ugly shade of purple was apparently going to limit her flexibility for the next few days. But, like the other bumps and aches on her body, it wasn’t going to stop her from looking out for her brother and taking care of the business that needed to be handled today.

“I wasn’t the patient.” She purposefully gritted her teeth and picked up an apple before pulling out a paring knife and returning to the table. She offered Matt the first wedge of fruit. “Want some?”

“I’m good.”

Fine. Don’t even let me feed you. Kit popped the apple slice into her mouth and continued carving. “Actually, I was there for a neighbor of ours. Helen Hodges?”

Matt downed the last of his milk. “The old lady who lives upstairs?”

Surprise, surprise. “You know her?”

“Not really.” When he started to leave the kitchen, Kit reminded him to rinse his dishes and put them in the dishwasher. With a grunt of acquiescence he went to the sink and did as she asked. “I bussed her table a couple of times when she was in the diner. She slipped me a tip because she said the waitresses don’t always share with the guys who clear the tables.”

“She gave you money?”

“Yeah. Twenty bucks one time. I guess she had it to spare. She said to use it for school or to put gas in my car.” Matt turned and rolled his eyes, reminding Kit what a touchy subject that was. “If I had one.”

“I’m sorry that putting off buying a car is a sacrifice we had to make. I figured it was more important to keep a roof over your head. You know you can borrow mine if something important comes up. In the meantime, I’m saving, you’re saving—”

“When, Kit?”

“It’s not that big a hardship to be without a car right now. You work right here, you take the bus to school—”

“What about when I go to college? I’m not taking the bus to California.”

Kit counted off a couple of beats so she wouldn’t jump at the topic. “Are you still planning to go?” She counted off two more before pointing out, “If you don’t get your grades back up this semester, you’ll probably lose your scholarship. And you can’t raise those grades if you’re out all hours of the night and missing classes and not getting your work done. You’ve got a real gift, Matt, as smart as you are. I hate to see you throwing it all away.”

No comment.

She stuck the knife into the core of the apple to keep it safely away from her tense fingers. She had to ask. “Where were you last night? Say, after midnight? Two hours past when I asked you to be home?”

Matt’s to-hell-with-it grin warned her she wasn’t going to get any useful answers. “With friends.”

“What friends?”

“You wouldn’t know them.”

“I should. Invite them over sometime.”

“To do what? Wash dishes?”

“They could eat. I’d be happy to feed them.” Kit rose and joined him at the sink. “I thought you liked doing those fix-it projects around the apartment and diner. Do any of your friends enjoy tearing things apart and rebuilding them the way you do?”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. I’m gonna invite someone over to fix the toaster.”

She had to give him that one. “Okay, so that wouldn’t be my first choice for a fun night out, either. What sorts of things do you do with these friends I don’t know?”

“Play games, mostly.”

“Where?”

He slammed the door of the dishwasher shut. “Dammit, Kit, Mom and Dad never grilled me like this!”

She flinched at his burst of temper, but swallowed hard to keep her cool. That was pain she saw in the tight press of his mouth. The angry glare in his eyes was just the mask that couldn’t quite hide the truth. She wanted to reach up and touch his scruffy cheek. But somehow she had become the enemy and she wasn’t sure her comfort would be welcomed, so she stuck her fists down into the pockets of her robe instead. “They had seventeen years’ experience taking care of you—I’m new at this. I’m doing my best. I wish you’d help me, not work against me. You never acted like this when Mom and Dad were around.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not here, are they?” He scowled down at her.

“The diner is our home—”

“This place killed them!” He raked his fingers through his permanently unruly hair and stalked across the room. “You don’t know what it was like. You weren’t here to see them…like that. They were trapped. All the exits were blocked. There was nothing they could do but die.”

“Matt.” Enemy or not, Kit hurried across the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stiffly refused to respond, but when he didn’t pull away, Kit held on. “It was a terrible loss, a tragic accident. But it wasn’t anybody’s fault. I promise you, those smoke alarms and CO2 detectors you installed will give us all the warning we need. And Mr. Kronemeyer’s crew is putting sprinkler systems throughout the building. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

With a scoffing laugh, he pulled away. “A few gadgets won’t make things right. Haven’t you noticed things have changed since we were kids? You were gone for six years, sis. This isn’t the same place you left behind.”

“I know the neighborhood has gone downhill. But there are still good people here. You have to believe in that.” She wanted him to believe in her, in them. “It will never be the same without Mom and Dad. But you and I are still a family. We have to talk to each other. We need to be able to trust each other.”

“I need to get to school.”

Cinching the pink chenille tie tighter around her waist, Kit followed him to the back door where he shrugged into a sheepskin coat with frayed sleeves that were too short for his arms. “Where’s your new coat? The Chiefs jacket I gave you for Christmas?”

“Don’t know.”

“You don’t know? I spent a small fortune on that thing. It was what you wanted.” I know, I know. “Besides a car. So what happened to it?”

He hauled his book bag up onto his shoulder. “I’ll get it back.”

“That’s not what I asked.” She pulled the knit scarf he’d left behind off its hook and looped it around his neck. “Matt, last night Helen Hodges was attacked in the alley. The man who hurt her was wearing a red-and-gold Chiefs parka.”

He shooed her hands away. “So now you think I’m beating up old ladies in the alley?”

She hated to admit that, for a split second, the possibility had crossed her mind last night. She prayed she knew her brother better than that. “Of course it wasn’t you. But if she was handing out large chunks of cash, you might have told someone. Maybe the same someone you loaned your coat to?”

“No, he wouldn’t do that.”

“Who, Matt?” She retreated from the blast of cold air that hit her when he opened the back door. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m trying to understand why someone would hurt that woman. And why no one but…” She shook her head to dispel the vivid tactile memories that flooded her body with heat. I will repay my debt to you. She wasn’t ready to mention the tall, gruff-voiced mystery man at the hospital, or else she’d sound like the crazy, irresponsible sibling. “I’m trying to understand why no one seems to know her or where she lives. Why your coat may have been worn by one of the men who attacked her. Who attacked me! If you have answers, I want to hear them.”

“So you can report me to the police? I didn’t do anything wrong last night.”

“But you won’t say what you were doing. Or who you were doing it with.” Kit grabbed on to the door and asked again. “What happened to your coat?”

“I have to get to school. Before you jump my case about that, too.”

“Matt.” He was out the door. Kit stepped out onto the concrete stoop to keep his long, lazy stride in sight. “I need you at work at four-thirty. And tomorrow morning you meet with your counselor. I expect you to keep the appointment this week.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, ducking beneath the steel scaffolding and heading toward the street.

“And pull up your pants. There’s a dress code at school, remember? You’ve got a cute butt—you should show it off.” Even that teasing truth failed to get any more talk out of him. He was leaving without a backward glance. Flannel pajamas couldn’t keep the wintry breeze from blowing against her skin and raising goose bumps. “I love you.”