EVERYONE’S AT RISK

There’s a murderer in the hospital, and nurse Tara Peterson is determined to prove it. With mysterious deaths in the cancer ward, anyone could be next. But no one wants to believe her...except undercover agent Zach Davis. The murderer wants Tara’s suspicions silenced, permanently. To protect Tara, Zach lets her in on his secret, and unwittingly into his heart. Tara and her three-year-old daughter are like the family he lost years before. Zach will risk everything to keep them safe, no matter the cost.

“What I’m about to tell you is for your ears alone. Understand?”

A flicker of confusion crossed Tara’s face, but she nodded.

Zach glanced around to make sure no one was listening in. “My name is Zach Davis.”

She glanced at his hospital badge—Zach Reynolds—and scooted closer to her daughter.

“I’m a cop, working undercover to investigate the deaths you reported.”

“You are?” she said excitedly. “Why didn’t Detective Gray tell me?”

“The fewer people who know, the less likely my cover will be compromised. You are the only one at the hospital who knows why I’m really here.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise. In fact, I can help you.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Tara’s inside knowledge could prove invaluable to closing this case quickly.

“Cop,” Tara’s daughter Suzie parroted. With the purple crayon clutched in her chubby fist, she drew a circle on her paper, jabbed dots in the middle and scratched two lines from the bottom. “Dak, cop,” she repeated gleefully.

Zach’s heart sank. This assignment had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

SANDRA ORCHARD

lives on a small hobby farm in rural Ontario with her real-life hero husband and college-age children. Although she taught high school math before starting her family, her childhood dream of becoming a writer never strayed far from her thoughts. She dabbled in writing articles and book reviews, but for many years needle crafts, painting and renovating a century-old farmhouse satisfied her creative appetite.

Then she discovered the world of inspirational fiction, and her writing took on new direction.

In 2009 she won the Daphne DuMaurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, and the following year, on her “graduation day” as a home educator (i.e., her youngest daughter’s first day of college), Sandra learned that Love Inspired Books wanted to publish her first novel. And so her Undercover Cops series began.

Check out her website, www.SandraOrchard.com, for interesting series extras. Sandra loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/SandraOrchard or c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

Critical Condition

Sandra Orchard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

—Proverbs 4:18

For Garth

THANKS:

As always to my husband and children

for their unwavering support and encouragement. You’re the best!

To my critiquers and brainstorming buddies,

Eileen Astels, Laurie Benner, Wenda Dottridge

and Vicki Talley McCollum for their encouragement and invaluable suggestions.

To my accountability partner Patti Jo Moore

for her cyber hugs, prayers and cheers.

To my wonderful readers, blog readers and Facebook fans who encourage and bless me in

so many ways. Your letters, posts, comments

and “likes” spur me on in the face of

uncooperative characters and plots.

And most important, thanks to my Lord Jesus

for the greatest love of all.

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Strange. Tara Peterson stepped out of a patient’s room only to be greeted by yet another call bell. Except this one blipped off as quickly as it sounded.

It blipped again.

A malfunction?

Seeing no sign of the other on-duty nurse, she hurried down the hall to check on the cancer patient herself. Most days she loved being a nurse. But today, she would’ve happily traded in her orthopedic shoes for a pair of sling-backs and a plush leather chair behind a computer monitor. Eleven and a half hours of racing from one call to another, a stack of charts awaiting her attention, made it easy to forget she hated sitting still almost as much as she hated paperwork.

She paused outside the room to ease a knot in her back and froze midstretch at the sound of something clattering across the floor, followed by a thud.

Tara threw open the door. “Mrs. Parker, what’s wrong?”

The frail young woman’s body stiffened, her hands contorting at an odd angle, her unseeing eyes rolling upward.

A sudden shove propelled Tara across the room. She grabbed the bed rail, twisting her arm as momentum slammed her knees to the floor. Her head clipped the corner of the bed frame and stars exploded in front of her eyes. Biting back a cry of pain, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see the tail of a white lab coat whisk out the door.

“Wait,” she shouted, a metallic taste filling her mouth.

The bed rocked frantically, but a groan snapped Tara’s attention to the floor beyond, where a man lay sprawled on the cold tile. Blood spurted from a gash over his eye.

He mumbled something Tara couldn’t make out.

Gritting her teeth against the white-hot pain that shot up her arm, she grabbed a towel and pressed it to his cut. “Mr. Parker, you need to hold this so I can see to your wife. Can you do that?”

Taking his grunt as a yes, Tara surged to her feet.

Mrs. Parker thrashed wildly in the throes of a seizure.

Tara pulled the code alarm, then checked Mrs. Parker’s airway. Clear—for now—but the woman was burning up.

“You have to save her,” Mr. Parker croaked, his tortured gaze reaching out to his wife.

Dr. Whittaker rushed into the room, his white lab coat flapping behind him.

“Give her fifty c.c.’s of diazepam stat,” Whittaker barked.

Alice Bradshaw, the other nurse on duty, shoved the crash cart through the door. “I’ll get it.”

Dr. Whittaker steadied the patient’s arm, soothing her in the dulcet tones that had earned him the moniker Dr. Wonderful from more than one patient.

As Tara tapped a vein to insert the intravenous, Mr. Parker cried out and clutched his chest.

“Take over here,” Tara commanded the instant Alice returned with the diazepam. “I need to see to Mr. Parker.” Pulling a stethoscope to her ears, Tara knelt at his side. Parker’s breathing was shallow, his pulse thready.

Dr. McCrae hurried in and glanced from Tara to the bed, where Alice was still struggling with the IV.

“Help restrain the patient,” Whittaker ordered.

Mr. Parker clutched Tara’s arm and muttered a desperate prayer.

“It’s okay,” Tara soothed. “We’re taking good care of your wife. Don’t worry.”

The man’s gaze shifted to the team around the bed. “You have to stop—” He gasped for air. “Stop the killer.”

“The killer? I don’t understand. No one’s been killed.”

Mr. Parker’s grip relaxed. And a moment later, his arm flopped lifelessly to the floor.

ONE

Detective Zach Davis turned up his collar against the brisk October weather and joined the hospital staff gathered outside Niagara’s newest cancer wing. The sooner he proved a murderer wasn’t behind the recent deaths at Miller’s Bay Memorial, the sooner he could escape.

He couldn’t imagine why a couple of deaths in a palliative-care unit—a ward where people go to die—would warrant an undercover investigation. But his former partner Rick Gray had needed a detached officer from out of town and had refused to take no for an answer.

Not that Zach had felt like explaining why this was the last place he wanted to be. He’d never told Rick he’d been married, let alone that his wife had died of cancer. As far as Rick was concerned, the five months Zach had spent posing as a computer-store owner made him the perfect candidate for his new cover as an information-technology consultant. End of discussion.

At the front of the crowd, Dr. Whittaker—the namesake of the hospital’s new addition—slid giant scissor blades around the obligatory ribbon and offered the media a smile as polished as his two-hundred-dollar shoes.

As spectators jockeyed to be the first through the doors, Barb, the real IT consultant, bumped her arm against Zach’s. “Come on, let’s get started.” The petite brunette hadn’t questioned her boss’s request to let Zach learn alongside her. He just hoped she’d be too distracted by her own work to notice what he really did.

He followed Barb into the happy hum of staff sharing cake and juice with patients, smiling and clothed in bathrobes and brightly colored caps. The kind of caps that masked chemo-razed hair.

His stomach knotted into a hard, tight ball.

He’d held his palm to spurting bullet wounds, wrestled drug-crazed addicts, immobilized the fractured bones of abused wives. But not one of those encounters had hit him like this, with an unnerving sense that if he looked one of these patients in the eyes, his grip on his emotions would completely unravel.

Someone—a nurse—cupped his elbow. “You okay? You’ve gone white.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” An antiseptic odor coiled through his nostrils, raking up memories of nightlong vigils at his wife’s bedside. Lord, why have You brought me here? I don’t want to remember.

“You’d better sit a minute. You don’t look so good.” The nurse ushered him to a chair along the wall. “I’ll bring you a glass of juice.” Her compassionate voice pulled his thoughts from the edge of a dark abyss.

His colleague had kept walking, but now, her three-inch heels clicked quickly toward him. As she drew closer, her puzzled scowl softened.

Zach scraped a hand over his face. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I take it you don’t like hospitals?”

He shook his head. “Just cancer wards.”

“You lost someone close to you?”

Zach let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah.” Close. The word didn’t begin to describe what he’d lost. His wife had been everything to him. His best friend. His confidante. His very being.

The nurse hurried back with a cup of juice. “This should bring back your color. You’d be surprised how many visitors we have who get a little faint. You’ll be okay in a few minutes.”

He doubted more time here would do the trick, but he kept the thought to himself. Undercover work was all about attitude. With the right attitude, even in uniform, he could convince the wariest drug dealer to sell him a fix. He’d never allowed a situation to get the better of him. And he sure didn’t intend to start today.

He downed the juice, crushed the cup in his hand and rose to his feet. “Thanks, I’m good to go, Miss...” Seeing the woman’s doe-size brown eyes smile up at him, Zach backed into the chair’s arm. A jabbing pain to his thigh anchored his feet.

“Peterson.” She tilted her head as if questioning whether they’d met before. “Tara Peterson.”

He blinked, then swallowed to clear the roar from his ears and the image of his dead wife standing two feet away, arm outstretched in greeting.

Not his wife. The mouth was wider, the reddish-brown hair wavier and longer. She looked a few inches taller, too. But, those eyes...

Zach blinked again, and chalked up the leap of his heart to the woman’s uncanny resemblance to his wife.

Forcing a smile, he extended his hand. Then her name clicked in his brain and turned his “pleased to meet you” to paste in his mouth.

This was the nurse who’d reported the murders.

Tara glanced at the ID badge hanging from his neck, and then to Barb’s. “I guess you two are the IT specialists we were warned about.”

“Warned?” Zach repeated, scrambling to regain his equilibrium.

Tara chuckled. “Sure, we finally got the hang of the last system, and now you’re going to change it on us again.”

“I thought your present system was over five years old?” He looked to Barb for confirmation.

Barb rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Stone age.”

“I heard that.” Tara’s grin belied her offended tone. “You computer gurus just like to torture us. But if there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Zach nodded his thanks. He liked the woman’s playful sense of humor. She didn’t seem like the type to cry wolf. Maybe his reluctance to take the case had made his negative assessment of its merits too hasty.

Zach shadowed Barb for most of the day to acquaint himself with the job. Then he forced himself to return to the cancer ward, where the alleged murders had occurred. Implementing a new software system gave him a perfect excuse to question staff, not to mention peek at their online activities.

As he passed the staff lounge, a commotion erupted.

“You have to let this go,” a female voice soothed.

“I won’t let it go. Someone murdered those people.” Zach recognized Tara’s voice and the flint of pain behind her words.

“The coroner disagrees,” the other woman responded.

“For all we know the murderer paid him off.”

Zach tensed. The last thing he needed were rumors of a killing spree spreading through the hospital.

“You’re talking crazy,” a different woman spoke up.

“Am I? Someone shoved me into the bed. Clearly, he didn’t want to be seen.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just trip? You hit your head pretty hard.”

“No!” The slap of a hand against a table punctuated the denial. “How many times do I have to tell you? Someone murdered Mrs. Parker. Her husband begged me to stop the killer.”

Zach rushed to the door. Tara might as well have painted a bull’s-eye on her forehead. He needed to get her out of there before she made the situation any worse.

Two nurses and a doctor were in the room with her. Tara reached for a lunch container in the fridge and deposited it into a cloth bag on her arm. Absorbed in the discussion, no one acknowledged his arrival.

“I was there and I didn’t hear Mr. Parker say anything,” the older nurse said. “How about you, Dr. McCrae?”

The young resident standing at the counter with his coffee shook his head. “Afraid not.” He took a sip from his mug and shot Tara a sympathetic look.

“Well, I know what I heard.” Tara’s voice sharpened. “And if the police won’t—”

“Miss Peterson...” Zach tapped on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need your help.”

Looking a little stunned, Tara lifted her gaze to his. “My help?”

“With the computer setup for your nurse’s station.” When she hesitated, it was all he could do not to grab her by the wrist and yank her out of the room. Something he should’ve done the instant he’d heard the word murderer come out of her mouth. “Please.”

“Yes, of course.” She followed him to the door, and he motioned her to go ahead of him.

Dr. Whittaker passed them with a cursory glance. “What was all that yelling about?” he asked, stepping into the staff lounge.

“Tara was ranting about the murderer again,” one of the nurses said.

Zach couldn’t make out Whittaker’s riled response—something about bad press—but Tara must’ve heard, because she clenched her fingers into a fist.

“I can’t believe the police aren’t doing anything,” she muttered.

Zach steered her to the privacy of the empty nurse’s station. “About what?” he asked, since she had no idea why he was really here. He couldn’t believe that she’d all but thrown down the gauntlet for a murderer to come after her.

Maybe he should have taken Rick up on the option to let her in on the operation.

Clearly heartened by his interest, Tara seemed to forget about his computer questions and explained in detail what happened the night of Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s alleged murders.

He nodded as if it were all news to him. “I can see how important finding this person is to you, but you might not want to broadcast your intentions.”

Her face blanched. “You think he’d come after me?”

“It sounds like you’re the only witness.”

“But I didn’t see who shoved me,” she insisted.

“He—or she—wouldn’t know that. Chances are that he didn’t even know whom he’d shoved out of his way until...”

Tara’s bottom lip trembled. “Until I opened my mouth.”

Offering an empathetic smile, Zach nudged her toward a desk chair. “You weren’t exactly keeping your voice down.”

Her teeth dug into her lip, stilling the tremble, and the vulnerability in her eyes—those enormous eyes he couldn’t tear his gaze from—completely undid him.

She sank into the chair. “What am I going to do?”

“I’d suggest stop talking about what you saw.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand.... There have been other suspicious deaths.”

The anguish in her voice had him debating whether he’d be better off letting her in on his undercover operation. If she kept up these tirades, she’d not only give the supposed murderer a reason to silence her, she’d make Zach’s job a whole lot tougher. “Suspicious how?” he asked, pulling a chair next to hers. He scrolled through a couple of computer screens so they’d appear to be looking over the new software.

“Sudden, inexplicable fevers. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s death last week, we had an incident a couple of months ago, and another, Ellen Clark, the night before last. But the police still won’t believe me. If only I’d done more to convince them...” Her voice hitched. “I might have saved her.”

Rick had told Zach about Miss Clark. The woman had been presented in the E.R. with the same symptoms as Debra Parker.

“The doctors and nurse who tried to resuscitate Mrs. Parker say I’m crazy.” Tara’s fingers did a frenetic dance along the edge of the table, and Zach had to resist the urge to still them. “They say the high fever triggered the seizure that killed Debra. But they can’t explain the fever.”

“How do your colleagues account for the husband’s death?”

“Dr. Whittaker figures that witnessing his wife’s seizure triggered a heart attack and made Mr. Parker spout the—” Tara made air quotes “—nonsense about stopping a killer. But someone else was in that hospital room.” She held up her bandaged wrist. “That’s how I got this. And he’s already struck again. Don’t you see? That’s why I can’t stay quiet.”

That’s what Zach was afraid of. Maybe the smartest thing would be to tell her he was a cop.

“Do you realize you’re the first person who’s taken my concerns seriously?”

Zach lowered his voice. “I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel that way. And I am concerned, especially if this person has figured out you’re a witness.” He recognized the moment his implication sank in.

Tara’s determined expression wilted, but then she suddenly bolted to her feet. “My daughter.”

Zach’s heart skidded to a halt at the thought of a killer going after her child. “Where is she?”

“The hospital daycare. You don’t think—?” Tara raced to the elevator without finishing the thought he could guess all too well.

He rushed after her.

The elevator doors closed before Tara reached them. She slapped the button, and when they didn’t reopen, she took off down the stairwell.

“Tara, wait,” Zach called after her. He’d wanted to scare some sense into her, not scare her senseless. He had to tell her who he really was.

At the bottom of the stairs, he caught her arm and hauled her to a stop. “You need to calm down.” He gripped her shoulders. “You don’t want your little girl to sense your fear, do you?”

The air swooshed from her lungs. “No, but—”

“Shh.” He touched his fingertips to her lips, and a jab of awareness pinged through him. What was he doing?

Her eyes grew even larger, if that were possible.

Instantly, he dropped his hands to his sides. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t in any danger, but after hearing her account firsthand, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “I need to tell you something.”

A door above them banged open.

Instinctively, Zach stepped between Tara and the stairs. A couple of housekeepers hurried down a flight and exited on the next floor. “Let’s talk outside,” Zach suggested.

“Not until I get Suzie.” Tara’s voice edged higher.

Zach cringed. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of her daughter. “She’ll be safe in the daycare.”

Tara glanced at her watch. “My shift finished ten minutes ago—she’ll be expecting me.” Tara yanked open the stairwell door and strode to the daycare center.

Zach waited in the hallway, debating whether he should call Rick before disclosing his true occupation. But one glimpse of the rosy-cheeked tot Tara swept into her arms had him deciding he’d rather remind Rick, after the fact, that he’d given Zach that option. When Tara emerged carrying the girl on one hip, Zach gave the child a goofy grin. “Hey, Suzie, my name’s Zach. How old are you?”

The tot smushed her baby finger and thumb against her palm and proudly displayed three fingers.

“Three, wow! You’re a big girl.”

Her golden ringlets bobbed as she stretched herself taller, straining the seams of her yellow jumper.

“Careful, honey,” Tara singsonged in that sweet, high-pitched tone women seemed to use with anyone under two and a half feet. “Mommy’s wrist is sore. Remember?”

Suzie thrust her arms into the air and flung herself toward Zach.

Swallowing his surprise, he scooped her into his arms. “I got you, you little munchkin. We’re giving Mommy’s boo-boo a rest, are we?”

“I’m sorry.” Tara reached for the child.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind carrying her for you.”

A strange expression flitted across Tara’s face, followed by a manufactured smile. Her arms dropped to her sides. “Thank you.”

Considering her contradictory response, he didn’t know whether to apologize or say “you’re welcome.” So he led the way to the back exit. A mirror hung by the door. Zach tapped Suzie’s reflection. “Who’s that?”

She splayed her palm on her chest and gave herself a huge smile. “Me!”

“You,” Zach agreed with a chuckle, mesmerized by the chocolate gaze so like her mother’s.

Suzie lunged for the glass, almost toppling out of his arms. He caught her just as her chubby fingers smacked against his startled reflection. “Dak!”

His heart suddenly felt too big for his chest. “That’s right. My name’s Zach.” He glanced at Tara’s reflection, but she seemed intent on avoiding his gaze. He half expected her to make an excuse, take back her daughter and leave.

But she opened the door and led the way to a picnic table at the edge of the daycare’s playground. Clearly, she was desperate for a compatriot to her cause. She dug a notepad and crayons from her oversized handbag and then patted the seat beside her. “Come and draw, honey, while the grown-ups talk.”

Suzie bounced in Zach’s arms, apparently a three-year-old’s signal for put me down.

He swooped her onto the seat, airplane-style, and earned himself another giant smile.

“You’re very good with children.” Tara’s timid smile came slower than her daughter’s. “Suzie usually doesn’t take to men.”

Zach shrugged off the compliment and snagged the seat opposite them.

Now that Tara had her daughter at her side, the panic in her eyes had waned. Of course, if it waned too much, she might shoot off her mouth again, and he couldn’t afford to take that risk. A killer wasn’t likely to let her live if he figured she could identify him. “What I’m about to tell you is for your ears alone. Understand?”

A flicker of confusion crossed her face, but she nodded.

“You can’t discuss it with your colleagues, your friends, not even your husband.” Oh, man, what was he thinking?

“My ex-husband walked out on us a long time ago.” She ducked her head, as if embarrassed at admitting something so personal to a practical stranger. Oddly, she didn’t feel like a stranger to him.

“I’m sorry.” Zach looked at Suzie, his heart cracking at the thought of the fun daddy things she was missing out on in her young life. He stopped himself before considering what Tara was missing, too.

She was a witness. A contact. Nothing more.

Exhaling sharply, he glanced around to make sure no one was listening in. “My name is Zach Davis.”

Her gaze dropped to the name on his hospital badge—Zach Reynolds—and she scooted closer to her daughter.

“I’m a cop, working undercover to investigate the deaths you reported.”

Her face lit up. “You are? Why didn’t Detective Gray tell me?”

“The fewer people who know, the less likely my cover will be compromised.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “You are the only one at the hospital who knows why I’m really here, and we need to keep it that way.”

“I won’t tell anyone.... I promise. In fact, I can help you.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Zach breathed his first full breath since considering whether to tell her. Tara’s inside knowledge could prove invaluable to closing this case quickly.

“Cop,” Suzie parroted. With the purple crayon clutched in her chubby fist, she drew a circle on her paper, jabbed dots in the middle and scratched two lines from the bottom. “Dak, cop,” she repeated gleefully.

Zach’s heart sank. He sent a prayer heavenward. This assignment had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

No, this couldn’t be happening. If they were going to stop the killer from striking again, she had to make her daughter understand. Tara cupped Suzie’s face between her hands. “Look at me, sweetie. Zach’s a computer consultant. Not a cop. Okay?”

“Not a cop.”

“That’s right. So you mustn’t say he is.”

“Not a cop,” Suzie repeated.

Zach looked even paler than he had after Suzie drew his picture.

Tara turned over the paper. “Don’t worry,” she said, with more confidence than she felt. “Suzie won’t blow your cover.”

Zach didn’t look so sure. “Maybe you could take some time off until I’ve finished the investigation. After your outburst in the lounge, we’d probably be safer all around.”

She thought of how panicked she’d felt only a few minutes ago. Now that she knew the police were on the case, she didn’t feel nearly so worried. She hadn’t said anything in that room that her colleagues hadn’t already heard. And sure, she might’ve momentarily suspected McCrae and Whittaker the night of the murder when they’d run into the room wearing the same kind of lab coats as the guy who’d shoved her, but if one of them was worried about her identifying them, he would’ve done something by now. “It’s okay. I’ll keep my mouth shut and my eyes open. I’m a single mom with bills to pay. I can’t afford to take time off.”

“I understand. But you must have vacation time available. Or, given your wrist injury, we could probably arrange a paid medical leave.”

“Absolutely not. My promotion to head nurse last month earned me flack from more than one nurse with seniority over me. I will not give them the ammunition to take me out.”

A muscle in Zach’s jaw twitched. “It’s okay,” he said in a comforting tone that sounded as though he meant it. He tousled Suzie’s hair. “Once this little munchkin sees me around the hospital, she’ll probably start calling me Doc.”

Suzie patted his arm. “Dak.”

Zach winked at Tara. “What did I tell you?”

Her stomach did a tiny flip. Zach didn’t act the way she’d expect a detective to act at all. With his bronzed skin and sandy-blond hair, he looked as though he spent more time on a surfboard than at a computer. She didn’t want to try to decipher the twinge of admiration she’d felt when Suzie had taken so readily to him. Her little girl wouldn’t even go to Grandma as willingly as she’d belly flopped into Zach’s strong arms.

Tara shook her head. How would she know if his arms were strong?

It’s not that Suzie weighed very much. Any guy’s muscles would bulge when he flexed his arms to lift a child. Oh, brother, get off what his arms look like already. She cleared her throat. “Um, do you really think the...” Glancing at her daughter, she mouthed the word killer. “...would come after me?”

“What can you tell me about the patients who died?”

Tara blinked. Assuming his answer might hinge on hers, she said, “They were all Dr. Whittaker’s patients. Different ages. Different types of cancer. Unlike Ellen, the first two patients were already on the ward when their fevers struck.”

“Wealthy?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“We need a motive,” he explained. “Why do you think someone would murder these people?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it, except in Mr. Parker’s case. I assumed he surprised the killer.”

“You told Detective Gray this person wore a lab coat.”

“Yes.”

“Did you notice a scent? Any sound? The squeak of shoes, maybe? The color of his pants?”

Tara closed her eyes and tried to remember. “Yes!” Her eyes popped open. “His pants were dark blue. But...” She inhaled, focused her mind on the memories of that night. But all she could smell was Zach’s woodsy scent. Her heart fluttered. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t recall anything else.”

“If you do, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll look for evidence of fudged medical reports, manipulated drug trials or threatened lawsuits—anything that points to a possible motive. I need you to alert me to any unusual behavior on the part of staff or patients. Okay?”

“Absolutely. But...” She dug her fingers into her palms. “Um... You didn’t answer my question. Do you think he’ll come after me?”

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes.” She looked at him quizzically, then pulled it from her purse.

He took it and punched in numbers. “I’ve programmed in my number. If you notice anything unusual or suspicious, if anything frightens you, don’t hesitate to call me. Day or night. Understand?”

Her pulse raced. “Yes, but you didn’t answer my question.”

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.” Fear welled in her throat. He did think she’d be a target. He must.

“Is there somewhere else you can stay for a while? A friend’s perhaps?”

“Are you trying to scare me?” she said through gritted teeth, not wanting to believe what his avoidance was saying loud and clear. “Is this another tactic to get me to take time off work?”

“No.”

“Then answer my question.”

Zach’s gaze shifted to Suzie and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Yes, Tara, I believe you could be in danger.”

TWO

The next day, with half a night of prayer behind him, Zach managed to walk the halls of the cancer ward without feeling that he might faint. Good thing, too, since the realization that Tara’s theories might not be so far-fetched had nixed all hope of avoiding this area of the hospital.

Barbara’s finely plucked eyebrows had disappeared into her bangs when he’d offered to test the computer setups in the new wing. But once he’d convinced his colleague that he would rather confront his ghosts than run from them, she had handed over the pass cards to all the computers on the floor.

Ahead of him, Tara stepped from a patient’s room. Her hair was done up in a funky bun. Strands of hair poked out in various directions, and several wayward tendrils curled down the back of her slender neck. Oh, boy, if his mouth went this dry watching her from behind, he dreaded to think how he’d react to seeing those beautiful brown eyes again.

She turned, and her smile swept the breath from his lungs.

He recovered quickly and asked for directions to Whittaker’s office. He knew the way, but asking Tara to show him would give him an opportunity to find out how she was faring without piquing anyone’s curiosity.

Tara glanced at the pass cards he held. “Dr. Whittaker doesn’t like to be disturbed too soon after rounds. Perhaps you could start with our resident’s computer. Dr. McCrae.”

Recognizing the name as one of the doctors on duty the night the Parkers died, Zach agreed.

“How are you doing?” he asked as they strolled to McCrae’s office.

“I didn’t sleep so well. I thought I’d sleep better, knowing you’re...you know. But I woke at every noise, worried he’d come after me.”

“I’m sorry I scared you. But I’d rather you be on your guard than unaware of potential danger. Suzie okay?”

Tara chuckled. “Oh, yeah. You made quite an impression on her. All evening it was Dak this, and Dak that.”

Zach smiled past a pang of grief. “She’s a sweet girl.”

Tara knocked on an unmarked door. When there was no response, she pushed it open. “Before this new wing was added, our interns and residents got nothing more than a locker and had to share computers with the nurses. But Dr. Whittaker insisted that, since residents work such long shifts, they should be given an office.” She chuckled and jutted her chin toward the far corner. “The mattress was McCrae’s idea.”

Zach surveyed the small room, doing his best not to inhale Tara’s vanilla scent as she moved toward the window. With the bare white walls, chrome-and-glass desk and slatted window blinds, the office looked as sterile as an examination room. He supposed residents weren’t around long enough to add those personal touches that would offer some hint of their life outside the hospital.

Zach settled into a plush leather desk chair, pausing to appreciate the improvement over the cheap box-store chair he’d had on his last case. “Any news on Miss Clark’s cause of death?” he asked, now that they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Not yet.” She frowned and twisted open the vertical blinds. The light striped her face like prison bars. “For all we know, the coroner could be in cahoots with whomever’s behind this.”

The anger fueling her comment didn’t mask the wobble in her voice. An aching vulnerability that awakened every protective instinct in him. Taking a moment to reel in his emotions, he powered up the computer. “I’ll check him out. You said the patient asked for you before she died. Anyone inquire about that?”

“Actually, Dr. Whittaker commended me for having such a positive impact on our patients that they’d ask for me by name. Not that his comment surprised me. He’s always upbeat and encouraging.”

“Hmm, a regular Dr. Wonderful,” Zach said, repeating the moniker he’d overheard one of the nurses use for the man.

Tara shrugged. “He’s nice.”

As Zach waited for the computer to boot, he motioned Tara to shut the door and peeked inside McCrae’s desk.

Suddenly, he heard loud footsteps in the hallway. The door banged off the wall, and a doctor stormed in, lab coat flapping in his wake, his face as red as his hair. “What are you doing in my office?”

“This is Zach Reynolds,” Tara answered for him. “He’s the IT specialist who’s upgrading our computer systems. I showed him in.”

McCrae’s gaze flashed to Zach and then down to where his hand hovered over an open drawer.

Zach snagged a pen from inside. “You don’t mind if I borrow this, do you? Mine’s run out.” Without waiting for a response, Zach slid the security pass card into the new hub that would connect McCrae’s monitor to the main network. “I could be a couple of hours getting this set up. Were you needing access before I start?”

McCrae plunged his balled hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “No, that’s fine. I have patients to see.” He strode past Tara and scooped his stethoscope off the desktop. “Next time, however, I’d appreciate being informed before you barge into my office.” McCrae gave the room a sweeping glance and then left as quickly as he’d appeared.

“Whew, quick temper on that one.” Zach tossed the borrowed pen back into the drawer.

“It’s the sleep deprivation. Makes the residents edgy. He’s quite tenderhearted once you get to know him.”

“How will I ever come up with possible suspects if you have such high opinions of everyone on staff?”

Tara snorted. “Wait until you meet Alice Bradshaw.”

“Who’s she?”

“A nurse who... Well, let’s just say that when it comes to Alice, I follow my dear departed grandma’s advice. ‘If you can’t say something nice about a person, don’t say—’”

Zach flashed Tara a silencing glance as a gray-haired nurse stepped into the doorway.

* * *

Tara spun toward the door. At the sight of her least favorite person in the world, she swallowed the last of her words. Okay, maybe Alice Bradshaw wasn’t her least favorite person.

Her rat-fink ex-husband, who’d split on her and their then eight-week-old daughter, held that distinction.

But what was Alice doing here? Spying on her?

It was high time the woman figured out that twenty years’ seniority didn’t give her license to mind everyone else’s business. Tara took a deep breath.

Okay, Alice had caught Tara talking about her. Not good. But if she let on that she was the least bit rattled, Alice would pounce. Ever since Tara’s promotion, Alice had snatched every possible opportunity to undermine her authority.

Zach’s gaze ping-ponged from Alice to her, and the twinkle in his eye tugged a smile to her lips. She turned the smile to Alice. “Was there something you needed?”

Alice blinked, clearly surprised that her ability to unnerve Tara had lost its effect, but she recovered quickly. “Yes, actually.” Her ultraprim voice enunciated each syllable with precision. “The patients are waiting for their meds.”

Tara glanced at her watch and inwardly cringed at how late it was. “Okay, thank you. I’ll be right there.”

When Tara returned her attention to Zach, a dimple dented his cheek. “I see what you mean,” he said. Then, all hint of humor faded as he added, “Stay alert. We’ll talk later.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Every bed on the ward was full, and every other patient had some urgent crisis demanding her attention. She was grateful for the distraction, but still found herself struggling to focus on her work, because busy as she was, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had her looking over her shoulder every few minutes.

She was three bites into her lunch when the front office paged her. On her way there, she passed through the lobby, where Dr. Whittaker was showing a group of well-heeled prospects the inscribed marble donor wall on which their generosity would be forever immortalized.

Tara had to chuckle. He went on and on about the groundbreaking research they’d be supporting, but everyone knew it was his irresistible charisma that pulled in the donations.

A newly inscribed block at the end of the wall caught Tara’s attention, and she skidded to a stop. Mr. and Mrs. Parker, platinum donors?

They hadn’t had that kind of money. Mr. Parker had often lamented about the extra jobs he had to take to afford his wife’s natural supplements, and how he hated that work kept him from being with her more.

A hand clamped her upper arm, jolting her from her thoughts.

“Miss Peterson?” Dr. Whittaker smiled down at her with his perfect white teeth. “For a moment, you looked like you might faint.”

His gaze strayed to the Parker inscription, his forehead creasing.

Zach’s words—stay alert—pulsed in her ears as Whittaker shifted, blocking her from the view of the potential donors he was courting. “No, I’m fine. I...” She peeked around him at their audience and raised her voice for their benefit. “I was admiring how generous people have been.”

Dr. Whittaker beamed and shifted again, no doubt hoping her accolades would inspire further generosity.

She tapped her finger on the Parkers’ name to gauge his reaction. “This couple, for example. They must’ve bequeathed their entire estate to this project.”

“Yes, the late Mr. and Mrs. Parker were extremely charitable.” His lips jitterbugged from a smile to a frown before finally settling into a grim line. Although obviously pleased by the coup, he knew enough not to show his pleasure, considering the couple had to die for the hospital to get the money.

Tara stiffened. Motive.

He certainly had means and opportunity. Who would ever suspect Dr. Wonderful of being the grim reaper?

Tara’s gaze shot to his. He still held her by the arm. And his grip was tightening.

Zach strode toward them like a gleaming knight. He tapped the doctor’s shoulder. “Excuse me, Dr. Whittaker?”

Whittaker’s grip loosened. “Yes?”

Zach thrust out his hand, leaving Whittaker no choice but to release her and extend his own hand.

Tara mouthed a thank-you and then scurried away without a backward glance. What was she thinking, goading Whittaker like that?

That’s the trouble—she didn’t think. Mom always warned her she was too impulsive. Had Whittaker read her suspicions in her expression? Or was he just trying to stop her babbling before someone made the connection between the names on the wall and the recent deaths?

Either way, if Dr. Wonderful sensed she didn’t buy into the persona he was peddling, she was in trouble.

Her stomach roiled at the thought. She dealt quickly with the front office’s questions, and then returned to the lunchroom. But she was so rattled that her stomach grew queasier by the second. She covered the macaroni salad she’d barely touched and returned the container to the staff fridge.

She tried to focus on paperwork to take her mind off her suspicions of Whittaker. Surely Zach would come by to ask about the run-in. She’d never had such a bad case of nerves. The detective’s warnings must’ve spooked her more than she’d realized. The mix of concern and determination she’d seen in his eyes as he’d drawn up behind Whittaker flittered through her thoughts. That...and how Zach’s shirt had strained across his broad chest when he’d reached up and tapped Whittaker’s shoulder.

Maybe suspicions weren’t the only things leaving her a little rattled.

Unable to attend to the paperwork, Tara waited for Alice to go on her break. Then she slipped into the back room where the medicines were kept. For days she’d been meaning to inventory the medicine locker to see if she could figure out what drug might’ve been used to kill the Parkers. Trouble was, Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s divergent symptoms suggested two different drugs, and none of the standard culprits had shown up in the coroner’s tox screen. Motive alone wouldn’t be enough reason for Zach to arrest Whittaker. They had to figure out how he did it. If, in fact, he had done it.

“Peterson.”

Tara jumped at Whittaker’s gruff summons and fumbled the bottle of oxycodone she was holding.

He snagged the bottle before it hit the floor, squinted at the label, then at her. “Your wrist still bothering you?”

“No,” she huffed, appalled by the insinuation that she’d sneak a pain pill. She hadn’t even filled the Tylenol 3 prescription the E.R. doc had given her the night of the incident. “I’m inventorying the medicine locker.”

His foot kicked the doorstop. The door closed with a thud.

Suddenly the room felt far too small, and she wished Alice were still here.

“Alice tells me you were late dispensing meds this morning.”

Scratch Alice. Tara wished Zach were here. She backed up a step only to have the handle of a spare bedside table press into her back. “Yes, sir.”

Whittaker raised an eyebrow. “No excuse?”

“It wouldn’t change the fact.”

“Hmm.” His stern expression relaxed. “Yes, some things are better kept to ourselves.” He rolled the narcotics bottle between his fingers. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Um, I suppose.”

“Good.” He plopped the bottle back on the shelf. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice pitched higher. But the instant the question escaped her lips, she bit her tongue. Would she never learn?

He’d probably been seconds away from walking out of the room and now...he was standing there gritting his teeth. The table handle dug deeper into her back.

“The Parkers’ deaths were an unfortunate occurrence that Memorial happened to benefit from.” Whittaker’s slow, measured words sucked the air from her lungs, one agonizing molecule at a time. “The less attention drawn to that fact, the better. We wouldn’t want people to get the wrong ideas. Would we?” He yanked open the door and stalked out.

This time Tara couldn’t ignore her upset stomach. She grabbed a bedpan and heaved.

Alice’s head poked in the door. “I thought I heard someone in here. Oh, you don’t look so good.” She helped Tara to a chair in the nurses’ station. “What is it? The flu?”

“I don’t know. It—” Cramps seized Tara’s stomach. She doubled over, moaning.

“I’ll get you something to calm the nausea.” Alice exchanged the bedpan with a clean one and rushed off. A few minutes later, she returned with a syringe. “Dr. Whittaker said I could give you an injection so it’ll work faster.”

“No, I don’t think—” Another wave hit, and this time Tara ran for the sink.

“Trust me. It’ll help.” Alice swabbed Tara’s arm and administered the injection before Tara could object again. “Now, why don’t you lie down in the locker room to give the medicine time to work? I’ll cover for you.”

* * *

The panic Zach had seen in Tara’s eyes had gripped his emotions and wouldn’t let go. He yanked the pass card from the computer hub he’d been testing and headed for the nurses’ station. After witnessing the hold Whittaker had had on Tara’s arm, he’d thought the hospital’s Golden Boy might be their man, but after talking with him, Zach wasn’t so sure. He needed to hear Tara’s version of what had gone down in the lobby at lunchtime.

The nurses’ station was vacant. He walked up and down the halls, glancing in patients’ rooms, but found no sign of her. Anxiety mounting, he checked the staff lounge.

Alice Bradshaw glanced up. “Looking for someone?” she asked in that gratingly precise tone of hers.

“Yes, the head nurse.”

“That would be me.”

Alarm bells went off in Zach’s head. “You? I thought Miss Peterson—”

“She went home sick. I’m covering for her. Can I help you with something?”

“It can wait. Thanks.” He went back to the computer he’d been testing, but a niggling uneasiness made concentrating impossible. Only yesterday, Tara had outright refused to take time off. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number.

After five rings, voice mail kicked in.

He clicked End without leaving a message. If she felt sick, she’d probably gone straight to bed. He wandered past Whittaker’s office, and at the sight of him frowning at the computer monitor, breathed a relieved sigh.

Zach shook his head. What was he thinking? That Whittaker would hunt her down with some threatening reprimand?

If she felt scared, she would’ve come to him. Even so, the acid burning his stomach showed no sign of abating. He borrowed the phone book from the nurses’ station to look up her address. But there were three columns of Petersons, and not one had a first initial T. He called Rick.

“What’s up?”

“I need Tara’s address. Something weird went down at lunchtime, and she left early. I need to make sure she’s okay.”

Rick rattled off the address. “Do you think she’s in danger?”

“I wouldn’t be asking for the address otherwise, would I?” Zach snapped. “I’ll be in touch.”

He clamped down his riled emotions and hurried out to the hospital parking lot. Lord, please let me be overreacting.

Consulting the map he’d picked up in the hospital gift shop, he wound through three unmarked subdivisions before finding Pine Street. He pinpointed Tara’s house and slowed to a crawl. The driveway was empty.

He double-checked the house number against the one Rick had given him. Same. His pulse spiked. All afternoon, concern had nagged him. Clearly, he should’ve paid more attention.

He tried her cell phone again.

“Hello?”

Zach’s heart leaped at the sound of her voice. “Tara, where are you? Bradshaw said you were sick.”

“Yeah, I am. I brought Suzie to my mom’s for the night.”

“You’re at your mom’s?”

“Just leavin—”

Tara screamed and what sounded like gunfire blasted over the phone.

“Tara? Tara? Talk to me. Tell me where you are.”

THREE

Screams—her own screams—barraged Tara’s eardrums. She dove face-first into the front seat of the car and covered her head with her arms.

The window behind her seat shattered, spraying glass over the seats, her clothes, her hair.

“Tara, talk to me!” Zach’s voice shrilled from the vicinity of the floorboard.

She took one hand from her head and felt for her cell phone. If she hadn’t been reaching into the car to grab the phone, that first shot might’ve gone through her heart instead of through her car and out the passenger window.

Her fingers closed around the phone as another shot ripped through the door. Clinging to the phone, she rolled to the floor. Pebbles of glass ground into her legs and arms. “Someone’s shooting at me!”

“Are you okay?”

“Someone’s shooting at me!”

“Where are you?” he demanded.

“In my car.”

“I need an address!”

The sound of screeching tires pierced the air. “I think he’s gone. I hear sirens coming. I’ll just—”

“Tara, stay down.” The urgency in Zach’s voice knocked her back with all the force of a physical push. “Don’t lift your head. Tell me where you are.”

“Sam’s Cove. Thirty-eight Eagle Avenue. It’s ten minutes west of Miller’s Bay.”

“I’m on my way, but stay on the line. Are the sirens getting closer?”

The steady timbre of his voice eased her heart’s frantic pounding. “Yes.”

“Good. Someone must’ve called it in. Stay down until the cops get there.”

She swiped at a tear dripping down her cheek and gasped when her hand came away bloody.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding.”

“Were you hit?”

“It’s just from the shattered glass, I think. I don’t know....” She felt herself losing control. “Zach, I can’t stay here. What if the shooter comes closer?” Except she couldn’t run for the house and draw gunfire near Suzie.

“Stay calm. Put pressure on the wound. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Just hold on.”

At the sound of feet pounding toward her, she curled deeper into the narrow space beneath the dash.

A hulking figure appeared at the door, blocking the light.

Tara couldn’t help it. She screamed.

“What is it?” Zach asked urgently.

“Tara, it’s me.”

Relief poured through her as she recognized the voice of her mom’s neighbor John Calloway.

The older gentleman gingerly pulled her free of the glass. “Let me get you inside.” He tried to pry the phone from her clenched fist. “The police are on their way. Your daughter is screaming for you, and it’s all your mom can do to hold her.”

Suzie’s cry fired Tara’s muscles. She dropped the phone and ran to the front door, where Mom held her thrashing daughter by the waist. The instant her mother released the child, Suzie tumbled into Tara’s arms.

Mr. Calloway herded them inside the house.

Within seconds, an explosion of colored lights strobed through the window, dancing across the walls of the tiny living room.

Tara collapsed into an armchair, and Suzie burrowed into her arms, sobbing. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.”

Tara’s mom shook her head, but thankfully didn’t voice her disagreement.

“Did you see the shooter?” Mr. Calloway asked.

“No.”

“You must have seen something,” Mom pressed, her voice edging higher.

Tara squeezed Suzie more tightly and gave her mother a not now look.

Mr. Calloway shook his head. “You never saw things like this when I was a kid. It’s the drugs. Seems to be all kids care about these days. The cops say they broke up that local drug ring, but I don’t believe it. Before long we’ll be no different than those American cities you see on TV.”

Her mother slipped from the room and reappeared with a damp facecloth. She gently dabbed at Tara’s face. “The cut doesn’t look too bad. I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” The cloth came away bloody, and Mom’s wary expression belied the calm in her voice.

Through the window, Tara could see an officer unfurling caution tape as another pointed in the direction from which the shots had likely been fired. She shivered. Drive-by shootings weren’t supposed to happen in quiet communities where churches outnumbered bars four to one.

A loud rap sounded at the door. Mr. Calloway let in a uniformed police officer and directed him to Tara.

The officer removed his hat. “I’m Officer Nelson, ma’am. I need to ask you some questions.” His gaze shifted from her to Suzie.

Mom reached for Suzie’s hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Grandma will get you some milk and cookies while your mommy talks to the police officer.”

“No.” Suzie’s arms clamped around Tara’s middle. “I not leave you.”

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Tara lifted her daughter’s chin. “We’re all safe inside the house with the officer here to protect us. I need you to be a big, brave girl. Okay?”

Mom gently cupped Suzie’s shoulders and tugged her away. Mr. Calloway hovered at the door, looking uncertain whether to stay or go.

The officer pulled out a pad and pen. “Did you see who shot at you?”

She wedged her trembling hands under her legs. “No.”

“Has anyone threatened you? A jilted boyfriend maybe?”

“No!” she retorted.

“You having any domestic problems? A business deal go bad?”

Momentarily speechless at the suggestion that she brought the attack on herself, Tara crossed her arms. “No.”

“It’s got to be drugs,” Mr. Calloway muttered. “It’s always about drugs.”

“I’ll take your statement in a few minutes, sir. If you wouldn’t mind waiting in the kitchen, I’d appreciate it.”

Mr. Calloway let out a snort, but did as he was asked.

Officer Nelson flipped over a page of his notepad. “Okay, then tell me everything you can remember—descriptions of any people or cars you saw pass by before the shooting.”

“I didn’t notice anyone. I left work sick.” Thankfully, she didn’t feel too sick anymore. The overload of adrenaline coursing through her system must’ve flushed out whatever had been cramping her stomach. That and the shot Alice had given her. “I brought my daughter here to my mom’s so I could go home and sleep.”

The sound of squealing brakes snapped her attention to the living-room window. A black pickup screeched to a stop at the end of the driveway, nose-to-nose with a cruiser. Zach jumped out.

Her heart kicked at the sight of him plowing past the police tape, a mix of determination and worry creasing his handsome face.

A burly cop yanked him back.

“That’s my friend,” Tara told Officer Nelson. “Can you ask your officers to let him through?”

Nelson opened the front door. “It’s okay, Joe. Give him clearance.”

Zach didn’t wait. He sprinted through the door and to her side. His eyes roamed her entire body, settling on the cut above her left brow. A mixture of anger and relief churned in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak, given the turbulent emotions parading across his face. He was a cop. Yet he looked as though his insides had gone through a meat grinder, the utter opposite of Nelson’s detached expression.

The officer bombarded her with a dozen more questions, then took Mr. Calloway outside for his version.

Suzie flew around the corner with Mom on her heels.

Zach scooped Suzie into the air. “Whoa there, kiddo.” He planted her back on her feet, and Suzie’s face lit into the first smile Tara had seen since they’d arrived.

Suzie curled her shoulders forward, scrunching her arms against her chest, looking shy. “Hi, Dak.”

“Hey there, Suzie.” He scooped a dollop of chocolate from her cheek. “Mmm, what have you been eating?”

“Cupcakes.”

“Could I have one?”

She gave him a big nod, and then looked to Tara.

“You can bring us each one, sweetie.” As Suzie raced back into the kitchen on her new mission, Tara said to her mom, “We need a few more minutes. If you can manage it...”

“Who is—?”

“Mom, please. I’ll explain later.”

Mom gave Zach a curious look, but headed back to the kitchen. Tara could always count on her to put Suzie’s welfare first.

“Who knew you were coming here?” Zach asked the moment her mother disappeared.

“No one. I only decided to come as I was leaving the hospital parking lot.”

“Did you notice anyone following you?”

“No.” Her breath caught, her thoughts racing. “You don’t think this has something to do with the deaths at the hospital, do you?”

“We need to consider the possibility.”

“The officer said they had a drive-by shooting just last month. That this was probably a case of mistaken identity. They know an ex-gang member lives in a house like this a few blocks over.”

Zach hunkered down in front of her and lowered his voice to an earnest whisper. “Officer Nelson is likely right, but I’d rather err on the side of caution. Is there somewhere else you could stay for a while? At least until we figure out who’s responsible?”

The churning in her stomach returned. Why was this happening to her? Life was hard enough, juggling a job and Suzie’s care. She couldn’t bear to be driven from her home, too. “No one followed me here,” she insisted. “I want to go home. Suzie is frightened enough. If I take her somewhere else, she’ll only become more scared.”

Zach’s gaze was filled with compassion, but she could see the mental debate going on behind his eyes.

“Even if your concerns were founded,” she said, “I can’t bring danger to someone else’s doorstep. My phone number is unlisted.” Tara waved her hand toward the window. “My car obviously won’t be in the driveway. Suzie and I will be as safe at home as any other place where some lunatic might track us.”

“Okay.” Rising to his feet, Zach lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll drive you home. Then, as a precaution, I’ll ask Detective Gray to arrange for a female officer to spend the night with you.”

The idea of a stranger in her home didn’t feel all that reassuring. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

Zach’s expression turned stern. “I won’t take chances with your and Suzie’s safety.”

Tara stared at him, speechless, wondering why this seemed so personal to him. And why his protective reaction filled her with such a deep sense of reassurance. A feeling she could get used to. Which would be a colossal mistake.

Zach wasn’t part of her life. He was just a man with a job to do.

Suzie dashed back into the room, a cupcake in each hand, her thumbs digging into the icing.

Zach relieved her of the goodies, and Suzie scrambled into Tara’s lap before they could send her on another errand. Zach smiled over Suzie’s head as he handed Tara a cupcake.

Reminded once more that her stomach still felt queasy, Tara set the cupcake on the table beside her.

Suzie snuggled under her arm. “I don’t want to stay here, Mommy.”

“You don’t have to. Zach’s offered to drive us home.”

Mom appeared, carrying two cups of tea. “You’re going?”

Hopeful it would settle her stomach, Tara gratefully accepted the cup. “After all the excitement, I think Suzie will sleep better in her own bed.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. If your father wasn’t due home soon, I’d be tempted to leave with you.”

Zach took the other teacup and offered Mom his hand. “Zach Reynolds. I’m an IT consultant at the hospital.”

“Dak not a cop,” Suzie chimed in.

“I can see that.” Mom tousled Suzie’s hair as she eyed Zach. “All the same, it’s very nice of you to see Tara safely home.”

A knock sounded and Suzie leaped from the chair.

“Let Grandma answer the door,” Tara scolded.

Officer Nelson carried in Suzie’s car seat, and Tara’s purse and lunch bag. “I thought you might need these. The tow truck will be here shortly.”

Mom bustled down the hall. “I’ll get the vacuum and go over that car seat. Make sure no glass is left behind.”

Suzie ran to the seat and poked her finger through a bullet hole in the plastic sidewall at head level. “Bad man hole my chair.”

The blood drained from Tara’s face and the room started to spin. Zach must’ve sprung to his feet and grabbed her tea, because the next thing she knew he was pushing her head to her knees.

“Breathe,” he said gently. “It’s okay. Suzie’s okay. Take big breaths.”

The air came in short gulps between snippets of horrible images of her baby being shot.

Zach rubbed her back. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Tara sprang upright. “How can you say that? My baby could’ve been killed.”

He cupped his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. “She wasn’t. And I’m going to make sure nothing happens to either of you. Understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not ready to question how he planned to do that.

Thankfully, Mom distracted Suzie from Tara’s meltdown by cajoling her into helping vacuum the safety seat.

As soon as they finished, Zach carried it to his truck.

“Who is that man?” Mom asked the instant the door closed behind him.

“Dak,” Suzie piped up.

“Yes, sweetie.” Mom rested her palm on Suzie’s head and pinned her gaze on Tara. “How did he know you were here?”

“I was on the phone with him when the shots were fired.”

“You’re seeing him?”

“We’re friends,” Tara hedged. She’d known the man for twenty-four hours. It hardly qualified him as a friend, but telling Mom he was a cop wasn’t an option. She’d scarcely explained how she’d injured her wrist last week let alone her suspicions about whoever had shoved her.

Mom looked as though she wanted to say more, but seemed to think better of it when Tara reached for Suzie.

By the time Tara had helped Suzie into her shoes and zipped up her ladybug jacket, her favorite, Zach had returned. He came through the back door. “The media is here. I’ve parked my truck at the neighbor’s house behind this one. If we exit through the backyard, we won’t be spotted.” He turned to Tara’s mother. “If they come to the door, perhaps you could say this has been quite a shock and your daughter is resting. That way they’ll assume she’s still here.”

“Yes, I can do that.”

He whisked Tara and Suzie outside, and within minutes they were headed back to Miller’s Bay.

Tara gave him directions to her street, and then they lapsed into silence. As they passed the hospital, she said, “Why did you call me this afternoon?”

“I went looking for you to ask about your run-in with Whittaker. Nurse Bradshaw told me you went home sick.”

“You heard about Whittaker?” She replayed in her mind their encounter outside the medicine locker. Did she really think he was capable of sweet-talking his patients into bequeathing their life’s savings to the hospital, and then killing them to speed delivery?

Zach glanced at her, his forehead puckered. “I was there. Remember?”

“O-o-oh.” She drew out the word to three syllables. “You’re talking about the first incident.”

His eyes widened. “What do you mean, first?”

Tara glanced over her shoulder at her ever-watchful daughter. “Perhaps we should talk about this later.”

His gaze lifted to the rearview mirror. “Good idea.” A few minutes later, he pulled into her driveway. “Wait here while I make sure it’s safe.”

“Um...” Her gaze darted from one window to the next. “I feel like a sitting duck. Don’t you think it’d be safer if we all went in together?”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, telling her he didn’t like the idea. He scanned the neighbors’ yards and the street. “Okay, let’s go.”

By the time Tara had gathered her things and climbed from the truck, Zach had Suzie unbuckled. He held out his palm. “Give me your keys.”

With Suzie’s safety paramount in her mind, she handed them over and took her daughter from his arms.

He unlocked the front door and hesitated as if bracing for an assault or explosion of some kind.

“What is it?”

He shook his head and moved inside. “Shut the door and wait here while I check the rest of the house.”

The tender concern in his voice washed over her like a gentle rain, swishing away the tension that had knotted her stomach. She nudged a few pairs of tiny shoes out of his path. “Excuse the mess.”

“You have a three-year-old. Messes go with the territory,” he said, winking at her. “Nothing to apologize for.”

His wink did funny things to her heart. Someone who didn’t care about kids’ messes might tempt her to reconsider her no-dating rule.

Right. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to find herself attracted to a guy if she’d tried. And, boy, was she attracted.

She hugged Suzie tighter. Now was not the time to entertain such thoughts. Someone had shot at her tonight. Maybe intentionally.

* * *

Zach let his gaze skim over the living room and adjoining dining area. A poufy sofa and chair filled a couple of walls. A bookcase, its bottom shelves loaded with toys and picture books, adorned a third wall, and a large bay window encompassed the fourth. Recessed ceiling lights bathed the room in a warm glow. “Your place looks great. Homey.”

Tara’s lips curved into a smile that chased away the shadows around her eyes. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Uncertain how to respond, he ducked his head and murmured, “Stay put until I get back.” He searched the two bedrooms, inspected the closets and under all the beds, and then checked the bathroom, kitchen and basement, assessing every window and door. Although reassured to find no evidence of an attempted break-in, he nevertheless put in a call to Rick.

Returning to the living room, he found Tara and Suzie sitting in an armchair, reading a picture book. The sight clogged his throat.

He coughed to clear it. “The place looks safe enough, so I went ahead and asked Detective Gray to send over a female officer to stay with you. I also ordered a pizza. I figured you might be hungry.”

She fluttered her fingers through Suzie’s hair. “I still don’t feel up to eating, but I’m sure Suzie will appreciate it.”

“Mmm,” the little girl agreed, before scurrying over to her toy shelf.

Tara picked up her lunch bag and purse. “I guess I might as well chuck what’s left of this macaroni salad.” She opened the back door off the kitchen and scraped the contents from her container into the compost bucket.

“You need to eat something. Do you have crackers? They might settle your stomach.”

She pulled a bag of soda crackers from the cupboard, plugged in the kettle for tea and then turned circles.

“Relax. Sit down,” Zach said in the most soothing voice he could muster, considering what her restlessness was doing to him. “Tell me what happened with Whittaker.”

“Oh.” She placed her hands on the table, continuously clasping and unclasping her fingers. She must’ve noticed that the habit caught his attention, because she dropped her hands into her lap.

“Start by telling me why Whittaker grabbed your arm in the lobby.”

“He said that I looked like I might faint or something.”

Zach nudged the package of crackers toward her. “Did you feel faint?”

“More like shocked. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s name on the donation wall. They didn’t have that kind of money to donate. And...” Tara’s explanation came out in a rush.

“Could’ve been a life-insurance policy. Since they both died the same day, the money would’ve gone to the beneficiaries of the estate. Or maybe, memorial gifts were made in their memory. I can check into it. It is a little suspicious.”

“A little? Dr. Whittaker outright said to me that the less attention drawn to the Parkers’ deaths, the better. So people wouldn’t get the wrong idea.”

“But he didn’t imply that the deaths and the hospital’s windfall were actually connected?”

Her voice rose a notch. “He implied that I’d better keep my mouth shut if I knew what was good for me.”

“Whittaker actually threatened you?”

“Not in so many words. But don’t you see? He must’ve charmed the Parkers into changing their will, and then bumped them off.”

He quirked a brow. “Kind of a big risk for him to take when he doesn’t personally benefit.”

“Then who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know, Tara. I don’t know how killing a couple of terminally ill patients can score anyone a payoff.”

Tara threw up her hands. “Why does it have to have anything to do with personal gain?”

“It doesn’t. But it usually does.”

“Well, that scratches the doctors.” She sighed. “They can hardly be in need of more money.”

“Not necessarily. Many graduate from med school with enormous financial debt.”

The doorbell rang and Suzie sprang to her feet.

“No,” Zach chided gently. “You mustn’t open the door unless your mommy says it’s okay.” Heartened to see that being back in familiar surroundings had at least eradicated the youngster’s fears, he glanced out the window. “It’s Detective Gray and your pizza,” he said to Tara.

“All right, Suzie. You can open the door this time. But next time, remember what Zach said—ask first.”

Suzie’s little legs scurried to the door in a blur that could outrace Wile E. Coyote.

“Well, hello,” Rick’s voice carried into the room. “Is your mommy home?”

Tara set her hands on Suzie’s shoulders. “Come on in. Thanks for coming. And bringing supper.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Tara leaned down and whispered in Suzie’s ear, “You go wash your hands before we eat.”

Suzie eyed Rick and the female officer curiously, then skedaddled down the hall.

Rick introduced the brunette at his side as Officer Kelly Teal, Tara’s bodyguard for the evening. The attractive young officer wore jeans and a T-shirt and carried an overnight bag.

Tara gave Kelly an apologetic look. “I’m sure Zach’s concerns are overblown. Officer Nelson was certain the shooting was a random gang thing.”

Rick handed Tara the pizza box. “Let’s pray so. In the meantime, Kelly will keep an eye out for any signs of trouble.”

The kettle whistled. Tara let out a resigned sigh, set the pizza box on the coffee table and excused herself.

“What do you think?” Rick whispered to Zach as Kelly stowed her bag behind the sofa.

“No sign of anyone watching the place. The windows and doors have decent-enough locks. And, like she said, this could be a false alarm. Then again...”

Tara’s scream split the air.

Zach rushed to the kitchen, Rick at his heels. The back screen door hung open. In the faint pool of light beyond the threshold, Tara stood frozen, her hand splayed over her throat, her gaze fixed on a convulsing baby raccoon.

Suzie darted into the room, but Kelly immediately corralled her into the living room. Zach clasped Tara’s upper arms from behind and urged her back inside.

She whirled to face him and his heart wrenched. She’d gone ashen, her eyes glazed, her body trembling. It was all he could do not to fold her in his arms.

He spotted the upturned compost bucket and shot a glance to Rick.

“What was in that bucket?” Rick asked.

“My leftover lunch.” Tara choked on the words as her terrified eyes met Zach’s. “Someone tried to poison me.”

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