Nothing to Fear (24 page)

Her eyes went just a little bit sad. “It’s late, Ethan. You need to go.”

“Wait.” He’d nearly forgotten about the cell phone he’d bought her. “It’s got five hundred minutes preloaded.”

She lifted one brow at his outstretched hand but made no move to take the phone. “I don’t take what I haven’t earned, Ethan.”

Which he might not have understood before today. “You let me buy you breakfast. Take the damn phone, Dana.”

“Breakfast costs $6.95. A phone costs a hell of a lot more.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let Caroline buy me a phone, why should I let you?”

“Because Caroline doesn’t want to see your tattoo,” he retorted and made her laugh. “There. Take it. It’s the only way I know how to get in touch with you. My numbers are programmed in, both my cell number and the hotel where I’m staying. I don’t know when I’ll be free today and I want to see you later. For dinner.” He slid the phone across the table and watched her look at it. “You don’t have to hot-wire it, Dana. Just press the pretty numbers, listen with the top part and talk into the bottom part. You don’t need to be an electrical engineer. I promise.” He stood up and straightened his tie.

She looked up at him with a wry expression. “You think you’re so funny. Okay, I’ll take the damn phone for now, but when you go back to D.C., it’s going back with you.”

His heart slammed up into his throat. When he went back to D.C. She said it like she didn’t care if he went back or not. But he was going back. On that she was right. When he found Alec, he’d go back and resume his old life. Which seemed even emptier than it had before. Shoving his confusion aside, he bent down to press a hard kiss on her lips. “Go home and get some sleep. Call me if you need me. I’ll see you for dinner tonight.”

Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 6:45 A.M.

Sue didn’t have a lot of time. Dupinsky had called the shelter from the hospital saying she’d be back by seven-thirty. That left Sue less than an hour to get a new ID and get back to the shelter. It would be easier to find prey this time of the morning, before the population of the city flooded the streets. Especially if the ID bearer was just getting off work and too tired to be careful. She picked up her pace when an acceptable candidate stepped off the El.

Sue matched her stride. “Excuse me.” The woman was young, a little overweight, dressed in Winnie the Pooh scrubs lightly spattered in blood. How apropos. She glanced over her shoulder with a wary frown, then took off at a brisk walk. Sue paced the woman, timing her attack. “I’m from out of town, miss. Can you help me find my address?”

“Sorry,” the woman mumbled and kept moving. Good instincts, Sue thought. But ultimately not good enough. With a shoulder check that would have done any hockey player proud, she shoved the woman into the next alley, pulling her pistol from her waistband to the woman’s temple in one fluid motion. Like a damn ballet, it was.

“Don’t say a word,” Sue muttered and watched the woman’s eyes widen in terror.

“Take my purse,” the woman begged in a hoarse whisper. “Just don’t hurt me.”

Sue rolled her eyes. They never listened. They always said a word. Sometimes a whole string of words. One little squeeze of the trigger, the pop of a bullet making contact with bone, and alacazam, the blood splatter on the woman’s Winnie the Pooh scrubs was greatly increased. The silencer had really been a smart buy. Quietly, the woman slumped to the ground and Sue picked up her purse, found her wallet.

Today she was Kristie Sikorski, pediatric nurse, mother of three.

Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 7:30 A.M.

Dana still felt the tingle on her lips when she pulled into the alley behind Hanover House an hour later. Even the short kisses left her senses reeling. But more astonishing than even the kiss itself had been the look on his face right before he’d kissed her. She’d made herself say it, “When you go back to D.C.” She’d made herself acknowledge once again that he was not a permanent fixture. The cell phone gesture had been so kind . . . so domestic . . . She’d had to remind herself that whatever they had would last only as long as they were in the same city. And as soon as his business was done, he’d be gone.

She’d expected him to chuckle. She hadn’t expected him to look like she’d punched him in the gut. As if he’d forgotten he’d return. As if he wasn’t thinking what they had was temporary after all. And just thinking he’d thought it made her heart tremble.

The trembling was replaced by annoyance when she pushed on the back door and found it unlocked. Evie always forgot to lock the damn door. With a frown she pushed it shut and snapped the three deadbolts shut. The top one didn’t creak. David had greased it for her when he fixed the roof on Sunday.

David. The frown became a scowl. He’d pushed too far last night. But he had been right about one thing. She’d placed Caroline and everyone else at risk.

“You never came back last night.” This quiet observation from beside the coffeepot came from Beverly, their resident who was ready to leave the nest. Tomorrow was her good-bye date, in fact. Today would be her last day at Hanover House.

“No. I stayed at the hospital all night.”

“How is Caroline?” Beverly poured Dana a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

“All right for now. Thanks.” The coffee was strong, the way Evie made it. “Evie’s here?”

“She’s upstairs with the new kids.”

Shauna Lincoln, the mother Caroline had picked up on Sunday night. Shauna had finally arrived, toting two toddlers with infected tonsils who had cried all day yesterday.

Beverly closed her eyes on a faint shudder. “Those kids cried all night.”

Dana patted her shoulder. “You’ll probably get a screaming baby on the bus with you all the way to California.” And laughed when Beverly grimaced. “You ready, Beverly?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Dana, thank you. I’d probably be dead today if it weren’t for you. I’ll miss you.” Quickly Beverly hugged her, then overcome, rushed out of the kitchen and up to her room. It was a much-needed affirmation. Dana knew her work was vital. Critical. But she also knew it was dangerous. Something had to change.

But for now, Dana had to smooth things over with Evie. Their phone conversation last night had been anything but cordial. Dana found her in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed, rocking one of the sick babies. Evie’s dark brows rose. “Caro?”

“Better this morning.”

“Good.”

“She has a ripped placenta.” Dana watched Evie pale, but her rocking didn’t falter. “They may need to take the baby early if she doesn’t stabilize.”

“Hmm,” was all she said. Then, “Erik came down for food at about two in the morning.”

Dana’s eyes widened. “Erik? That’s wonderful!”

“No, not really.” Evie continued to rock, her voice cold as ice. “He was lucid. Extremely lucid. Eyes bright, movements steady. Until he wolfed down three chicken legs in the space of two minutes. Then he threw up all over the kitchen floor.”

Dana drew in a breath, let it out on a sigh. “Jane’s been taking him his meals in their room. Apparently he hasn’t been getting enough of them.”

“Apparently not. Anyway, I was holding this little guy at the time and he let out a shriek. Jane came bolting down the stairs like the house was on fire. And she was very angry with Erik. Very, very angry.”

Dana’s eyes narrowed. “Did she strike him?”

“No. Just cleaned him up. None too gently. I tried to check on him later, but she said he was asleep.”

“Dr. Lee’s coming later today. We’ll need to tell him what happened.”

“I recorded it in the log.” Evie stood up, the sleeping toddler in the crook of her arm. Reached for the doorknob with her free hand. An effective dismissal.

“I’ll check on him now,” Dana said. “And, Evie? Goodman’s out there. Please don’t leave the door unlocked. Please.”

Evie’s dark eyes stilled. “I’ll note that as well.” And the door closed in Dana’s face.

With another sigh, Dana knocked on Jane’s door. Jane appeared, her translucent eyes widening at the sight of Dana in the doorway. Braless in a skimpy tank top and short shorts, Jane looked more like an exotic dancer than an abused mother of a ten-year-old boy. Dana chided herself for the thought. A woman had a right to dress the way she wanted in the privacy of her own room. And it was unbearably hot outside. “Hi, Jane. I was just checking to make sure everything was all right. From last night.”

Jane turned to look over at Erik, giving Dana a quick glimpse of a shoulder tattoo. A stylized capital A peeked out from the shoulder strap of the tank top. “He’s sleeping,” she murmured. “I guess the chicken didn’t agree with him last night.”

“Or his stomach couldn’t take being full after being hungry for a while,” Dana said quietly. The scars on Jane’s arms, the tattoo . . . They seemed at odds with the defeated woman standing before her. “Did you get enough to eat before you came here, Jane?”

Jane dropped her eyes. “Not always. Sometimes we went without. I tried to stretch the food we had as far as I could. But sometimes Erik’s medicine takes his appetite. I’ve been trying to get him to eat since we got here.”

“You were angry last night. Why?” Dana watched her carefully. Very carefully. And had she not been, she might have missed the way Jane’s teeth clenched. Because it was gone, faster than it had appeared, and in its place was resolved despair.

“I was embarrassed. Not angry.”

“Sometimes stress can make us do things we wouldn’t normally do,” Dana said, still watching. “Sometimes we strike out at those closest to us without meaning to.”

“I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dana gently grasped one of Jane’s arms and just as gently ran her fingers over the faint little scars. “Sometimes when we’re stressed we strike out at ourselves. Hurt ourselves. Sometimes we hurt those we love.”

And then Dana saw what Caroline had meant. A controlled little explosion went off in Jane’s eyes and for a split second hate flared, pure virulent rage. Dana took an unplanned step back just as Jane jerked her arm away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I would never hurt my son.” The words were hissed.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Dana soothed. Her eyes were drawn to Jane’s hands reflexively digging into her bare upper arms. And then she saw the smaller tattoo, just under the knuckle on her left ring finger. A little cross. A prison tattoo. She looked up. Saw that Jane knew what she’d been staring at.

“What did you do?” Dana asked quietly.

Jane’s chest was pumping like a bellows. “None of your damn business.”

Dana cast a glance over her shoulder at the sleeping boy. She’d need to talk to Dr. Lee about this. Find out if they needed to involve Children’s Services to remove Erik from his mother. But that needed to be based on the behavior she saw now. Not the behavior that came before. People made mistakes. Paid their debts. Went on with their lives. Dana had. She wished she could believe Jane Smith was one of those people, too.

“You’re right. What is important is the well-being of your son. Are we clear, Jane?”

Jane jerked a nod. “Yeah.” Then for the second time in ten minutes, a door was carefully closed in Dana’s face.

“Hell,” Dana muttered, then glanced at her watch. Still fourteen hours until dinner.

Then the phone rang and Evie appeared in her doorway, her face like stone. “That was Max. The baby’s monitors just went nuts and Caroline’s asking you to come.”

Chicago, Tuesday, August 3, 9:00 A.M.

Evie sat down next to Erik with a worried frown. Jane had taken the Sunday want ads and was out looking for a job. She stroked the boy’s hair, feeling the dirt and oil on her fingers. Not every woman who came through Hanover House was an attentive mother, but Jane Smith was one of the most neglectful. Also one of the most antisocial. Rarely did they see her. Rarely did she eat meals with the others, usually stating she was taking hers and Erik’s up to their room. Evie remembered the way he’d wolfed down the chicken legs—like he hadn’t eaten in days. And she wondered how much food Erik was really getting.

Someone needed to take care of this child. “And it might as well be me,” she murmured. She got some towels. She’d wash this child’s hair as he lay here on the bed if she had to. He was still sweaty and dirty from throwing up the chicken last night, for God’s sake.

Which worried her more than anything else. His eyes had been so bright, so alert. Nothing like they’d been before. Nothing like they were now. She’d seen his file, knew he was waiting for Dr. Lee to come by with a refill for his epilepsy meds. She wondered if Jane was giving him the right dose. He was so thin. Maybe she was giving him too much.

That it wasn’t an accident had occurred to Evie, but that wasn’t something one voiced without good proof. Getting the dose right would be one of the things she’d work on with Dr. Lee this afternoon. Erik’s extreme hunger and nausea the night before would be another.

She lifted his head to pile the towels beneath him, but when she brought her hand away it was red and sticky. She jolted, just for a second. Then realized it wasn’t blood. It was sweet and candy-sticky. Gingerly she lifted her fingers to her nose.

No, it wasn’t blood. It was Benadryl. She remembered Jane asking for the bottle on Sunday, just before she went to Lillian’s funeral. Normally Evie dispensed a single dose at a time, but she’d been distracted that day. Jane had quite obviously kept the bottle. Gently she bathed Erik’s face and his neck and he stirred, opening his eyes.

“Please talk to me, Erik,” she said softly. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

But Erik just looked at her blankly, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

With a sigh Evie called Dana’s pager. Although she hated to admit it, she needed some help.

Ocean City, Maryland, Tuesday, August 3,
10:00 A.M. Eastern (9:00 A.M. Central)

Lou Moore approached the counter at the Ocean City jail just in time to see Janson signing in, flexing his shoulders after his long drive. “Detective Janson, I’m Sheriff Moore.”

“Nice to meet you, Sheriff,” Janson said, shaking her hand. “Our robber’s name is Bryce Lewis. His driver’s license says he’s seventeen and from Chicago. Also we found Cheryl Rickman’s car early this morning. Someone had switched the plates which was why we overlooked it at first. They found it about two blocks from the bus terminal.”