Shades of Passion (11 page)

Just like Nina’s father blamed her for Rachel’s.

Nina gasped and threw down the mental gates on her thoughts. Where the hell had
that
thought come from? She hadn’t talked to her father in months, but their relationship was fine. Sure he’d been upset with her when she’d left Charleston, but that had only proved how much he loved her. He didn’t blame her for Rachel’s death. Not really. Those things he’d said to her twenty years ago had been said in grief. He’d apologized again and again. And Nina had forgiven him. She’d forgiven herself—

She jolted at hearing her own labored breaths and at feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. Angrily, she swiped them away. It was a major failing of hers that she cried easily.
Stop it right now, Nina. You’re letting your thoughts get away from you. Lester Davenport’s card shook you more than you anticipated, that’s all. But he’s done what he needed to do.
She would do the same.

She’d been happy before getting that latest card. And she’d been content with her job before Karen had started riding her about the MHIT program.

She’d call Karen back and arrange to have drinks, she decided. But she wouldn’t back down about the job. She’d committed herself to the shadow program for the upcoming week but after that it would be business as usual. She’d find her peace and contentment again.

No one, not Karen, not Lester Davenport and not even Detective Simon Granger, was going to stop her.

CHAPTER TEN

L
ESTER
D
AVENPORT PICKED
up his pace as he walked down the hospital corridor. In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers. In the other, a stuffed puppy doll. He smiled as he imagined Beth’s joy upon seeing his gifts. He imagined her throwing her arms around him. And he imagined her telling him she loved him.

“I love you, Daddy.”

She hadn’t said the words in so long. Not since she was a little girl. Certainly not since her mother had left him. And especially not since her mother had died.

She’d blamed him for that. Even though Nadia had been diagnosed with cancer well after she’d divorced Lester, Beth had still blamed Lester for her mother’s illness. She’d told him so herself and she’d said other hateful things. Things that had made Lester say hateful things back. Things that, at one point, had even goaded Lester into slapping her.

But he’d apologized for that. Over and over again, he’d apologized. Beth had never said she’d forgiven him. Before she could, Nadia had died. And after that, Beth had gotten sick, too. She’d begun to hurt herself, saying she wanted to join her mother. Then she’d been admitted here. To this hospital.

At first, Lester hadn’t liked it. Hadn’t liked the staff, especially Beth’s doctor, who’d asked questions suggesting Lester was to blame for his daughter’s illness. But eventually, Beth had started talking to him again, and Lester’s feelings about the hospital and Beth’s doctor had changed.

When Beth’s doctor told him Beth was doing better, he started making plans to bring her home. He was going to throw a big party for her, to celebrate their fresh start. They were going to be a family again and Beth would forgive him for everything. She’d tell him she loved him again, he just knew it.

He was still smiling as he approached the nurses’ station outside Beth’s room. As he got closer, however, his gait slowed. People were shouting. Medical personnel were scrambling around. There were police there, too. And was that...?

Yes. Yes, it was. Leo. Beth’s boyfriend. But what was he doing here?

The punk was sitting in a chair, sprawled out disrespectfully. When he caught sight of Lester, he grinned, waved and then pointed his finger at something.

With a feeling of dread, Lester’s gaze followed the line of his finger.

Shock slammed into him like a ton of bricks. His stomach heaved with nausea and his fingers grew numb. The bouquet of flowers and the stuffed puppy doll fell. As soon as they hit the ground, the flowers withered and died, but the puppy doll came to life. The puppy began running around Lester’s legs. Barking. Nipping. Trying to get his attention.

But Lester’s attention was too focused on the horrific sight before him.

Beth hung right in front of him now, suspended by a pink ribbon tied to the ceiling. Her eyes were open but empty. Her head lolled to the side as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up. As if she no longer had the life...

She was dead, he realized. She’d hung herself with that pink ribbon. But where had she gotten it?

Lester tore his gaze away from his daughter and looked around for help.

The nurses. The police. Even Leo. Everyone was gone.

Where had they all gone?

“Dr. Whitaker?” he called out even though he had no reason to believe she was here. But she was Beth’s doctor, after all. She’d said Beth was getting better. So where was she?

She needed to cut Beth down. Needed to bring her back to him, just like she’d said she would.

“Dr. Whitaker, where are you? Beth’s tried to hurt herself again. You need to help her.”

He started running, or at least he tried to, but no matter how fast his legs pumped, he gained no ground. It was as if he was running in place or on some kind of treadmill and Beth’s body stayed exactly where it was, swaying in front of him.

Suddenly the pink band around his daughter’s neck lengthened. Like the stuffed puppy doll that Lester had dropped, it came alive. It swirled through the air, reaching out, winding itself around Lester’s body and throat, hissing like a snake.

It was going to kill him, Lester thought, but as much as he wanted to be with Beth, he didn’t want to die. No, no, his mind screamed, he didn’t want to die. But he couldn’t escape, either.

“Dr. Whitaker,” he screamed again. “Dr. Whitaker!”

A shrill ringing sound ripped through the air, jolting Lester Davenport out of his nightmare. For a second, he continued to struggle for breath. Continued to believe he was being choked by the same ribbon that had taken Beth’s life. Then he realized he was simply trapped by bedding. That during his struggles, he’d pulled the twisted sheet tight against his neck until it felt like a noose. Desperately, he untangled himself from its grasp and scrambled out of bed.

The phone rang again, but he didn’t even look at it.

He covered his mouth with his hands and sobbed. Then he ran into the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the toilet.

Long minutes later, he staggered out, returned to the bed and sat down. His bleary eyes took in the empty beer bottles littering the floor. He grabbed one that was half-empty and chugged down the contents. He swiped his hand over his mouth, then fell back. Just as he did, however, the phone rang again.

Flinging his hand out, he grabbed the receiver and dragged it to his ear.

“Hel—hello,” he croaked.

“Mr. Davenport?”

He frowned at the unfamiliar male voice on the other line. “Yes, this is Lester Davenport.”

“Mr. Davenport, this is Rick Shannon with the
San Francisco Reporter.
I’ve been trying to contact you about your daughter, Elizabeth.”

Images from his nightmare once again swirled around him, making his stomach heave again. He swore he could actually hear that damn dog yapping. The pink ribbon hissing. He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “My daughter is dead,” he said.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Mr. Davenport, and I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ve read the articles from three years ago. I know what happened.”

“Then why are you calling?”

“Because I was hoping you could give me some additional information that wasn’t in the papers. About what happened to your daughter. And about your daughter’s doctor at the time, Dr. Nina Whitaker. You told reporters that you blamed her for Elizabeth’s death.”

“That’s right,” he spat out. “She
is
responsible. I’m not retracting that statement, so if that’s why you’re calling you can—”

“Actually, that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling because I believe you. And I’m afraid Nina Whitaker is going to hurt someone else. Because of her actions, a little girl named Rebecca Hyatt almost died the other day. The police are trying to make it seem like she actually helped the girl, but I think we both know that’s a lie. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, even though he had absolutely no idea what the guy was talking about. But of course Nina Whitaker had endangered another girl. After Beth, it had only been a matter of time. “Absolutely I agree. Tell me more.”

By the time Lester hung up the phone, he felt stronger. Between the drinking and his grief, he’d barely managed to hold on to sanity. But now things were different. The dream had been a sign, as had that phone call. He had a purpose now.

Damn Nina Whitaker. She obviously wasn’t taking his cards seriously.

She’d let Beth die. According to the reporter on the phone, she’d let her own sister die, too. Lester wasn’t going to let her endanger another girl.

Even if that meant he had to go to California to stop her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

O
N ANY OTHER
S
ATURDAY,
Nina would have slept in and risen leisurely to have a cup of coffee on her back patio. Instead, despite a restless night, she woke at the crack of dawn, feeling aroused and surly. She immediately knew the cause: her dreams of Simon Granger. They’d plagued her all week, no matter how hard she’d tried to purge him from her thoughts. And even when she was awake, she thought of him often, and those thoughts were always accompanied by a vague feeling of anticipation.

Damn it, the man was sexy and intriguing and infuriating and he was going to be trouble. Moreover, she had no illusions that he was going to take the assignment to work with her sitting down. He was going to push back; it was only a matter of when and how.

Instead of sitting around and stressing about it, however, Nina decided to take a drive. Maybe to the ocean, she thought, which never failed to clear her head of troubling thoughts. She dressed, packed a day bag and had just poured herself a cup of coffee when there was a knock at her door. She frowned and again thought of Simon Granger.

It would be easy for him to find out where she lived. She’d suspected he’d push back against Stevens’s machinations. Had his offensive begun already?

Deliberately, she took a minute to fix her coffee the way she liked it. Then, bringing her cup with her, she looked through the peephole but saw nothing. She opened the door. There was an innocuous-looking letter sticking half out from beneath her welcome mat.

She seriously doubted Simon Granger would leave her a note rather than tell her face-to-face exactly what he thought of her and her proposed plans for the city.

With a sigh, she knelt down, picked it up and walked back into the house.

Juggling her coffee cup, she pulled the piece of white parchment paper out of the envelope, a small smile on her lips as she imagined it to be a love note from Simon. The kind that kids passed around in school that proffered two boxes—check yes or no—to the question whether the recipient liked them. She and Simon didn’t like each other, that was obvious, but she was honest enough to admit they were attracted to one another.

When she glanced at the paper, she wasn’t expecting to see the note she’d imagined. But she wasn’t expecting to see what was actually there, either.

She died and so will you.

Her mug of coffee slipped from her fingers.

* * *

A
S
S
IMON SAT IN HIS
parked car across the street from Nina Whitaker’s home, he again thought of contradictions. Of puzzle pieces not quite fitting into place. Although he couldn’t see it, he’d bet her ugly car was parked at the end of her long driveway, muddying up the hoity-toity aesthetics of what was an honest-to-goodness mansion.

The woman worked as a shrink at a public hospital but apparently she was loaded. Either that, or she was boffing a really rich sugar daddy, but he just couldn’t make himself believe that about her. More and more, he was fascinated by what made her tick. And that very fascination should have him even more determined to get her the hell away from him by any means necessary. Instead, he was here, prepared to lay his proverbial cards on the table.

He recalled his plan to seduce her. To use their mutual attraction to get her to quit the absurd partnership they’d been forced into.

As soon as he’d had the thought, another had started to form and it had kept at him until he’d had to accept it: he couldn’t do it. He’d never crossed the line, but he had no problem intimidating suspects when he needed to. On the other hand, he’d never used sex to intimidate an innocent woman and he wasn’t about to start now. That wasn’t his style, and moreover, he didn’t really need to stoop that low to accomplish what he wanted with Nina.

The fact of the matter was he
was
attracted to her and she was attracted to him. Since both of them seemed equally determined to fight that attraction, things were going to naturally be uncomfortable between them. If she was prone to caving, which he doubted anyway, she’d probably cave on that basis alone. Given that, playing the heavy with her seemed overkill.

Plus, there was the simple matter of what she was trying to accomplish. Although he could accuse her of caring too much and having too much faith in the ability of men to change, the fact remained she was trying to do something good. He simply didn’t agree with her methods or that change was necessary. If that was the case, if he truly believed in the competency and training the city had already provided to law enforcement, why not give her a fair shot, let her make her recommendations to Commander Stevens and let the cards fall where they may? As misguided as he considered her goal, he really didn’t have enough information about what she was suggesting to back up his opinion. What he needed to do was stop reacting to her in a knee-jerk manner simply because of what had happened to Lana. He doubted she could say anything that would win him over, but he supposed he owed her the opportunity to try. Otherwise, he would be no better than the close-minded man Elaina Scott had accused him of being.