Surrender My Love (24 page)

Baffled
and somewhat shocked, Chloe robotically pulled open the door and the four men walked into her tiny apartment. The first thing she thought of was her brother. Was he in trouble? Two officers slowly skimmed the perimeter of her living room while the other stood at her door. Detective Sullivan turned to face her with that same cagy smile on his face.

“Miss
Bennett, we are conducting an investigation and believe you may be able to provide some information that may help us.”

“Is this about Richard?”

The detective shook his head. Chloe’s pounding heart ebbed and resumed a somewhat normal pace. This must have to do with the investigation at Washington Memorial Hospital, though, she was surprised that the hospital would alert the authorities. They’d been so insistent about keeping things quiet until they’d concluded their own investigation. Perhaps they’d found some more information and had no choice but to call in the police.

Chloe tried to blow away her nervousness and sense of foreboding, telling herself she had nothing to fear. She wondered if Brad had been able to move up his meeting with the administrators. He certainly would have shown them the proof of her innocence. He’d already gone through her charts and there was nothing there that demonstrated any wrong doing on her part. She had no need to worry. She knew the hospital was doing whatever they could to get to the bottom of the cause of these deaths and the police needed her help.

“This has to do with the deaths at Washington Memorial?” she asked the detective.

He nodded smoothly, his gaze locking on her stuffed backpack.

“Where are you off to, Miss
Bennett?”

She followed his
motion to the heavy bag she’d placed on the floor in front of her. “I’m going to stay with my mother for a few days.”

“Where does your mother live?”

“Down town. Lower east side.”

At that
, he nodded. “Yes. This is about what’s happened at Washington Memorial.”

Chloe let out a deep breath. “I’d be happy to
cooperate any way I can and tell you what I know.”

“Good.” Detective Sullivan’s craggy face split into an uneven grin and he looked back to the other
officers. He scratched at his meager beard and turned to face her, pulling some papers from his jacket. “Ms. Bennett, we have a warrant to search the premises. My officer will take you down to the station, where we’ll have a little chat” 

Chloe felt her heart
grind to a skidding halt. She replayed what Detective Sullivan had just said, but her sluggish brain kept convincing her head that she had heard wrong. Warrant? To search
her
apartment? What could they possibly expect to find? Why would they even need to search her apartment?

Chloe stared open-mouthed at the detective, then finally convinced her
brain to function and her tongue to follow suit.

“What are you talking about? Why do you need to search my apartment? Am I a suspect?”

Detective Sullivan gave her a friendly smile and shook his head. “We are checking out all possibilities, Ms. Bennett. In an investigation like this, we scrutinize everything. We may find something that may give us a clue or help us find the suspect.”

“But…but
I have nothing here! This is crazy!”

He
shot her a shrewd look. “Are you concerned that we may find something?”

“
Of course not!”

“Then we don’t have a problem. A few minutes ago you said you’d cooperate in any way you can.”

The detective’s dark gaze steadily held hers. Chloe didn’t like the look he was giving her, no matter how friendly he pretended to be. She certainly didn’t like them going through her apartment, but what choice did she have? She had nothing to hide, and to protest would only make her seem guilty. She’d meant what she’d said about cooperating with the investigation. She intended to answer whatever questions he had. Chloe inhaled a stuttering breath and tried to stay calm, her shaky fingers fluttering to her throat. Two of the three officers were now moving around her apartment, shifting and examining her belongings. Chloe’s gaze returned to the detective now taking long-legged steps towards her.

“Don’t worry, everything will remain
as is. You won’t even know we were here.”

Chloe’s face wrinkled, her anxiety spiking as she watched the officers methodically
move from one area to the next.

“Ready to go?” Detective Sullivan’s voice broke through her turbulent thoughts.

“Am I…un—under arrest?”

“I just need to speak with you
, Ms. Bennett. I am simply going to ask you some questions.”

“Ah...um
…can’t we just do the questioning here?”

He
gave her a look of patient exasperation, then smiled widely. “Well, I like to keep things official, Ms. Bennett. So we have to do it at the station house.”

Chloe’s heart struck
a wild rhythm in her chest, her eyes darting around the room. Sweat glazed her palms and she stared at the detective, still confused as to why they’d be going through her apartment.

“Thi
s is all just routine procedure,” he assured, and Chloe knew he could sense her climbing panic. A small whimper crawled from her throat when he produced a set of silver handcuffs and she instinctively took a step back.

“Why do you need those? I
thought you said this was just questioning?” Her voice was rising now, high and shrill.

He
stopped in his tracks, holding up the handcuffs. “This is routine. I have to use these.” His face folded into a smile. “I said I like to keep things official. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney...”

Chloe felt tears fill her eyes and roll down her cheek
s as the detective stepped forward and roughly cuffed her shaky hands behind her back. His motional words droned like bee’s buzz in her ears. The click of the cuffs was like a vice drawing tight around her neck and she coughed out a choppy breath. His face held a stiff smile, but the callously efficient way he handled her was anything but friendly. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Was there something he wasn’t telling her? She didn’t understand why she needed to go with him. She’d done nothing wrong.

“Can
you tell me what’s going on?” she choked out between sobs.

“It’
s like I said. Just questions. You’ll be back home and visiting your sick mother before you know it.”

Sick mother?
Chloe’s heart banged against her ribs. She hadn’t told him her mother was sick. Had he been checking up on her? Asking questions? Was that why Richard had been so crazed this morning? Her mind spun out of control.

“How do you know my mother is sick?”

The detective looked deep into her eyes, and she experienced the coldest chill she’d ever felt. A block of ice froze solid in her chest.

“You know, I h
ad a sick mother once…” He scratched his beard and looked around casually, ignoring her question. “She was old and sick…a lot of responsibility. I loved her, but then I started to grow resentful—all my friends going out, life passing me by…I started to really hate old people, you know, started thinking maybe they’d be better off dead.”

Chloe’s entire body started to shake.
Fear ate a hole inside her and all she wanted to do was pull away and run as fast as she could. Was he trying to psych her out? Scare her?

“D
o…don’t I get a phone call?” she stammered out, wondering who she’d even call. She thought of Brad and everything he’d done for her already. She couldn’t burden him with this. She couldn’t burden him with more of her troubles. Besides the fact that she didn’t know his number, things had been strained the last time she’d seen him. And she couldn’t count on her brother.

“Ye
s. You can make your call from the station,” he responded, then nodded to the officer who’d stood by the door.

Chloe was led
numbly from her apartment and through the door of her building into the crisp evening air, the sounds and smells of the city surrounding her. The everyday normalcy was a glaring contrast to her chaotic world. A few of her neighbors stopped to stare with wide disbelieving eyes as she was guided towards a dark vehicle parked on the curb. Pedestrians on the busy street stopped to murmur to each other, pointing at her hands cuffed behind her back. Her tears flowed freely, gliding down her face in torrential drops as the stoic detective clutched her arm in a firm grip.

Chloe bowed her head and kept her gaze on h
er feet, shamed and mortified when a few people took out their cell phones to take a picture. The officer opened the car door, and she felt firm pressure on the top of her head, guiding her numb body into the car. A few seconds later the car was pulling out of the spot. Still trembling and in shock, Chloe dangled her head helplessly back against the seat. Her gaze skated the crowd and she frowned through her blur of tears when she caught sight of the tall man with black hair. Nigel’s dark gaze was steadily following the car as it pulled away.

Brad
dialed Chloe’s number once again. He forced his racing heart to slow and his anger to recede. He needed to keep a clear head and could not afford to be ruled by emotion…not now. Not when Chloe needed him. The administrators were able to move up the meeting to Monday morning. It was the best they could do. He’d spoken briefly with Mr. Accardo. With all the police activity at the hospital this morning, they were primarily focused on damage control. There were a few administrators he could meet with today, but Brad knew that other than him venting his rage at this absurd witch hunt and issuing more threats, the meeting would be entirely futile. The important people he needed to speak with wouldn’t be available until Monday.

What he could glean
, though, was that there were just too many coincidences for the hospital to ignore, and unfortunately Chloe had been in the middle of all of them. Mr. Accardo had even hinted at more deaths, deaths that had occurred without a Code Blue on other wards during nights Chloe had been working.
Everything
was prone to scrutiny, every hospital death now investigated. Turns out the hospital had been looking into the deaths since the Code Blue with Mr. Barkley. Ironically, the alarm had been raised by Nurse Wall. He was amazed they’d been able to keep their concerns quiet for this long.

Mr. Kaplan’s death
and this Nigel issue had been the spark that set fire to the events of the last few days. Apparently the police had been in on the investigation for some time, but now had more to go on. The one thing Mr. Accardo would not confirm was if a syringe had been found in her locker. Brad had been told all this in the strictest of confidence. He sneered, wondering how many people were told the same information in the strictest of confidence. Larry was right. They’d be lucky if this story stayed off the six o’clock news. He’d listened to Mr. Accardo, not saying much except that it was urgent he meet with the administrators. What a fucking mess!

Brad
swore and hung up his phone. Bea had gotten Chloe’s cell number and he’d called her several times. Each time the call just went to voice mail. Where could she be? Was she with her mother? Her loser brother? She needed a lawyer, and knowing her, she’d not want to spend the money on retaining one. She needed his help and she was going to get it, and he didn’t give a damn about her stubborn pride! He didn’t want her talking to
anyone
without expert legal counsel.

It was just after six the following morning when Chloe finally answered her phone. Brad rolled over in his big bed and rubbed his eyes. The wave of relief that swept through him was stunning even to him, but then he’d been talking himself down all night long. After pounding on Chloe’s apartment door for a good half hour, he’d drudged home to a fitful and dreamless sleep. One good thing was there’d been nothing mentioned about WHM on the news…yet.

His relief evaporated as he listened to her brief, wooden sentences. Something was wrong.

“Why didn’t you answer your door, Chloe?”

“I wasn’t home.”

“Or your phone?”

“I didn’t have it.”

He
rolled tension from his shoulders and pushed back his urge to yell, caging the anger clawing for release. Why would she not let him in? Why did she not just let him help? He sensed a storm coming, and knew she needed shelter, but she kept choosing to stand alone, defenseless and exposed, waiting to be ravaged.

“Chloe, fucking talk to me! What’s wrong?”

He heard a mournful wail in the background, a cry of anguish that reached through the phone. His brows pulled together and he sat upright in bed, the sheet falling around his naked waist.

“Where are you,
Chlo?”

“I—I have to go, Brad.”

“Chloe! Ch—!”
Fuck!

Springing out of bed, he immediately hit redial and cursed when the call went to voicemail.

He jumped into his clothes, dialed again and shouldered the phone to his ear as he zipped and buttoned his jeans. He let out a grating breath when she answered and he barked into the phone.