Dan changed quickly into dry clothes and drove immediately back to the hospital, where they told him that Ralph was still alive, barely. The emergency room doctors had managed to start his heart again.
A fact kept poking at Dan’s mind. The bandage on Ralph’s back, a newly changed bandage. Why did the detail keep resurfacing? He knew they would have done a quick scan to check for internal bleeding. If Dan was charming enough, maybe one of technicians would share some info.
He saw Patricia Lane start down the hallway. She tried to reverse directions when she caught sight of him, but he confronted her anyway.
“You heard about Ralph?”
She nodded.
“He’s still alive,” Dan said.
“I know.” She looked exhausted, eyes red rimmed as if she might have been crying. “It’s terrible what happened to him. He is a kind man, gentle. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“He had a bandaged wound on his lower back.”
She seemed to go rigid, as if a cold wind had blown through the corridor.
“Was he seen here? Treated at this hospital for kidney problems of any kind?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. Not by me, anyway.”
“But you would know. If he’d been a kidney patient, you would know.”
“Yes. I would.”
He searched her face. “Patricia, what is going on here?”
“Just ordinary hospital business.” Her mouth twitched.
“Then why do you look scared?”
He saw her throat convulse. “Maybe because my son-in-law is gravely ill? Isn’t that enough reason to be scared?”
“It’s just odd that Ralph was here at this hospital talking to you, a kidney specialist, yet you say you never treated him.”
“I didn’t. There is no record in the system of him having been my patient. The police can confirm that.”
“Lieutenant Torrey? Would he contradict you? The woman who is trying to save his son?”
Her eyes flamed. “I resent the implication, Dr. Blackwater. You are impugning my reputation and now Max’s, too. Who do you think you are?”
“Just a guy trying to get to the core of a bad situation.”
“You’re imagining some sort of plot where there isn’t any.”
“Am I?”
“You have no rights, no authority here.” She stepped back. “You don’t belong in this hospital, Dr. Blackwater, until your leave is over, if it is ever going to be over. I’m going to have to ask you to go.”
“Who are you covering up for?”
“Do I need to call security to provide you an escort?”
He stared at her. “I know you’re a good doctor, Patricia, and I know you wouldn’t be involved in anything unless you didn’t have a choice. Let me help you.”
She reached for her phone. “I’m calling security.”
“No need,” he said. “I’ll go.” He walked away, feeling Patricia’s gaze following his progress. He’d always felt comfort from the tidy hallways, the open doors where people were receiving the lifesaving help they needed. Now? The air closed in on him, oppressive, ominous.
Outside, he saw the message on his phone from Angela and jogged to his truck. In fifteen minutes he was at the clinic. Angela had not yet arrived.
He sat, mulling over the encounter with Patricia.
“You’re imagining some sort of plot where there isn’t any.”
Was he? There could be many different explanations for the bandage on Ralph’s back. Had he just alienated a colleague with his wild innuendo? A brilliant, hardworking colleague who was suffering under her own heavy burden?
Jeb called him a moment later. “You were right. I’ve got a friend in the imaging department. She did the scan on Ralph Pickford. She tells me, off the record of course, that Ralph had a kidney removed in the recent past, probably a couple of months or so ago. How did you know that?”
A cold ball crystallized inside him.
“Thanks, Jeb,” he said, hanging up without answering.
A kidney removed. And he’d been at the hospital talking to Patricia Lane, a kidney surgeon who claimed she was merely giving him lunch, nothing more.
“Oh, Patricia,” he muttered. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
* * *
Angela felt the press of the cold metal wall behind her. Harry Gruber stood in front of the doors and pushed the emergency stop button. Her body went rigid with fear. “Let me out,” she demanded.
“Not until we’ve had our chat,” he said.
She frantically pressed buttons on her phone, only to see the no-signal message come up. Stay calm, she told herself. You know some basic self-defense. You can handle this.
He wore a tan jacket, his hands balled into the pockets. Holding a weapon?
She edged as far away as she could.
He stared at her, not speaking, until a bead of sweat ran down the side of her face.
“You’ve been so busy gallivanting around Cobalt Cove,” he finally said, “we have hardly had a moment to talk. How do you like our little town, by the way? It’s not for me, living on the Central Coast, but my wife loved it. I’m more of a full-time sun guy, which is why I’m going to retire in San Diego with my daughter, Jen.” He smiled. “Jen’s an amazing woman. Single parent raising kids and a CPA to boot. She turned out well in spite of me.”
She gulped, forcing strength into her voice that she did not feel. “I don’t like being intimidated in elevators.”
“Am I intimidating you?” He frowned. “I thought we were just talking.”
“I know you’re trying to kill Tank, and you’ve got Lila running scared, no matter what your brother says.”
“Oh, my brother.” Harry sighed. “How can a man smart enough to obtain a dental degree be so incredibly dense? He actually believes Lila has feelings for him. That she’ll marry him someday and he’ll be a loving daddy to her boy. Even if he hadn’t gambled all his financial security away, she has nothing for him but pity, and he’s the only one who can’t see that.”
“So why is Lila afraid to leave here?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps Peter is right and Tank Guzman really is stalking her.”
“I think you know the real reason.”
“And I think,” he said, leaning forward, his breath sour, “that you should go home, back to Coronado, back to your sisters, your widowed mother and your niece and finish your leave at home in your little apartment.”
She jerked in surprise.
He smiled. “So you think you’re the only one who can pry into people’s lives? You and your family and the doctor can ask questions about me and my clinic? My dead wife? My daughter?” His voice went hard and flat, brimming with suppressed rage. “I know about you, too. I know you are damaged goods, Chaplain. I know you’re here trying to escape your guilt because Tank’s brother died when it should have been you.”
The accusation struck at her.
He shook his head, a pitying look on his face. “You know what? You can’t escape that guilt. He’s dead. You’re not. No amount of scurrying around pretending to be a detective is going to change that. You know it’s true. That’s why you can’t be a chaplain anymore, isn’t it? How can you tell everyone about the forgiveness of God when you know deep down you can’t forgive yourself?” He came close enough that she could see the broken capillaries on his cheeks. She readied a foot to kick out at him.
“I may be dealing with what happened in Afghanistan, but I can still tell a lie when I hear one, and you are a first-class liar,” she muttered.
His mouth tightened as he watched her.
“I’m going to help Tank,” she forced out through lips stiff with fear. “And we’re going to bring you down.”
He stopped, eyes wide for a minute, and then he laughed. “Bring me down? Me? Harry Gruber, the philanthropist who provides free medical care? The honest Joe who runs a trucking company and pays fair wages and benefits to his employees? The good brother who’s bent over backward to support his brother and Lila Brown so she can raise her kid? That guy?”
“Yes,” she said. “That guy.”
He smiled. “All right. If you want to throw away your life, go ahead, but you’re not going to damage mine.”
The anger in his gaze told her she was making progress. Clenching her hands into fists to still the shaking, she said, “We’re getting closer to the truth and it’s got you rattled—doesn’t it? That’s why you’re here on this elevator, trying to scare me. Tank got away, and we’re closing in, ready to crack your perfect facade.”
He raised his hand suddenly as if he would strike her.
She threw up an arm to block the blow, but it didn’t come.
Harry stopped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you’ve been attacked recently. Does it hurt? The knife wound on your back?”
Her scalp prickled as her memory took her back to that moment, lying helpless beneath the knife. Harry’s knife, there was no doubt in her mind. She thought she could see the edge of a bruise on his forehead under his hair where she’d bashed him with her head.
“You should be more careful,” he said soothingly. “You might wind up like poor Ralph Pickford. I understand someone tried to strangle him.”
You did, she thought. But why?
He frowned in thought. “And Lila, so close to getting blown up, burned to death.”
“You can’t terrorize me,” she breathed.
“Oh, I don’t have to.” His gaze locked on her face. “You’re already terrified. I can see it in your eyes.”
Her lungs refused to work properly. It was agony to get a breath against the wild firing of her fear, the slamming of her heart against her ribs.
It should have been you...
Does it hurt? The knife wound on your back...
Terrified.
He pressed the elevator button, and it slowly headed down. “Go back to Coronado, Chaplain, while you still can.”
* * *
She ran out to the parking lot, sucking in deep breaths of air, jerking her head around to see any sign of Harry Gruber. She flinched as a car zoomed up and came to an abrupt halt. Then Dan’s arms were around her, and she lost all sense of control. She hardly felt him lift her into the passenger seat. He stood in the open door.
“You can get through this,” he said. “Squeeze my hands.”
She tried, but her body seemed to have no will of its own. It was as if her mind were imprisoned somewhere dark and terrifying.
“We’ll do it together.” He squeezed her fingers for a slow count of five and then relaxed.
After several moments of the gentle pressure to her hands, she was able to squeeze back. Her breaths became less shuddering, and she grew aware of her surroundings. The late afternoon sun poked through the clouds, outlining Dan’s strong shoulders and revealed his look of concern tinged with quiet confidence.
You can get through this.
She continued to breathe and squeeze until she could get the words out, a stumbling gush of details that made his face go from concerned to enraged.
“I am going to see that guy in prison if it’s the last thing I ever do on this planet,” he said through gritted teeth.
“We’ve got to get to the clinic,” she gasped. “Before Lila leaves. She may be the only person who can tell us what is truly going on with Gruber.”
He raced to the driver’s seat, gunned the engine and they took off. On the way she thought about Gruber and his connection to Lila. There were no threats made, Gruber had said, but Angela knew Lila was on the run for her life, as was Tank. Gruber was pulling strings she could not see, forcing them to comply through terror. The echo of that terror still rang through her own nerves.
Go back to Coronado, Chaplain, while you still can.
She wanted nothing more than to speed back to her lovely beach town, hide in her apartment and not come out for days, months even. But with Dan sitting beside her, shooting concerned looks at her every few moments, she knew she would not leave.
Partly for Lila.
Mostly for Tank.
But in some small way, she did not want to leave this man who somehow grounded her, reminded her that though she was unmoored from her career and her life, she was still invisibly tethered to God.
“Holy God,” she whispered. “Help me. Help us.”