The less he said at this point, the better. He’d get over the feeling that Fleur could do whatever she liked, whenever she liked, and then he could start applying a bit more pressure.
“Good.” She flashed him a smile and his knees started to shake. “One thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“I get it. Alex and Cody are playing the nice doctors. You get to play nasty doctor.”
She was onto him. Rick had expected nothing less of her, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He could still say the things that had tactfully not been mentioned so far, and he could still challenge her.
“What makes you think I’m playing nasty. Maybe that’s just how I do things.”
She reached for the crutches and got to her feet, her speculative gaze never leaving his face. “Maybe it is. I’m a big fan of old black and white horror movies, so that accent of yours is throwing me a bit.”
Rick was willing his facial muscles not to respond to her smile, but it was a losing battle. “So I sound like an old Hammer Horror movie to you, do I?”
“A little. The spooky Count Dracula, with a cut-glass accent. Living in a dark old stately home.”
She was taking him apart, piece by piece. This was much more difficult than dodging whatever she cared to throw at him. If he wanted to reach her, he’d have to give more of himself than he felt entirely comfortable with, but he was going to reach her.
“Stately homes aren’t my thing. I’m more of an inner-city kid. Let’s walk. It’s about time for afternoon coffee so we can go down to the main lounge.”
“I prefer the glass breezeway...you can see the ocean. You know where that is?”
Rick knew where that was—it led from the main clinic building to the surgical wing. Benches and planting made it a place where patients could feel connected with the outside during the winter.
They left the department, dawdling more and more slowly along the corridor together, as each matched the other’s pace.
“When are you going to start stepping out? So I have to make an effort to keep up with you?” she asked.
Right. So she already knew all those tricks. “I’m not planning on it. Clearly you can’t keep up...”
“Clearly not.” This time her obstinacy took the form of agreeing with him.
“It’s not such a bad thing. We can get to know each other a bit better on the way.”
“We could, I suppose...”
That worked. Fleur suddenly started to speed up, walking away from him. Rick hung back, studying her gait. She was tense, obviously afraid of falling, and seemed over-reliant on the crutches. But even that couldn’t conceal the straight back and graceful movements of a dancer.
He caught up with her as she reached the breezeway, and she waited while he opened the door. It seemed that Fleur found closed doors an impenetrable barrier, and he’d have to address that with her very soon. She walked across to one of the benches, which faced the sea, and Rick collected two cups of coffee from the machine in the corner, adding milk and sugar to the tray and setting it down on the bench between them.
“Since you’re new here, you can take as much time as you like to appreciate the view.”
It was clearly an invitation not to bother her for a while. The view was spectacular, snow piled on the ground with a backdrop of the iron-gray, restless sea. But somehow he couldn’t take his eyes off Fleur.
He pushed one of the cups toward her slightly. “Milk and sugar?”
“I’ll take some milk. Sugar’s all yours.”
“I don’t take sugar...”
He’d played straight into her hands, and she curled her lip. “That’s a pity, you could do with a bit of sweetening up.”
She could sweeten him up any time she liked. Rick rejected the thought, reminding himself that she was a patient. “So why did you choose the Maple Island Clinic? Since you’re obviously not overwhelmed with enthusiasm about being here.”
“I’m an islander. My parents live here and they’ve paid for my rehab.”
“You’re not giving them much value for money, though.”
She quirked her lips down. Rick had found a sore spot. “They can afford it. I wanted to go into rehab in Boston, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it, he wanted me to come here. There wasn’t much I could do about it, seeing as I wasn’t in a position to run away.”
Run away from what? Not the clinic surely? The Maple Island Clinic was proud of its reputation for being the best.
“So you come from the west side of the Island?”
She shook her head. “You’ve already noticed there’s a difference, then.”
“I’m told that the west side has a lot of very nice houses, and great views of Boston. The east side has the open sea and the harbor...”
“That’s right. We’re real islanders, not rich visitors. Both my parents were born here. They live near the harbor. My dad’s a writer.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable. It sounded as if she wasn’t running away from her parents either.
“What does he write?”
“You’ve heard of the Ava Reynolds stories?”
Crime mysteries with a twist, featuring a hard-nosed New York cop heroine. “Yes, I’ve read a few of them. I liked them a lot.”
She nodded, seeming to relax a little and obviously pleased by what he’d said. “You have his latest one?”
“No, not yet.”
“I’ll get him to sign a copy and bring it in.” She quirked the corners of her lips in a wry smile. “Ava plays good cop, bad cop. Might give you a few pointers.”
“That’s great, thanks. Maybe your dad’s thought of a permutation that I can use.”
“Aren’t you underestimating yourself? You seem to have a good selection of permutations already. Anyway, doctors don’t go in armed.”
“No, we don’t.” But it might make him feel a little more equal to the situation if he did.
“And did you read the one where Ava seduces a confession out of her perp? You can’t do that either.” She grinned.
Yes, he was well aware of that. Rather too aware of it, as the thought didn’t usually occur to him. “I have other methods.”
Fleur picked up her coffee, taking a sip. “I look forward to seeing them.”
“You will. You’re in custody here for a couple more weeks yet.”
“Don’t I know it. As soon as you cut me loose, I’ll be on the ferry back to Boston.”
Running away again. Rick still couldn’t work out what from. “What’s so great about Boston?”
“You didn’t spend time there before you came here? If you had, that would be obvious.”
“My daughter and I spent a week there before we came here. My late wife was from Boston, and we used to visit a lot to spend time with her family, so I know the city a little.”
Suddenly the mask dropped. No more wisecracks, but instead Rick saw genuine sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry...”
“It’s all right. It’s been four years and...” Rick shrugged. “Time doesn’t necessarily heal, but it does make things a lot less sharp around the edges.”
“This is why you came here? To be close to where your