Lois Richer

A Time To Protect


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Jeffers.”

      “Hello.” Mrs. Mills gave him the once-over, hung up her coat and took off as if she’d been scalded.

      “Something I said?” Brendan asked, a little surprised by her hostility.

      “Mrs. Mills doesn’t care much for men,” Chloe told him, her mouth stretched into a wicked grin. “I don’t think it’s personal.”

      “What about Mr. Mills?”

      “I don’t know.” Chloe frowned. “I assumed he’s dead and gone. I’ve never met him anyway.”

      “Probably a good thing, if he is gone. For him, I mean. All that sourness would be hard to take.” He liked it when she laughed. Her face transformed, lost the lines that worry put there and made her look young and carefree. “I’ll probably see you at the hospital tonight. I want to check up on a few things about the mayor’s shooting—to do with the bullets.”

      “Oh.” She blinked as if she were surprised. “Okay. Later.”

      Brendan nodded, pulled the door closed behind him, shoved his hands in his pants pockets and walked toward his vehicle, slightly surprised by the chill of the now brisk wind. November in Colorado Springs was always tricky. Balmy in the morning, a raging blizzard by noon and a chinook the next day.

      “Chinook weather would be good, Lord. We’ve got a chance at the finals and I’d sure like some sun for it.” He drove to his apartment, trying to decipher his thoughts about the Tanner family. The boy, Kyle, needed a little reining in. Brendan could understand his need for his father, but that didn’t excuse his attitude. Madison was a delight, easy-going, sweet and willing to try anything. Chloe stumped him.

      She was gorgeous, of course. But she seemed reticent, restrained, as if she were afraid he might try to take advantage. No, that wasn’t quite right. She’d invited him into her home, made him welcome—so why did he feel she was holding him at arm’s length? Had he expected her to be as open as Madison?

      Clearly there were things in the Tanner family that they were still working through, but that was true of any family. Yet he couldn’t help wondering about the kids’ father. Why hadn’t the guy shown up today? What kind of a father let his kid down like that and didn’t bother to phone and explain?

      Brendan parked in his spot, rode the elevator to his apartment and grabbed his laptop. He had a lot of questions about the Tanners, but his job was to find out whatever he could about the mayor’s shooting. That subject should help keep his mind off a certain nurse.

      Brendan perused the files he’d downloaded from headquarters for over an hour but couldn’t settle into it. Maybe if he checked the hospital records he’d find something else to go on. And he could make an excuse to see Chloe. In a flash he was back on the road, soon pulling into the hospital parking lot. As he arrived at the parkade entrance, he had to wait while the attendant dealt with a customer leaving the lot.

      His vehicle was higher, giving Brendan a good view of the other car and the man inside. He took a second look. Something about him seemed…familiar. He thought about the man who’d spoken to Owen Frost the other night—was this the same man? A moment later the vehicle was gone and Brendan shrugged off his impression. Probably just some guy leaving after visiting his wife. Maybe Brendan had even known him once. When he’d lived here, he’d known tons of people in Colorado Springs. Still, he’d been away a lot and people moved.

      But as he waited at the office for the information he’d requested, the face swam back into his mind. Not so much the face, he decided. It was something in the eyes that seemed familiar. He thought he’d seen eyes like that before; eyes that held secrets too dark to expose to daylight. Dangerous eyes.

      Brendan shrugged off his speculative thoughts and accepted the file of information he’d requested.

      They were just eyes. Nothing malevolent about eyes.

      Chapter Three

      Chloe shifted on the vinyl chair, lifted her heels to rest them on the seat opposite her and checked the clock. Midnight.

      She still had twenty minutes of her break left and she needed it. Tonight had been crazy.

      “Hi.” Brendan Montgomery’s handsome face loomed above her, his dazzling smile wide.

      “Hi, yourself. You’re out a little late, aren’t you?”

      “I was working on a file and forgot the time.” He nudged his tray onto her small table. “Figured I’d have a snack before I go home.”

      “You’re hungry again?” She clapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words escaped. A flood of heat burned her cheeks. “Please excuse me.”

      “Forget it,” he laughed, sitting down beside her. “I admit I eat a lot. High metabolism, I guess.”

      “Lucky you.” She watched him munch on his BLT and fries while her brain unraveled in the relative silence of the coffee shop.

      “You look tired. Busy night?”

      “Very. A couple of cardiac arrests after drug overdoses. We’re monitoring both of them.” Chloe felt that sinking despair grab her insides. “Why do they do it? One of those kids isn’t even sixteen, but her heart is almost ruined from using crack cocaine. It’s such a waste.”

      “Crack?” Brendan frowned. “But I thought—hoped—crack was a thing of the past in Colorado Springs.”

      “It should be.” Chloe shrugged. “But I don’t suppose a town’s ever rid of it altogether. This past week has been particularly rough. I think we’ve had the most drug cases since I moved here.” She rubbed the knot in the back of her neck. “It kills me to see kids throwing away their futures, damaging their minds and bodies. But to know that someone is profiting from their misery infuriates me even more.”

      “Me, too.” Brendan’s face hardened. “You don’t happen to remember the names of the last two victims, do you?”

      “You know I can’t release that information. You’ll have to check with the front office until someone tells me differently.” Chloe stretched her calves, welcoming the pull that drew out the tension. “I just hope they wise up.”

      “You really take your patients’ problems to heart, don’t you?”

      Brendan watched her like a hawk. It was discomfiting to be the subject of such intense scrutiny.

      “You make it sound like it’s personal,” he added.

      “Because it is! Drugs impact all of us. I hate it that someone is sitting out there waiting for my kid to make a bad decision. I hate it that one simple mistake can make such a difference to an entire life.” She cut off the past, told herself to get over it.

      “Sounds like you’ve had some experience with mistakes.” If it hadn’t been before, his focus was now completely on her.

      Should she tell him? Chloe couldn’t decide. It was personal, a private trial she’d gone through, and yet it had helped her relate to others.

      “I know what it’s like to use pills to live through your days, to cover up the pain and heartache you don’t want to face.” She didn’t look away from his scrutiny. “I know what it’s like to need that pill so much that you feel lost and defenseless without it to block out the hurt. So yeah, you could say I take it personally.”

      “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Chloe.” His big hand reached out and covered hers, warm and comforting.

      “Thanks.” She carefully drew her hand away. “It was hard and it was painful, but at least I got through. Some don’t.”

      “That’s true,” he said, somewhat distractedly.

      Chloe twisted around. “What are you looking at?”

      “Who is that?” Brendan asked, his voice low.