there?” she called.
A menacing voice rumbled in the windowless lot lit by dim overhead bulbs. “Your worst nightmare.”
Panic hit her full force in the gut, and she dropped her bag and started to run. The heavy footsteps resumed behind her, and she cried out, trying to alert the people who would be waiting at the bus stop just around the corner.
“Help!” Her voice was weak with fear and she filled her lungs to shout louder.
Before she could make another sound she became aware of a person close behind, seeming to appear from thin air. A hand curled over her mouth, another around her throat. They were large hands, rough and calloused, exactly like the ones on the attacker in the morgue. Her screams were stifled, and her legs gave way.
Cole had been right. She had been foolish to refuse his offer of protection. And now she would pay a heavy price.
* * *
Cole turned the wheel of his cargo van sharply in the hospital’s underground parking lot, sending unsecured equipment in the back crashing to the floor. He saw Deborah, fighting hard with a heavyset man who had grabbed her by the throat. Despite being petite in size, she was holding her own, using her elbow to repeatedly strike the man in the ribs.
Cole screeched his vehicle to a halt alongside the pair, and the man released his grip in surprise. The scarf that the attacker had tied around his face left only his eyes visible, and Cole saw them widen in shock. The guy turned on his heel and ran. Cole jumped from the driver’s seat and darted toward the assailant. The man pulled a handgun from his pocket as he glanced back, and Cole decided pursuit wasn’t worth it. A hospital was no place to begin a gun battle. Plus, there was someone who needed him to stay right there. He watched the man run to the exit door and push it roughly open. He was headed for the street, not the hospital. At least that put his mind at rest.
He rushed to Deborah’s side. She had sunk to her knees and was gasping for air. He gathered her into his arms and pulled her to her feet, waiting for her to catch her breath. Then he lifted her onto the passenger seat of his van and reached for a bottle of water in the cup holder.
“Here,” he said. “Drink this.”
She sipped the cool liquid slowly, coughing occasionally and rubbing her neck where pressure had been applied.
“The guy’s gone,” he said gently. “We should go back inside and report this.”
She shook her mane of blond curls. “I just want to go home,” she replied. “I’ll make the calls from there.” She continued to rub her neck. “I don’t want to stay here one second longer.”
Cole put a hand to her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
Deborah set her amber eyes on him. “Just my pride,” she said. Her pale heart-shaped face was partially hidden by the mass of curls that used to fall against his face whenever they kissed. “You were right, Cole. I did need protection. I just didn’t want it from you.”
“Yeah, I guessed that,” he said, removing his hand from her face and placing it on his holstered weapon instead. “That’s why I decided to take matters into my own hands. I was following you. I couldn’t rest knowing you could be attacked again.”
She gave a half smile. “I always used to hate it when you were right.”
He laughed. “I remember.”
She screwed the top back on the water bottle. “Will you take me home, please?”
“Sure.”
He made sure she was safely belted in and then cast an eye across the lot before settling himself in the driver’s seat. Slowly, he drove from the basement of the hospital and out into the dull, gray September day.
He glanced over at Deborah. “You’ll need to show me the way. I don’t know where you live.”
“Head for the high school,” she said. “It’s not far from there.”
Her voice was small and she had pressed her body against the door, holding on to the handle as if her life depended on it.
“You’re okay now, Debs,” he said reassuringly. “I’m here.”
“Why is this happening?” she asked. Her question wasn’t directed at him—it was directed at a higher being.
“Something bad is going on in the pediatric unit,” he said. “And you’re trying to expose it. That makes you a target for somebody.”
She turned her body to face him. “But who would hurt a child?”
“I don’t know.” He swallowed hard as memories of the navy SEAL Dark Skies mission forced their way into his mind. “But trust me. There are some people who don’t have any morals when it comes to hurting children.”
“Do you...” she began. “Do you have any children?”
“I did,” he said quietly. “I had a son. His name was Elliot.” He took a deep breath. “He died at three months old.” Cole didn’t look at Deborah’s face, but he sensed her horror. “It was sudden infant death,” he explained. “Nobody’s fault.”
“Oh, Cole,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
“My wife petitioned for divorce shortly afterward. She said we should never have gotten married in the first place.” He felt awkward, uncertain whether Deborah wanted to hear the intimate details of his life. “I was prepared to work at it, but she wanted out. And she was probably right. We were never suited.”
“So why did you marry her?” she asked, her attention suddenly fully on him.
“I don’t want to be talking about me, Debs,” he replied. “We should be talking about you and the situation at the hospital.”
“I need some time to process everything that’s happened,” she said. “It would take my mind off things if we kept the focus on you. Just for a little while.”
“Okay.” He understood the need to delay facing an unpleasant truth, and he was willing to oblige. “I wanted to settle down,” he explained. “I wanted a happy family. I didn’t stop to think that the person to share it with was more important than the romantic picture in my head. Kids should be a bonus to a happy marriage, not the glue that binds it together.” He shrugged. “But I won’t make that mistake again. It’s the single life for me from now on.”
“You don’t want to be a dad again?” she asked. “But you always said you wanted a whole football team.”
Cole thought of his last overseas mission in Afghanistan. He thought of the systematic and deliberate destruction of girls’ schools by terrorists, and of the bodies he had been forced to bury.
“A lot can change in ten years,” he said solemnly. “An awful lot. I’m not the same person I was.”
Harborcreek High School came into view as he drove through the town. They both watched the large, sandy brick building fade into the distance in the mirror, lost in their own memories of happier times. It only highlighted the gulf that had grown between them.
Deborah pointed to a street off the highway. “Turn here.”
She guided him through a neighborhood of new homes. Over the years Cole had often wondered where Deborah lived—was it the type of house she had always wanted? As he pulled up outside a small cottage-style home, he saw that it was. It had a neat front yard and a porch with lavender wound through the frame. The red shutters around the windows shone brightly against the pristine white wooden exterior.
“I’ll check the house over,” he said, turning off the engine. “And then you need to report this latest incident. Your hospital administrator should contact the police and put some special security measures in place for you.” He turned to face her. “But until that’s done, I’m not leaving your side,