Stranded (Military Investigations) Page 9

  Although from what she knew about Frank, he probably wanted to question her about breaking through the crime scene tape. Was it against the law to search for her own missing purse?

  She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Knowing Frank was in the hallway made her doubly anxious.

  The door opened, and someone—no doubt, Frank—entered the room. Unwilling to face the confrontation she expected to see in his eyes, she pretended to be asleep.

  His footsteps were heavy as he neared the gurney.

  She sensed him staring down at her.

  Unnerved, she opened her eyes.

  She didn’t see Frank.

  She saw Trey.

  NINE

  Colleen screamed. Trey hovered over her. He raised his hand and pressed it across her nose and mouth, cutting off her air supply and blocking any additional sound she tried to make.

  She writhed and scratched his face, then grabbed his nose and twisted.

  He growled and clamped his hand down even harder.

  Unable to breathe, she thrashed at him, kicked her feet and shifted her weight. The gurney was narrow, and the sheet covering the vinyl pad shifted with her.

  With one massive thrust, she threw her legs up and over the narrow edge. Gravity helped.

  She fell to the floor, along with the sheet.

  Trey lost his hold.

  Gasping for air, she crawled away from him like a crab.

  He reached for her again.

  She kicked and screamed.

  Where was Frank?

  Why wouldn’t he come to her rescue?

  * * *

  “I got a call from Ulster,” Colby said.

  The cop in Atlanta. Frank shoved the cell closer to his ear.

  “The two women Colleen mentioned who were murdered worked at the King’s Club. Guess who else worked there up until four months ago?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Briana Doyle.”

  “Colleen’s sister.”

  “Roger that.”

  An interesting twist. “Anything else?”

  “He also said Sutherland—that Atlanta cop who gave Colleen a hard time—suffered a nervous breakdown and had to retire.”

  “What about the plates on the Honda?”

  “The car’s registered to a Ms. C. A. Brennan.”

  Frank couldn’t help but smile. “Do me a favor, Colby. See if anyone remembers an Amish teen hanging around the barn today.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “Negative, but Colleen saw him talking to Ron Malone.”

  “Evelyn’s friend?”

  A sound filtered into the waiting room, like a muffled cry.

  Frank tensed. “Hold for a minute.”

  Lowering the phone, he retraced his steps into the hallway and listened.

  A woman screamed.

  Colleen!

  Someone ran down the corridor.

  Six foot. Stocky. White lab coat.

  Frank’s heart stopped. He crashed into her room. Colleen was on the floor, back to the wall.

  She shook her head and pointed to the hall. “I’m not hurt. Go after him.”

  Frank raced into the corridor.

  The man rounded the corner at the end of the hallway. Frank followed.

  A nurse blocked his path.

  He shoved past her.

  A lab technician carrying a tray with tubes of blood appeared.

  “Get back,” Frank yelled. He sailed around her and turned left. The hall was empty.

  Glancing back, he spotted a stairwell.

  Frank shoved open the heavy fire door. A short stairway led to an emergency exit, leading out of the hospital.

  He bounded down the steps.

  Movement behind him.

  Frank turned. A fire extinguisher sailed through the air, aimed straight for him. He lifted his hands to block the hit.

  The canister crashed against his chest, knocked air from his lungs and forced him off balance. He fell down the steps. His head scraped against the wall.

  The stairwell door opened, and the man in the lab coat walked back into the hospital.

  Frank’s ears rang. Pain screamed through his body. Fighting to remain conscious, he groped for his cell and heard Colby’s voice.

  “What’s going on, Frank?”

  He’d never disconnected.

  “Someone attacked Colleen.” Frank struggled to his feet. “A guy wearing a white lab coat. Six foot. Stocky. Call hospital security. Tell them to lock down the facility.”

  Frank grabbed the banister and pulled himself up the stairs. “Notify Freemont PD. The attack happened in trauma room two in the ER. He was last seen in the rear stairwell.”

  “Where’d he go from there?”

  Back to Colleen!

  Ice froze Frank’s veins.

  He jerked open the fire door and stumbled into the hallway.

  “Colleen,” he screamed, racing back to her.

  Hurling himself into the trauma room, he expected the worst.

  She sat crumpled on the floor, her face twisted with fear.

  “Frank.” She gasped with relief. Tears sprang from her eyes.

  He was on his knees at her side, reaching for her. She collapsed into his arms. He pulled her trembling body close, feeling her warmth. Hot tears dampened his neck.

  She was alive. Relief swept over him. A lump of gratitude filled his throat. He hadn’t lost her. Not this time, but he hadn’t reacted fast enough. She’d almost died because of his inability to protect her.

  He rubbed his hand over her slender shoulders. “Shh. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  For now. But someone wanted to kill her. Whether she had been working with Trey or against him, he was determined to end her life.

  Trey would come back. No doubt about it. Would Frank be able to save her the next time?

  TEN

  “He must have headed down the east corridor and left from that side of the hospital,” Frank had told the hospital security earlier and now repeated the details to the Freemont police officer who had answered the call.

  The cop was pushing fifty with a full face and tired eyes. His name tag read Talbot. He had pulled a tablet and pen from his pocket and was making note of the information Frank provided.

  As Talbot wrote, Frank rubbed his side that had taken the hit. The fire extinguisher had bruised a couple of ribs and the area around one of his incisions. The dull ache was aggravating but not serious.

  Colleen was resting in the ER room across the hall, awaiting the doctor’s decision about whether she would be released or admitted for observation. Frank had wanted to stay with her, but Talbot insisted on questioning Frank in private. The only way he would leave Colleen was if the door to her room and the door to the room across the hall where Frank now sat both remained opened.

  The cop looked up from his notebook. “Did you see his face?”

  “Only in profile, but Ms. Brennan gave you a description.”

  “That’s correct. I just wanted verification.”

  Law enforcement’s need to confirm anecdotal information was what Frank had tried to explain to Colleen. Now, as his own irritation began to mount, he understood her frustration.

  “The man was approximately six feet tall, wearing a white lab coat. I can’t be sure about his build. He appeared stocky. Muscular might be a better description.”

  “Ms. Brennan thought you were in the hallway. She screamed, but you failed to respond.” The cop paused and pursed his lips. “Did she imagine raising her voice?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, I went into the waiting room to take a call. Hearing a sound, I retraced my steps and realized Ms. Brennan was in dist
ress.”

  “The person who phoned you was—”

  Colby was busy dealing with the Amish. Frank didn’t want him tied up, answering Talbot’s questions, especially when Frank was at fault for letting Trey escape.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. What was wrong with him these days?

  “The name?” the cop pressed.

  “Special Agent Voss.”

  “First name?”

  More irritation bubbled up within Frank. “Special Agent Colby Voss.”

  “Spelled?”

  How else would Voss be spelled? “V.O.S.S.” The cop was a jerk. Either that or he had a bone to pick with the military.

  Needing to reassure himself that Colleen was all right, Frank glanced through the two open doorways to where she was resting in the room across the hall. Her eyes were closed and her hands folded at her waist.

  He pulled his gaze back to Talbot. Dark circles rimmed his eyes.

  Frank’s temper subsided ever so slightly.

  “Have you been involved with the search and rescue?”

  The cop nodded. “When I’m not cleaning up my own property. My wife and I live on the west side of town. The twister tore the roof off our house. The wife was inside.” He shook his head and looked as dejected as Frank had felt when he realized Trey had escaped. “We’re living with our daughter and son-in-law. They don’t have room for us.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. My wife blames God, but it’s not His fault either.”

  Frank’s opinion of the cop did a one-eighty. Although hard to admit, deep down Frank had blamed God after the IED explosion and Audrey’s rejection. It was easier to claim the Lord was at fault instead of his own poor judgment.

  The doctor entered Colleen’s room.

  “If there’s anything else you need from me, call my cell.” Frank gave the cop his number as well as the one for Evelyn’s landline.

  “I’ll alert local law enforcement to be on the lookout for Trey Howard. As you’re probably aware, the department’s working long shifts trying to keep the peace in the areas hardest hit by the storm. Doubt we’ll be back to normal operations for a few more days, so I wouldn’t hold your breath about tracking him down anytime soon.”

  The doctor stepped into the hallway and motioned to the nurse. “Once pharmacy fills the pain prescription for Ms. Brennan, she’s free to go.”

  The nurse nodded. “I’ll get her meds and discharge papers.”

  Frank climbed from the table and shook hands with the cop. “I appreciate your help today. Let me know if you find out anything about Trey Howard.”

  “I’ve got your phone number, sir. I’ll contact you first thing.”

  Frank left the room with a better attitude. He hated that he hadn’t nabbed Trey, but he’d changed his opinion of the cop. The guy was carrying a lot on his shoulders.

  He knocked on Colleen’s open door. His heart softened when she looked up and smiled. She was carrying a lot, too. Her sister had died because of a drug dealer who seemed to escape apprehension. Frank had to find Trey before he hurt Colleen again.

  * * *

  Frank’s head was scraped and he looked tired, but Colleen smiled when he stepped into her room. “Did you finish answering Talbot’s questions?”

  “The guy’s thorough.”

  “Don’t all of you law enforcement types follow the same playbook?”

  He laughed. She liked the sound.

  “How’s the head?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Pain is relative. I’ll survive.”

  “And the shoulder?”

  “You mean where I hit the floor after I slipped off the gurney?”

  Frank nodded.

  “It’s probably not as painful as that scrape on your forehead.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “That’s what the doctor told me. Rest and protect my head. Two cranial blows in a short span of time aren’t recommended for good health. The doc doesn’t want me to end up like some old prizefighter. Research claims concussions don’t lead to good quality of life.”

  “It’s not something to joke about.”

  “I know, but if I don’t laugh, I just might cry. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “Sometimes shedding a few tears helps.”

  The nurse returned to the room and dropped a plastic medicine bottle in Colleen’s hand. “Take every six hours as needed for pain. They’ll make you sleepy. Don’t operate motor vehicles when taking them.”

  “My car was totaled in the storm,” Colleen said.

  “Tough break, huh?” The nurse sorted through the papers she carried. “Have someone check on you in the night.”

  She handed Colleen the release instructions. “This covers most of the questions you might have. The doctor warned you to guard your head, and don’t take any more hits.”

  Colleen smiled. “He mentioned that might be a problem.”

  “He’s right. Be extra careful.”

  “I don’t plan to get into any more dangerous situations.”

  “Could I get that in writing?” Frank asked.

  The nurse pointed to the scrape on his forehead as she left the room. “As if you should talk.”

  Colleen turned to Frank when they were alone. “Thank you for going after Trey. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” She held out her hand and gripped his in a half shake, half high-five motion.

  “I didn’t react fast enough,” he countered.

  The nurse knocked and pushed the wheelchair through the door.

  “I’ll drive the car to the front of the hospital.” Frank hurried to the parking lot.

  “He seems like a nice guy.” The nurse helped Colleen off the gurney and into the wheelchair.

  “He’s not sure what he wants in life.”

  “I can relate. I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.”

  Colleen raised her brow. “But you’ve got a great profession.”

  “Sometimes I want more in life. Money, fame.”

  “Really? I just want to be safe.”

  The nurse patted her hand. “Looks like you’ve got a special guy who’s all about protection.”

  Colleen was taken aback. Surely she wasn’t talking about Frank?

  “His face softens when he looks at you,” the nurse added. “I’d say he’s interested.”

  Colleen shrugged off the statements about Frank because they weren’t true. The nurse was wrong, although Colleen would like having someone to protect her. Especially if that someone was Frank Gallagher.

  ELEVEN

  Frank called Evelyn and filled her in on what had happened after he and Colleen left the hospital. She was understandably upset about the attack and concerned about Colleen’s well-being.

  “Is Ron there?” he asked.

  “He left a short while ago, why?”

  “Just wondering.” He didn’t mention the Amish boy Colleen had seen earlier. Evelyn didn’t need anything more to add to her concern.

  “Be careful,” she warned before they disconnected.

  Lowering his cell, he glanced at Colleen. “Evelyn’s worried about you.”

  “And I’m worried about putting both of you in danger.”

  “Hey, remember—” he pointed a finger back at himself “—I’m with law enforcement and used to dealing with criminals.”

  “Yes, but Evelyn doesn’t need to get involved.”

  “She’s not in danger, and with the BOLO out on Trey, he’ll be in custody before long.”

  Colleen tugged at a strand of her hair. “I’m not as optimistic as you are. Trey’s cunning. He tells a lonely woman lies she wants to hear and gets her to smuggle drugs into this country. If s
he balks, he overdoses her or shoots her at a roadside park. He doesn’t think of anyone but himself.”

  She glanced out the window and sighed. “Maybe I should hole up in a motel someplace. You don’t need trouble underfoot.”

  “And prevent Evelyn from extending her gracious Southern hospitality?”

  “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

  He reached for her hand. “You’re not going to a motel. Evelyn wouldn’t think of it, and neither would I. Plus—” he smiled “—Duke’s a good watchdog.”

  She smiled back, and relief swept over him. He squeezed her hand to reassure her and almost groaned when his cell rang. The last thing he wanted was to pull his hand away from hers.

  He glanced at the screen and hit Talk. “Yeah, Colby.”

  “I tried to contact Ron Malone, but I couldn’t reach him. Seems there were a number of teenage Amish boys getting a free breakfast this morning. I need a name or something to distinguish the kid in question from every other Amish youth.”

  “Ron was at my sister’s house for most of the afternoon. Colleen and I are headed there now. I’ll call him.” Frank paused, wondering if Colby had anything additional to add.

  “Stay safe,” was all he said before disconnecting.

  Seems everyone was worried about their well-being.

  Frank punched in Ron’s home number.

  “Good evening. Ron Malone speaking.”

  The guy was definitely old-school. “Ron, this is Frank Gallagher.”

  “How’s Colleen? Evelyn phoned and filled me in.”

  “She’s okay. I’m calling about the accident at the barn today. Do you remember talking to an Amish boy just before it collapsed? He’s probably sixteen or seventeen years old. Straw hat. Suspenders.”

  “That would be Isaac Fisher. He and his sister, Martha, work at the Amish Craft Shoppe.”

  Frank glanced at Colleen and gave her a reassuring nod as Ron continued.

  “Isaac’s math skills need help so I’ve been tutoring him. We were trying to schedule our next session around the relief effort. Why do you ask?”

  “He was hanging around the barn today.”

  “And probably had his eye on the Craft Shoppe. He wants to go back to work. Money’s tight for most of the Amish, especially for a young guy who’s planning for his future.”