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, okay?”
Deborah’s expression was hard to read. “You’re not responsible for my safety, Cole,” she said. “You’re a busy man with a job to do.”
“Everything else can wait.” He opened the door. “At least let me come in and scout the place out before we talk about it.”
She was clearly trying very hard to affect an expression of strength and calm, but he easily saw the flash of fear in her eyes. “Thank you, Cole. I’d appreciate that.”
He smiled. Deborah was still as beautiful as the first day he had asked her out, yet the shine in her eyes had become dull, and she looked tired. He was angered by the thought that a man was determined to hurt someone as kind as Deborah. He stepped from his cargo van and slid his gun from its holster.
Apprehending that cowardly man was now at the top of Cole’s agenda, and he would not waver until the threat was neutralized.
* * *
Deborah unlocked her front door as a sensation of sickness rose in her throat. She had loved her home ever since purchasing it five years ago and hated that dread had replaced her feelings of security. The man who had attacked her in the morgue and the parking lot had left an imprint of fear on her mind that she just couldn’t shift.
Cole opened the door slowly and held his gun close. He put a finger to his lips and indicated for Deborah to stay close to the open door. He opened her kitchen cabinets, checked under the couch, behind drapes, even in her trash can. She leaned against the wall, watching him walk slowly upstairs, his face stony and expressionless. She heard him walking through the two bedrooms upstairs, hating the fact that she was reliant on him for peace of mind. He was the last person she wanted to rely on ever again.
He returned with a smile on his face. “All clear.” He holstered his gun. “Why don’t you make the call to the hospital while I fix us some tea.”
He walked into the kitchen and began opening cupboards as though he were a regular visitor. She bristled at the intrusion, yet she swallowed the irritation and said nothing. She picked up the phone and punched in the hospital administrator’s direct number.
Frank
