closet stood ajar and Kit peeked inside. Nothing.
Almost nothing.
She squinted as a small box on the closet’s back wall caught her eye. Kit touched it with her fingertips, then flinched from its ticking pulse. It was some sort of timer linked to an electrical conduit. Was it just an unlikely coincidence that this door stood open? Was that box part of the backup generator system? Or had the man with the ruined voice done something to the power grid? Why? Surely not just to cop a free feel and thank her for being a good neighbor to Helen.
Helen.
With suspicion thumping her heart against her chest, Kit ran back the opposite direction, past the warning call of the attending nurse, back to the ICU rooms. “Helen?”
The white-haired woman still lay in her bed, unmoved, unconscious. But there was something different, something out of place. Kit zeroed in on the unexpected spot of color on the white blanket.
“What is going on?” Kit’s whisper fogged the viewing window.
Instead of wiping it clear, she pushed open the door and went inside the chilled room for a closer look. A single pink long-stemmed rose lay next to Helen’s hand. The familiar scent and suspicious timing told Kit that he had brought the flower, and that the dark, powerful scrawl on the card tied to the rose was his.
Kit leaned in closer to decipher the handwriting in the dim light. “Helen Hodges. Age: 72. Allergies: Penicillin.” The back side of the card listed medications for asthma and arthritis, as well as an insurance number.
“Not much of a romantic, is he.” But definitely someone who cared enough to ensure that Helen Hodges received the proper treatment. Someone who cared, period. Kit wrapped her fingers around the woman’s fragile hand. “Who was he, Helen?”
Who was the secretive man with the warm lips and ruined voice?
A son who had an aversion to hospitals, perhaps? A grandson who preferred the darkness? A lawyer or accountant who was afraid he’d get stuck with the hospital bill if he was seen?
“Is he a criminal? Ex-husband?” No. His body had been too young and strong to be a contemporary of Helen’s. “Is he part owl or bat?”
But Kit’s tired attempt at humor couldn’t even elicit her own smile. “Do you even know he was here?”
The pale, expressionless face gave no answer.
A sweep of warmer air told Kit the door had opened behind her. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, quickly ascertaining that he hadn’t returned.
“You need to leave, Miss Snow.” Judging by the sharp tone, any sympathy the nurse had felt for Kit’s persistent vigil had worn off. “We can’t have anyone extra in the way when the main power’s off-line like this.”
“The monitors never stopped working, did they?” Kit was thinking out loud as much as asking a question. “He didn’t jeopardize the patients. He just wanted to remain anonymous.”
But why?
Why?
“He?” the nurse asked.
“You didn’t see anyone besides me come into this room, did you?” But Kit already knew the answer was no.
“Good night, Miss Snow.”
Kit acknowledged the dismissal with a nod. “Her name is Helen Hodges. There’s health information on the card here. I’d double check everything, of course, but I have a feeling it’s accurate.”
“Now.”
Pulling the rose’s soft bud into Helen’s palm, Kit closed her slender fingers around it. “He must care about you an awful lot to go to all this trouble.” The nurse cleared her throat and Kit raised her hands in surrender. “I’m going. I’m going.”
As soon as Kit stepped outside the door, every light on the floor flashed back on. She reached for a wall and braced herself while her eyes readjusted to the harsh intrusion of brightness. First the darkness had blinded her, and now the sudden glare rendered her just as helpless.
A perfect diversion.
“Damn.”
Curious to know more about the man who’d grabbed her like an attacker while insisting he meant her no harm, Kit hurried to the lobby. Empty. No one but uniformed staff prowled the hallways. She went back to the utility closet to inspect her only clue to the man’s appearance and mysterious vanishing act.
But the timing device had disappeared now, as well.
She could almost chalk up the entire incident as a fantasy of her weary imagination. The blackout had lasted a matter of seconds. The backup lights had run just a minute or two longer. Everything was back to normal. Back to quiet. Back to her being alone in the middle of the night without the change to call home.
Then she detected it. The lingering scents of leather and soap stirred her pulse. That man—Helen’s unseen friend—had been in here. He had caused that precise, patient-friendly power outage.
Kit strolled back to the phones, trying to organize her observations into a pattern that made sense. The man in the leather coat and gloves had sought her out in the darkness for a reason. He’d come to see Helen. But he’d come for Kit, too.
She caught her breath and froze, knowing for certain that their meeting hadn’t been accidental.
I will repay my debt.
And Kit had a funny feeling he wasn’t talking about the stack of quarters scattered across the telephone counter in the lobby.
Chapter Three
“Where were you last night?” Kit looked up from her bowl of soggy cereal and glared at the eighteen-year-old with the spiked golden-brown hair and the annoyingly alert blue gaze, so unlike her own sleep-deprived eyes. Man, the kid had gall.
As relieved as she’d been to find Matt asleep in his bed when Tariq had finally dropped her off at four this morning, Kit suspected her brother’s loud snore had been a ruse to keep her from asking any questions. Granting them both a couple hours of peace, she’d turned off the bedside lamp, planted a kiss on his cheek and silently promised that once she got a little rest and felt slightly more human, a conversation was going to happen.
Welcome to slightly more human.
“I was at the hospital.” Needing something with a little more crunch to sustain her, Kit carried her bowl to the sink and reached for an apple from the basket of fruit on the counter. Kit hissed at the pain that stabbed through her shoulder, and quickly pulled her arm back to her side. “Wow.”
“Kit? You okay?” Was that concern she heard in Matt’s voice? When she turned around, she caught a glimpse of the sweet baby brother she’d once been so close to. But his I-don’t-give-a-damn mask slipped back into place before she could relish the connection. He stuffed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and chewed around the matter-of-fact question. “Did you get hurt?”
The fist-size bruise that had turned her right collar bone and shoulder joint an ugly
