picked up the phone to call the police.
If something happened to Ethan—or God forbid, Daisy—who was to say the hospital wouldn’t be legally in their rights to haul Leah’s ass to the police? Not to mention the added weight of failure that would be loaded onto her conscience.
Picking up her coffee, she walked to the table and rechecked her purse for everything she’d need that day. Phone. Check. Wallet. Check. Her thoughts wandered once more. She knew several members of Templeton’s police force through their dealings at the hospital, but calling them might bring a whole new load of trouble to Ethan.
He struck her as a man who knew his own mind, yet there was an underlying vulnerability to him. As if he, like her, worried that one wrong move would bring his whole world crashing down. Leah frowned. She could only surmise the aura surrounding him came from the recent reappearance of his ex-wife.
Sighing, she shrugged into her jacket. Maybe she could have a quiet word with Cat Garrett, the town’s detective inspector. Kind, savvy and exceptionally discreet, Cat would advise her. Leah had spoken to Cat numerous times throughout her time in Templeton and the inspector had proved to be someone Leah could rely on should she need police involvement at the hospital.
She liked to think that Cat would help if Leah called or visited the station.
She could make her questions purely hypothetical. Then surely nothing worse could happen for Ethan and Daisy?
Leah left the kitchen and walked into the hallway. Her instincts were usually good and trustworthy, but the flash of pleading she’d seen in Ethan’s eyes continued to make her doubt her next move.
Lifting her keys from the hook by the door, Leah walked outside and glanced at her watch. Seven thirty. Maybe she should swing by the station now, and instead of involving Cat at this stage, speak with the desk sergeant instead? That would ease her conscience. At least a little.
The possibility of walking tossed to the wayside, Leah got into her car and headed across town.
Fifteen minutes later, she pulled open the door to the police station and entered the lobby. Relieved that it was empty of anyone but the desk sergeant, Leah lowered her shoulders and smiled. “Good morning.”
The sergeant looked up from his paperwork. “Good morning.” He returned her smile and laid down his pen. “How can I help you?”
Leah put her purse on the counter that separated them and cleared her throat, trying her best to look impassive. “I would like some advice, actually.”
His gaze turned somber. “Oh?”
“Yes. I have a...” She cleared her throat. “...hypothetical situation that I’d like to run by you, if that’s okay?”
“Hypothetical?”
She smiled. “Absolutely.”
Skepticism burned in his gray eyes. “I see. Go ahead.”
Leah took a breath. “Okay, so I’m a nurse.”
“Yes.”
“Say I knew someone who’d had a run-in with someone else that resulted in an assault with a knife. Nothing serious, but the person who suffered the injury doesn’t want to involve you guys, doesn’t want to press charges...”
Why was she hesitating over this? She was the type of woman who made snap decisions all the time. Who looked at a situation and immediately sensed what came next. With Ethan James, everything felt different. Unexplained. Dangerous. Not him, but everything she’d seen in his eyes. The pleading, anger, apology and gratitude. The list went on.
The sergeant coughed. “Miss...”
She blinked. “Dixon. Leah Dixon.”
“If this hypothetical person doesn’t want to press charges, there’s not a lot we can do unless you can persuade him or her to speak with us. Is there more to this situation? Something that worried you enough that you came in here?” His gaze softened. “We’re here to help. You should know that better than most.”
She leaned closer. “What if it wasn’t an isolated incident? Is there anything the police could do to ensure this person’s safety?”
“Without him or her speaking to us? No. Even if you told me this person’s name, we don’t have the resources to protect against a what-if or maybe. My advice to you is to persuade this person to come to the station as soon as you can before anything else happens. Until then, there’s nothing we can do.” He frowned. “I get the impression you’re genuinely worried, Miss Dixon. Do what you can to help, but until a person wants that help, it can be a difficult job.”
She swallowed. “And if this person has a child living with them?”
Concern darkened his gaze. “Then they most definitely need to come and see us.”
She sighed and briefly closed her eyes. “Okay.” She stepped back from the counter. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
“Miss Dixon?”
Leah turned back to the counter. “Yes?”
“If you think a child could be in genuine danger, I recommend you call social services, but before you do that you need to be certain you’ve got the situation correctly assessed.”
Leah held the sergeant’s gaze as her mind replayed the sincerity in Ethan’s gaze, the doubt and loneliness that emanated from him. Not to mention the deep care he had for Daisy. She exhaled. “This hypothetical person is a good person, Sergeant. Someone who might have been thrown into a bizarre state of affairs through no fault of their own.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Then I’ll leave my advice with you, but I can’t say this conversation hasn’t raised my concerns.”
She nodded. “I’m sure everything will be fine, but if I need your help again, I’ll come straight back here. Okay?”
“As you wish.”
Turning, Leah left the station, walked across the parking lot and got into her car. She breathed deep and started the engine. Come what may, she’d see Ethan tonight, and hopefully, what to say or do next would become clear. Then she could go back to her life pre–handsome author...and his little girl.
* * *
ETHAN PRESSED HARD on the delete key of his laptop and watched the pathetic paragraph he’d written disappear. The morning’s work had been painful, both physically and mentally. One-handed typing and a head full of nothing but real life, rather than fiction, meant nothing good would be written anytime soon.
He got up from his chair, grabbed his phone and wandered downstairs into the kitchen.
Filling a glass with water, he drank deep. The possibility of getting any worthwhile work done was zilch until he spoke with Anna. He couldn’t leave the situation as it was, no matter how much he might want to.
He couldn’t turn away from Anna as she had him. What if something happened to her? Did he really want to have to explain to Daisy how her mother had asked for his help and he’d refused?
Refilling
