More Than A Lawman. Anna J. Stewart

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More Than A Lawman - Anna J. Stewart Honor Bound

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reputedly in California, Nevada or Oregon. She’d quickly gained a certain reputation with law-enforcement agencies—and not necessarily for the better. If Eden felt justice hadn’t been served or if one of these lowlifes was on the loose, watch out. Chances were the suspected killer featured in Eden St. Claire’s database.

      Not that she’d paid any mind to others besides the Iceman in recent months. Her fixation had almost done her in once and for all.

      He watched as Eden’s eyes drifted closed and her head lolled to the side.

      Finally. She was asleep and Cole felt as if he could breathe. He sagged against the wall.

      When was he going to learn that nothing good ever happened between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.? His father had called it “the hour of the wolf,” when evil lurked, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

      And phone calls at that time?

      It was never happy news.

      What relief he’d felt when he’d seen her name on his caller ID vanished when the disguised voice on the other end told him to hurry...to find her...before it was too late.

      Cole didn’t know what was more unsettling. The fact he hadn’t known Eden was missing or that it was the Iceman himself who had seen fit to inform him where she could be found.

      Oh, his lieutenant was going to love the fact a serial killer now had Cole’s direct number.

      Even worse? Tonight’s events meant that Eden had been right all along. The Iceman hadn’t left the Central Valley area. He was still killing, and, as of a few hours ago, had upped the stakes considerably.

      Cole took advantage of Eden sleeping and slipped into the hallway. He kept one eye on the open door to her exam room as he answered the call from one of the evidence techs on the case. “Hey, Tammy. What’s up?”

      “Thought you’d want to know. The officers you had checking on Eden’s house reported in. They found her car parked in her driveway. Her purse and cell phone are inside. Doors are locked, house and car keys were wedged under some kind of gargoyle on her front porch. No sign of a break-in.”

      A shiver raced down his spine. “He knows where she lives.” And how she lived. That she kept her spare key in that hideously adorable creature was a long-running joke—and secret—between the two of them. She had an entire collection of creepy, ugly ornaments scattered about that porch and backyard.

      Given the growing popularity of her blog—she had a massive following—the fact she’d captured the attention of her latest obsession and target didn’t surprise him. What nerve had she struck that awakened the Iceman from his hibernation?

      “Did they find any prints?” Cole asked around a too-tight throat. He saw Eden’s feet move under the pile of blankets and shifted to be able to watch her more clearly.

      “Running them now. So far all they’ve found are Eden’s. Looks like another dead end. Oh, wow.” Tammy hissed in a sharp breath. “Wrong thing to say, sorry.”

      Cole found himself smiling thanks to that odd sense of humor most cops possessed. “It would have been if we’d gotten there any later. Thanks, Tammy. Let McTavish know, will you? I’ll be on scene as soon as I can.”

      “Tell Eden when she’s better she owes me a bottle of Cuervo.”

      Cole frowned. “Why?”

      Tammy clicked her tongue. “She’ll know. Just give her the message.”

      He’d better not find out Eden had been bribing his techs for information again.

      “Detective Delaney?” A lanky middle-aged man in scrubs and a white coat headed toward him, the dark circles under his eyes made more pronounced by the thin wire-rim glasses. “I’m Dr. Collins. The nurse at the desk said I should talk to you about Ms. St. Claire before I examine her?”

      Cole pocketed his phone and shook the doctor’s hand. “I need to be in there when you examine her.”

      “Are you a family—”

      “I have her medical power of attorney.” Cole recited his argument from memory. “You don’t have her file here, but suffice it to say she has a severe phobia when it comes to hospitals, and, no offense, to doctors.” The fact Eden held no control over her fear had been a topic of late-night conversation on more than one occasion. “I’m not talking issues, mind you. I’m talking full-blown panic attacks. You want me there if you want her coherent and amenable to your exam.”

      “O—kay.” Dr. Collins’s grimace did little to reassure Cole that the physician understood the situation. “Has she considered therapy—”

      “Preaching to the choir, Doc.” Cole gave a slow shake of his head. “Been there, tried everything. As long as there’s someone she trusts in the room, she pushes through. All the same, the sooner you get this over with, the better.” He made a beeline for Eden, much to the frustration of the nurses in her room. “Eden?” He took hold of her hand. “E? You need to wake up, okay? Just for a little while.”

      He saw her tense, as if she were grinding her teeth, and her eyes opened so slowly he wondered if they’d been lined with lead.

      “Sleepy.”

      “It’s no wonder,” Dr. Collins said as he stood opposite Cole and accessed her test results on the nearby computer. “Your blood count is alarmingly low. Have you by any chance been diagnosed with anemia?”

      “No.” Eden frowned as if it was difficult to concentrate. She stared down at her now bandaged wrists.

      “I’ve done a preliminary exam and haven’t found any internal issues, Doctor,” the remaining nurse in the room said. “No swelling, no broken bones or fractures, and she’s not complaining of any pain.”

      “We’ll double-check all that. In the meantime, the saline should get those numbers up. Ms. St. Claire? Eden?” Dr. Collins, clearly taking a cue from Cole, kept his voice low and calm as he asked, “I’d like to examine you, if that’s okay? Detective Delaney can stay here with you. We want you to be calm. We’ll get through this, I promise.”

      Eden squeezed Cole’s hand so tightly he almost lost circulation. “All right.”

      Cole blanked his mind as Dr. Collins kept his word, examining Eden with a thorough efficiency that made Cole wonder if the AMA should consider cloning him.

      “Eden, the nurse said you told her you had not been sexually assaulted.”

      “That’s right.” Eden’s voice was tight and her fingers went white around Cole’s hand.

      “But you were unconscious for a period of time.” He hesitated. “I’d like your permission to conduct a sexual-assault exam.”

      Eden squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, but a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. Cole swallowed and pretended not to notice. “Do I know how to show you a good time or what?” she joked in such a strained voice Cole’s heart constricted. “Do it,” she said.

      Cole’s admiration for Eden—and all women—amplified exponentially as Dr. Collins proceeded.

      A

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