ankles and folded his hands beneath his head and stared at a cobweb in the corner as the day’s revelations paraded across his mind. He had a son. He’d lost his son. Was he alive? Missing? Could the nurse be right? Could Lindsey be so emotionally distraught she simply couldn’t face the horrible truth? Did she need a counselor instead of a detective?
Had someone tried to kill her in the hospital?
He sprang off the bed. If someone had meant to harm Lindsey, they could come back any time. And once again he’d left her completely alone and unprotected.
LINDSEY FINALLY DRIFTED into a fitful sleep, the day’s tensions clawing at her body. But in her dreams, she heard her baby’s cry again. He was out there somewhere. He needed her. She had to keep searching. Had to believe he was alive.
She tossed and rolled, her throat aching, her mouth dry. A strange smell penetrated her nostrils, burning her wind-pipe, making her head throb. She opened her eyes, but the room spun. The air swirled around her, stifling. Hot. Perspiration beaded her face. She sniffed, suddenly alarmed at the strong pungent smell.
Gas.
She flung back the covers and rolled off the bed but her legs wobbled when she tried to stand and the room rocked back and forth. She screamed Gavin’s name, only the sound came out as a croak, and she remembered he’d gone away again. The smell grew stronger, the air choking her. Her body felt sluggish. Her head ached. The room swayed, then blurred again, and she dropped down onto the carpet. She had to crawl out, escape. But a wave of darkness engulfed her as she pitched forward, and she cried out, afraid she couldn’t make it to the door.
Chapter Four
Gavin had parked along the street in front of Lindsey’s and had almost dozed off when he suddenly jerked upright, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected a movement. A hazy shadow caught in the early morning light slipped into the woods behind Lindsey’s house. Barking broke the silence, and he saw a dog running into the woods. Relieved, he leaned his head back against the seat but just as sleep pulled at his eyelids, a screeching sound erupted that made his blood run cold. His eyes jerked open and he bolted out of the car.
A front window stood ajar, sending his mind into alarm. He raced to the front door and knocked, then rang the door bell, tapping his foot impatiently. Seconds passed like a time warp set in slow motion. He pounded the door again and called Lindsey’s name. She still didn’t answer.
His stomach lurched. Something was definitely wrong.
Frantic, he jiggled the door, but it wouldn’t open so he climbed inside the window. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he smelled gas. Jesus. Where was Lindsey?
He raced through the small den and found her lying on the floor, a white swirl of fabric clinging to her slender legs, her long hair shadowing her face. She looked pale and thin and so still his heart slammed into his throat.
“Lindsey!” He pressed his hand to her clammy face, and she moaned. His breath whooshed out in relief. She was alive. Adrenaline shooting through him, he slid his arms beneath her limp form, unlocked the front door, and carried her out into the fresh air.
Clutching her to his chest, he stumbled outside, then sank onto the grass near his car. An owl hooted in the distance. A dog barked again, loud and demanding. Shadows flitted across the yard as the leaves on the trees rustled. Was someone behind them? In the house?
She moaned again and, for a brief second, opened her eyes. She was trembling, her eyes dazed. He stroked a tendril of hair from her face, gently cradling her chin in his hand. “Lindsey, baby, are you all right?”
She coughed and clutched his arms, angling her head to look up at him as she rasped for air.
He stroked her back with his palm, trying to help her breathe. “Are you okay? Was someone in the house?”
“I don’t know. G-gas. I could smell it.”
“I know, so did I.” His gaze shot to the house. What if it exploded? He picked her up and gently laid her in the back seat of his car, tenderly checking her face and arms and legs. “Are you all right?”
She wheezed again. “Feel dizzy.”
“I’ll call an ambulance. You do have one in this little town, don’t you?”
“Yes, call the fire department,” Lindsey rasped. “They’ll send one.”
He rubbed his hand over the side of her face, then pulled off his jacket and lay it over her, drawing the sleeves around her shivering form. “Just lie here and try to relax.”
He grabbed his cell phone and quickly dialed for help. “Send an ambulance right away! Yes, she’s conscious. 3499 Pine Hollow Road. Lindsey Payne. I think there was a gas leak in her house. Yes, send the sheriff and the fire department, too.” She closed her eyes and his breath caught in his throat. “Hurry!”
He quickly checked her pulse. Faint, but her blood stirred slightly. He dragged her in his arms, lowered his head and listened to her breathing. Shallow, but steady. “They’ll be here soon, Lindsey,” he whispered, “Don’t worry, darlin’. Everything’s going to be all right.”
He rocked her in his arms praying for the EMTs to arrive, all the time wondering if he’d just told Lindsey a lie. If someone had intentionally tampered with her gas line, they’d meant to harm her. And if they were trying to hurt her because she was asking questions about her baby, neither one of them was going to be all right—not until they found their child.
Ten minutes later, the wail of a siren rent the air. He strained to see over the hump of the road, exhaling with relief when he spotted an ambulance and fire truck racing toward them. The paramedics jumped out and raced toward him. “Hurry!” Gavin yelled.
“We’ll check out the gas leak,” one of the firemen said.
A young blond paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Lindsey’s mouth and nose while another one took her vitals. “Blood pressure’s low, pupils dilated slightly.”
“She’s going to be okay,” he said. “But we should take her in for some blood work. Make sure her cell count is normal.”
Gavin nodded. A sheriff’s car pulled up the long winding drive, its blue light swirling through the pre-dawn sky. The car raced to a stop and a tall, gray-haired man wearing a tan sheriff’s uniform lumbered out, his face drawn. Even with the early morning sun deflecting his view, Gavin felt the man’s intense scrutiny trained on him. Felt those cop’s assessing suspicious eyes.
“What happened here?”
“Gas inhalation,” the paramedic explained. “We’re taking her to the hospital for tests.”
The sheriff hitched up his pants with his thumbs. “I’m Sheriff Forbes. Who might you be, Mister?”
He stuck out his hand. “I’m a friend of Lindsey’s, a detective from Raleigh. Name’s Gavin McCord. I’m glad you came, Sheriff.”
The sheriff shook his hand firmly, glaring at him as if he recognized his face from a Wanted poster. “You here when this happened?”
He was going to treat him as a suspect. Gavin understood the drill, but he
