Foul Play

“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 answered with his usual curt greeting. “Frank Carlisle.”

While she explained the incident in the parking lot, Cole mixed up some iced tea in a jug, occasionally glancing over at her with an expression of support and concern. His effect on her was still strong, causing her stomach to leap and flip, and she turned around, putting him out of her sight. How was it possible that he could still cause such a physical reaction after all these years?

“Well, this is a terrible thing to happen to you, Deborah, especially after the incident in the morgue.” Frank sounded genuinely shocked. “I’ll report it to the police right away. We’ll need to issue a warning to all hospital staff that we have a mugger on the prowl.”

Deborah squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “This wasn’t a mugging, Frank. The guy was trying to hurt me. He had his hands around my throat.”

“Are you okay?” Frank asked. “Why didn’t you come back inside the hospital immediately? You shouldn’t have gone home alone.”

“I’m not alone,” she said, dropping her voice. “Cole Strachan is with me. He brought me home after chasing off the attacker.”

After a moment’s silence, Frank said, “I see. Well, that’s a good thing. An ex–navy SEAL makes a perfect bodyguard.”

“Don’t you see, Frank,” she said, feeling that he was making light of her ordeal. “This second attack proves that I’m being targeted for a reason, most likely because I’m close to uncovering drug tampering at the hospital.”

Frank let out a long, weary sigh. “These two incidents may be entirely unconnected. I can’t help but feel that you’re beginning to sound a little paranoid.”

“Paranoid!” she repeated incredulously. “You weren’t the one shoved inside a freezer compartment or choked by a masked attacker. I am not paranoid.”

“Okay, okay,” Frank said calmly. “I’ll file a report with the police, and we’ll let them decide whether there is a correlation between the two incidents. Take some time to rest and recover. You sound exhausted.”

She turned around and saw Cole sitting at her kitchen table. “I am,” she admitted. “I got the wind knocked right out of my sails.”

“I apologize, Deborah,” Frank said in a sudden rush. “An emergency call is coming through. I have to go. Take care.”

The line went dead, and Deborah went to join Cole at the table, sitting opposite and running her finger down the icy condensation on her glass of iced tea.

“Frank thinks it was a mugger,” she said. “He still doesn’t believe me about the drug tampering.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that from your side of the conversation.”

He pulled his chair closer to hers. “I can help you,” he said. “I saw that you have a guest room upstairs—”

She cut him off. “No!”

“I’m trained in special ops, Deborah,” he said. “If anyone tries to get to you here, I can be ready—”

She cut him off again. “I said no.”

He shook his head. “You always were stubborn.”

She met his gaze. “And you always were persistent.”

“I prefer the word determined,” he said, raising an eyebrow, clearly trying to make her smile. It didn’t work.

“I can’t let you stay here, Cole, not even for one night.” She dropped her eyes. “I find it really hard to be around you. I wish you’d warned me you were coming back. I feel like you blindsided me.”

“I’m sorry, Debs,” he said. “I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I know it’s been ten years, but the hurt is still there.” She thought of the sunny day they both had sat in a coffeehouse by the lake. His words too young to settle down had hit her like a blow to the stomach. “I need time to accept that you’re back in town,” she said. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair, putting a larger gap between them. “I totally understand. But you really shouldn’t stay here alone. Is there somebody you can call?”

She swallowed away the lump in her throat. “I’ll call my brother.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” She rubbed her temples where a dull throb had begun. “I know Chad’s off work today, so he’ll be able to come over right away. You can go.”

“I’ll stay until Chad arrives.”

Deborah’s head started to pound. “No,” she said. “I need some space.” She tried to level her voice and iron out the wobble. Cole’s proximity to her was overwhelming. “You’re crowding me a little.”

Cole reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. It was the same business card he’d handed to her the previous day. He laid it flat on the table. “My numbers are here,” he said. “Call anytime you need me. And I mean anytime.”

She picked up the card. “You gave me one of these already.”

His mouth curled at the corners. “I’m kinda guessing that it might have ended up in the trash.”

Her color rose. He still knew her well.

“I live over on Franklin Street,” he said. “So I can be here in just a few minutes. I keep my cell with me at all times.”

She nodded. He rose from his chair and headed for the door. His shoulders were much wider and firmer than they used to be. He looked like a man now, rather than the boy she used to know.

“I’ll come by tomorrow on my way to the hospital,” he said. “Make sure you keep the doors and windows locked tight, okay? If Chad can’t come straight over, call me immediately.”

She nodded again. He slipped through the door and shut it behind him. She took a deep, steadying breath and sipped her iced tea before dialing her brother’s number.

Chad was more animated than usual upon hearing Deborah’s voice. “I heard some news today,” he said, interrupting her greeting. “Cole Strachan has moved back to town. A friend of mine saw him at the hospital today. I wondered if you saw him, too.”

“Yeah,” Deborah replied flatly. “I saw him.”

“Are you okay, sis?” Chad asked, trying hard to be sympathetic. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Deborah sighed. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you sure? You sound really down.”

“Actually,” she said, “I had a scare at work today, and I wondered if you could come over, maybe stay the night?”

“What happened?” Chad sounded concerned.

How could she explain the situation without worrying him even further? “I’ll tell you about it when you get here.”

“I got called into the office on short notice,” Chad replied. “We’re working on a big presentation. I’m here till late. Sorry, sis. Is this serious? Can you call somebody else?” Without waiting for her reply, he continued, “Is this something to do with Cole? Did he upset you today? Because if he upset you, I’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

“No, Chad,” she said. “Can we stop talking about Cole, please?”

“Sure we can. Sorry. Listen, I’d love to come over any other time, but I can’t tonight. Call one of your friends or Mom. Don’t be alone, okay?”

“Okay, Chad. Don’t work too hard.”

He laughed. “I never do.”

After hanging up, she started to punch in her parents’ number. Her mom or dad would surely be able to stay with her tonight. Then she thought of all their questions, their interest in Cole, their desire to defend her against her ex-finance’s intrusion back into her life. She simply didn’t know if she had the emotional energy to cope with Cole Strachan being the number one topic of conversation. She placed the phone on its base and stood in her living room, contemplating her options. Her house was pretty secure, with strong locks on all points of entry. She would be safe here alone for one night. She could make a plan tomorrow after a good night’s rest.

She pushed down the feeling of guilt at breaking her word to Cole. After all, he had broken the biggest promise of them all.

* * *

Cole snatched his cell from the nightstand, checked the time on his clock: 3:00 a.m.

He answered it with just one word: “Deborah.”

Her garbled voice was fast and difficult to understand.

“Slow down,” he said calmly. “Take it nice and steady.”

“I hear noises,” she said. “I think somebody is trying to get in.”

“Where’s your brother?”

Her silence was the answer she clearly didn’t want to give.

“You’re alone in the house, aren’t you?” he asked as his irritation at her obstinacy was quickly replaced by concern for her well-being.

“Yes.”

He grabbed his keys from the dresser and pulled on a sweater.

“What do you hear?” he asked.

“It sounds like someone is turning a key in the lock of the front door, but the chain lock is stopping it from opening.” She gave a cry. “How could they have a key?”

“Did you go downstairs?”

“No.”

He slipped his feet into sneakers and holstered his gun. “Good. Stay out of sight until I get there. I can reach you quicker than the police.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He took the stairs in his home two at a time and headed for the front door. “What for?”

“I promised I wouldn’t stay in the house by myself tonight,” she said.

Cole broke into a run on the walkway, unlocking his vehicle with the button along the way. Was she really apologizing for breaking a promise? To him of all people. It made him realize what a good woman he had let slip through his fingers. And now it was too late.

“I’ll be there soon,” he said. “Just sit tight.”

He uttered a prayer while racing to the house. He felt God’s guiding hand upon him, giving him the strength to face up to his past so that he could help shape Deborah’s future. If he was going to defeat the danger in her life, he had to accept her occasional harsh words, her resentment toward him and her instinct to push him away. It was his responsibility to take all of that and more.

He screeched to a halt outside her house. It was shrouded in darkness, and as he slipped from the driver’s seat, the scent of calming lavender came to him on the breeze. Yet the calm was instantly broken when he saw a masked man standing on the porch watching his approach. Cole reached for his gun and the man began to back away, quickly swinging his legs over the porch rail and disappearing under the cover of the trees in the backyard.

Cole gritted his teeth and gave chase.

THREE

Cole scrambled over the fence that partitioned Deborah’s yard from her neighbor’s, in pursuit of the man in black. He landed in a child’s sandbox and almost lost his balance as the silky grains slid beneath his feet, but he managed to stay upright, holding his gun close to his shoulder. The yard was small but with plenty of nooks and crannies and overhanging trees.

He stepped carefully out of the sand and stood in the middle of the lawn, turning in circles to scan the area, noting the patio furniture, a large barbecue beneath a tarpaulin and fishing equipment leaning against the fence. He was well used to working under the cover of darkness and his vision had been specially trained to spot movement that others would not detect. His last overseas assignment, the code-named Dark Skies mission in Afghanistan, had taken place under almost total darkness and had honed his skills to such a high extent that he often didn’t need the infrared goggles supplied by the SEALs. Dark Skies had taught him to refine his steely focus, and for this situation it was the best skill he had.

He continued to turn in circles, certain the culprit was still in the yard, but confused as to why there was no sign of his presence. Then it occurred to him. He lifted his head to the branches of a mature sycamore tree in the corner. Hidden among the leafy boughs was the figure of a man, inching his way along a branch that hung over the next yard. The wood drooped with the weight of his body, and his position looked precarious.

Cole raised his gun. “I’d strongly advise you to stay right where you are, sir,” he called. “I can hit a target a lot smaller than you with my eyes closed.”

The man froze, gripping the branch tightly with his arms and legs. The bough continued to bend, creaking loudly.

Suddenly, the yard was flooded with light, and a man’s voice boomed through the night. “Who’s there?” Cole heard the click of a gun’s safety catch, and the voice said, “Drop your weapon!”

Cole could see the home’s occupant in his peripheral vision, but he didn’t take his eyes off the man tucked away in the branches of the sycamore tree. The house owner was wearing a robe tied at his bulging waist and white socks. And he was holding a black handgun out front, using both hands to steady his grip. He looked scared.

“My name is Cole Strachan,” Cole called out, not turning from his position. “I’m a retired navy SEAL. I live on Franklin Street and I’m here because of an attempted break-in at a neighboring house. I have my weapon trained on the suspect, who’s hiding in a tree in your yard.”

The man stepped out onto his deck, continuing to hold his gun defensively. “I don’t know you, mister,” he said. “And I don’t care who you are. I just want you outta my yard.” He called behind him. “Carol, call the police, honey. Right away.”

“Yes,” Cole said with force. “Please call the police. I’ll stay here until they arrive.” He saw the man in the tree inch closer to the edge. The creaking grew louder.

“Stay where you are,” Cole called again, emphasizing each word. The man froze.

Cole felt the tension of the situation mount as the seconds ticked by and the standoff continued. With a gun trained on his back, he knew that firing his weapon would be dangerous and likely to result in him being shot by the petrified owner of the house. Scared people and guns were an explosive combination.

The man in the tree started to move again and the wood gave way with a mighty snap as the branch cracked and splintered beneath the weight. The masked man fell, still clinging to the broken branch, and landed on the other side of the fence. He bellowed as his body smacked hard on the ground. The owner of the house raised his gun into the air and shot a bullet into the sky, sending Cole instinctively diving to the grass. He tasted the soft earth in his mouth and spat on the ground.

“I hear the police sirens,” the man shouted. His voice was wavering. His anxiety level was high, and Cole certainly didn’t want to add to it. The man already had discharged his weapon once and would easily do it again if spooked.

Cole raised his head from the ground, trying to listen for sounds coming from the other side of the fence. He heard the groans of a winded man hauling himself to his feet and running away. He couldn’t believe he was so close to Deborah’s attacker, yet unable to apprehend him. He clenched his jaw in frustration.

“Next time,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll be ready.”

* * *

Deborah watched from her bedroom window while Cole spoke with police officers in her neighbor’s yard. Her pulse was returning to normal as the surge of adrenaline began to wear off. She’d woken up two hours ago to the sound of a key turning in her front door. She’d sat upright in bed, immediately reaching for the card she’d so carefully placed on her nightstand before going to sleep. Cole’s voice on the end of the line had instilled a feeling of reassurance and safety, but she wished she hadn’t needed him to take control of this situation. She didn’t want anything from him, least of all his protection. She’d learned to get by without the love and security he had once offered. And she no longer wanted it.

After first taking her statement, the officers then spoke at length to Cole and her neighbor Mr. Rafferty. They then went to inspect the tree in Mr. Rafferty’s yard, where a large branch had been severed from its trunk. The four men stood together, discussing the incident, while Deborah had chosen to retreat to the safety of her bedroom. She watched Cole and Mr. Rafferty shake hands, and the officers made their way back to their vehicle. She lost sight of the four figures as they walked to the street together. Then Cole reemerged in her backyard, squatting down to inspect the footprints left in the dew on the lawn. They snaked around in circles as if the man had been uncertain which way to go. She reached for a sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, feeling her curls straining to break free from the hood. Despite two nights of poor sleep, she was wide-awake and alert, but she knew that exhaustion would hit like a ton of bricks later on.

She slipped her feet into sneakers and walked down the stairs, taking deep, steadying breaths. Every time she spoke to Cole, her stomach rebelled, refusing to be calm and still. It was maddening, but she was powerless to stop it.

“Hi,” she said, walking out onto the porch.

Cole instantly stopped what he was doing and stood up to give her his full attention.

“Are you okay, Debs?” he asked.

She nodded, but it was a lie. And she reckoned he knew it.

“The guy hasn’t been found, but the police have filed a report,” he said. “The officers said they’ll send extra patrol cars to the area.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But they’re treating it as a minor misdemeanor.”

“I told them about the attack in the parking lot, but they said the exact same thing as Frank—a probable mugging.”

“It’s up to us to prove these incidents are all connected,” Cole said. “And that means you have to let me in a bit more. It’s way too dangerous for you to be here alone, especially now that we know somebody’s been casing the house. We need a better plan.”

Deborah shivered in the freshness of the breaking dawn. Cole wore a blue sweatshirt, spotted with mud stains. His hands were stained with dirt and his hair contained pieces of moss or grass, easily seen against the light red color of the strands.

“You look like you had a fight with a tree,” she said, ignoring his statement.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was something like that.”

“You want some breakfast?” she asked, knowing she should reward Cole for his efforts. “You certainly earned it.”

“Sure,” he said. “Give me a few minutes to finish up here.”

She turned and opened the screen door to go inside.

“Deborah,” he called.

She turned back.

“We need to talk about your safety,” he said gently. “I know you don’t want to face it, but you’re in serious danger. Someone is clearly targeting you, and he won’t go away unless we unmask him.”

She looked at Cole standing on her lawn, hands resting lightly on his hips, his face a perfect expression of concern. He was right. She needed to act decisively.

“I’m going to the hospital today to talk to Frank,” she said firmly. “If he won’t call the police to investigate the possibility of drug tampering in the unit, then I will.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This has gone far enough.”