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Mari’s throat was clogged with tears she dared not shed when she looked at the impersonal wall clock and conceded defeat. “Thank you, everyone,” she added softly.
Milla released a trembling sigh. A hospital resident cursed under his breath and another slammed wordlessly out of the unit.
Mari ignored them, well aware of the frustration, sadness and grief her colleagues experienced whenever this type of thing happened. Before she would be able to share those same emotions and grieve in private for poor Baby Jenkins, she had one more task left to do.
“The parents have to be told,” she reminded Milla, willing the young midwife to be strong. “Are you up for it?” If the tears glistening in Milla’s eyes were to overflow, Mari wasn’t sure she’d able to get through the next few minutes with her own composure intact.
“Yes.” Milla blinked rapidly several times. She cleared her throat. “I’m ready.”
With a silent nod, Mari led the way to the room where the hopeful parents waited. They may have been praying and were certainly hoping for a miracle to save their son. How many times had it been Mari’s duty to break the hearts of people just like this couple?
The hospital and the women’s health clinic that her grandmother had been instrumental in developing weren’t enough to save these high-risk preemies. What Merlyn County, Kentucky, desperately needed was the new research center that Mari was determined to build.
At the door to the birthing suite, she paused and looked at Milla.
“Okay?” Mari asked. She was fully prepared to intercede if the young midwife was too upset. The parents would need the compassion and support of the medical staff, not their tears.
“Yes, thank you.” Milla was dry-eyed, her voice soft but steady.
Allowing her to lead the way, Mari squeezed her eyes shut and composed herself. When she opened them again, she saw Bryce leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed. He had been watching her just like a cat with a mouse.
Her gaze locked with his and her face went hot. She knew he had witnessed her moment of vulnerability, but now she sent him a warning glance before following Milla into the birthing suite and letting the door shut behind her.
The parents were huddled together on the bed, their hands tightly clasped. Mrs. Jenkins’s face was red and puffy, but when she saw the two women, her expression brightened.
Mr. Jenkins managed a wobbly smile. “How’s our boy doing?” His voice was falsely hearty.
Once again, Mari regretted with all her heart the news they brought.
“I’m so sorry,” Milla said softly. “We did everything we could, but his problems were too extensive. He didn’t make it.”
The rest of her explanation was drowned out by Mrs. Jenkins’s wrenching sobs.
Outside in the hallway, Bryce waited impatiently for Mari to come out. He wondered how much longer she intended to avoid him.
From behind the closed door, an anguished wail sliced through his thoughts like a surgeon’s scalpel. The delivery that Mari had been summoned to must have somehow gone wrong.
No wonder she had looked so grim when he saw her. His presence in the hall probably hadn’t even registered with her.
On more than one occasion, it had been his duty to break the bad news to family members about the victim of a fatal accident or a homicide. It was never easy.
He’d always assumed that doctors, like cops, must develop an ability to insulate themselves in some way from the more tragic aspects of their jobs. Mari’s hide must be as thick as a concrete retaining wall if she could deal with people’s suffering with one hand and dump more Orchid on the streets with the other.
He gritted his teeth and firmed his resolve. If she was guilty, he was going to do everything in his power to bring her down.
Mari knew from sad experience that most of what she and Milla had just told the stunned parents fell on deaf ears. After Milla’s initial statement, they had stopped listening while they struggled to absorb the shock. Later on, they would no doubt have questions as they tried to deal with a deluge of guilt they probably didn’t deserve.
Leaving Milla to console them as best she could, Mari slipped quietly out of the room. Bryce still lurked in the hall like her own personal black cloud, but she was far too vulnerable to deal with him just yet. Beneath her outward calm, she was raging at fate and circumstance, at whatever force that was so callous it could give parents a precious gift and then coldly, indifferently snatch it back again.
If Bryce were to confront her now, smug and superior in his role of noble law enforcer, she might just jump on him like a crazed lunatic and vent her frustration. If he hadn’t hounded her for weeks, snapping at her heels and giving her nightmares, eroding her sleep with his suspicions, might she have come up with a miracle for Baby Jenkins today?
In her doctor’s brain, Mari knew she had used every bit of medical expertise and equipment available to her. Deep within her woman’s heart, she wondered, as she always did, why every newborn couldn’t be saved.
Bryce straightened away from the wall as she went in the other direction. “Dr. Bingham!”
Mari ignored him, walking faster. She needed a moment alone.
“Mari! Wait up.”
Without slowing her pace, she waved him away. “Not now,” she called over her shoulder, half expecting him to stop her by force.
To her surprise, he allowed her to escape.
With her teeth tightly clenched, she made a beeline for her office. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it as the tears finally spilled over. For a few moments, she indulged her sorrow and frustration with her knuckles pressed to her mouth to stifle the sounds of her defeat.
Gradually her weeping slowed and she regained control of her emotions. Blindly she grabbed the box of tissues on her desk and blotted her face. When she cried, her nose always got red and her skin turned blotchy. Her eyes probably looked as though she’d been on a three-day bender, so she would have to hide out here for a little while longer.
Someone knocked on the door. Before she could speak, it opened and Bryce leaned in. “You okay?”
“Get out,” she snapped.
Instead of complying, he shocked her by coming in and shutting the door behind him. “We need to talk.”
Was he blind or just indifferent?
Mari reached for her phone. “I’m calling security,” she warned as she lifted the receiver.
Dr. Bingham’s threat didn’t stop Bryce, who had faced down worse than an unarmed woman holding a wad of damp tissues. It was the sight of her hazel eyes, awash with tears, that froze him in his tracks like a gun trained on his heart.
Were the tears a ruse by a lawbreaker desperate for time? Or was her devastated expression that of a compassionate healer? So many of the people he had interviewed insisted the latter was true.
“Please, Mari.” He extended his hand. “Don’t call anyone, okay?”
He wasn’t sure if it was his words or his tone that stopped her, but he had no intention of giving her time to reconsider. Nor did he intend to offer comfort, but an impulse he couldn’t control propelled him forward, arms open. Wrapping them around her, he pulled her close.
Prepared for a struggle, he tucked her head under his chin. As he inhaled the scent of her lemon shampoo, a flood of images flashed through his mind. Caught off guard, he did his best to ignore the unwanted memories, as well as his own spontaneous reaction.
Her slight body stiffened, palms braced against his chest. Barely breathing, he waited for her to jerk away, but instead she sighed, going limp. Before she could sink to the floor, he scooped her up into his arms.
He was shocked at how little she weighed. Had the investigation and his pursuit done this to her?
She slipped her arms around his neck, distracting him, and clung like a child as she cried softly against his chest. The feel of her softly rounded breasts sent awareness pumping through him like a drug. For a moment, he shut his eyes and cuddled her close, wanting to absorb everything about her like a giant sponge.
He struggled to keep his head clear, to keep his lungs working. What the hell was he thinking? Where had his objectivity gone? She was a suspect and he was here to question her, not to hold her in his arms while he mooned over her like a teenager.
His silent lecture wasn’t taking hold.
“Shh, baby,” he murmured, ignoring his own tap-dancing pulse. “It’s okay.”
The sound of his voice jerked her head up. Her dark lashes were clumped together. Her eyes were reddened and wet, the skin beneath them blotchy and waxen.
When her lips parted on a tiny sound of protest, his mouth went dry and a giant fist squeezed the breath from his lungs. As they continued to stare at each other, his entire being hummed with awareness.
Neither of them moved, neither blinked. He tried to reason out why kissing her would be a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.
“I think you’d better put me down now.” Her voice cracked the silence. Heat of a different type filled his cheeks, but the rest of him went cold at the thought of what he’d nearly done.
“Of course.” Gently, he stood her on her feet while he scrambled to regain control of the interview—and his own professionalism.
Her chin went up as she circled the cluttered desk. After putting the unmistakable barrier between them, she sat down with her hands neatly folded.
“What can I do for you, Detective?” she asked coolly, as though nothing earthshaking had nearly happened.
Bryce was angry at his own weakness, as well as with Mari’s ability to manipulate him. Years of professional experience told him she was more likely to slip up and reveal the truth while she was tired and emotionally drained. He couldn’t give her the chance to lock her defenses back into place.
“You’ll have to come down to the station with me,” he replied, deliberately hardening his heart against the sight of her tear-streaked face and dark, wounded eyes. “There are some questions I need to ask you about the drugs being stolen from your clinic.”
Chapter Two
It took Mari a moment to process what Bryce had just said. A moment ago, she had thought he might attempt to kiss her.
“You want me to what?” she asked, shocked by his statement. Thank God she was already sitting down or she would have fallen.
“Listen, Mari—” he began.
“Dr. Bingham,” she corrected coldly, cutting him off. “What do you expect me to do about my patients, Detective? I have appointments and responsibilities. I can’t just walk out of here because you snap your fingers.”
His frown deepened and a muscle twitched along his jaw. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already been here for too damn long.” He stabbed his finger at her. “You’ve got two choices, Doctor. Have someone else cover for you or reschedule your patients, but I’ve been waiting long enough. Either way, you’re coming with me.”
As though he had cinched a noose around her neck, his statement made the muscles in her throat tighten. She could barely speak.
“Am I under arrest?” she croaked. She should have seen this day coming and consulted with an attorney to find out about her rights.
How could Bryce shift so easily from acting like a human to being a robocop? Why had he bothered to comfort her if his intention was to drag her through the clinic in handcuffs?
His eyebrows rose, as though her question had surprised him. “No, I’m not going to arrest you. There are just too many interruptions here for an interview.”
As though to prove his point, the phone on Mari’s desk chose that moment to ring. It made her flinch. Out of habit she reached for the receiver, but then she snatched back her hand.
“My voice mail will take a message,” she said, and then she bit her lip. What did he care? “Interrogating me would be a big waste of time,” she argued forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “As I told you before, I don’t know anything about the missing drugs. Why can’t you believe me?”
“You may know more than you think.” His expression was impossible to read, but then he had always been good at hiding his feelings from her.
What information could she possibly give him that he didn’t already have? And how could she convince him, once and for all, of her innocence?
A chill went through her. What if he was lying about not arresting her?
“Should I call my attorney?” she asked, shoving her trembling hands onto her lap so they were hidden by her desk.
He leaned over her, his gray eyes chilling in their intensity. How could she have ever thought his gaze was warm? He was probably searching for some sign of her guilt. “Do you need a lawyer?”
Feeling trapped, Mari opened her bottom drawer and took out her purse. She glanced down at the phone as she weighed her options. If she said yes, would that make her look guilty?
“I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Of course not.” His face remained unreadable.
“I need to call and make arrangements from here for someone to cover me.” Milla had been supportive, and Mari could count on her to be discreet.
He nodded. “Just say that we need you to come down and give us some background information on Orcadol.”
Once again he had managed to surprise her, suggesting a way to lessen her humiliation. She was about to thank him when she recalled that his suspicion was the very reason she needed a cover story.
Wordlessly she had Milla paged, resisting the urge to drum her fingers on the desktop while she waited for the midwife to respond.
“How are Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins doing?” Mari asked when Milla finally came on the line.
“The hospital chaplain is with them now,” she replied. “He’ll help with the arrangements.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Quickly, Mari outlined what she needed, her gaze on Bryce the whole time. If her scrutiny made him uncomfortable, he didn’t let it show.
“Is this because of your friendship with Dr. Phillipe?” Milla asked when Mari was done. “Can’t they test him if they don’t believe that he’s drug-free?”
Ricardo Phillipe was a friend of Mari’s who had been connected with early Orcadol development. He was also involved in planning the experimental research facility.
After a car accident in which Ricardo had been critically injured, his wife and small daughter both killed, he had developed a drug problem that led to him losing his license to practice medicine.
Mari swiveled her chair so she was facing the wall. “I’m sure that’s not an issue.” She lowered her voice even further. “I really can’t discuss it now.”
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry,” Milla replied. “Is there anything else I can do? Can I call someone for you?”
“No, but thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” Mari knew that Milla was fiercely loyal, but she wasn’t so sure about the rest of the staff, not anymore.
And what would her patients think when the news got out that she’d actually been taken downtown for questioning? What about the investors who hadn’t already pulled out of the research facility project? Would this ruin any chance she had left of securing the financing to build it?
Lillian Cunningham was the Public Relations director from New York who Mari had recently hired to improve the clinic’s reputation. Lily would have a fit when she heard about this! Just because she happened to be in love with Mari’s father didn’t mean she would cut Mari any slack, either. Lily was one of the best in the business, but she wasn’t a miracle worker.
After Mari told Milla goodbye and replaced the receiver, she grabbed her purse and scooted back in her chair, praying her shaky legs would support her.
“I’m ready,” she told Bryce. What on earth did he think he had on her? His flinty expression told her nothing.
Bryce didn’t bother with chitchat on the way to the station that was housed in the Merlyn County Courthouse complex. The fairly new tan building in downtown Binghamton contained all the county’s administrative offices.
As soon as he parked in an official space, Mari got out of his sedan without a glance in his direction and marched up the front steps. His legs were longer than hers, so he was able to catch up with her in time to pull open the heavy glass front door.
“Come with me,” he said once they were inside. The departments were clearly marked, but he wanted her to lift her head and make eye contact with him.
When she did, she looked as though someone had drained the fight out of her. It was no surprise, after what she’d already been through. She also seemed nervous, again, no big surprise, and—if he was any judge of character—shell-shocked.
