Shiver. Cynthia Cooke

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СКАЧАТЬ she was slipping away, then jerk back and reel her in.

      The doors opened.

      Placing a hand on her rigid elbow, he walked her to the door of the Child Life Center where a group of kids—some in pajamas, some in wheelchairs, some sitting on the floor—was expectantly awaiting her arrival. He tightened his grip before she could enter the ward. “Can I trust you alone for a minute? I need a cup of joe.”

      Her gaze shifted slightly, and he knew she was considering bolting. But she nodded, her eyes locked on his, a beseeching vulnerability shining in their dark blue depths. The look unsettled him. She’d looked that way earlier, like a lost and scared kitten stuck high in a tree. And, for a minute, he wanted to rescue her, to cuddle her.

      To protect her.

      But he wasn’t in the protection business. No matter how tempting the idea sounded, no matter how tempting she was playing Little Miss Scared and Innocent, he would bet his lunch money she was anything but.

      She pulled free from his grasp and entered the room, smiling briefly at one of the nurses. It was a nice smile that brightened her whole face. He watched as she transformed once again into a different person—warm and friendly, with sincere hugs and bright smiles. No little lost kitty here.

      He was about to leave when a nurse with bouncy brown curls and a white cotton shirt stretched tight across her breasts walked into the hall, shutting the door behind her. “Are you waiting for Devra?” she asked.

      He nodded, and smiled as he read the name tag pinned to her blouse. “I sure am, Betty.”

      She smiled back, deepening her dimples to craters. “She’s wonderful with the kids. They really look forward to her visits.”

      He leaned against the wall. “How long has she been coming?”

      “Every Saturday for years now. She’s never missed a day.” She glanced over her shoulder at Devra through the glass. “The kids are very important to her, and vice versa. We’re lucky to have her.”

      “She’s a very special person,” he drawled. “But then I think anyone who devotes their life to helping people is special,” he added, cranking his Irish charm up a notch.

      “Aren’t you sweet to say so,” she cooed and flapped her hand at his shoulder.

      “And Devra,” he prompted. “She’s just so busy with…”

      “Oh, yes. Her writing, I know what you mean. And she must be a very good writer, too.”

      “Really? Have you read…”

      Betty’s mouth puckered into a pretty pout. “No, she promised to bring something in, but it must have slipped her mind. And I didn’t find anything under her name, so I assume she uses a pseudonym. I keep forgetting to ask her what it is, though.” She brightened. “Do you know what it is?”

      “No.” He paused. “I just thought since you said how good she is…”

      “Oh, well she must be because she entrances the kids so. They retell her stories to one another at night before they go to sleep, changing the endings and the characters, acting them out, just as Devra has encouraged them to do. And sometimes, for these kids, that kind of distraction is just what they need.”

      “She sounds like a saint,” he said dryly.

      The nurse laughed. “Saint Devra. Has a nice ring to it.”

      Too bad he was having so much trouble hearing it. “She must have a lot of admirers. Other than the kids,” he prompted.

      “Well, they certainly do love her. It’s funny you mention it, though. In all the time she’s been coming, I’ve never seen her with anyone. And here she’s had two gentlemen stop by in the past week.”

      “Two?”

      “Oh, yeah. Though, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” A worried look crossed her face as she once again glanced over her shoulder at Devra through the glass.

      “It’s okay,” he assured her. “Miss Morgan and I are just friends.” He smiled and dug his hands deep into his pockets, giving her one of those I’m-available-if-you-are looks.

      The nurse tilted her head coquettishly. “Well, then, I suppose it’s all right if I let the cat out of the bag.”

      He gave her a wink of encouragement.

      “Just last Saturday, a man stood right where you are, watching Devra work with the kids. He didn’t say much, just stood there and watched her with this weird expression on his face. He disappeared right before she was done. When I mentioned him to her, she seemed a little surprised and a touch agitated. She was afraid of him, wasn’t she? Is that why you’re here with her? For her protection?”

      Heaven help her if she really did need protection. Look how well he protected Michelle…not to mention his mother. He shook off the thought. More than likely, Devra was agitated because she didn’t want anyone linking her with her mystery man. Perhaps an estranged boyfriend? Or an accomplice.

      “Can you describe this guy for me?”

      “Well…he was ordinary-looking—dark hair, slim, average height. In fact, the only thing memorable about him was his eyes.”

      “His eyes?”

      “Yeah, they were real dark and deep-set—a little intense and spooky-looking. To tell you the truth, he was a little creepy. I could see why Devra would be afraid of him.”

      “Was she?”

      “It wasn’t anything she said, just a feeling I had.”

      Could Miss Morgan have known what the killer was planning? Perhaps he wasn’t pushing hard enough. Perhaps it was time to tighten the line. Riley took a picture of Michelle out of his wallet. “Have you seen this woman before?”

      The nurse took the picture and studied it for a long moment, then handed it back to him. “Sorry,” she said. “She looks a lot like Devra, though.”

      DEVRA WAS TRYING to concentrate on the children, but found herself hopelessly distracted. He was out there flirting with Betty. And Betty was enjoying it, laughing, her perfect curls bouncing, her long red-tipped nails flicking the air as she spoke. And it was bugging Devra to no end, though she couldn’t fathom why. She finished another page. She held the book up for the kids to see the pictures, then caught the detective looking at her. Quickly, she turned the page, and her attention, back to the book.

      If she thought about it, she’d have to admit that he was handsome in a rugged, arrogant kind of way. She wondered what it would be like to have him look at her the way he was looking at Betty. But, after a second, she stopped herself. Thinking about that particular man in any capacity was dangerous. The sooner she put him out of her sight and her mind, the better.

      She read another page. Someday, she would write books just for kids and leave the dark, ugly world of her nightmares far behind her. But, for today, she needed to say goodbye to the people she would miss the most when she left New Orleans—the children. Then she would hurry home, finish packing and disappear. Again.

      She СКАЧАТЬ