Detecting Danger. Valerie Hansen

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СКАЧАТЬ Stay with him until then.”

      “Yes, Doctor.”

      “And pull yourself together,” he whispered behind his hand in passing. “The last thing our patients need is to hear you shrieking.”

      “What? When?”

      “Just before you opened the door.”

      “I—I didn’t scream. Did I?”

      “You made enough noise for me to hear you in here,” he said, shooting her a look of disdain. “See that it doesn’t happen again. Understood?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Tall, gray-haired Harland Jeffries was removing his dress shirt and carefully folding the sleeves together before laying the garment aside atop his expensively tailored suit jacket and silk tie.

      “You’ll need to wear one of our gowns for your tests,” Daniella said. “Would you like me to assist you in removing your T-shirt?”

      “Fine.”

      Jeffries’s reply was gruff but she wasn’t offended. Illness or injury often brought out the worst in patients. Except for the K-9 cop, she added. It was really nice of Isaac to step up and physically defend her the way he had. Instead of him thanking her, she should be the one dishing out thanks. She owed him. Big-time.

      Gently easing the stretchy, white cotton shirt over the congressman’s head, she glanced at his back. One side showed a nasty scar from the time he was shot several months ago, sadly at the same time his son, Michael, was murdered.

      The opposite shoulder bore an interesting café au lait mark near the scapula. Judging by its odd shape, she guessed it to have been present from conception and birth rather than being another scar or a discoloration caused by trauma.

      Daniella fitted the gown around her patient and stepped back. “All right, Congressman, you’re ready. I’ll wait here with you, as the doctor said, until they come to escort you to radiology.”

      “Whatever.”

      His off-putting attitude was nothing like his public persona. If he had behaved this way toward the press, he’d have killed his chances for reelection long ago.

      Thoughts of people who were not trustworthy and genuine reminded her of her childhood. That was all it took to bring back images of the deadly explosion her father had orchestrated.

      Yellow billowing fire had leaped and curled back on itself while black smoke roiled. Pieces of metal had rained down. She flinched, wanting to throw her arms over her head and duck just as she had that fateful day her mother had been brutally murdered.

      Thankfully, the radiology tech appeared at the door with a wheelchair and distracted both Daniella and her patient.

      “Ready, sir?” the tech asked.

      “I suppose so.” Settling himself in the chair, the congressman pasted a resigned expression on his face, raised his chin and visibly prepared to meet his public. “All right. Let’s go.”

      Daniella waited until the hall was empty before she slipped out. She didn’t have to be a licensed physician to suspect that Jeffries was either faking or at least making more of his condition than was warranted. There was no way that man was having heart trouble the way he’d indicated.

      Then again, she was very good at spotting falsehoods. After all, she’d grown up in a household where her father’s lies were the norm. He was no businessman in the sense he’d implied. His business was crime and his methods for controlling his family were violent. She should know. When he’d tired of abusing her poor mother, he’d graduated to trying to keep Mama in line by hitting Daniella.

      That was what had eventually caused her mother to call it quits and file for divorce. And that was also what had inevitably led to her murder.

      To this day, Daniella wondered. If she had been courageous enough to run away when she was younger, would her mother still be alive? Was it all her fault?

      Logic said no. Guilt had a different opinion.

      * * *

      Isaac was already beginning to feel the effects of his injury and the pain medication as Gavin drove him out of downtown DC, proving that the decision to let someone chauffeur him home was a wise one. Abby lay on the second seat, content to nap during the short trip.

      “It’s a good thing your brother and sister live with you,” the captain said.

      Isaac nodded and stifled a yawn. “Yeah, that’s us. The Three Musketeers, ‘One for all and all for one.’”

      “Must be interesting deciding who’s in charge. Do you do it by age or former military rank?”

      Chuckling, Isaac shook his head. “We tried both after we inherited the place from our great aunt, but it didn’t work very well. We each have our strong and weak points. Jake is a great manager so we leave the running of the farm to him. Becky got into real estate when we were selling off some small lots to help with back taxes and repairs. It suited her so that’s what she’s doing now.”

      “And you’re the only one in law enforcement.”

      “Right. Me and Abs.” He glanced over his shoulder at his napping partner. “She’s a real treasure.”

      “You need to find somebody like my Cassie.”

      “Uh-uh. Women are too complicated. Besides, I have Abby and my job.”

      “That’s not enough.”

      “You underestimate the positive influence of a happy beagle,” Isaac replied. “She gives great kisses, too.”

      McCord rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Sometimes, Black, you really worry me.”

      Groggy from the pain meds, Isaac yawned again. “Yeah. Sometimes I worry about myself, too.”

      He closed his eyes, intending to rest, and was surprised to visualize the face of the pretty nurse he’d just met. There was something about her that called out to him; that spoke to his inner man the same way wounded warriors in the VA hospital did. She was haunted, but by what? Or whom?

      Isaac blinked and forced himself awake to ask, “Are you still planning on investigating my nurse’s background like you said earlier?”

      “I think I should, don’t you?”

      “Yes.” There was no way Isaac could make himself doubt Daniella’s apparently good character, yet he was curious about what was frightening her. She was plainly scared to death. And judging by the way she’d tried to keep from being photographed, he assumed she was hiding from something. Something that had cut to the core and left her shell-shocked.

      Whatever her problem was, or had been, he was determined to learn enough to help her. That kind of thing wasn’t in his official job description, at least not for the K-9 unit. It was, however, part of his Christian faith and upbringing. If a neighbor needed assistance, it was his duty to render it to the best of his ability.

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