Drake hung up, opened the car door, and got behind the steering wheel. He still wasn't ruling out homicide as a potential way to deal with Burns and her whining.
<><><>
Cassie entered Three Rivers through the ER, her usual route, only to be turned away by the security guard and sent to the main visitor's entrance. Talk about embarrassing. The triage nurse saw what happened, but pretended to be too busy to notice Cassie.
Made her wonder what her reception would be even if she did get her job back. Sure, she had Ed Castro on her side, but would that really sway the minds and hearts of everyone who believed the rumors she wanted Richard to die? Not to mention the other accusations she'd faced down. The rumors had time to grow and mutate in her absence, poisoning the staff against her.
Maybe life as a clinic doctor wouldn't be so bad, she thought as she signed in at the visitor's desk. And she'd be working regular hours, have more time with Drake.
The thought brought her up short. She never dreamed she'd give up the ER for anything. Or anyone. Here she was fantasizing about being at the clinic, waiting for Drake when he got home?
Could she really live that life? Drake would be happy if she did. Would she?
She got onto the elevator musing about living a nine-to-five life with Drake and was surprised to find herself smiling. Until she remembered the reason why she was here alone.
The sight of the cooing babies lined up in the bassinettes beyond the nursery window cheered her. Baby Jane was under the warmer and on a monitor, still needing oxygen, to be expected for a premie her age.
Cassie put a gown on and was washing up at the sink outside the nursery when a kid came in. Tagger's age, maybe a little older, wearing a red ball cap. Instead of stopping at the sink he barged right into the nursery.
"Hey, you can't—" A nurse followed him then stopped short. She backed up against the door, propping it open, eyes wide.
Cassie turned, soap dripping from her wet hands to see the kid holding a gun. His expression a strange mix of emotionless smugness. Like he enjoyed holding that gun and terrifying the nurse but didn't really care too much about what happened next.
"Where's Athena's baby?" he shouted.
The nurse jumped but didn't move, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to force words out but couldn't. The kid had picked the right time. It was shift change, the other nurses were all in report.
"Don't just stand there, bitch! You want to be dead?" He jerked the gun at the nurse.
Cassie strode past her, eyes on the boy. "I'm Dr. Hart. Can I help you?"
"Yeah. Give me Athena Jackson's baby."
"Baby Jane's very unstable," Cassie lied. "She was born way too early, you know. She'll probably die if you take her out of here."
She hoped the kid wanted Jane alive. No such luck. He didn't even blink at the idea of the newborn dying. "Just give me the damn baby."
Time to try Plan B. She heard the door shut behind her and knew the nurse would be hitting the panic button, initiating a lockdown of the nursery.
The boy didn't realize it, but he was trapped. Now all Cassie had to do was make sure he didn't try to shoot his way out of here, using the babies for target practice.
"Baby Jane's over here, under this warmer." She led the boy to the far corner of the nursery where the babies needing warmers were stationed. Through the glass separating her and the nurses' station she saw the nurse use her keycard to open the door out to the hallway and let someone inside. Jimmy Dolan took the key card from the nurse and ushered her out.
Cassie had no idea how the detective had gotten here right when they needed him, but she was glad to see him. She positioned herself so the boy's attention was on Baby Jane while Jimmy exchanged his suit jacket for a lab coat.
"As you can see, she's got an oxygen monitor and temperature probe. This is an IV giving her fluids and antibiotics. She's hypothermic and suffering from bronchopulmonary dysplasia." Total lies, but the big words obviously impressed the kid who for the first time seemed interested in the baby.
"Is that bad?"
"Yes, it's very serious."
"What are all these?" He touched the tangle of monitor leads with the muzzle of his gun, the purple wires looking stark against the black of the pistol.
"They monitor the electrical impulses of her heart. And this," she gestured to the tiny white cuff wrapped around Jane's thigh, "monitors her blood pressure."
He hesitated then nodded, his decision made. "Take it all off. Now."
"But—"
"I said now." He pointed the gun at Cassie's heart. Beyond them, at the nurses' station, Jimmy stood at the door, ready to use the nurse's keycard to come inside.
Cassie just needed to distract the kid long enough. "Okay, okay. Whatever you say."
She took the pulse ox lead off first, knowing the monitor would alarm and give Jimmy a distraction.
A second later the monitor screeched. The boy jumped back. Jimmy slid through the door.
The boy raised his gun at the monitor. "Turn it off."
Cassie reached up to the monitor, putting her body between the boy and Baby Jane. She silenced the monitor but didn't shift her body, still using it as a shield.
"Drop it." Jimmy's voice sliced through the air.
Cassie dared to look over her shoulder to see Jimmy hold his gun at the back of the kid's skull while using his free hand to pull the boy back away from Baby Jane.
The boy let out a few choice expletives, but dropped his gun into Jimmy's waiting hand. Jimmy put the gun in his coat pocket and then twisted the boy's wrist, forcing him face down to the floor.
"Put your other hand out to your side," he ordered as he holstered his own gun and brought out a pair of handcuffs.
A few moments later, the boy was cuffed and searched, and hospital security guards swarmed over him. Jimmy stood and turned to Cassie. "The baby okay?"
She nodded, the aftermath of adrenalin making her mouth too dry to talk. Swallowed and tried again. "She's fine. Thanks to you."
"Thank Drake. He's the one who sent me."
CHAPTER 22
Drake parked the Mustang in front of Burns' apartment. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but Jimmy already had his hands full, he couldn't ask him to take time to clean up a mess Drake created.
If only he'd done more to discourage Burns yesterday. She had all the markings of a cop groupie, and after Pamela, Drake was an expert on the kind of woman who needed to play the role of damsel in distress to his shining blue knight. He wanted no part of that.
Especially not when someone was after Hart. She was all he could think of—or wanted to think of. Was he wrong to send her away even if he only did it to keep her safe? It sure as hell felt wrong. Leaving Hart had left a taste of char in his mouth as if everything bringing joy to his world had burned to ashes.
He barely had the energy to heave out a sigh of frustration. It was this heat; it sucked the life from you.
The front door of Burns' building stood wide open as it had earlier. The woman was obviously a slow learner.
She waited for him on the landing. Her hair was pulled back into a loose, tousled knot and she looked even younger than before. Younger and more vulnerable.
As he drew closer he noticed she was shivering despite the heat. "I thought I told you to lock the doors and wait with a neighbor."
"It's Saturday night. No one else is home. And I did lock the doors." She did a double take, looked past him down the stairs. "How did you get in without buzzing?"
"Front door was wide open."
Her mouth formed a small
oh
of dismay but no sounds came. He moved past her, into the apartment. "Tell me what happened."
"It's like I said on the phone. I was at the Giant Eagle and this guy, he was watching me, then I saw him again, and I didn't know what to do, so I ran home and called you." Her words emerged in a breathless gasp.
"What did he look like?" Drake asked when she paused for air.
"Normal. I don't know." She closed her eyes, concentrating. "Brown hair, or dark blonde. My age. I don't know how tall." Her eyes popped open. "I've seen him before, I know I have. I can't think where. Oh my God. How long has he been following me?"
"What happened after you got home?"
"I locked the door, just like you said. But when I went into the bathroom—" She latched onto his arm, fingernails digging in, and he didn't have the heart to disengage her. Kid was scared stiff. Together they walked into the bedroom and he could see why. Smeared on the dresser mirror in ragged red lipstick were the words:
Never Forget.
"What does it mean?" she asked, her grip on him tightening. "I've never hurt anyone in my life. What doesn't he want me to forget? Why me? What does he want from me?" Her voice raised to an unpleasant shriek as panic overwhelmed her.
Drake sat her down on the bed. She collapsed like a rag doll, sobbing incoherently. He returned to the scene of the crime.
Never Forget.
His stalker's mantra.
Conflicting scenarios swirled through Drake's mind. If the stalker was Spanos, the ex-cop could have gotten someone to pull Drake's case files and tracked down Burns. But Spanos had been at the Liberty Center all day. No way he could have done this.
Had his stalker followed him yesterday and decided Burns made an easy target? Maybe Drake enraged him by leaving the city last night, triggering the attacks on Hart and Burns. Were innocent women now being pulled into the bastard's sick game because Drake refused to play?
Then he thought of something. Maybe not so innocent women. At least one of them.
"How did you get my number?" he asked Burns.
She wiped tears from her eyes and looked up at him. "It's on your card. You said to call you day or night."
He could have sworn he'd given her a regular card without his private number. "Where's the card?"
She frowned, stood and moved on unsteady legs to the living room. "Right here." She pointed to where a business card rested beside the phone. "Did I do something wrong? Why are you so upset?"
Drake ignored her, grabbing the austere white Pittsburgh Police Bureau card. He turned it over. There, in his own handwriting was printed his private number.
He blew his breath out. Damn it, he was losing it. He never gave his private number out—not after Pamela, at any rate. He didn't even remember writing it on the back of the card. How could he forget that?
Five nights with no sleep and days filled with worry. He was definitely off his game. Which meant the stalker was winning. "Get your things together. I need to get you out of here."
"Why? Do you think he's coming back? Am I in danger?" Her eyes grew wide and the trembling returned.
Drake wasted no time on reassurances; he had no idea what the answers to her questions were. Instead he took her arm and led her back into the bedroom.
"Is there someone you could stay with?" he asked.
"No. I'm new here, haven't had time to meet anyone yet." She gave a harsh, tight laugh. "Except you and Detective Dolan, of course."
"Pack some clothes. I know a place where you'll be safe."
<><><>
The Blarney Stone was crowded despite the fact it was not air-conditioned. Saturday evening in a hot Pittsburgh summer and everyone wanted a beer.
Thankfully, Andy Greally had an empty apartment above the bar and was willing to loan it to Burns for a few days. No place safer than upstairs from a bunch of cops, Drake reasoned. Secretly he hoped she might also find someone else to lean on instead of him.
While Burns settled in, he dialed Hart's cell. No answer. Right, it was in her Subaru, probably destroyed. He tried Jimmy.
"Dolan."
"Just me, checking in."
"Was she crying wolf?"
"No. I wish she had been." Drake told Jimmy about what happened at Burns' apartment.
"Think she could be involved? Or did we lead the stalker to her?"
"I don't know." Drake dragged his fingers through his hair. "I was even wondering if she could maybe be Pamela's sister."
"I had LAPD fax me a DMV photo. They don't look anything alike. Elizabeth Reynolds is five-six, weighs one-sixty, brown hair, brown eyes."
One theory blown. Burns was about that tall but couldn't weigh more than one-fifteen, had green eyes and blonde hair. "I'm stashing her at the Stone for the duration."
"Good move. You were right about the Rippers."
"What happened?"
"They sent a kid to the hospital. Guess they figured he'd get through security and up to the nursery easier. He wanted the baby."
"Shit. Was Hart there?" Drake prayed not.
"She's fine. Talked the kid down. Kept him from doing anything until I got here and took him down." Jimmy's nonchalant tone only increased Drake's frustration. Drake knew damn well how volatile a situation like that could be.
Helplessness tore at Drake's gut. Hart was in danger and all he could do was make it worse. "Where's she now?"
"I took her home and had patrol increase their presence on her street. She's locked up tight."
"But too easy to find."
"I offered to stay, but I got another call out. Besides, you know Hart—"
"Stubborn." Drake glanced around the crowd of off-duty cops. Laughing, enjoying watching the Buccs fight to hold onto a lead, not a care in the world. He used to be like them.
Before Pamela.
Never Forget.
As if he could.
"She'll be fine," Jimmy said. "You're the one I'm worried about."
Maybe the best thing for everyone, especially Hart, would be to let the stalker catch him. Anything to end this. "Don't. Just keep Hart safe."
"You know I will."
"Thanks, Jimmy." Drake hung up, approached the bartender, Kenny, and ordered a shot of Jack Daniels and a beer.
He ignored Kenny's look of surprise and drank the shot in one quick gulp. It had been a long time since he'd had anything stronger than beer, not since last July and Pamela, but the sensuous warm feeling it left in its wake was the caress of a familiar lover.