Obsession (Southern Comfort) (19 page)

Rather than responding, Justin leaned in, simply scooped
Natasha – Kathleen recognized the waitress now – into his arms, and took off at a run toward the swinging doors that led to the OR.

“I need a crash cart, STAT,” he barked at the startled nurse who’d come through the doors with a wheelchair.
    

He disappeared into the bowels
of the surgical wing so quickly that Kathleen could only blink. 

Shelley
watched them go, her eyes big as dinner plates, before her gaze snapped back to clash with Kathleen’s. Her bottom lip quivered.

The
n she sat down right there in the middle of the lobby and began to cry.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JUSTIN
spotted Shelley slumped in one of the chairs at the far side of the waiting room.  Running his hand across the back of his neck, he made his way over to her, dropping heavily into the neighboring chair.

“She’s dead,” she muttered, without lifting her head from where it rested on her bent knees.  “isn’t she.”

“No.”  He waited until she raised her face, which was blotchy and swollen from crying.  “But if you hadn’t gotten her here when you did, she likely would be.”

Relief shuddered through her, and she scrubbed the heels of her palms against her cheeks as new tears began to spill over.  “Oh God.” Then she gave up, and let out a
messy, full blown sob.  “Thank you. 
Thank
you.  I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

When she clutched at his lab coat, buried her face in his chest
and bawled like a newborn, Justin patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“Shh,” he said, feeling inadequate, as usual, to deal with this level of emotion.  “It’s alright.”

“No. Oh, dear God. 
No.
”

At the
devastated sound of the new voice, Justin looked up into the bloodless face of Natasha’s older sister.

Realizing that
Anne had gotten the wrong impression, he pried Shelley’s hands from his lapels – not the easiest of tasks – and eased her aside. 

“
Natasha’s okay,” he assured Anne as he climbed to his feet, moved closer to where she stood rigid in the doorway in order to keep their conversation more private. “She suffered severe respiratory depression, to the point that it basically stopped her heart. But the attending physician gave her a shot of naloxone to counteract the effects of the oxycodone.  We’ll have to wait and see at this point, but I don’t think she should suffer any lasting damage.”   

He found himself faced with another crying woman, though this one did so
with a great deal more discretion.

“Thank you.” She blinked rapidly, so that only a single escaped tear was able to slide down her
pale cheek.  Her hands clutched the strap of her purse, but then she held one out, and when he took it, felt it trembling.  “It seems that this is the second time you’ve saved my sister’s life.”

“I’d say that a good bit of the credit this time goes to her roommate.  She acted quickly
in getting her here.  The outcome might have been far different if she hadn’t.”

The brown eyes which had previously been warm with gratitude frosted as she looked behind him.  “And where, I wonder, did
Natasha acquire the oxycodone?”

“Hey.”
Shelley shot out of the chair, outrage visible in every taut line of her body.  “I had
nothing
to do with this.  I already told you, I am
clean.”

“Ladies,” Justin said, because he could feel the storm that was brewing. It practically sizzled in the stale air of the little room. “Let’s calm down.  Your sister is alive,” he reminded Anne.  “Focus on that for now.”

“You’re right.” Chagrin shifted the planes of her lovely face.  “It’s just… her prescription ran out.  The Percocet.  She shouldn’t have had access to those pills.  Not by legal means, anyway.”

“Meaning I must have gotten them for her.
Is that what you’re implying? You sanctimonious bitch.”

“Stop.” Justin shot
out his arm to block Shelley from launching herself at Anne. “Get a hold of yourself.  Now. I don’t want to have to call security.”

Hurt colored her expression
, accusation practically leaping from her eyes, as Shelley’s gaze whipped toward Justin.  Then she seemed to gather herself.  “Fine,” she gritted, shaking him off.  “I’m leaving.  You can deal with the Ice Bitch yourself.”

Sighing a little, because it seemed his day to piss off women, Justin watched her storm out.

Anne pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.  “I’m sorry you had to witness that.  Needless to say, our relationship has only degenerated further since the last time I spoke to you.”

“Believe me
, I’m no stranger to drama.” Especially lately.  “Hospitals are hotbeds.”

A
tiny smile quivered at the corners of her mouth.  “When can I see my sister?”

“They should be moving her to a
private room soon.  You should consider hitting the cafeteria, having a cup of tea while you wait.  It’ll help you calm down a little before you see her.”

Anne chewed her lip.  “Would you join me? Never mind.” She huffed out a laugh.  “It’s silly of me to ask.  I know how busy you must be.  I just thought I could return the favor
from last time.  Although I’m not sure that a cup of hospital coffee qualifies as a favor returned.”

There was humor in her voice, but when he looked at her hands, he noted that they still clutched the strap of her purse in a vise grip.  If he was any judge, he’d say that this was a woman at the slippery end of her emotional rope.

“Um.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He was off shift in a matter of minutes. He needed to shower and get home so that he and Kathleen could… talk.

But he looked at Anne’s face, miserable and trying valiantly not to show it.

“Sure,” he said. “I can spare a few minutes.” He extended his arm for her to precede him into the hallway.  “After you.”

KATHLEEN
wrapped her scarf around her neck as she strode out of the hospital.  She’d stayed much later than she’d intended.  Now that the sun had set, the wind which had clawed at her earlier in that alley had added sharp little teeth. 

Bracing herself against it, she smiled, surprisingly giddy.  She’d never been the type to go ga-ga over other people’s babies, but she guessed it was different when it was your own blood.

Emmaline Elizabeth – for that was the moniker her sister and brother-in-law had saddled the baby with – had bawled with an impressive display of lung capacity, until Aunt Kathleen picked her up.  Then the little bugger, all wrinkly and pissed off and pink, simply blinked her big blue eyes at her.

Kathleen had fallen head over heels in love.

Hence the late exit from the hospital.  She hadn’t wanted to let little Emmaline go.

Shaking her head over her own sentimentality, Kathleen scanned the parking lot – force of habit – as she made her way to her car.  Most sane people were
once again tucked up inside with a crackling fire and a hot drink, so the area around the hospital was basically deserted. 

Darting between two minivans – Kathleen’s sentimentality didn’t stretch th
at far. If any of her child-producing relatives ended up with one of those, she was prepared to rag them mercilessly – she veered off toward the back of the lot, which had been the only space available when she’d come in.  Now, her car sat mostly alone, glowing an unearthly white beneath the halogen lamp.  

Kathleen slowed.  Something didn’t look right.

When she realized what it was, she walked resignedly toward the right rear tire.  The thing was flat.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered
, squatting low to check under the car before she approached too closely.  One of the local gangs had been known to use a slashed tire as a means of distracting people – usually women – before overpowering and mugging them.

All clear.
 

Sighing, Kathleen brought out her trusty penlight and examined the damage.  It had indeed been sliced.  Perhaps just for the hell of it.

Laying her hand on the butt of her firearm, she stood, looked around again, and then – satisfied that she was alone – hit the button on the remote to unlock the trunk.  Looked like she was going to be changing her tire in this pleasant arctic evening.

The lid popped, and Kathleen lifted it.

The smell hit her first. 

Blood.  Unfortunately, it was a smell with which she was all too familiar.

Kathleen drew her weapon from its holster, held it against her thigh as she peered into the depths of the trunk.  There, next to her jack, something lay wrapped in a blanket.  A pink blanket.

A pink blanket covered with blood.

Heart pounding so that the beat of it echoed hollowly in her ears, Kathleen gripped her penlight, used the edge of it to lift the corner of the blanket.

Red hair peeked out.

No,
she thought, as her knees went weak. Panic wanted to rise even as logic took over.  Her niece was safe, tucked into her bassinet beside Maureen’s bed.

Blinking, Kathleen shook off the momentary sense of confusion,
of unreasoning fear, and lifted the blanket further away.

A doll.  A very life-like doll.  But still a doll.
  Smeared with blood.

There was a thin handled knife, or a sharp implement of some sort, sticking out of the little chest.

Anger surged, pushed higher by just the faintest trace of breathless fear.

“What the hell
.”

Whipping her head around, the hand on her firearm tightening its grip,
Kathleen once more scanned the parking lot.

And this time – this time – felt the sly trickle of awareness that came from being watched.

“Okay, you bastard,” she muttered under her breath. “Show yourself.”

A gust of wind rattling the dry frond of a palmetto – the sound of bony fingers clacking together – was the only response.

Keeping her gaze sharp, Kathleen unclipped her cell phone with her free hand.  And used voice recognition to dial the first contact on her list.

“Mac,” she said, when the deep bass of her partner’s voice rumbled out a greeting.  “I need you to come to the hospital parking lot.  Now.”

She glanced at the doll, and its clear, if unspoken message.

“It seems I’ve got a problem.”

JUSTIN
checked his phone as he breezed out the door of the hospital.  He’d gotten caught up, spent a little more time with Natasha’s sister than he’d intended, then he’d felt obligated to check on Natasha herself.

The young woman was groggy, confused – and defensive.  She’d denied taking the oxycodone that tests confirmed had been in her system.
It was disappointing, but Justin knew it was out of his hands at this point.  The counselors would talk to her, try to get her to admit that she had a problem, which was always the first, and often most difficult step.

Finding no missed calls and no texts from Kathleen, Justin felt relief, which quickly morphed into disappointment.  But it was relatively early yet.  She could still call.

As the brisk wind hit him, he rolled his eyes.  Talking about admitting when one has an addiction.  After one taste of her, Justin’s willpower was pretty much gone.

Heading toward the physician’s parking lot, his attention was diverted by the brief toot of a horn.  Glancing up, he saw a Dodge Charger – police issue – pulling away.  The driver was little more than a silhouette, but the sheer bulk of him had recognition ticking his brain.  Mac, if he wasn’t mistaken.

And because where one found Mac, it was fairly common to find Kathleen, Justin scanned the parking lot.

And saw her, her bright hair shining like a beacon under the harsh glare of one of the lights which illuminated the
expanse of asphalt, talking with a blond-haired man in a long coat while they watched her car being loaded onto a tow truck.

Concerned – okay, he was just a little pleased at what he thought of as providence, but mostly concerned – he tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled over.  When he got within hailing distance, Kathleen glanced his way.

And the look on her face had all pleasure evaporating.

“Kathleen?” He picked up the pace, breaking into a trot.  “What’s wrong? What happened?
” He grabbed her hands.  “Are you okay?”

“Hello, Justin,” she said, her voice brisk.  Professional. 
And she slid her hands from his. “I’m fine.”

She’d suffered a shock, he could see that for himself.  Her face was white as bone.

“Hey, Justin.  Fancy meeting you here.”  At the familiar sound of the masculine voice, Justin turned, recognized Clay Copeland.  Not only was Clay Kathleen’s cousin-in-law, but he was one of Justin’s better friends.