Rescue Team (14 page)

Discomfort. That’s what Wes saw on her face, in her eyes. Because of last night? He didn’t want to think that.

“Look . . .” Wes took a cautious step closer. “I don’t need to be at the work site until two. I have to pick up some supplies, but I could swing back by here. We could grab coffee, or—”

“Here’s my ride.”

He turned to look where Kate was looking, at the car pulling to the curb. A gold Mercedes roadster convertible. Driven by Barrett Lyon. The attorney sprang from his car like a big cat after a gazelle.

“All set?” Lyon asked, opening the passenger door after a dismissive nod at Wes. The sun glinted off his watch—same color as the car. “Got us squeezed in at Piranha Sushi. I’d rather it was Uchi, but they don’t serve lunch.” He smiled like one of those irritating guys in a dental office ad. “We should go, Kate. They won’t hold that reservation. Even for me.”

“Ready.” Kate’s eyes met Wes’s for a split second. “I’ll . . .”

“See you,” he said as she walked to the car.

Lyon held her briefcase as Kate slid into the luxurious leather seat, then closed the door and gave Wes one last nod.

After they left, Wes stood there for a few moments, wondering if Kate’s obvious distress had been because of what happened between them last night. Or because she was waiting to be taken to lunch by Barrett Lyon and Wes’s presence made it awkward. He eyed the remains of his apple, frowned. Piranha—he knew the place. And he wasn’t one of those men who had to haul his fish into a bass boat; he’d eaten his fair share of seared tuna and spring rolls. It was just that right now . . . Wes’s teeth ground together. Right now, the thought of sushi turned his stomach.

He pitched his apple core at the waste can, hit it with a satisfying thunk, and started off toward his truck. He might just tell the day laborer to take a break. Then grab a shovel and pickax himself.

“Y
ES, OF COURSE IT’S ME.”
Kate stared at the dark images on the attorney’s iPad, her stomach queasy. The feeling had nothing to do with her barely touched sushi. This was like viewing herself in a police lineup.
And that poor girl is me ten years ago.
Kate swallowed, mouth dry. “Have they identified this girl as—?” Her eyes met Barrett’s. “Have they found her?”

“Not yet.” He tapped the screen to stop the video. “But her photo’s being circulated to clinics and doctors’ offices, and it’s only a matter of time before the media has it. Much less time before the police question you again. There’s a good reason you didn’t mention this contact before?”

“No.” Kate frowned, prodding a shrimp with her chopstick. “I mean I didn’t need a reason because . . .” She wasn’t any better at lying now than she had been a decade ago. “I didn’t remember talking with her.”

“Even after the triage nurse described her to you? This ‘Ava Smith’?”

“Wait a minute. What is this?” Kate glanced at the nearby booths, glad they’d arrived before the crush of the lunch crowd. She leaned forward, lowered her voice. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Of course not.” Barrett’s smile flashed. “I’m on your side, remember? I want you prepared for what the police might ask.”

“Even if this girl is the mother of that baby, what does it matter if I saw her?”

“It matters a lot. Because of Safe Haven. In order for that law to protect her, she must have left her baby in the hands of a designated provider. Or at the very least have told someone where he was.” He tapped his finger against his iPad. “This timed security tape could mean you had contact with her after Baby Doe was born. You might be viewed as that designated provider, Kate.”

She stared at him, stunned.

“The police will undoubtedly want to know what Ava Smith said to you.”

“Nothing really.”
Except ask me if I’d help her.

“It looks like the two of you talked.”

“I don’t know.” Kate forced herself to stay calm. “If it’s on the tape, I guess it happened. I don’t remember. Patients and visitors come and go. I talk to a lot of people. We were in the same place at the same time; then Lauren arrived. I was hurrying to meet her.”

“Good.” Barrett leaned back in his chair. His grin spread like the Wonderland cat that had scared Kate sleepless as a kid. “That’s what I wanted to hear.
If
you spoke to this girl, it was a few words of no consequence. Nothing at all that would keep you from meeting a colleague for coffee. A reasonable case could be made that
this mother had an opportunity to do the right thing and didn’t. Your actions support that.” He shook his head. “No one would believe someone like you would walk off and leave a baby, Kate.”

-  +  -

“Your father’s been admitted?” Judith shook the tiny silver rattle for Harley. She’d seen it at Neiman’s and couldn’t resist. The infant’s blue eyes followed intently, her little legs flexing in the car seat.

“He’s having an operation—emergency surgery.” Trista glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall. “In about an hour.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Judith wished she’d arrived earlier for her volunteer shift, been here to allay Trista’s fears and help with the baby. She hoped to goodness the man hadn’t sat in the waiting room long. “May I ask what type of—”

“He put his arm through a window. Cut a blood vessel, I guess. Maybe nerves, too.” Trista grabbed a pacifier as Harley began to fuss. “The cut bled a lot. I’ve got all his clothes in this bag. His favorite shirt. The washing machine doesn’t work so great anymore. I’ll soak them, but I doubt the shirt’s gonna come clean. He won’t like it.”

“You know—” Judith glanced around the waiting room, satisfied that the patients were being triaged and roomed in a timely manner—“there’s a nice waiting room up near surgery. TV, hot cocoa, coffee, tea. I even know where they hide the graham crackers. Why don’t I take you up there to wait? It’s close to the post-anesthesia recovery room.” She smiled down at Harley. “So when Grandpa wakes up and wants to see his beautiful little—”

“She won’t be here.” Trista pushed her glasses up her nose. A dark smudge on the lens blurred one of her eyes. “Neither of us will be. They’re keeping him overnight. I’ll get a message on my cell phone when I have to come pick him up.”

“Oh.” Judith watched as Trista reached for her purse. There was dried blood on her sleeve, which made Judith worry it was also the source of the smudge on her glasses.

“I’ve got the car. They locked up Dad’s wallet, but . . .” Trista’s brows rose ever so slightly. “There was $11.96 in the front pocket of his pants. He’d figure someone would steal it. So I’m thinking Chick-fil-A. Spicy chicken sandwich and—” the corners of her mouth tugged upward—“a peppermint chocolate chip milk shake.” She wedged the bag of clothes under her arm and reached for the baby seat. “I’m going there now. There’s one right at the end of my street.”

“Here,” Judith said. “Don’t forget Harley’s rattle.”

She watched them go. Then realized it was the first time she’d ever seen Trista smile.

-  +  -

“This is better.” Barrett studied Kate’s face over the rim of his coffee cup. Somewhere in the distance, the cappuccino machine ended its gurgling in a steamy, fragrant whoosh. “As good as our meal was, it’s hard to talk with the lunch crowd filing in. Better to finish up here. Agree?”

Kate didn’t try to hide her frown. She glanced around the sparsely populated Starbucks; it was within walking distance of Austin Grace and more often than not filled with folks wearing scrubs. Mercifully not at this moment. “I’d rather be at the dentist for a root canal.”

“Ha!” Barrett laughed, eyes glittering. “See? That’s exactly what I like about you, Kate. No mincing words; you call them as you see them. You’re not always out to win some popularity contest.”

“Clearly.” She tried not to think what he’d heard from the staff. Had he been asking about her?

His expression softened. “I meant it as a compliment. You are, without a doubt, most genuine and unique.” He smiled a smile that could qualify as jury tampering. “In a culture of sweet tea and porch rockers, you are a delightful breath of fresh air—dangerously flirting with hurricane status. I like that.” His eyes held hers. “Very much.”

“Well . . .” Kate glanced down at her coffee, no doubt cooling in the breeze emitted by furiously fanning red flags. “I’m fairly sure ‘unique’ isn’t going to help in my efforts to pull the emergency department together. My first clue was the ‘Go back, California Girl’ note left on my car.”

“Not as bad as bits of ground pork sausage. Raw. Stuffed into the leather upholstery and under the seats of my leased BMW. Festering for a week in the summer heat.” Barrett’s smile turned rueful. “My ex-wife. The first in a series of colorful antics.”

Kate wasn’t going to ask.

“I’ve been watching you, Kate. You’re not like the rest of the staff at Austin Grace. Lauren, Dana . . . Sunni Sprague.”

“So I’ve been told.” Kate wasn’t all good with the idea of being watched. Especially by a man toting video evidence from the security tape. She reached for her coffee.

“Again,” Barrett insisted, “you’re different in a good way. You’re more like . . . me.”

“Excuse me?” She grabbed a napkin, squelched a near choke that burned her nostrils.

“I mean that you set a goal and do whatever it takes to accomplish it. I respect that.” The smile was back. “Not at all unlike my father’s old boys down at Granddaddy’s hunting lease. Aiming at one of those big-ticket trophy bucks. Take your shot, bring down what you want, reload. In your case, move on.” His brows rose.
“Ten hospitals in six years? Seven different cities, three states?” The confidence in his expression said he could tape a map on the Starbucks wall and follow her scurrilous path with a laser pointer. And probably knew she had an application for that traveling nurse agency in Dallas.

“Sounds about right.” Kate shrugged, one foot beginning to wiggle under the table. “Is there some reason you bring that up?”

“Only to prove my point. You’re different from the majority of the people on that hospital staff who think it all begins and ends with ‘team spirit.’ Folks who love it that their cousin’s wife works in the cafeteria, that all four of their kids were born in the OB department, and who insist on every staff meeting including a potluck and doing a secret Santa in December. You know: the same people who like to gather in the chapel and pray for each other.” Barrett shook his head.

Kate tensed at his mention of Lauren’s hospital ministry. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying I’m more like a deer hunter than a team player.”

“I’m saying that you’re too smart to let that stubbornly dug-in ‘we are one’ mentality keep you from making reasonable decisions. I’m saying that you’re not likely to line up and hold hands with a hundred other kids playing Red Rover. Then consider it your honorable duty to fall down if they do. You’re not like a Lauren or a Sunni or . . . some Eagle Scout well digger either.”

Well digger? He’s taking a shot at Wes, too?

“I’m not sure I like where this is going.” Kate nudged her cup away. “Let’s stop with the clever metaphors and cut to the chase, okay?”

“Absolutely.” His smile said he expected nothing less of her. And liked it.

Kate spread her hands. “You take me to lunch to show me that security tape. You make a big point of telling me that I’m not like the rest of my staff. What exactly do you want from me, Mr. Lyon?”

“Barrett. And I want you to do what you do best, Kate.” His expression went serious, his gaze direct. “Look out for number one—yourself.”

“Meaning?” Despite the coffee, she fought a chill.

“Tell the police what you told me about that video. Your conversation with Ava Smith was minimal. Nothing to disrupt your social coffee with Lauren. And if they find that mother, stick to your story. Don’t deviate an inch. If there’s any question of liability, it’s best that fault points away from hospital management. And to non-regular staff.”

“Dana Connor?”

“Yes. As triage nurse, she accepted responsibility for that pregnant girl—and the safety of her unborn baby. She’s likely to say everything she said before: it was a busy shift, and she was overwhelmed. She hadn’t slept before coming to work because her husband’s severely disabled and she has a young son. She worries about losing her home. She’ll cry.” Barrett steepled his hands. “And while that’s admittedly sad, it’s also Dana Connor’s ace in the hole. People will empathize. The old ‘There but for the grace of God.’ You know the quote—and I’ll probably use it.”

“You really think it will come to that?” Kate hated the anxiety in her voice. “The hospital needing to mount a defense over Baby Doe?”

“It could happen if Ava Smith’s future attorney tries to defend her using the Safe Haven law.” He shrugged. “Despite the lead offered by the security tape, there does remain the possibility this
mother will never be found. She could disappear like fireflies at summer’s end. It happens all the time.”

I know . . .

“But with that local church planning a memorial service,” Barrett continued, “the media will keep the story alive. Baby stories are notoriously hard to bury—no tragic pun intended. And anything to do with innocent little children evokes strong emotion. Look at all those people who got duped into giving money to that woman waving a sign with a photo of a dead baby.”

“What?”

“Just a few blocks from the hospital. I saw her myself. That grifter who claimed she needed money for—”

“Her baby’s funeral?” Kate’s throat squeezed. “It was a scam? I don’t believe that.”

“Cyber proof. Here you go.” Barrett pulled out his iPad again, tapped the screen, scrolled down. “There it is. Fresh from this morning’s
Statesman
.” He turned the screen toward her.

And there she was—grieving expression, lit candle, and the baby’s face on the huge poster.

“She got the photo from an online diaper ad, had it enlarged.” Barrett shook his head. “Of course it’s all secondhand from another panhandler; the baby-funeral entrepreneur has moved on. Now there’s a practical team for you.”

“I think I’m officially sick.” Kate glanced at her watch. “And I should get back to work.”

“All right.” Barrett reached for his briefcase. “But I meant what I said, Kate. You’re unique, a stand-alone, and in my opinion that’s a good thing.” He connected with her gaze. “I know you have issues with your staff and that administration will be making
decisions regarding your permanent status.” His smile spread slowly. “Maybe I can be of some help in that respect.”

Help?
“Got it covered,” she said, breaking eye contact and reaching for her own briefcase. It was a lie. She knew it and Barrett Lyon knew it too. The way he obviously knew too many things about her. Kate wasn’t sure which made her sickest: his snooping into her life, a heartless plan to destroy Dana Connor, the scam about the baby funeral, Barrett’s derisive potshot at Wes, or—

“Just remember,” he said, opening the door for Kate to exit, “don’t hold hands with a team that’s toppling over. Look out for yourself. And if you need backup, I’ll be here. You might not see it yet, but it’s true—we’re a lot alike, Kate. Sympatico.”