Foul Play. Elisabeth Rees
want to add to it. The man already had discharged his weapon once and would easily do it again if spooked.
Cole raised his head from the ground, trying to listen for sounds coming from the other side of the fence. He heard the groans of a winded man hauling himself to his feet and running away. He couldn’t believe he was so close to Deborah’s attacker, yet unable to apprehend him. He clenched his jaw in frustration.
“Next time,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll be ready.”
* * *
Deborah watched from her bedroom window while Cole spoke with police officers in her neighbor’s yard. Her pulse was returning to normal as the surge of adrenaline began to wear off. She’d woken up two hours ago to the sound of a key turning in her front door. She’d sat upright in bed, immediately reaching for the card she’d so carefully placed on her nightstand before going to sleep. Cole’s voice on the end of the line had instilled a feeling of reassurance and safety, but she wished she hadn’t needed him to take control of this situation. She didn’t want anything from him, least of all his protection. She’d learned to get by without the love and security he had once offered. And she no longer wanted it.
After first taking her statement, the officers then spoke at length to Cole and her neighbor Mr. Rafferty. They then went to inspect the tree in Mr. Rafferty’s yard, where a large branch had been severed from its trunk. The four men stood together, discussing the incident, while Deborah had chosen to retreat to the safety of her bedroom. She watched Cole and Mr. Rafferty shake hands, and the officers made their way back to their vehicle. She lost sight of the four figures as they walked to the street together. Then Cole reemerged in her backyard, squatting down to inspect the footprints left in the dew on the lawn. They snaked around in circles as if the man had been uncertain which way to go. She reached for a sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, feeling her curls straining to break free from the hood. Despite two nights of poor sleep, she was wide-awake and alert, but she knew that exhaustion would hit like a ton of bricks later on.
She slipped her feet into sneakers and walked down the stairs, taking deep, steadying breaths. Every time she spoke to Cole, her stomach rebelled, refusing to be calm and still. It was maddening, but she was powerless to stop it.
“Hi,” she said, walking out onto the porch.
Cole instantly stopped what he was doing and stood up to give her his full attention.
“Are you okay, Debs?” he asked.
She nodded, but it was a lie. And she reckoned he knew it.
“The guy hasn’t been found, but the police have filed a report,” he said. “The officers said they’ll send extra patrol cars to the area.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But they’re treating it as a minor misdemeanor.”
“I told them about the attack in the parking lot, but they said the exact same thing as Frank—a probable mugging.”
“It’s up to us to prove these incidents are all connected,” Cole said. “And that means you have to let me in a bit more. It’s way too dangerous for you to be here alone, especially now that we know somebody’s been casing the house. We need a better plan.”
Deborah shivered in the freshness of the breaking dawn. Cole wore a blue sweatshirt, spotted with mud stains. His hands were stained with dirt and his hair contained pieces of moss or grass, easily seen against the light red color of the strands.
“You look like you had a fight with a tree,” she said, ignoring his statement.
“Yeah,” he said. “It was something like that.”
“You want some breakfast?” she asked, knowing she should reward Cole for his efforts. “You certainly earned it.”
“Sure,” he said. “Give me a few minutes to finish up here.”
She turned and opened the screen door to go inside.
“Deborah,” he called.
She turned back.
“We need to talk about your safety,” he said gently. “I know you don’t want to face it, but you’re in serious danger. Someone is clearly targeting you, and he won’t go away unless we unmask him.”
She looked at Cole standing on her lawn, hands resting lightly on his hips, his face a perfect expression of concern. He was right. She needed to act decisively.
“I’m going to the hospital today to talk to Frank,” she said firmly. “If he won’t call the police to investigate the possibility of drug tampering in the unit, then I will.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “This has gone far enough.”
Cole gave her a broad smile. “I knew you’d find your inner strength,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’re still as feisty as ever.”
She drew herself up to her full height. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
* * *
Frank’s face turned pale, then red, then purple. “Absolutely not,” he shouted. “I will not involve the police. We still have no conclusive evidence to suggest that our patients’ drugs have been tampered with. All we have are theories and gut feelings.”
Cole stood shoulder to shoulder with Deborah in the hospital room where Frank had agreed to give them five minutes of his time.
“I chased away an intruder on Deborah’s property last night,” he said. “We think he somehow managed to get a copy of Deborah’s front door key, but the chain prevented him gaining full access. Now, why do you think someone went to the trouble of cloning Deborah’s door key in order to get into her house?”
Frank was stunned into silence. He looked at Deborah. “I’m sorry to hear about this, Deborah. Do you know how they were able to copy your key?”
“I figure that someone took it from my locker at the hospital and made a copy before I realized it was gone,” she said. A slight tremor shook her body at the thought of a stranger rifling through her belongings, or even worse, someone she knew.
“And have the locks been changed?” Frank asked.
“I did it this morning,” Cole said. “The old key is now useless.”
“But we don’t know that this incident is related to the hospital,” Frank said. “It could just be an opportunist or a random thief.”
“Oh, come on, Frank,” Cole said as his patience wore thin. “You know that Deborah was attacked by a man in the underground parking lot, as well. What else needs to happen before you wake up and smell the coffee? Deborah is the one person in the pediatric unit who’s pushing hard for an investigation into the abnormal amount of kidney failures. The fact that she’s now been targeted in three separate incidents isn’t a coincidence. It’s a campaign to silence her.”
Frank fell quiet for a while, rubbing his hand over his thinning hair. “A run of bad luck doesn’t necessarily add up to a campaign,” he replied. “Although this sounds like a rather far-fetched theory, I’ll consider contacting the police to ask for their advice.”
“Please, Frank,” Deborah said. “We really need your cooperation on this. I don’t want to go against your wishes, but I will make my own complaint if I have to.”
“I said I’ll consider it,” he repeated. “Although it may reassure you to know that we’ve had no more renal cases in the last twenty-four hours, and five of the children who’ve fallen ill are recovering well.”
“But a twelve-year-old boy now requires a transplant, isn’t that right?” Deborah challenged.
Frank nodded his head. “Dr. Cortas has put that boy on the top of the transplant list. As soon as a suitable kidney becomes available, the operation will go ahead.”
Cole decided now was the perfect time to learn more about the medical staff at the unit. “What can you tell me about Dr. Cortas, Frank? He’s new