Boots and Bullets. B.J. Daniels
the nursery windows.
His breath caught in his throat as he shoved back his Stetson and, cupping his hands, looked through the blank glass. The cribs and furnishings were gone, the room bare, but he could see it as the nursery had been in his memory.
A half dozen bassinets, but only two babies. Both boys with little blue blankets and ribbons on the bassinets, he recalled with surprise.
He touched his fingers to the pane, then quickly pulled them away as a memory moved through him like a spasm. With a jolt, he remembered seeing the murdered woman right before she was killed.
He had stood in this very spot and watched her switch the babies in the bassinets.
“CYRUS, DO YOU REALIZE what you’re saying?” He’d had to go outside to get cell phone service. “I saw her purposely switch the babies. Cordell, she stood there for a long moment as if making up her mind.”
He could almost hear his twin’s disbelief.
“I know how crazy it sounds, but when I saw this place as I was driving by, even without the sign, I knew it was the old hospital because I recognized it. Cordell, I walked straight to the nursery. When I touched the glass—” He shuddered at the memory. “I felt something so strong, I can’t explain it.”
“Okay, let’s say you saw this woman who was later murdered after switching the babies,” his brother said finally. “It should be easy enough to find out if there were two baby boys in the nursery while you were there.”
He sighed. “I already asked the hospital administrator. She swears there were no babies in the nursery that night.”
“So you think she’s lying? The whole town is lying? Why would they do that?”
Cyrus had no idea. He was more concerned with how he was going to prove it. “The hospital administrator won’t let me talk to the nurses who were on duty that night without a subpoena.” He heard his brother sigh. “I have to go see the room I was in. I’ll call you later. Stop worrying about me. I know what I’m doing.”
He disconnected and walked back into the hospital. He felt scared as he entered the long corridor of worn tile. He’d heard the fear in his twin’s voice. Maybe he couldn’t trust his own judgment. Or maybe it was just that no one else trusted it.
Cyrus heard someone singing from one of the mazelike hallways deep in the building. At least that was real, he thought. The woman had a good voice and he recognized the country-western song. It was one of his favorites.
Past the nursery, he walked down to what he was certain had been his room. It was right beside what had been the nurses’ station. Didn’t this prove that he had regained consciousness at some point while still in this hospital that night?
He started to step into the room when he saw her. She came out of a doorway at the end of the hall and started toward him, a pair of iPod buds in her ears. She was singing along with the song, completely lost in the music.
As she came closer, Cyrus felt all the air rush out of him.
It was her!
The woman he’d seen switch the babies in the hospital nursery. The woman he’d found murdered right here in this old hospital more than three months ago.
Chapter Four
Cyrus stared at the woman as if she were an apparition. Everyone was right. He was losing his mind. Fear turned his skin clammy. He told himself he was seeing things, imagining her the same way he had the murdered woman.
As the young woman looked up then and saw him, she appeared startled. She slowed, looked unsure. He half expected her to vanish before his eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asked, frowning, as she walked toward him. Was it possible she recognized him? Or was she just surprised, thinking she was alone in the building?
As she drew closer, he saw that either his memory was in error or this wasn’t the woman. But she looked enough like the murder victim to be her sister. Her hair was more copper than auburn, her eyes emerald rather than aquamarine and she was shorter than the murdered woman, although about the same age.
She had a small wooden nightstand in one hand and a slat-back wooden chair in the other and she wore blue denim overalls over a white T-shirt, sneakers on her feet. The logo on the overalls read Second Hand Kate.
“Are you all right?” she asked as she plucked out the earbuds.
He knew he must have lost all color. While he’d been getting stronger every day, the shock of seeing her had left him feeling weak and shaky.
He realized how bad he must look when she asked, “You know the hospital moved, right? Do you need someone to drive you up to the new one?”
He could hear the murmur of the music coming from the iPod in her overalls pocket. He shook his head and finally found his voice. “Sorry, I called out as I came in … “
She smiled. It seemed to light up the old building and the sweet innocence in the gesture tugged at his heart. This wasn’t the woman he’d seen murdered in the nursery, but she had to be a relative. Wasn’t it possible she’d seen him at the hospital?
“Do you know me?” he asked.
She looked at him as if he might be joking. “Should I?”
He shoved back his Stetson and smiled sheepishly. “You look familiar. I thought … You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?”
“Sorry.” She was smiling again as if she thought this was a bad pick-up line.
She was definitely not the woman he’d seen. This woman, while the spitting image of the murder victim, lacked the darkness he’d felt in the dead woman. This woman was all sunshine and rainbows.
“Is this for the secondhand shop?” he asked, motioning to the furniture and then to the logo on her overalls, desperately needing to say something that didn’t come out stupid.
She nodded, clearly pleased with the items. “They don’t make furniture like this anymore. I can’t wait to refinish some of these pieces,” she said, her enthusiasm bubbling out.
“So you must be Kate.” Not a nurse. Or even a nurse’s aide here at the hospital.
“The Kate in Second Hand Kate’s.” She set down the chair and wiped her free hand on her overalls and held it out to him. “You aren’t interested in used furniture, are you?”
“I might be,” he said, realizing he was flirting with her. He held out his hand. “Cyrus Winchester.”
“Winchester? You’re not related to—”
“The sheriff is my cousin and Pepper is my grandmother.”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “I see.”
“You know them?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I just moved here, but I’ve heard stories. Your grandmother is pretty famous around here. I’ve always wanted to meet her.”
“Infamous, you mean.” The Winchesters had always provided fodder for good gossip. His grandmother had been a recluse for the past twenty-seven years, his grandfather had ridden off on a horse one day forty years ago and never been seen again—until recently—and one of his uncles had only turned up after a gully washer had washed up his remains.
She turned her smile on him again. “Kate Landon.”
Cyrus felt a gentle shock run through him at her warm, strong touch.
“So you just happened to stop by the hospital to … “
“Return to the scene of the crime.” She laughed and he added quickly, “So to speak. I was brought in a few months ago by ambulance and spent a night here. I
don’t remember much about