LITMIR.BIZ

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doing something, probably looking over her chart.

      “I’ve been better,” she said.

      “I’m going to put something in your line to help you sleep tonight.”

      “Oh. Okay.” The other doctor had said he didn’t want to completely zonk her out. Oh well. Different doctors, different styles.

      The doctor stood just behind her bed and fiddled with her IV. “A good night’s sleep might help you move past the trauma.”

      “And help me remember?”

      “You don’t remember anything about what happened tonight?”

      “No. Well, yes. I remembered the guy who helped me. That’s good, right?”

      “Remembering anything is good.” He paused. “You don’t remember what you witnessed in the office building?”

      “What I witnessed?” she repeated, feeling suddenly cold. “No, I don’t…” Her head felt like a lead weight sinking into the pillow.

      “Rest, Miss Strand,” he said, his voice sounding far away. “Everything will be fine.”

      The doctor turned to her, a surgical mask covering his face, except for his eyes.

      Cold eyes she’d seen before.

      “Death eyes,” she whispered as unconsciousness swallowed her.

      TWO

      Jake should leave. There was nothing more he could do here. Even Ethan had told him to go home, that he’d done enough.

      That look on Robin’s face kept Jake glued to his chair in the waiting area. At first he thought she’d been terrified of him. Then, just now, she’d looked at him as if she needed him to protect her.

      She was vulnerable and alone, and the only thing she remembered about her life before she’d woken up was Jake.

      Ironic since they’d never even met.

      “Who did you say your client was again?” Detective Dunn pressed.

      “I didn’t. I’d have to get his permission to share that with you.”

      “There’s no attorney-client privilege here, Walters.”

      “True, but he asked me to keep it confidential and since he’s paying my light bill at present…” Jake shrugged.

      “How about I take you to the station and question you?”

      “Why are you busting my chops?”

      Jake eyed a doctor breezing out of the E.R. to the exit, still in his scrubs and face mask.

      “I know you’re furious about losing Edwards, but I’m not the bad guy here.” Jake defended himself.

      “Well, the least you did was chase the woman into traffic, ruining our chance of her IDing the perp.”

      Jake clenched his jaw against the frustration ripping through his chest. He felt bad enough without this guy twisting the knife deeper into his conscience.

      “Look, I was there. It was a coincidence.” Jake stood and paced a few feet away, beating back the guilt.

      He’d never been able to defend Mom. He’d been scrawny as a kid, skinny and uncoordinated. It wasn’t until he’d joined the service at eighteen that he’d developed his fighting skills and his muscular physique.

      “I saw you go in there while I was on the phone,” Dunn said. “What did you say to her?”

      Jake was about to shoot the detective a mind-your-own-business retort when he was nearly taken down by two residents rushing past him. They flew into the examining area in a panic.

      No. It couldn’t be Robin. A doctor had just left and—

      Instinct setting him on edge, Jake headed for the examining area. Dunn blocked him.

      “Please get out of my way,” Jake said, as calmly as possible. His heart raced at the thought of his worst fear coming true.

      The killer walking right past him and Detective Dunn…

      …and killing Robin Strand while they stood there, just outside the door.

      “Where do you think you’re going?” Dunn said.

      Any second now the cuffs were coming out. Jake couldn’t protect her if he was sitting in lockup.

      “To check on the woman,” Jake said.

      “She’s fine.”

      Another doctor and nurse scrambled past them into the E.R. as a Code Blue echoed through the hospital’s PA system.

      Jake glared at Detective Dunn. “She’s not fine.”

      He stepped around Dunn and marched into the examining area. Medical staff shifted around Robin’s bed in a mass of frantic motion.

      “Still dropping,” a nurse said. “Ninety over sixty.”

      Jake stepped closer. Robin looked pale and weak. He felt incredibly helpless. Like before, like all the times he couldn’t protect Mom.

      This woman, so young and vibrant, didn’t deserve what had happened to her tonight. She didn’t deserve to die because she’d been in the wrong place at the worst possible time.

      But a few minutes ago she’d been fine, coherent and strong considering she’d woke with no memory and was probably terrified.

      Dunn grabbed Jake’s arm. “Let’s go.”

      “She’s dying,” Jake shot over his shoulder.

      Jake and Detective Dunn watched the medical team struggle to bring Robin back from the edge of death.

      “What did you give her?” the doctor barked.

      The resident rattled off some medications but Jake could hardly focus on what he was saying. Robin was dying. Right in front of him.

      “Increase her IV fluids,” the doctor said, then glanced at a monitor. The monitor stopped.

      “Get me calcium chloride.” The doctor started doing CPR as the nurse added something to Robin’s IV.

      “Look at the bizarre complexes on the heart monitor,” the doctor said. “I’m guessing she got potassium chloride by accident.”

      By accident? Hardly. Jake was right. The killer had been here, inches away from Robin, sticking something in her IV to end her life.

      He’d seen plenty of death during his time in the service but nothing like this. An innocent woman nearly killed twice in one night.

      “What about—”

      “Stop talking,” the doctor interrupted his resident.

      Jake’s pulse pounded against his throat. He couldn’t stop Dad from hitting his mom or prevent the cancer from killing her in the end. Nor could he stop little kids from being used as target practice in Iraq.

      But he had honestly thought he could protect Robin Strand.

      “Come on, Robin,” a nurse whispered.

      They all looked shell-shocked, like they were holding themselves personally responsible for her condition.

      He knew the feeling.

      Jake said a silent prayer, one that had seen him through the darkest days overseas.

      “Eighty over fifty-five,” the nurse said.

      “Thatta girl,” the doctor whispered, easing up on the CPR.

      The numbers on the monitor continued to rise.

      “Page me if her condition changes,” the doctor said, then turned to the other resident. “Find out everything you can

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