Kitabı oku: «The Truth About Elyssa», sayfa 4

Chapter 5

Elyssa woke with a throbbing headache. She’d sat up for hours, gripping the fireplace poker, the nearest thing to a weapon she could find. When she finally lay down, every noise from outside, every creak and groan in the house had her leaping out of bed and grabbing her makeshift weapon. At last, near dawn, she fell into a troubled sleep.

Now she sat up, rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples. Along with the headache, she felt groggy and vaguely nauseated. She’d never had a hangover but she suspected they felt like this. “Coffee,” she muttered and trudged downstairs.

By the time she’d drunk half a cup, her mind began to clear. Last night she’d been so shaken, she hadn’t asked herself the obvious question, how did her caller know she was investigating Randy’s death? She’d told only two people—Brett and Derek. Now that she’d tipped him off, was Derek trying to frighten her away from a story he wanted?

The voice last night wasn’t Derek’s. She would recognize it in an instant even if he tried to disguise it. Would he have gone so far as to get someone else to call and scare her off so she’d leave this story to him and Channel 9?

With Derek, anything was possible. Well, he wouldn’t get away with it. She grabbed the phone and punched in his number.

“Derek Graves,” he answered in the too-smooth voice she’d come to detest.

“This is Elyssa.” She got straight to the point. “Someone called me last night to warn me—no, to threaten me—that I’d better stop looking into Randy’s death.”

“Good grief, Elyssa, what have you been up to?”

“Up to?” Though anger threatened to bubble over, she kept her voice level. “All I’ve done is talk to you. What have you been up to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who did you tell about our conversation yesterday?”

“Nobody.” His tone implied that their discussion was so insignificant, he’d forgotten it the moment she left. “What did this caller have to say?”

Elyssa always paid attention to nuances of voice, and now she heard just the smallest tinge of uneasiness in Derek’s. Was he afraid the caller had mentioned his name? “Standard threat,” she said. “Essentially, he told me to watch my back.”

“Good advice. I hope you pay attention.”

Her temper boiled over. “Why the hell did you say that? What do you know? You did sic someone on me, didn’t you?”

“Good God, do you hear what you’re saying? You really are becoming paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid. Jenny thinks Randy was murdered—”

“Murdered!”

“Yes,” Elyssa said, “and I’m beginning to agree with her.”

“If this bizarre idea is true, then investigating could land you in a mess of trouble. I’m concerned for your safety, sweet—uh, Elyssa.” He paused, and his voice deepened. “What happened to him could happen to you.”

“Don’t lose any sleep over me,” Elyssa said coolly. “I’ll stay alert, but I won’t stop digging until I know what happened.” Then she said what she wished she’d told her caller last night, “Don’t try to scare me off.” She hung up before he had a chance to say another word.

Elyssa sat across the desk from Amanda Pryor, coordinator of volunteer services at St. Michael’s. They’d been high school classmates but had lost track of each other. Elyssa had been surprised when she’d made an appointment to present her proposal for clown shows and found an old friend.

Bright posters adorned the walls of Amanda’s small office, lush plants crowded the windowsills, and the bulletin board held letters from former patients praising the volunteer staff.

“Your program’s going great,” Amanda said. “Want to expand? The kids in the orthopedic unit could use some entertainment.”

“I’m not ready for that yet,” Elyssa said. Hoping Amanda wouldn’t notice, she checked her watch. This was not her regular day at St. Michael’s, but she’d mentioned to Brett that she’d be here, and they’d arranged to meet in the cafeteria. Ten minutes.

“Let me know when you’re ready. Meanwhile, we’ll authorize the programs in the cancer unit for another four months.” Then she smiled slyly. “I hear you’re seeing Dr. Cameron.”

Elyssa’s mouth dropped open. “I just went out with him Tuesday night.”

“But you’ve been staring into each other’s eyes in the cafeteria for weeks.”

Elyssa’s eyes traveled upward. Heaven help her. “Um, I guess word gets around fast here,” she muttered.

“Yep, faster than the Internet.” Amanda grinned mischievously. “The things I could tell you…”

“You already have.” From Amanda Elyssa had learned that the head of neurology, who’d been married to his wife for twenty years, was involved in a hot affair with a male resident; that two aides in obstetrics had engaged in a nasty altercation over a trivial misunderstanding; and that the hospital would soon announce its participation in trials of what was considered the most promising AIDS drug in the last decade.

Even in high school Amanda had had such a proclivity for gossip that she’d earned the nickname Miss Tattles. She’d loved the name; she’d even titled her column in the school paper Miss Tattles’ Tales. Now she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. “So is it serious?”

“Are you kidding? After one dinner?”

Amanda sighed dramatically. “Love at first sight.”

“That, my dear, is a myth.”

Later when she saw Brett coming toward her, she told herself that just because seeing a man made you breathless, it didn’t mean love. At first or even second sight.

“A consultation came up,” he said, “so I only have a few minutes. I should have called you and canceled…but I wanted to see you.” His lips curved in the sexy smile that made women go weak in the knees. “So, how about a quick cup of coffee? We can sit on the patio.”

Elyssa cocked her head and smiled at him. “Is this a date?”

He chuckled as he paid for their coffee. “A cheap one.”

The patio behind the cafeteria was quiet, with only a few tables filled. The worst of the midday August heat had dissipated, leaving the promise of evening in its wake. They drank their coffee, and Elyssa told Brett that Amanda had extended her contract. “I know I have you to thank for it,” she added.

“Don’t thank me. You earned that extension.”

When they finished their coffee, he walked her to her car. In the garage he nodded to a tired-looking man in scrubs, then glanced over his shoulder and raised a hand in greeting as a silver Lincoln Town Car drove slowly past.

He held Elyssa’s door open, leaned close and to her surprise, kissed her hard. “Drive carefully,” he said, and shut the door.

Her heart pirouetted wildly from his kiss. And she thought, maybe love at first sight wasn’t a myth after all.

Brett glanced at his watch—10:00 a.m. Clark Madigan rarely kept a colleague waiting when he scheduled a meeting, but this morning Brett had been cooling his heels in the chief of staff’s outer office for nearly twenty minutes. He wondered what Clark wanted to see him about. When Clark called at nine saying, “We need to talk,” he’d sounded agitated. Something about the plans for the new hospital or the departmental budget, Brett supposed. He flipped through the latest issue of the New England Journal of Medicine, then glanced up when the door opened.

“Come in, Brett,” Madigan said. “Sit down.”

Wondering at the seriousness of the older man’s expression, Brett sat across the desk from Madigan. Had they lost the grant they’d been counting on from the National Institute of Health?

Madigan frowned, then said, “The woman you were with the other night, Elyssa Jarmon. How long have you been seeing her?”

Brett blinked. This was what his mentor wanted to talk to him about? Why?

An idea dawned, and Brett’s lips twitched. Maybe Madigan had been planning on matchmaking. His daughter was married, but Brett had heard something about a niece who’d recently moved to Indianapolis. Uh-uh, Clark. Thanks, but no thanks. Determined to thwart Madigan’s plans before they got off the ground, Brett smiled easily. “That was our first evening out together. The first of many, I hope.”

Madigan tapped his pen sharply on the desk. “Break it off before there’s a second.”

Brett’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“Stop this…affair before it goes any further.” Madigan’s voice was stern. “She’s a poor choice.”

“And why would that be?” Brett asked. His voice revealed no emotion, but below the desk, his fist clenched. Who did Clark think he was talking to, one of his interns?

“Some time ago Ms. Jarmon aired a story about St. Michael’s,” Madigan answered. “She ruffled some feathers.”

“I don’t think that’s relevant,” Brett began.

“It’s relevant,” Madigan said sharply. “Those feathers are still ruffled.” He leaned forward. “You have a bright future here, Brett. Don’t tarnish it by getting involved with someone who could jeopardize your standing in the medical community.”

Brett fought down his anger. “Look, Clark,” he said, willing his voice to stay calm, “I always appreciate professional advice, but what I do with my free time and who I spend it with is personal. It has nothing to do with my career.”

“On the contrary, it has everything to do with your career.” Madigan put his pen in his pocket. “Think it over. I’m confident you’ll come to the right decision.”

The two men rose. Brett forced himself to shake the proffered hand, say a cordial goodbye and leave.

Come to the “right” decision? Like hell, he thought as he strode down the hall. Clark Madigan had misjudged him. Challenging Brett’s actions made him that much more determined to continue on course. Madigan could say whatever he liked. Brett would damn well see who he wanted to.

He was still steaming when he shoved open his office door.

For the rest of the morning he saw patients. He couldn’t afford to indulge in anger at Madigan now; these sick youngsters needed his full attention. And by the time he finished his morning appointments, his fury had ebbed. He wouldn’t waste time pondering the older man’s motives nor would he be foolish enough to start a feud with such a powerful individual. He’d simply ignore this morning’s conversation and do as he pleased.

What pleased him was being with Elyssa.

He leaned back in his chair, shut his eyes and pictured her. But imagining wasn’t enough. He picked up the phone and dialed her number. As soon as he heard her voice, he forgot all about Madigan. “Hi,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for a birthday party.”

“I’ll miss seeing you this afternoon.”

“No, you won’t. The party’s at St. Michael’s in an hour. You caught me just as I was putting on my clown makeup.”

“You don’t sound like a clown,” he murmured. Or feel like one in my arms. “More like a siren. You have the most alluring voice.”

Her laugh was low and husky. “You’re trying to seduce me.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Is it working?”

A hesitation, then she said primly, “No.”

“I’ll try harder then.” But the seduction was working, he knew. He hadn’t missed that brief, uncertain pause before she answered. “I’ll see you later.”

She knew the instant Brett came into the room.

Elyssa had her back to the door as she entertained the children, but she heard it open, and although several people had gone in and out since she’d begun her show, this time was different. Something in the air changed.

She couldn’t help it—she turned, and her eyes locked with his. He smiled and then, the rat—he winked at her.

Her fingers fumbled with the balloon she was tying, and whatever she was about to say fled from her mind. Oh, Lord, in seconds she was going to melt into mush right in front of a roomful of people. With an effort she tore her gaze from his and managed to finish her performance.

Afterward he strolled up to her. “I enjoyed the show, Ms. Jarmon.” His eyes twinkled as he shook her hand.

“Thank you, Dr. Cameron,” she said politely, then added under her breath, “You distracted me.”

“Did I?” he asked with an innocent smile.

“You know you did. And you enjoyed it.”

“Yeah.” He patted the birthday girl on the shoulder and wished her a happy day. Then, without waiting for the group around Elyssa to disperse, he took her cart with one hand, closed the other over her arm and led her away.

“Where are we going?” she asked, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides.

“My office, the broom closet—anywhere we can be alone.” He tugged her into his office, locked the door and put his arms around her.

His kiss was hot and hungry. She shut her eyes and closed out everything but him. His scent, his taste.

She felt his hand on her breast, and a wild rush of pleasure engulfed her. Her legs went weak, and she clutched his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor. He made a sound of approval and pulled her nearer.

And then he lifted her. She clung to him dizzily as he set her on the edge of his desk. “Let me closer,” he said urgently, and she spread her legs, wrapped them around him. He pressed against her, his heat searing her right through her clothes.

The scream of a siren startled them both. They jolted apart, and both of them glanced out the window as an ambulance squealed to a stop. Elyssa’s breath still came in staccato pants as they turned back to each other.

Shocked at her response to him, Elyssa lowered her gaze. “I know this is going to sound fake, but the other night I said we were moving too fast. Maybe you won’t believe this, but I still think so.”

“Maybe you won’t believe this, but I think you’re right.” She heard the smile in his voice and looked up. “Shall we take a step back?” he asked.

“That would be good.” Not “good,” she thought, but sensible. She smoothed her clothes. He offered his hand and helped her down from the desk.

When her feet were on the floor, he didn’t let go. He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling. “Let’s not step back too far. Spend the evening with me.”

When she hesitated, he said, “I won’t ravish you, Scout’s honor. We’ll make it a ‘friendly’ evening—rent a movie, order a pizza and neck on the couch, okay?”

She smiled and reached for her cart. “Okay. Pepperoni and mushrooms on the pizza. And don’t rent one of those macho action movies.”

“Please don’t ask for a chick flick.”

“Something in between. Oh, and we’ll see about necking on the couch.”

She reached for the door, then glanced back as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his cheek. She chuckled. “You don’t have to worry. It’s special clown makeup. It doesn’t come off.” She opened the door. “See you later.”

At seven, when he was ready to leave the unit, Brett’s pager went off. One of his patients, a youngster who’d gone home several days ago, had suffered a severe reaction to her chemo and was on her way to the E.R. “Be right there.”

Quickly he phoned Elyssa. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I have an emergency. I could be here all night.”

“We’ll get together another evening,” she said. “No problem.”

But it was a problem, and one that wouldn’t go away. Regardless of what he’d said to Madigan about his personal life, he didn’t have a personal life. There simply was no time. How could he have forgotten what he’d learned long ago? Medicine and relationships didn’t mix.

But, he reminded himself, what he had with Elyssa wasn’t a relationship. What they had was pure old-fashioned lust, the kind that exploded like a firecracker, burned beautifully and brightly for a time, then fizzled. That he could manage.

She was disappointed, Elyssa admitted, but sitting around and brooding was useless. She’d spend the evening with Cassie. After the scary phone call earlier this week, she wasn’t keen on being alone.

“Come on over,” Cassie said when Elyssa called. “We can pig out on tuna bulgur salad and tofu pumpkin pie.”

“Yum-yum.”

“Sorry. It’s no fat or no dinner.”

Elyssa picked up a Big Mac and fries on the way. Bulgur—whatever that was—might be healthy but it wasn’t her idea of a Happy Meal.

Cassie leased a town house in a suburban area across town. ’Burb living wasn’t Cassie’s style, but the town house had been a steal, so she put up with a neighborhood full of SUVs and swing sets, Girl Scout cookie sales and Little League games.

Clad in a black body suit and ballet slippers, Cassie opened the door. Her hair was damp, and a fine sheen of sweat covered her face, no doubt from her daily exercise regimen. “Come on in,” she said. “Dinner’s on the table, and I want to hear all about your night out with the gorgeous doctor. Every juicy detail.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Elyssa said, following her into the kitchen.

“How long did you spend with him?”

“Three hours, I guess.”

“Then you must have something to tell,” Cassie insisted as she led the way to the table. “Come on, out with it. Everything from how the food tasted to how he tasted.”

Elyssa chuckled and ignored Cassie’s disapproving stare as she slid her burger onto the plate. To please her cousin, she served herself some salad and swallowed a forkful. “We had a wonderful time.”

“Hmm,” Cassie said. “So why aren’t you with him tonight?”

“He had an emergency.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “I miss him.”

“Well, hallelujah! It’s about time you let yourself enjoy being with a man. I can’t understand why it’s taken so long.” She held up a hand before Elyssa could answer. “Don’t blame it on Derek. You know he’s not worth it.”

“He’s not the only one who hurt me,” Elyssa said softly. Now that she was having a good experience with a man, it was easier to confide a painful one.

“Who else?” Cassie sounded like a mother lion ready to protect her cub.

“Max Dewitt.”

“Sounds familiar,” Cassie said. “I think I’ve seen his name in the paper.”

“Probably. He’s the CEO of Dewitt Consulting.”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t know you were seeing him.”

“I wasn’t,” Elyssa said. “He had a press party when he launched his company. We talked, he got me a drink, and we talked some more. That’s all.”

Cassie’s eyes sparkled. “That was all for you, but he fell madly in love.”

“It almost seemed that way,” Elyssa said. “He started calling, coming by the station, sending flowers.”

“Rich and romantic. So far so good. What about his looks?”

“He’s tall, tanned and handsome, with inky black hair and a black mustache. He reminded me of Antonio Banderas as Zorro. But I was involved with Derek and I wasn’t interested.”

“Foolish girl. Zorro, or rather Antonio, is a hunk.” Cassie pushed the bowl toward Elyssa. “More salad?”

“Um, no thanks. I’m full.”

“Of saturated fat. You’ve scarfed down a whole order of fries. Do you know what that does to your cellulite, not to mention your cholesterol?” She took the last serving of salad for herself. “So what happened? Did you brush him off?”

“I tried to. Then I had the accident. When I was in the hospital, he sent flowers every week. Afterward, when Derek broke things off and I really needed a boost, I went by to see Max to…to thank him for being so kind. I thought he was still interested—after all, I’d heard from him only a few weeks before. But once he got a look at me, it took him all of two minutes to show me the door.” She stared down at her plate. Even after all this time she still burned with humiliation, remembering how Max’s gaze had swept over her, how his eyes had grown cool and how quickly and ruthlessly he’d ushered her out of his office.

“Maybe he was busy.”

“Maybe, but he started seeing someone else. I was at the movies a few weeks later and I saw him with Lynette Harris, this gorgeous red-haired business reporter for the Indianapolis Clarion. Her face was perfect.” She touched her cheek, feeling the ridge of scar tissue where once-smooth skin had been.

As she stood across the lobby from Max, she’d longed for the day when she could prove something to him, could find some way to show him—and herself—that she was still desirable. She imagined him seeing her surrounded by admirers and oblivious to his presence. A childish dream, the kind she’d had when she was a teenager with a mouthful of braces. Scars weren’t like braces that eventually came off, leaving a perfect smile. Scars were forever.

Cassie glowered at her. “Stop acting like a victim.”

“I’m not—”

“You damn well are.” Cassie stomped off to the kitchen and banged her plate on the counter. Elyssa heard her open the refrigerator, then slam it shut. In a moment she returned, bringing the pie and two dessert plates. She sliced the pie, slapped a piece on one plate and shoved it toward Elyssa, then scowled at her. “You have no right, no reason to treat yourself this way.” She picked up her glass of mineral water and gulped. “What makes you think your face turned him off?”

“Isn’t it obvious? As soon as he saw me, he froze me out.”

Cassie gave a disgusted snort. “When did you go to see him?”

“Mid-June, I guess.”

“Hah! Wasn’t that just after you left Channel 9?” When Elyssa nodded, she said, “Well then, how about your loss of power? My guess is that’s why he lost interest.”

“I…don’t know.”

“Hasn’t Dewitt Consulting gotten a huge amount of publicity in the Clarion this year? In fact, I think I recently read a gushing column by none other than Lynette Harris. Convenient isn’t it, that he hooked up with a business reporter?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Elyssa murmured, giving her cousin a sheepish smile.

“Lucky you have me to do your thinking for you,” Cassie said with a smirk. “Forget Max,” she advised. “You’ve found a man who’s made it clear he cares about you—not your face, not your position.” She began clearing the table. “So why not have an affair?”

“Elyssa picked up her plate and followed Cassie into the kitchen. “I’m afraid we’d be moving too fast.”

“Pooh! Anyone would think you were an elderly turtle, the way you’re crawling along. Remember what Shakespeare said—‘She who keepeth tight hold of her heart risks strangling it to death.”’

Elyssa raised a brow. “Shakespeare? In what play?”

“Ummm…can’t remember.”

Elyssa chuckled. “Regardless of what ol’ Will said, Brett seems to understand. Tonight he suggested necking on the couch.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “Sounds like the fifties. A twenty-first-century woman would take his hand, lead him upstairs and slip into something more comfortable. Like skin. And then have safe but awesome sex.”

Elyssa laughed and shook her head. Then she pictured herself and Brett, cuddling on the couch, sharing wine and kisses, sharing warmth and breath…

“Wake up,” Cassie said, interrupting Elyssa’s fantasy. “Come on, I’ll give you a pedicure.”

“Deal,” Elyssa said, “but I want a normal color. No navy, no black, no chartreuse.”

“Spoilsport.” Cassie led the way to the bathroom.

An hour later with her toenails painted mulberry pink and Cassie’s emerald green, Elyssa hugged her cousin and left.

The night had grown misty. Elyssa wondered if it might rain. They could use it; the summer had been dry. She wiggled her toes as she drove. No one was better than Cassie at getting you out of a funk. She flipped on the radio and sang along with Shania Twain as she drove along the freeway feeder.

A car pulled out of a side street a block behind her. Since her accident Elyssa been careful about observing the speed limit, but the fellow behind her, driving a dark-colored vehicle, apparently had no such compunctions. He was in her lane and coming up fast.

Within seconds he was right behind her. “Dammit, stop tailgating me,” Elyssa shouted, and honked her horn. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She swerved to the right lane of the feeder so he could pass her, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled alongside her and matched his speed to hers. She couldn’t see him through the mist. Probably a crazy teenager high on something or some fiend who got his kicks by terrorizing women driving alone.

A memory flashed through her mind but so quickly she couldn’t hold on to it. All she could do was concentrate on driving…and pray.

Her phone was in her purse, across the passenger seat. She tried to reach for it, but the dark car edged closer. She slowed; he slowed.

Suddenly he swerved into her lane, crowding her over. His car was bare inches from hers. To her right was an undeveloped area—no houses, no streets to turn into. Just an empty field with a ditch running alongside it.

Elyssa knew that half a mile farther a concrete wall shielded a residential area from freeway noise. Her breath hitched. If he kept edging her over, she’d slam into it.

He inched closer. She couldn’t see him or hear him but she knew he was enjoying her fear.

She had no choice. She swung right and her car careened into the ditch.

With a blast of his horn, he roared away and disappeared into the night.