Laura Macdonald - The Police Doctor's Discovery

‘You’ve changed, you know, Rachel,’ he said at last.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said, ‘that sounds ominous. Although I suppose it’s inevitable, really, after all this time, that one would look older…’

‘I wasn’t talking about looking older.’

‘Well, I’m sorry I’m no longer pretty,’ she said with a short laugh.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly, and suddenly she realised he was right behind her, so close that if she moved as much as an inch they would be touching. She froze.

‘Your hair,’ he went on, ‘it’s lovely. You used to wear it shorter, but I like it long like that.’

She sensed rather than saw him reach out his hand, then was aware that he was touching her hair. This wasn’t happening, she told herself; she couldn’t let this happen—it had taken her months, no, years to get over him the last time, if she ever had. She simply couldn’t let it happen again. She moved away from him on the pretext of taking the sugar bowl from the cupboard above the worktops. Stretching up, she opened the cupboard doors, and it was then that she felt his arms go round her.

POLICE SURGEONS

Love, life and medicine—on the beat!

Working side by side—and sometimes hand in hand—

dedicated medical professionals join forces

with the police service for the very best

in emotional excitement!

From domestic disturbance to emergency-room drama,

working to prove innocence or guilt,

and finding passion and emotion along the way.

Laura MacDonald

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER ONE

‘NICK!’ She stopped dead as the main doors of Westhampstead Police Headquarters closed behind her and the dark-haired man talking to the desk sergeant turned to face her.

‘Rachel...?’ There was a flash of something in his eyes along with recognition—shock? Pleasure maybe? She wasn’t sure, she only knew that her heart had turned over at the sight of him and even now was hammering uncomfortably in her chest. ‘What are you doing here?’ The eyes as dark as his hair narrowed slightly.

‘I could ask you the same question.’ She managed to speak lightly, even though her heart continued to perform gymnastics at the sudden and unexpected sight of this man who had once meant so much to her.

‘I work here,’ he said simply, ‘or didn’t you know?’

‘I knew you were a policeman certainly, but I thought you were with the Metropolitan Police.’

‘I was,’ he said, ‘but I’ve recently transferred back here to Westhampstead.’

‘So we’ve both come home.’

‘You’ve returned?’

‘For the time being, yes.’ She swallowed, still struggling to control her reactions. ‘One of the partners at the group practice is taking a year’s sabbatical—I’m filling in for him.’

‘So how can we help you?’

‘Dr Beresford.’ The voice of the duty sergeant broke in and Nick Kowalski turned slightly towards the man, whom to Rachel’s relief seemed to know exactly who she was and why she was there. He extended his hand and enclosed hers in a huge paw-like grip. ‘I’m station sergeant—Harry Mason.’

‘I thought I’d come and familiarise myself with the place before I’m called out,’ said Rachel, aware that beside her Nick had grown very still.

‘Called out?’ He frowned and just for a moment Rachel was glad that she had this slight advantage over him.

‘Yes,’ she said smoothly, ‘I’m to provide medical cover for this station.’

‘I thought that was Steve O’Malley’s job,’ said Nick and Rachel thought she detected a sudden sharp edge to his voice, almost as if greeting her and talking to her were one thing but having her work there was another thing altogether.

‘It’s Steve who’s on sabbatical,’ she replied calmly. ‘Like I said, I’m taking his place.’

‘Have you done any police work before?’ It was almost an accusation and Rachel saw a frown cross Harry Mason’s face.

‘As it happens, yes, I have.’ She spoke coolly, in control now. ‘I was Police Doctor at my last practice in Stockport.’

‘Let me show you around.’ As if he sensed some sort of tension between the two of them, Harry Mason beckoned to a young constable to take over the desk.

But Nick interjected before the constable had time to move. ‘I’ll do that, Harry,’ he said curtly. Glancing at Rachel, he added, ‘If you have no objections?’

‘Well, no.’ She hesitated slightly, aware that Harry Mason seemed put out at having his role hijacked but at the same time suspecting that Nick Kowalski was pulling rank. ‘Of course not.’ She had no idea of Nick’s rank, as he was not in uniform, but as she followed him down the corridor she found her thoughts in turmoil. She’d known he’d gone into the police force, of course she had. Hadn’t there been conjecture at the time that Westhampstead’s wild boy might turn to enforcing the law instead of ending up behind bars, as so many had predicted he would?

Her suspicions of his high rank intensified as they passed a man in the corridor, also in plain clothes, who nodded at Nick and muttered the single word, ‘Guv.’

‘You’re CID?’ she asked as he led the way past a huge control room and opened the door of an office, standing back for her to precede him.

‘Yes.’ He nodded.

‘Rank?’ she asked as he closed the door behind them.

‘DCI.’

‘I’m impressed,’ she said softly. ‘Detective Chief Inspector—who would have thought it?’

‘Who indeed?’ His gaze met hers levelly. ‘Certainly not the good folk of Westhampstead, that’s for sure.’

‘You’ve done well, Nick.’ She glanced around the office as she spoke, at the desk, the filing cabinets, the computer and phones—anywhere rather than at the dark gaze that was still levelled at her with that same, albeit slight measure of accusation, as if for all those years he’d carried the assumption that she and her family, and indeed many others in their home town, had believed he would never amount to much.

‘Yes, well.’ He shrugged, then, his eyes narrowing again, he added, ‘You haven’t done so bad yourself, Rachel—but, then, I don’t think there was ever any doubt that you would.’ He paused but his comments were loaded and for a moment, as once again her gaze was dragged back to his own, they were both transported back to their youth and the anguish of the love they had shared.

‘So.’ It was Nick who recovered first, apparently pulling himself together and turning his head away from her so that she couldn’t see the pain that had flared in his eyes. ‘Do you think you might stay in Westhampstead this time?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘Steve has only gone for a year—but if I like it here there may be an opening at the practice when Calvin Davenport, the senior partner, retires. So, who knows? I may just decide to stay.’