Susan Sleeman - Emergency Response

“Better?” he asked, his gaze tender as he pressed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

She didn’t know how to reply and silence hung heavy between them. She should fill the quiet with words, with something, but she didn’t want to admit that outside of his arms she felt afraid. If she did, he would insist on protecting her and that wouldn’t be good for either of them. Nor would she lie and say she was okay.

She opted to simply take another step back and ignore his question. “Do you think my attacker will try to finish what he started?”

“If he thinks you can identify him, yes.” Frowning, Noah flipped a page in his notebook. “If the attack was random—just you being in the wrong place at the wrong time—then there’s a good chance he won’t know where to find you. But there’s always the possibility that he specifically targeted you. If that’s the case, then he might know your name or how to track you down. Have you thought of a possible motive for the attack?”

“Motive? No. I have no idea who he is or why he did this. He was just suddenly there, behind me, grabbing me around the throat.” She touched her neck, feeling the tenderness.

Noah ground his teeth for a moment. “Do you think the attack could be related to your work? Like maybe you treated a guy on one of your ambulance runs, and he’s mad at you for some reason?”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” She paused to think about it. “I see people when they’re in crisis. Sometimes it sets them off, but to attack me for it? Seems far-fetched. And I don’t remember a patient who looks like him, but maybe.” She shrugged. “I treat so many people in a day...”

“Still, I’m thinking you’d remember someone mad enough to want to kill you.”

“I hope so. If I don’t, I’m not very in tune with the care they need. Which likely means this isn’t related to work.”

He jotted a note on his pad. “I’ll still request a list of your callouts for the last few weeks, and we’ll start there.”

“We?” she asked, the word fighting its way up her throat. “You’re going to be working this case?”

“The jerk was shooting to kill. He’ll be charged with attempted murder and that falls within homicide’s purview.” He studied her, his eyes a piercing gray instead of the usual muted blue. “Is that a problem?”

Of course it is. On a personal level. But what about the professional? It was a blessing to have a top Portland detective working this investigation. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

He shoved his notebook into his pocket. “I’ll get the description out to patrol, then escort you home. If I know your squad, they’ll want to hear the whole story, and you can give me your full statement then.”

“Whole story? You think they’ll stop at that? They’re going to want to see the forensic evidence, too.” Despite her ongoing fear, the thought of her teammates having her back made her smile. “And they’ll hound you during this investigation to make sure you’re doing everything you can to bring this guy in. So be prepared.”

“No worries there.” His expression sobered. “I won’t stop until this creep is behind bars.”

The dedication in his voice surprised her, and she didn’t know how to respond so she simply stared at him. As if embarrassed at the emotions he’d displayed, he suddenly spun and pushed open Pilar’s door.

At the sound of Isabel’s voice, Darcie grabbed Noah’s arm. “Wait.”

He turned, his hand resting on the slightly open door. “What is it?”

“Since you’ve been helping with Isabel you should know that Isabel and Pilar will be staying with me in my condo.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“The condo is small and we’ll be a little cramped, but with the gunshot wound Pilar can’t care for Isabel so I’ll be taking over.”

“I’m not talking about the accommodations.” He made strong eye contact. “Since we know nothing about the shooter, this incident could be related to your relationship with Pilar and Isabel.”

“Pilar and Isabel? How?”

“Mayte may be in rehab, but she still has deep connections with the drug world.” He scrubbed a hand over his face as if the thought made him weary. “Based on the clothing the suspect wore, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gangster, and you know that means drugs. They could be trying to send a warning to Mayte.”

Darcie swiveled to look through the open doorway at Isabel. If this incident was related to her mother’s past, it was an even more compelling reason to put Isabel under the protection of the FRS at the restored firehouse where they all lived together. No matter what Noah said or thought.

Darcie widened her stance and planted her feet as she often did with unruly patients to let them know she was in charge. “Pilar has to spend the night here, but Isabel will be coming home with me today and I will pick up Pilar tomorrow.”

Noah released the door and stepped close enough that she could see slivers of black mixing with the gray in his eyes. “Let me be clear about this, Darcie, so you know the risk. If we’re dealing with gangbangers, they won’t care who gets in the way. Bringing Isabel and Pilar home with you could put you and the whole FRS team in danger.”

He spoke the truth, but what else could she do? She didn’t want to put her coworkers—her friends—in danger, but if she presented her case to them, she knew they’d all agree with her decision.

She reaffirmed her stance. “You know as well as I do that everyone on the team puts the lives and safety of others first. They’ll risk a little danger to protect an innocent child and her grandmother and none of them will even bat a lash.”

THREE

Noah paced the communal living area on the first floor of the team’s remodeled firehouse. Upper floors of the historic building held individual condos for the team members, while the kitchen, dining room and game room were available to them on the main level. Kerr Development once owned the historic building and had it slated to be sold until Darcie saved Winnie Kerr’s life on a callout. Winnie was so grateful for Darcie’s care and ensuing friendship that she remodeled the firehouse as a home for the entire FRS. She donated the building to the county, along with an endowment that allowed the team to live there rent-free. A sweet deal for all of them.

Tonight all of the team members and their significant others had gathered for a group dinner, but Darcie’s attack changed everything. They’d put dinner on hold and waited for Darcie to provide details of the assault after she took Isabel upstairs for a nap.

Noah had to give the team credit. They’d restrained their natural instinct to take charge and go barreling out the door to find Darcie’s attacker right away. Any one of them, from team leader Jake Marsh, to sniper Brady Owens, bomb expert Cash Dixon, or negotiators Skyler Hunter and Archer Reed, were capable of mounting a hunt for Darcie’s attacker. Instead, they’d patiently sat in wait. Maybe it had to do with the addition of Skyler’s husband, or Brady’s and Cash’s fiancées to the group. Maybe they served as a calming influence on the high-strung team.

Brady suddenly shot to his feet. He never sat still for long and had been whittling away on a chunk of wood, the shavings piling up near his feet. “How long does it take to get a kid to sleep?”

“Cut her some slack, honey.” His fiancée, Morgan, looked up from where she perched on the arm of the chair he’d occupied. “After Isabel’s scare, Darcie likely wants to be sure she’s sound asleep before leaving her alone.”

“I know, but—” He dropped back into the chair.

Morgan pressed a finger against his lips and surprisingly, he smiled up at her and didn’t argue, but fell silent.