Sandra Orchard - Critical Condition

“Miss Peterson...” Zach tapped on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need your help.”

Looking a little stunned, Tara lifted her gaze to his. “My help?”

“With the computer setup for your nurse’s station.” When she hesitated, it was all he could do not to grab her by the wrist and yank her out of the room. Something he should’ve done the instant he’d heard the word murderer come out of her mouth. “Please.”

“Yes, of course.” She followed him to the door, and he motioned her to go ahead of him.

Dr. Whittaker passed them with a cursory glance. “What was all that yelling about?” he asked, stepping into the staff lounge.

“Tara was ranting about the murderer again,” one of the nurses said.

Zach couldn’t make out Whittaker’s riled response—something about bad press—but Tara must’ve heard, because she clenched her fingers into a fist.

“I can’t believe the police aren’t doing anything,” she muttered.

Zach steered her to the privacy of the empty nurse’s station. “About what?” he asked, since she had no idea why he was really here. He couldn’t believe that she’d all but thrown down the gauntlet for a murderer to come after her.

Maybe he should have taken Rick up on the option to let her in on the operation.

Clearly heartened by his interest, Tara seemed to forget about his computer questions and explained in detail what happened the night of Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s alleged murders.

He nodded as if it were all news to him. “I can see how important finding this person is to you, but you might not want to broadcast your intentions.”

Her face blanched. “You think he’d come after me?”

“It sounds like you’re the only witness.”

“But I didn’t see who shoved me,” she insisted.

“He—or she—wouldn’t know that. Chances are that he didn’t even know whom he’d shoved out of his way until...”

Tara’s bottom lip trembled. “Until I opened my mouth.”

Offering an empathetic smile, Zach nudged her toward a desk chair. “You weren’t exactly keeping your voice down.”

Her teeth dug into her lip, stilling the tremble, and the vulnerability in her eyes—those enormous eyes he couldn’t tear his gaze from—completely undid him.

She sank into the chair. “What am I going to do?”

“I’d suggest stop talking about what you saw.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand.... There have been other suspicious deaths.”

The anguish in her voice had him debating whether he’d be better off letting her in on his undercover operation. If she kept up these tirades, she’d not only give the supposed murderer a reason to silence her, she’d make Zach’s job a whole lot tougher. “Suspicious how?” he asked, pulling a chair next to hers. He scrolled through a couple of computer screens so they’d appear to be looking over the new software.

“Sudden, inexplicable fevers. Besides Mr. and Mrs. Parker’s death last week, we had an incident a couple of months ago, and another, Ellen Clark, the night before last. But the police still won’t believe me. If only I’d done more to convince them...” Her voice hitched. “I might have saved her.”

Rick had told Zach about Miss Clark. The woman had been presented in the E.R. with the same symptoms as Debra Parker.

“The doctors and nurse who tried to resuscitate Mrs. Parker say I’m crazy.” Tara’s fingers did a frenetic dance along the edge of the table, and Zach had to resist the urge to still them. “They say the high fever triggered the seizure that killed Debra. But they can’t explain the fever.”

“How do your colleagues account for the husband’s death?”

“Dr. Whittaker figures that witnessing his wife’s seizure triggered a heart attack and made Mr. Parker spout the—” Tara made air quotes “—nonsense about stopping a killer. But someone else was in that hospital room.” She held up her bandaged wrist. “That’s how I got this. And he’s already struck again. Don’t you see? That’s why I can’t stay quiet.”

That’s what Zach was afraid of. Maybe the smartest thing would be to tell her he was a cop.

“Do you realize you’re the first person who’s taken my concerns seriously?”

Zach lowered his voice. “I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel that way. And I am concerned, especially if this person has figured out you’re a witness.” He recognized the moment his implication sank in.

Tara’s determined expression wilted, but then she suddenly bolted to her feet. “My daughter.”

Zach’s heart skidded to a halt at the thought of a killer going after her child. “Where is she?”

“The hospital daycare. You don’t think—?” Tara raced to the elevator without finishing the thought he could guess all too well.

He rushed after her.

The elevator doors closed before Tara reached them. She slapped the button, and when they didn’t reopen, she took off down the stairwell.

“Tara, wait,” Zach called after her. He’d wanted to scare some sense into her, not scare her senseless. He had to tell her who he really was.

At the bottom of the stairs, he caught her arm and hauled her to a stop. “You need to calm down.” He gripped her shoulders. “You don’t want your little girl to sense your fear, do you?”

The air swooshed from her lungs. “No, but—”

“Shh.” He touched his fingertips to her lips, and a jab of awareness pinged through him. What was he doing?

Her eyes grew even larger, if that were possible.

Instantly, he dropped his hands to his sides. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t in any danger, but after hearing her account firsthand, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “I need to tell you something.”

A door above them banged open.

Instinctively, Zach stepped between Tara and the stairs. A couple of housekeepers hurried down a flight and exited on the next floor. “Let’s talk outside,” Zach suggested.

“Not until I get Suzie.” Tara’s voice edged higher.

Zach cringed. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of her daughter. “She’ll be safe in the daycare.”

Tara glanced at her watch. “My shift finished ten minutes ago—she’ll be expecting me.” Tara yanked open the stairwell door and strode to the daycare center.

Zach waited in the hallway, debating whether he should call Rick before disclosing his true occupation. But one glimpse of the rosy-cheeked tot Tara swept into her arms had him deciding he’d rather remind Rick, after the fact, that he’d given Zach that option. When Tara emerged carrying the girl on one hip, Zach gave the child a goofy grin. “Hey, Suzie, my name’s Zach. How old are you?”

The tot smushed her baby finger and thumb against her palm and proudly displayed three fingers.

“Three, wow! You’re a big girl.”

Her golden ringlets bobbed as she stretched herself taller, straining the seams of her yellow jumper.

“Careful, honey,” Tara singsonged in that sweet, high-pitched tone women seemed to use with anyone under two and a half feet. “Mommy’s wrist is sore. Remember?”

Suzie thrust her arms into the air and flung herself toward Zach.

Swallowing his surprise, he scooped her into his arms. “I got you, you little munchkin. We’re giving Mommy’s boo-boo a rest, are we?”

“I’m sorry.” Tara reached for the child.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind carrying her for you.”

A strange expression flitted across Tara’s face, followed by a manufactured smile. Her arms dropped to her sides. “Thank you.”

Considering her contradictory response, he didn’t know whether to apologize or say “you’re welcome.” So he led the way to the back exit. A mirror hung by the door. Zach tapped Suzie’s reflection. “Who’s that?”