Delores Fossen - The Texas Lawman's Last Stand

“You have a lovely home,” she commented. She folded her arms over her chest and tipped her head to the photo on the mantel. “That’s your wife?”

Bo glanced at the photo of Nadine. She sported a grin from ear to ear, because that picture had been taken the day she learned she was pregnant.

“My late wife,” he corrected. “She died not long after giving birth.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” It sounded heartfelt, as if the loss had been hers, as well. Strange. “Do you have a son or daughter?”

“Both. I have twins.”

She glanced away but not before Bo saw something flicker through her eyes. What, exactly, he didn’t know, but it didn’t seem to be a normal reaction.

“I remember your name now,” she continued. “Wasn’t your wife at the San Antonio Maternity Hospital during that hostage standoff?”

Bo let the question dangle between them for several seconds. It was definitely an uncomfortable silence, and if he’d had any doubts that his guest was nervous, he didn’t have them after that. “That’s right. My wife had the babies by herself while hiding in a nurses’ lounge. She had internal bleeding and died.”

The lack of emotion in his tone certainly didn’t mean there was a lack of emotion in his heart. No. Losing Nadine had been the most difficult thing he had ever faced. If it hadn’t been for the babies, he would have shut down and died emotionally right along with her. But he’d survived for their children and because that’s what Nadine would have expected him to do.

“So, you had questions about the neighborhood?” Bo asked, changing the subject.

She nodded. “Um, is it safe?”

He thought of the van and hesitated. “I’m a cop. I wouldn’t be living here with my children if it wasn’t.”

Another nod. She moistened her lips. Hell. That mouth was so familiar. Where had he seen it before?

“Are you from San Antonio?” he asked.

“No. Born and raised in Dallas, but for the past two years I’ve been traveling so much that I don’t really have a place to call home.”

“No family?”

There it was. Another flicker in her eyes before she glanced away again. “No family.”

“You’re not a very good liar.” Bo hadn’t intended to be so blunt, but frankly he was tired of this conversation. For a woman who wanted to know about the neighborhood, she didn’t have much interest in it. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Stared at him. And looked even more uncomfortable. He knew how she felt. Bo was uncomfortable, too.

He stared at her, waiting for an explanation that one way or another he was going to get. He wouldn’t let her leave until he knew if she were connected to that van. He was about to toss that particular accusation at her, when something flashed in his head.

And he knew where he’d seen that face and that mouth.

“I know why you look so familiar,” he told her. “The surveillance video at the hospital.”

She shook her head. “What video?”

“The one I studied a thousand times after the hostage standoff. A woman wearing green scrubs left the area of the nurses’ lounge only seconds before I got there. The hair is different, darker, but the mouth—it’s the same.”

She didn’t deny it. In fact, her body language confirmed it. “I have a problem,” she practically whispered. “A serious one.”

“Yeah, you do. You left the scene of a crime, lady, and the police want to question you. Hell, I want to question you. What were you doing in that nurses’ lounge with my wife and newborn babies?”

She stood there, blinking hard as if fighting back tears. “I was a hostage, too. I was trapped there like everyone else on the ward.”

Bo hadn’t known what answer to expect, and he wasn’t sure yet if he believed her. After all, she’d fled the scene, and people didn’t usually do that sort of thing unless they were running from the law. But there was something in her voice. Something in her eyes. Some deep pain. Bo understood that and knew she probably wasn’t faking it. He’d already determined she wasn’t much of a liar.

He went closer to her so he could keep watch with his lie-detector eyes. “You were with my wife?”

“Yes.” She sank down onto the sofa and looked at her hands. “After the gunmen stormed into the hospital ward, they fired some shots at the ceiling. People ran. Obviously, there was chaos. And Nadine was in the labor room next to me. Our labors were just starting so we were able to get out of our beds and hide.”

Each bit of information was a mixed blessing. For months, he’d wanted to know what Nadine had endured in those last hours, but since she’d never been able to tell him herself, he had been the one to try to fill in the blanks. As a cop, those blanks had been filled with gruesome images. Now, he had the chance to learn the truth. Well, maybe.

If this woman was telling the truth.

Because his legs suddenly felt unsteady, Bo had to sit, as well. He took the chair across from her. “How did you get from the labor rooms to the nurses’ lounge?”

“The gunmen were trying to gather everyone into the hall outside the delivery suites. Nadine and I waited until the gunmen were in one of the other rooms, and that’s when we left. We used the back hall and followed it to the nurses’ lounge.”

She fidgeted with the clasp on her purse, finally got it open, extracted a mint and popped it into her mouth. “There was a TV in the lounge, and we were able to figure out what was going on.”

Yes. He remembered the TV. It was still on with the volume muted when he got to Nadine. “You didn’t try to contact anyone? “

“There was no phone in the lounge, and neither of us had our cells with us. We’d left them in the labor rooms. Then, it wasn’t long before the pain made it impossible to try to escape. So, we stayed put … and helped each other.”

Just hearing this reopened all the old wounds. The pain. Hell. Several hours before the hostage standoff had begun, Nadine had called him from her routine doctor appointment. Her cervix was dilated, she’d said, and the doctor wanted to go ahead and admit her to the hospital.

Bo knew he should have been there to protect her. And he would have been if there hadn’t been a damn traffic accident. That fifteen-minute delay had meant the difference between life and death. Because if he’d been there at the hospital, he could have gotten Nadine the help she needed, and she might not have died from complications.

He pushed aside those regrets and focused on his guest. “Why are you really here? And please don’t try to lie and say it’s because you’re interested in the neighborhood.”

She nodded, paused again. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the nurses’ lounge.”

“Good. Because I’m all ears. And while you’re at it, why don’t you explain why you fled the scene?”

Silence. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a response. There was plenty of nonverbal stuff going on. Increased respiratory rate. Her pulse, working on her throat. Bo didn’t care for any of it. Nor did he care for her. This woman clearly had some secrets, and he didn’t plan for them to be secrets much longer.

He came out of the chair, startling his guest with his abrupt movement. Ms. Cooper jumped to her feet and looked ready to run, but Bo caught on to her shoulders to stop her.

“You will tell me what happened,” he insisted. But then he got a sickening thought. “Did you know the gunmen? Were you their partner?”

Her eyes widened. “No.”

“And why should I believe you?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer. That’s because they heard the rushed footsteps.