Linda Johnston - Special Agent Nanny

Quickly she dialed 9-1-1 and gave the particulars. The operator promised to send firefighters immediately.

“Fire!” she shouted again. “Is anyone here?”

No reply. Good. Maybe everyone else had left.

But she couldn’t be certain.

Kelley glanced up at the walls, looking for a building fire alarm. The whole hospital should be alerted. The evacuation plan might need to be implemented.

She had to get out, too. But first she needed to make sure no one was in danger.

There was a fire alarm outside the child-care facility. She would go down the hall that far and pull the alarm. She had to make sure no one remained inside. No child. Jenny.

KidClub was three quarters of the way down this relatively short hallway. Its door was closed but not locked. The lights were still on.

The smell of the surrounding smoke gagged her.

She ran inside, checked the three large playrooms. The kitchen. The bathroom.

Thankfully, no one was there.

She hustled back to the corridor. A crackling roar filled the air from down the hall. The smoke was thicker. She coughed as she broke the glass and set off the alarm. The cacophonous pulsing blare surrounded her.

Where was the fire? In the large records storage room at the end? No one would be there, but all that paper would provide a huge source of fuel.

She coughed again. Her eyes stung, teared. She had to get out. “Is anyone here?” she called again to be sure.

And heard something.

Was it her imagination? The sound had been so tiny compared with the alarm and the thundering from the end of the hall, punctuated now by an occasional crash.

She had to check.

It wasn’t easy to see with her eyes smarting. A hand on the wall, she inched along. “Who’s there?” she called.

And heard the noise again. Like a child’s whimper.

“Please, God, no,” Kelley murmured, moving faster.

Another short hall veered from the main corridor. Kelley tried to peer down it, then heard a small voice. “Mommy!”

“Jenny? Oh Lord, Jenny?” Kelley shoved at the air, as if to erase the smoke. Below, on the floor, she got a glimpse of bright yellow.

Jenny had worn her bright yellow jumper that morning.

Kelley knelt. Her tiny, blond-haired daughter was crouched on the floor. At least there the smoke was not as thick, but Jenny coughed as Kelley lifted her into her arms and hugged her tight. The tears running down her face now were not entirely due to the fire.

Where the hell was Randall? How could he have left their daughter alone?

No matter now. There would be plenty of time to censure him, once Jenny and she were safe.

Coughing as she reentered the main corridor, her precious cargo snugged safely against her, Kelley glanced right. The only area on fire seemed to be the records room. She’d seen no one flee after she’d cried out and set off the alarm. Hopefully, no one else was here.

The siren still shrieking, Kelley hurried away from the smoke to the outside where people gathered in excitement and concern.

Her daughter and she would be fine, though they’d both have to be checked for smoke inhalation.

But thank heavens the only damage appeared to be to paperwork. Things. Hospital records.

The fire was certainly unfortunate.

But at least there should be no major consequences.

The Present

“You want me to what?” Shawn Jameson shoved his chair back from the table, stood and stared at Colleen Wellesley. “You can’t be serious.”

His boss crossed her arms without rising. About forty-five years old, with irritation narrowing her blue-green eyes, she appeared very serious. And that did not make Shawn happy at all. “You’ve got your orders,” she said quietly. “Your cover will be as a caregiver in the child-care center at Gilpin Hospital.” She was dressed like a rancher in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans. But that did not keep her from looking authoritative.

Shawn heard muffled laughter. He turned to glare at Fiona Clark, another Colorado Confidential operative, who had joined Colleen and him in the secret, basement meeting room of the Royal Flush Ranch. By the time he was able to turn a fierce gaze on her, the blond former FBI agent had pasted a sympathetic expression on her face. But there was mirth in her brown eyes.

Fiona, like Shawn, was dressed similarly to Colleen for hard work on the ranch—but that was not all they were here for. In keeping with his cover, Shawn wore a leather vest over a comfortable blue work shirt that was tucked into well-worn, faded jeans. He’d bought his boots in Texas when, while in training, he’d visited the Smoking Barrel Ranch, the cover for the original Confidential agency.

Shawn turned back toward Colleen. What could he do? These were his first orders directly from her, though she’d been his employer for a while. He had joined the staff of Investigations, Confidential and Undercover, a private investigation agency known as ICU, a couple of years ago. At first, he’d been aware that there was a secretive boss, known only as C. Wellesley, in the background calling the shots. He had only recently learned she was a woman, and even more recently met her. Here. On the ranch. When she had recruited him into Colorado Confidential, a very new, very special covert arm of the Colorado Department of Public Safety. He’d undergone training here for the past few months. It was definitely time to go to work.

But this…?

“What the hell—er, heck—do I know about tending a bunch of kids?” He ran his fingers through his short, dark blond hair in frustration. “You hear that? I don’t even know how the hell to watch my language.”

“You’ll learn,” Colleen said mildly. “Either that, or the kids’ll bring home some interesting new vocabulary.”

“Damn.” This wasn’t getting Shawn anywhere. He thought fast, taking his seat at the table once more. “Look, Colleen,” he said in a cool and logical tone. “You have someone here who can undoubtedly do a better job with this than me—Fifi.”

A growl issued from behind him. Fiona hated that nickname, but she had earned his use of it now by laughing at him.

“The fact that Fiona is female doesn’t mean she’d do better with this cover than you, Shawn,” Colleen said mildly. “And this assignment requires someone with your particular expertise—arson investigation. You do know something about that, don’t you?”

She knew full well he did. He had devoted his life to fighting fires—and to bringing down the people who set them. With good reason. Damned good reason.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “I know something about that.”

“There’s more to the situation than the fire that destroyed the records department of Gilpin Hospital six weeks ago,” Colleen continued. “Wiley Longbottom thinks that the fire could be connected to the flu epidemic that ran through Silver Rapids a few months back.” Longbottom was the director of the Colorado Department of Public Safety. Colleen reported to him. “He believes there’s a chance the flu was caused by the same type of microbe found in the blood samples Michael took from the sheep at the Half Spur Ranch.”

Michael Wellesley, Colleen’s brother, had just returned from an undercover assignment at that sheep ranch, which was partially owned by powerful Colorado senator Franklin Gettys. Not a man you wanted to accuse of anything without indisputable proof. He’d also brought back an unanticipated reward, his new love, Nicola Carson. She’d been the target of an assassin, and was staying at the Royal Flush under Michael’s personal protection.

Colleen continued in a deceptively mild voice, “And if so, we definitely need more information. When we got the test results from the Center for Disease Control, the blood samples showed antibodies for Q fever.”