Эль Кеннеди – Silent Watch (страница 8)

For some inexplicable reason, he wondered about the woman behind the profile. How had she felt growing up with only her brother? Why had she chosen to become a model? Why hadn’t there been a man in her life to help her heal after the attack?

That those questions should even be important to him was more troubling than he’d have liked to admit.

“I grew up here.” She shrugged and met his eyes. “All the places I’ve traveled never seemed to compare. This is home. At least, it used to be.”

He cleared his throat, knowing that he couldn’t offer assurance that she’d be able to leave her farmhouse anytime soon. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get settled?” he suggested. “You can take the guest room at the end of the hall.”

She nodded. “All right. When are we going to the hospital?”

He glanced at his watch. Quarter to five. “Probably around nine,” he answered. “Visiting hours end at eight but we want to make sure the press isn’t lingering around when we get there. If it were up to me, we’d go much later, but Elaine’s doctor says she needs to rest. No late-night visits.”

“Have you met her before?” Sam’s voice was soft.

“Yes.”

Her knowing gaze told him she’d caught the hitch in his voice. “She’s not in very good shape, is she?”

Blake swallowed. “No. She’s not.”

“Your name is Lois Lawford,” Rick Scott said. He turned the key in the ignition and backed the unmarked sedan out of Blake’s driveway. “You’re Elaine’s sister.”

Sam managed a nod, her heartbeat accelerating and palms growing damp as she stared at Blake’s house in the rearview mirror, slowly disappearing from sight. She felt like a kid on her first day of school, nervous, panicked over leaving behind the familiar and delving into the unknown. Only what lay in store for her wasn’t a strange classroom and a bunch of kids she’d never met—she was about to meet a woman who’d suffered as much as she had. And the thought of looking into another survivor’s eyes and seeing everything she herself had felt mere months ago was unbelievably nerve-wracking.

At least nobody would recognize her in this getup. The frumpy sweater and baggy jeans Rick had asked her to change into were uncomfortable, the short blond wig on her head was making her scalp itch and the thick black eyeglasses pinched her nose. A young female cop from the Chicago PD had stopped by Blake’s house to apply Sam’s makeup, and the woman had done a good job. Sam’s complexion was now darker, hinting at Mediterranean descent. The shadows under her eyes gave her face a sunken look, and there was even a small mole over her top lip now. She’d barely recognized herself when she’d glanced in the mirror. The whole disguise made her feel homely and out of sorts.

Her nerves began to skitter as Rick drove in the direction of Chicago General. The last time she’d been there was as a patient, not a visitor, and those memories were far too fresh, far too raw, to forget. For a second she was tempted to order Rick to turn the car around and drive her back to Blake’s where she’d felt safe, but she quickly tamped down the irrational urge.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help with the investigation. She would do anything to put the man who’d attacked her behind bars. But wanting to help and experiencing her own trauma again were two different things. Sure, she could browse through mug shots, hope to miraculously identify a man whose face she’d never even seen. But staring into the tortured eyes of another victim and hearing the tormenting tale that would no doubt mirror her own?

God, she didn’t know if she could do it.

Hoping that talking about the investigation would ease her anxiety, she glanced at Rick. “Is Lois Elaine’s older or younger sister?”

“Older. You’re a journalist from DC, but weren’t able to get away until now. You and Elaine were never really close.” Rick smiled faintly. “I guess that sort of makes you insensitive, for not coming to see your sister sooner.”

“As long as nobody finds out who I am, I’m fine with being seen as insensitive.” She hesitated, briefly staring at the dark road ahead before turning back to Rick. “Why didn’t Blake come with us?”

“He went on ahead. He’s arranging for a couple of cops from the Chicago PD task force to keep an eye on the hospital entrance while you’re inside. Just to make sure any reporters are kept in line.”

“Oh.”

Her hands trembled. She didn’t know why Blake’s absence bothered her, but it did. She’d come to trust Blake Corwin—at least as much as she could trust anyone. Something about his tall, powerful body made her feel protected, feel as if he would step in front of a bullet if it meant saving her life. Which was a little ironic, considering that, one, she barely knew the man, and, two, he’d put her in danger just by bringing her back here. By bringing her back from the dead.

“Wait, reporters?” she said suddenly, focusing on Rick’s last remark. “Why would reporters be there? Elaine was declared dead.”

Rick shrugged. “Hoping to get an interview with her doctor maybe, or find a nurse willing to talk about what happened. Elaine is in the ICU, pretty much the only area those vultures can’t get into, so I don’t think they suspect that she might be alive. I think they just want any scrap of information they can get about this case. A serial killer in Chicago?” His mouth twisted drily. “That’s big news.”

The hospital came into view, its lights illuminating the dark neighborhood. An ambulance whizzed past their car, sirens blaring as it sped toward the emergency entrance of the massive gray building.

Rick drove right past the main lot and toward a narrow alley in the back. The cargo area, she realized.

“He’s not always so intense, by the way,” Rick said suddenly.

She swallowed. “What?”

“Blake.” He grinned. “He’s not as intimidating as he’d like everyone to believe.”

A half-mocking smile reached her lips. “Really? I would never have guessed.”

Rick parked the car. “He’s usually a lot more relaxed. Smiles more often, too. This case is really getting to him.”

Boy, didn’t she know it.

Rick unbuckled his seat belt and searched her face, his pale-blue eyes tinged with encouragement. “Are you ready?”

She took a breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Chapter 4

Getting to Elaine Woodman’s room was surprisingly easy and went without a hitch. The orderly who’d met them hadn’t seemed the least bit suspicious by her backdoor arrival. As it turned out, a few reporters were still hanging around the lobby, but on an unrelated case. Apparently, a popular movie star’s wife had been admitted earlier in the evening, experiencing complications from a much-publicized pregnancy. Whether the orderly who let them in thought Sam was connected to that particular story, she didn’t know. She didn’t care, either, as long as she entered and left this hospital undetected.

She and Rick rode a service elevator up to the brightly lit ICU, where they were met by Henry Darwitz, Elaine’s doctor. Sam introduced herself as Elaine’s sister, and with a brisk nod, the doctor left her and Rick in front of Elaine’s private room.

“Kira Lawford,” she muttered, reading the chart hanging by the door. She turned to the agent beside her. “Huh. Her alias is almost like mine, but with the initials flipped.”

Rick shrugged. “I don’t pick the names.”

The sound of footsteps echoed in the deserted corridor and Sam instinctively glanced up. A petite blonde in a nurse’s uniform walked past them, heading toward the nurses’ station nearby. Sam’s nerves eased as she saw the woman rummage around on the desk, her gaze never once drifting in their direction.

Turning around, Sam stared at the closed blinds over the window of Elaine’s room, wishing she could peer through them to get a look at the woman inside. She wanted to be prepared when she walked in, wanted to see Elaine’s face before she stirred up painful wounds.

“Do you think she’ll talk to me?” she asked quietly.

Rick looked grim. “Let’s hope so.”

Taking a steadying breath, she reached for the door and slowly pushed it open.

Darkness engulfed her, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Her gaze was drawn to the bed in the center of the room. Elaine Woodman lay there, a thin sheet pulled all the way up to her chin, her eyes closed. The way Elaine’s honey-brown hair fanned across the stark white pillow made her look like a sleeping angel. Like nothing more than a pretty young woman dozing in her bed.

A voice suddenly ripped through the darkness. “Who are you?”

Sam took a step closer and found a pair of sharp green eyes zeroing in on her. Wary. Fearful. The slice of moonlight filtering in through the filmy curtains made those eyes appear larger, brighter, a vivid emerald tint that gave them a catlike quality.

“Did I wake you?” Sam asked, stepping toward the bed.

Elaine reached out and grasped the top of the sheet tighter, pulling it higher, and that’s when Sam noticed the bandages on her slender wrists. Almost unconsciously, she glanced down at her own wrists, making out the jagged white scars even in the darkness.

“Who are you?” Elaine repeated, sliding up into a sitting position. “What do you want?”