Just A Little Bit Dangerous Part 24

"I think it's worth talking to her."

"Yeah."

"Could be a wild-goose chase."

"Or maybe someone at Mercy General has a dirty little secret."

Buzz reached for his cell phone, and dialed a number, and barked to someone at the other end, "I need a background search on Donna Sullivan." He frowned. "No date of birth. Yeah, I know I'm not a cop anymore." The frown deepened. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me. Yeah, that one. Tell it to someone who cares. Call me." After disconnecting, he looked over at Jake and grinned. "d.a.m.n, I miss being a cop."

It was nearly midnight when the clang of steel doors reverberated down the long, narrow hall of the Chaffee County Jail. Abby was lying on the threadbare cot with the single blanket over her, staring at the wall. Her nerves jangled at the sound of voices. She told herself it wasn't Jake, that he hadn't come to see her. That she was a fool for thinking he would show up. But she couldn't keep the swift rush of hope from jumping through her.

The thought of seeing him again made her heart sing. G.o.d, she must look a mess. Her hair was sticking out all over the place. Her eyes felt swollen from crying. Her face was probably ghastly pale. Quickly, she ran her fingers through her hair and pinched her cheeks to give herself some color. Jumping to her feet, she ran over to the bars and strained to see down the hall.

Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw a female deputy flanked by two men in suits. Abby didn't recognize the men. They might have been D.O.C., but she couldn't be sure.

"Nichols, stand back from the door," the deputy said.

The drill was so ingrained, Abby stepped back. The deputy proceeded to unlock the door while the men in suits regarded her emotionlessly.

"W-what's happening?" she asked.

The female deputy walked in. "Turn around and give me your wrists."

Abby's heart began to race, a cold block of dread forming in her gut. Telling herself not to overreact, that this could very well be legitimate, she took a deep breath. "Please, tell me what this is all about."

"You're being transferred back to Buena Vista."

"But I thought I was scheduled for an arraignment tomorrow morning in Chaffee County."

"Give me your wrists," the deputy said.

Ignoring the order, Abby looked at the men. "Can I see some ID?"

One of the men laughed.

"Your hands," the deputy said. "Now."

Abby started to step away, but the other woman grasped her arm and turned her around. "Don't test my patience this morning, Nichols. I'm not in the mood."

Suddenly, Abby got a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried to stay calm, but panic was already sc.r.a.ping up her spine. "Please, just...show me some ID-"

Cursing, the deputy came at her. "Don't make me use the pepper spray."

Spinning away from the woman, Abby made a break for the door. One of the men stepped in front of her. She tried to push past him, but he was large and strong and stopped her cold by putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing hard. "Calm down. We're just transporting you back to Buena Vista."

Abby winced. When she turned, she saw that the deputy had pulled the pepper spray from her belt. "Turn around and show me your hands!" she snapped.

"These men aren't with D.O.C.," Abby cried. "Please, call the judge. Call Deputy Madigan. Please, they're going to kill me."

One of the men looked over at the deputy and shrugged.

"Turn around now!" the deputy warned.

Knowing there was no way to avoid the restraints, Abby turned. Roughly, her hands were pulled behind her and the nylon cuffs secured tightly around her wrists.

"Looks like we're all set." One of the men took her arm. "Is there something we need to sign?"

The deputy pa.s.sed a form to the other man and he scribbled quickly. "Thanks."

Abby stared at the deputy. "Please," she said. "Call Deputy Madigan. He'll explain everything. Please!"

"Let's go, Nichols." The hand around her arm tightened and shoved her forward. Abby looked back at the deputy, saw her shaking her head.

Fear and a terrible sense of helplessness moved over her. Oh, G.o.d, she thought, no one believes me. She looked at the men on either side of her and the dread in her stomach coiled, growing into something cold and ugly and overwhelming.

"Where are you really taking me?" she demanded as another deputy unlocked a secure door that led to the outer offices.

The man on her left glanced over at the deputy and rolled his eyes. The deputy smiled.

Abby glared at the deputy. "Call Buena Vista," she shouted. "They're not expecting me. Please! Call Jake Madigan."

The deputy shook her head. "Drive careful," she said to the two men and locked the door behind them.

Jake knew Donna Sullivan was lying the instant she opened her mouth. Fear for Abby was making him increasingly edgy. His patience had long since gone by the wayside. He listened intently as Sullivan denied knowing anything about Jonathan Reed or the deaths of the two homeless patients when she'd worked the Mercy General ER. When she ran out of things to say, he let the silence build, hoping she was one of those people who couldn't bear long, uncomfortable silences.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked the small living room, aware that she was watching him, aware that he was making her very nervous. The apartment was small, but comfortably furnished. Framed photographs of two little girls in several stages of childhood adorned the walls. Pretty little girls in pigtails and pink dresses. Another photo of the same two wearing muddy sneakers and ornery grins.

Jake wondered what kind of a woman could love her children so much, yet remain silent about a such heinous crime.

"That's all I know," she said after a moment.

"I think you know more than what you're telling us, Miz Sullivan," Jake said.

"Excuse me?" She tried to look indignant, but didn't quite manage. "Look, I've told the police everything several times. I don't see why you need to hear it again. I mean, it happened a year and a half ago. The trial is over and the person responsible is being punished."

"Are you aware that lying to the police is a crime?"

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"I'm stating a fact you may or may not be aware of."

"Look, I've told you everything I know," she repeated. "I saw Abby Nichols in the ER pharmacy that night. An hour later her patient was dead from an overdose of Valium. I testified to that. It's all I know."

"That's not the story we heard," Jake said.

"Heard from whom?" She narrowed her eyes speculatively. "Look, I know who you are. You're that search and rescue cop who was on the news earlier. Maybe you're thinking with a part of your anatomy that isn't related to your head."

He stared at her, his temper spiking. If she'd been a man, Jake would have been facing another possible a.s.sault charge.

"Let's go," said Buzz from across the room.

Jake wasn't ready to go. "This is a matter of life and death, Ms. Sullivan. Abby Nichols didn't inject that man with Valium. You know that, and so do I."

"I know no such thing."

"If I find out you're lying to me I'm going to come down on you like a ton of bricks."

Her face reddened. "Don't threaten me. I already told the police everything I know. I didn't do anything wrong. Now get out of my home. Get out before I call the police."

Buzz tried to take Jake's arm, but Jake shook him off. He pointed a not-so-steady finger at the woman. "I'll be back."

"It's over," Buzz said. "Let it go."

Jake stalked to the door, swung it open, banging it against the wall. He was breathing hard. Desperation stabbed him like a steely knife in his chest. He couldn't stop thinking about Abby, what she must be going through at this very minute.

Oh, G.o.d, he couldn't believe he'd fallen in love with a woman who could very well be facing a capital murder charge. The thought made him feel sick.

In the parking lot, Jake strode over to Buzz's Bronco, put his hands against the hood and leaned forward. He felt nauseous and out of control. He felt as if he'd reached the end of his rope.

"Cool down, Jake. Just...take it easy, man."

"I need your phone."

Sighing, Buzz reached into his pocket and pa.s.sed him the phone.

Jake dialed the Chaffee County jail from memory. "This is Madigan. I want to talk to Abby Nichols." He waited, impatient and snarling while he was transferred down to the jail. Once on the line with the jailer, he repeated his request.

"I'm sorry, Deputy Madigan, but you can't speak to Nichols."

Jake closed his eyes. He'd known this would happen. He'd expected it, even. But that didn't make it any easier. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed to hear her voice. Needed to make sure she was all right.

"Put her on the d.a.m.n phone," he growled. "Now."

"That's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because two officers from D.O.C. picked her up for transport fifteen minutes ago."

Jake didn't remember shoving the phone at Buzz. The words echoed inside his head like a death knell. Turning away, he strode over to the SUV and slammed his fist into the fender. "d.a.m.n!"

"Whoa. Cool it." Buzz's voice broke through the veil of terror and frustration. "What happened?"

"They took her," Jake choked.

"Who?"

He turned toward the older man, his mind racing. "The jailer said they were D.O.C., but I don't think so."

"Then, who-" Buzz cut the words short.

Jake saw realization on the other man's face, felt the tourniquet of fear tighten around his throat. "They're going to kill her."

Buzz punched numbers into the phone. "We're on it."

"We're out of time." Desperation slithered inside Jake. He couldn't bear to think of someone hurting Abby. It was his fault. He'd done this to her. If anything happened to her, he would never be able to forgive himself.

The pain broke him. Guilt wrapped around him, squeezing the breath from him like a chain weighing him down. Vaguely, he heard Buzz speaking into the phone. Heart hammering, Jake stared into the night and tried to decide what to do next.

"Let's go to Chaffee County," Buzz said, handing him the phone. "We'll start there."

Numb, Jake took the phone and slid behind the wheel of Buzz's SUV. The other man didn't argue. Jake started the engine, flipped on the headlights. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. That he was about to make a mistake. But what?

Slowly, he pulled on to the street. A few yards out, he glanced out the window, found himself looking over at the apartment they'd just left. The curtain moved. Donna Sullivan had been watching them. She was the key, he realized. His best hope. His only hope.

Jake slammed his foot down on the brake, sending the SUV into a skid.

"What the h.e.l.l?"

He ignored the other man's voice, jammed the gearshift into park, flung open the door.

"What are you going to do?" Buzz demanded.

"You don't want to know." Jake hit the ground running. At the apartment door, he didn't bother with a knock, kicking in the door on the first try.

Donna Sullivan was standing in the center of the living room, a phone in her hand, her eyes as huge as an owl's. "W-what are you doing?" she squeaked.

Jake reached her in two strides, s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone from her hand. "If I press redial, who am I going to get?"

Her eyes widened even more, her face paling to the color of sour milk. "I-I..."

"Who!" he roared.

"Please, don't..."

"Who are you afraid of?"

"Get out of my house. Just...get out."

Jake pressed the redial b.u.t.ton.

Tears filled the woman's eyes. "He threatened to kill my little girls. Please don't make me talk to you."

Jake felt the words like a punch to the stomach. He remembered seeing the photos hanging on the wall in her living room. Two pretty little girls. In the back of his mind he wondered what kind of a monster could make such a horrific threat. "I won't let him hurt you or your daughters," he said quietly. "But I need a name. I need it right now."

"He'll...hurt my kids. He'll do it. I know him. He's crazy."

"I'm going to take him down. Once I do, you'll never have to worry about him again. But I need your help. I don't have much time. Please."