Part 23 (2/2)
The question had come to her a thousand times since she'd walked away from him in the parking lot of the ranger station. She wondered if, after everything that had happened between them, after everything they'd shared, he believed the lies about her.
He hadn't come to see her. He hadn't kept his word and gotten her transferred to a place where she would be safe.
Oh, G.o.d, what had she done by trusting him?
Abby stared at the untouched tray of food. She knew she should eat. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she'd taken in any nourishment. But her stomach was in knots and her appet.i.te had long since fled. Standing in the center of her cell, she felt physically ill and cold to the depths of her soul.
Jake wasn't going to come for her. He wasn't going to keep his word and try to clear her name. He'd used her; she'd allowed it. Her body. Her heart. He'd given her hope and then s.n.a.t.c.hed it away. The cruelty of the act hurt more than any physical blow.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Abby sank down to the cold, concrete floor. She knew better than to cry; crying never helped anything, but the tears came in a flood. Her sobs echoed off the walls of the hollow room. She cried openly, her heart bleeding as if it had been slashed. The pain doubled her over, and that was when she knew she'd made the ultimate mistake. Not only had she let Jake use her. But she'd fallen in love with him.
Chapter 15.
Jake sat on the gurney in the emergency room of Mercy General Hospital in Denver and watched the nurse inject numbing medication into the bullet wound on his side. He'd filled Buzz in on the story Abby had told him about Jonathan Reed and her suspicions with regard to the deaths of at least two homeless patients.
Buzz hadn't said much, certainly hadn't admitted to believing such a far-fetched tale, particularly with consideration to Jake's source-Abby Nichols. But Jake knew Buzz well enough to recognize the cop's suspicion in the other man's eyes. Buzz would help. And he knew if Buzz came upon one ounce of proof, he'd jump on it like a wolf on a rabbit. He'd left Jake at the nurse's station and begun the uncertain and tedious process of questioning the staff with regard to Abby Nichols, Jonathan Reed and the death of a homeless man named Jim.
”Numb enough for you, Officer Madigan?”
The nurse's voice jerked him back to the present. Jake looked over at her and forced a smile. ”I don't feel a thing.”
”Good, because you're going to need about eight st.i.tches.”
Nurse Holly Forbes was in her forties, with pretty brown hair and a rea.s.suring smile. Jake watched her work the curved suture needle for a few minutes before asking, ”How long have you worked at Mercy General?”
”Oh, gosh, it'll be fourteen years next month. Just doesn't seem possible, you know? Didn't even have the new wing when I started.”
”Did you know Abby Nichols?”
Her hands faltered for a fraction of a second and she cast him a sidelong look. Jake stared back, trying to read her, and went with his gut. ”Off the record,” he said.
She resumed st.i.tching. ”I knew her. She was a very nice young woman.”
”Did you know her well?”
”We were friends. Used to take our dinner break together when we worked graveyard s.h.i.+ft. Terrible about what happened.” She pulled another st.i.tch, then snipped the end with scissors and began tying it off. ”She's in prison from what I hear.”
”She is.”
”She didn't seem like the type, you know? Made quite a stir here in the hospital when what she did came out in the trial.”
”Do you think she did it?”
Their gazes met. Jake narrowed his eyes, desperate now to read her. ”Are you working on her case?” she asked carefully.
”No. I'm her friend.”
”I suspect she could use a friend.”
He paused, wondering how much to tell her, knowing there wasn't much time. ”I don't think all the information came out during the trial, do you?”
Her previously steady hands began to tremble. ”I wouldn't know.”
”If you care about what happens to that young woman, you'll follow your instincts and tell me what you know,” he said.
She finished tying off the last st.i.tch and set the needle and scissors in the stainless-steel tray. ”I don't know what-”
”I'm pretty good at reading people, ma'am, and you have 'I know more than I'm telling you' written all over your face.”
”Deputy Madigan-”
”Her life depends on the truth,” he said.
She smiled, uncomfortable. ”I don't know anything for certain. And I told the police everything. But I have my suspicions, but that's all they are. Suspicions.”
”Suspicions about what?”
”Look, I've got three little kids to support and no husband to help me do it. This job is important. I can't risk-”
”I promise you, this will go no further than this room.” There he went again, making promises he might not be able to keep.
Another nurse came into the room. Holly smiled uncomfortably at the other woman, then looked down at the tray in front of her and unwrapped a sterile gauze bandage. ”I can't discuss this here.”
”Someone's trying to hurt Abby,” he said. ”She doesn't have much time.”
The nurse closed her eyes and sighed. ”The person you need to talk to quit about a year and a half ago.”
”Who?” he pressed.
”Donna Sullivan. She was a nurse here.”
”Why do I need to talk to her?”
”Because she knows more than I do.”
”Where can I find her?”
”She used to live in Littleton. A little efficiency apartment off of Bowles. I don't know if she's still there. She never kept in touch.”
Fifteen minutes later, Buzz and Jake were back on the road, heading toward the suburb of Littleton.
”What do you think?” Jake asked, after telling him everything the nurse had told him.
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