The Phantom of Black's Cove (4 page)

Heightening his senses, he listened for her heartbeat among the crowd gathering around the spot where Olivia Morgan lay in the street. There were too many of them to isolate her distinctive cardiac rhythm.

Concern pushed him forward. He mixed with the growing mass of interested folks who wanted to catch a glimpse of what had happened.

The hair at his nape bristled, warning him they were nearby, watching just like he was. Waiting, hoping, praying their brutal attempt to deal with Olivia Morgan had succeeded this time.

Olivia faded in and out of consciousness, wondering where it hurt, if it hurt and what had just happened.

She opened her eyes, staring up at the crowd gathered around her. The asphalt under her was hard and cold. She’d been hit by a car? It was the only thing that made sense.

The sudden pressure of hands on her body sent a charge of electricity shooting through her along with disbelief as she tried to sit up, realizing there was no one next to her.

She closed her eyes again, trying to reason away what was happening. It was crazy. Maybe she was unconscious or imagining the feel of hands moving over her body, almost like an examination. As quickly as the odd sensation took her, it stopped.

Sucking in a breath, she sat up, focusing on the faces of the people crowding around her.

“Hurry! Someone call an ambulance. I think she’s hurt.” A man in his twenties knelt next to her and touched her arm. “Are you okay?” he asked in an excited voice.

She stared at him and nodded her head. “I think so.” Mentally she searched for any injuries, but short of feeling slightly dizzy and a bit out of sync, nothing else hurt.

“It knocked the wind out of me and I banged my head on the pavement.” Reaching up, she touched a tender spot on her left temple, and recoiled in pain.

The wail of sirens screamed in the distance, but she found her hearing focused on a voice in the throng of people.

“The Phantom protected her.” The whispered comment drew a string of agreement through the crowd.

The Phantom? Protection?
The people in this town were certifiable, she decided. This was a simple case of car versus pedestrian, and the car hadn’t won. Just like the elderly couple had been lucky and escaped their accident.

Olivia attempted to stand up, but nausea pushed her back down. She fought off a rush of panic. She didn’t want to go to the hospital. She hated hospitals. But maybe she did need to be checked out.

The sirens grew louder and finally quit about the time the crowd parted and a couple of EMTs carrying equipment stepped through the crowd and knelt next to her.

“What happened?” the EMT asked, opening his jump kit.

Olivia focused on his name tag. Todd Nicholls. At least she was still cognitive.

“I’m fine. The car barely touched me. Nothing is broken.” She searched for the vehicle, her stare settling
on the crushed bumper that hung at a cockeyed angle from the impact.

A measure of disbelief tingled in the back of her brain. She should be hurt. If the condition of the car was any indication, she should be broken, but she wasn’t.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” A wave of claustrophobia washed over her and she closed her eyes for a moment until it passed. When she opened them again, she was ready to stand up.

“You took a terrific hit, Miss. We’d feel better if you got checked over in the ER.”

A measure of reason silenced her protest and she nodded. “You’re right. I don’t feel so great. Better safe than sorry.”

One of the medics went to retrieve the gurney and she watched him maneuver it through the masses being slowly pushed back by a uniformed officer, as his partner questioned the driver.

“Nothing to see here, folks. Move along, let the medics work.”

Glancing up, her gaze locked on the only familiar face in the crowd.
Jack Trayborne?
She’d know his intense blue eyes anywhere, but before she could decipher the look of anger on his face, he stepped back into the throng.

An unexplained jolt of disappointment glanced off her brain. What had she hoped would happen? That he’d rush to her side and begin a conversation? Spill the clinic’s secrets in the middle of the street next to her?

A slingshot full of reality slammed into her brain, leaving her almost giddy in its simplicity.

She’d been digging down the wrong tunnel, mining the clinic’s secrets, when she needed to be uncovering his. He was Black’s Cove Clinic.

Olivia tried to relax as the EMTs wrapped her up like a mummy in a C-collar and strapped her to a backboard. It was all for the sake of
her
safety in the event she’d injured her spine in the accident, but that didn’t help her level of discomfort as they wheeled her into the ambulance and headed for the hospital.

R
AGE CONSUMED HIM
as he took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding out a war beat he was sure they’d heard long before he kicked open the door in the empty warehouse loft and stepped into the dark room.

Waves of energy rushed him, but he encircled himself in a wall of protection much like the one he’d used to save Olivia’s life in the street below.

Reaching into the darkness with his mind, he found them standing together in the corner. The mental contact solidified their involvement, as he pulled in their thoughts.

Fear, slow to take shape but palpable, emanated from one of them, but the other…

“I said I’d deal with her. She’s mine! Do you understand?”

“You’ve had enough time. We won’t stop until you get rid of her.”

Anger streamed through him like molten lava. It hit its flashpoint in a violent explosion he couldn’t immediately control.

“No!” He thrust out his hand in front of him, sending them into the wall. The interior of the warehouse reverberated with the impact and he watched them both hit the ground in a crumpled heap.

Pulling huge gulps of air into his lungs, his rage dissipated. He stepped toward them.

Going to his knees, he rolled them both over, satisfied when they stirred and sat up.

“If you touch her again, you won’t survive. Do I make myself clear?”

Begrudgingly, they both nodded, rubbing various parts of their bodies, still throbbing from the impact, but he had to be sure. Reaching into their minds, he listened to their stream of thought, satisfied that Olivia Morgan was safe for the time being.

He came to his feet, feeling drained, and left the loft. He had to protect her. Perhaps the time had come to force her into his arms, but from what he knew about her, she wasn’t going to come quietly.

O
LIVIA STARED
straight ahead, while the ER doctor shone a light in her eyes, first one, then the other.

He stepped back and shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “You’ve got a mild concussion. No broken bones. I’d say you’re a lucky lady.”

“Thanks. Now, when can I get out of here?”

“I’ll sign off on the discharge papers, but you need to follow this tip sheet on head injuries. If you experience any of the symptoms, you need to return to the hospital immediately.”

“Okay.” Olivia reached out and took the diagnostic paper from the doctor. “If I have any trouble, I promise I’ll come back.”

He left through the curtain surrounding the cubical, and she slowly got dressed. She did feel like she’d gone a couple of rounds with a prize fighter. Tomorrow morning was going to be a bear. That’s when the bruises would show up in an ugly shade of purple. She could already feel the asphalt burns on her cheek, forearm and elbow.

But what the hell had really happened in the middle of the street? The truth was, she should be in the ICU, but she wasn’t.

She swallowed hard, trying to figure it out as she pulled on her blouse. It was almost as if some unseen force was standing between her and the speeding car. A wall, a barrier of some sort. A chill wiggled through her and she couldn’t deny its source. Fear. She’d only been in Black’s Cove for a solid week and she’d almost been killed twice. Most sane individuals would run screaming from this strange town.

She was screaming, but she didn’t plan to run.

Olivia pulled on her shoes and tied them. Folding the paperwork, she shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans and pushed back the privacy curtain.

The ER hummed with activity. Nurses scampered around, medical equipment in hand. It was hard not to feel the rising level of tension in the air.

Focusing on the set of double doors at the end of the corridor, she headed for the exit, but the sound of emergency tones caught her attention. She slowed her pace.

“BC ER, unit three. We’re en route with an unresponsive female patient. Name Judy Bartholomew, age twenty-four, possible suicide attempt by ingestion. We’re ten minutes out if we beat the AOT 11:55 freight into town.”

A train whistle, distinct and unmistakable came in over the emergency vehicles’s radio frequency and Olivia deciphered the acronym AOT, always on time.

The nurse pressed the button on the microphone. “Copy unit three, we’ll be waiting. Any information on the drug she took?”

“Negative. We found a couple of pills next to her on the bed, but no bottle. We’re bringing them in for analysis. Unit three clear.”

“BC hospital, clear.” The nurse turned and headed for one of the trauma bays at the rear of the ER, shouting the information. “Female patient, age twenty-four…”

Olivia wanted to cup her hands over her ears to shut it out. She’d spoken to Judy Bartholomew just over an hour ago about where Jack Trayborne lived. She’d been the only one willing to give her any information. The image of Gracie staring up at her mother flashed in her mind, followed by a wave of disbelief that threatened to overwhelm her. She reached out and sagged against the wall.

“Miss Morgan? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I just need to sit down for a moment.” She spotted a chair near the end of the hall and headed for it, with a nurse next to her.

“Do you need to see Doctor Rawlings again?”

“No. I’ll be fine. I just need to sit.”

“I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks.” She watched Nurse Jackson join the others, busy preparing for their critical patient.

Olivia closed her eyes, but couldn’t get the image of Judy and Gracie out of her mind. What did a suicidal person look like anyway? Had Judy been wearing the signs right under her nose? Did her smile and friendly help only mask a deep-seated problem?

She didn’t want to believe she’d attempted to kill herself, but she really didn’t know her.

Flashing red and white strobe lights reflected off the walls of the ambulance bay in a dizzying cycle.

Tension squeezed every muscle in Olivia’s body until she thought she’d suffocate. She bolted to her feet, watching the ambulance doors swing open and the gurney roll out, assisted by a couple of EMTs.

Right behind them a man climbed out holding a baby girl. Gracie. He must be Judy’s husband.

Olivia’s heart squeezed and she searched for air, pulling a haggard breath into her lungs. The uncertainty and fear he must be feeling was etched in deep lines across his forehead.

She stepped back against the wall to avoid being in the way as the ER doors slid open and they rolled the gurney past her.

All of the commotion had upset Gracie. She stared wide-eyed around the room and burst into tears.

“It’s okay, Grace. I promise mommy’s going to be okay.” The tremor in his voice rocked Olivia’s world.
There was a chance Grace would never see her mother again, or him his wife. That fact pushed her forward.

“Mr. Bartholomew.”

He looked at her. “Yes.”

“Let me help. I’ll take her. You need to be with your wife.”

Gracie turned her damp baby brown gaze on Olivia and stopped crying.

“You know my wife?”

“I met her and Gracie this morning. I’m Olivia Morgan.”

His hesitation evaporated. “Thank you. Judy’s mom, Charlotte, is on her way now. She’ll be here any minute.” He handed Grace off and raced down the hall to the trauma room where the medical staff worked to save Judy Bartholomew’s life.

Without conscious effort Olivia cuddled the baby and began to sway gently, rocking her in her arms in a timeless maternal rhythm.

The mechanical grind of the ER doors pulled her attention to the entrance as a man came inside holding his arm next to his body.

A nurse spotted him and moved forward at a brisk pace. “Mr. Dowdy. Come this way and we’ll get your shoulder taken care of.”

Olivia turned her back to the man, obscuring Gracie’s view. She didn’t need another stranger passing through her little world; as it was, her eyelids flicked open every time there was a loud sound.

“I took a header off my ATV. Good thing I was
wearing a helmet.” The injured man’s voice trailed off as he followed the nurse into an exam room somewhere down the hall.

Staring down at Grace, Olivia realized that the child was finally asleep, oblivious to the fight going on just down the hall.

Sadness flooded her heart. What would happen to Grace if Judy didn’t survive? She’d seen how much they loved each other.

The automatic doors slid open and an older woman rushed into the ER, spotting the baby in Olivia’s arms.

“Gracie.” She reached out and touched the baby’s cheek. “Where is she?” she asked, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Down the hall, on the right. They’re working on her.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right back to take her.”

Olivia nodded, watching what she assumed was Judy’s mother hurry down the hall to her daughter. Several moments later, she stepped out of the trauma room and moved toward them. From the pace of her steps, Olivia sensed the news wasn’t good.

“Thank you for holding her.”

“You’re welcome. I just hope Judy pulls through.” Reluctantly, she put Gracie into her grandmother’s waiting arms and stepped back.

“She’s so perfect.”

Her grandma nodded, letting a brief smile tug at her mouth before she sobered. “Yes. Yes, she is.”

Olivia turned around and left the ER through the double doors. Once they closed behind her, she paused for a
moment to pin down the collage of feelings scattering through her. Sorrow, anger and curiosity. If she took anything away, it was the fact that no one ever really knew what was going on in another person’s head. Still, she wondered why on earth Judy Bartholomew would want to kill herself and leave baby Gracie without a mother.

H
E WATCHED FROM
a safe distance, ruminating over the emotions bubbling inside of her, but it was her thoughts of Judy Bartholomew that registered the extent of what they were capable of. He’d seen Olivia converse with Judy on the street just before she was hit. Had they seen it, too? Taken their wrath out on her, thereby proving his summation that no one was safe if they helped Olivia uncover the truth?