CHAPTER FOUR

Carly ran down the corridor, her eyes fixed on the scrubs-clad man at the other end of the hallway—and the child who dangled, pale hands flailing and bare feet kicking, in his arms.

The scrubs and lab coat made her pause, just for a second, her mind questioning what she was seeing. Then her gaze dropped to the heavy black boots on his feet.

“Security!” she yelled again. “Stop that man!”

The man broke into a run and skidded around a corner. Carly raced, lungs burning, legs churning, mind panicking.

No!

This couldn’t be happening. After everything this poor child had already endured, she couldn’t let him down.

Last time he’d been chained in a basement, but he’d survived.

God only knew what would happen to him this time.

Bright blood shining on dirty wood.

She shook off the image that threatened to take over. Her boots slid on the linoleum as she made the turn. Thirty feet away, the man stopped in front of the secure door that separated the corridor from the ER waiting room. The boy thrashed.

Behind Carly, rubber soles squeaked on the tile. Nurses shouted for security.

The man turned the child, putting the boy’s back to his chest, but the boy continued to struggle as the man punched the button on the wall to open the door to the waiting room. He stepped back, waiting for the door to open, blocking a tiny fist headed for his groin.

Carly hit a slippery patch of floor and careened for a few feet, her arms pinwheeling. She slammed into the wall, then regained her balance. The noise echoed down the hall. An alarm sounded, the bells echoing in the corridor.

She’d lost ground, but he was stuck.

Carly prayed the door was locked. Does this hospital have lockdown capabilities?

He glanced back at Carly. Overhead light reflected off a pair of dark-framed glasses, obscuring his eyes. He slapped the metal square again, harder, angrier.

More desperate as Carly neared.

Twenty feet.

His feet turned, as if he was contemplating running.

The door swung inward, and he bolted through the opening, but Carly had gained ground. Carrying the wriggling child was slowing him down.

He sprinted for the sliding glass doors.

“Stop him!” Carly shouted, breathless.

In the early hours of the morning, few people occupied the ER waiting room. A nurse came out from behind the counter. With one hard shove, he sent her sprawling.

A guard in a tan-and-brown uniform stepped out from the corner and blocked the exit. “Hey! Stop right there!”

Thank God!

Carly put on the brakes.

Slowing to a fast walk, the fake surgeon reached under his white lab coat and pulled a weapon. Without breaking stride, he aimed and fired it at the guard.

Carly flinched, disbelief and shock chilling her.

The guard’s body jerked, and then he froze. His chin slowly tipped down as he watched the red stain spread across his tan shirt. His gun fell from his hand and hit the floor with a clunk.

He lifted his head, one hand clutching his shoulder, and held his ground.

The fake doctor slowed his strides and pushed the wounded guard out of his way. But Carly was nearly on top of him. She reached for the collar of his lab coat. Her hand missed by an inch. She stumbled, falling to her knees.

The double doors that led into the vestibule swooshed open as he strode onto the black doormat. Beyond the glass exit door, rain pounded the concrete and blurred the view.

A second guard came running across the tile. A gun waved in his hand. But the weapon wouldn’t do him much good. There was no way he could shoot the fake doctor without risking hitting the child.

As the fake doctor passed through the first set of doors, the child exploded. His flailing turned wild, his entire body bucking and thrashing as if he realized how close he was to being taken again. The child’s kicking heel struck the man between the legs, and the man’s grip faltered. The boy lunged and grabbed for the door frame. The sudden, unwieldy motion pulled the fake doctor off balance, and he dropped the child.

Yes!

The boy hit the black entry mat facedown and instantly curled into a fetal ball, like a threatened armadillo. Carly crawled toward him.

The man bent to scoop up the boy. But Carly got one leg under her body and dove on top of the child, throwing her torso over the small, balled-up body and shielding him. The man would have to go through her to get the boy. Carly wrapped her arms around him, braced herself for a blow or shot, and willed more help to arrive before he hurt them both.

Would he shoot her? He wanted the child alive, it seemed.

She hoped.

Alarms clanged. People shouted. Feet pounded in a cacophony of sound that seemed to swirl around them.

Guard number two slid to a stop ten feet away, his gun aimed at the fake doctor. At least sixty years old, he wheezed. His weapon shook as he coughed.

Ignoring the second guard, the fake doctor pivoted, ran through the second set of double doors, and disappeared into the downpour.

Carly sat up, almost dizzy with relief. “Did you call the police?”

“They’re on the way.” Guard number two panted. “Is the kid all right?”

“I think so,” she said to the guard, then turned and touched the boy’s shoulder. “It’s all right now. He’s gone.”

The child flinched and pulled away. Then he slowly lifted his gaze and looked around, his brown eyes big and searching. He blinked back to Carly, not meeting her gaze but staring at the floor in front of her.

She shifted to her knees. “Can you get up?”

He rolled to his hands and knees, then climbed to his feet.

Carly inspected him. He looked the same. One underweight, grimy, little boy in pale blue hospital pajamas. He kept his face tipped toward the floor. The same blank expression masked his features.

A shiver shook him. Cold, damp air filled the vestibule. She stood, her knees wobbling for a few seconds. She herded the boy back into the warmer waiting room.

A nurse brought a blanket. More security arrived. Nurses scrambled to treat the guard who’d been shot. Carly walked the boy back to the exam room, away from the chaos in the ER.

He stopped outside the room he’d been in when he’d been grabbed and shook his head hard.

“It’s okay.” But Carly’s promise felt empty. She hadn’t kept him safe before. “I’m staying with you. I promise I won’t leave.”

A doctor passed them in the hallway. The boy flew backward, flattening his body against the wall and trembling.

The man who’d tried to kidnap him had been wearing a white lab coat.

She crouched down to the boy’s level. His gaze touched hers for a few seconds. The fear that blazed through his eyes fractured Carly’s heart.

“I know what just happened was frightening, and I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t let it happen again. Do you think you can give me another chance?”

He didn’t answer, and his body didn’t yield. She’d blown it. Now she’d have to prove that he could rely on her. But how?

Carly reached for her phone and called Seth. She told him what had happened.

“I’m already on my way there. Are you both all right?” Seth asked, his words clipped and tense. She heard the chatter of his vehicle radio in the background.

“Physically, yes. But I need Bruce. Is there any way you can send him over to the hospital?”

At the mention of her brother’s name, the boy looked up at her.

“Hold on,” Seth said.

Carly listened to the muted sounds of his voice and the squawk of his radio.

“Bruce is going off duty,” Seth said. “He says he’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll be there ASAP too. This attack must be tied to the homicides.”

“Yes. Can you ask Bruce to stay in uniform?” Carly wanted her brother to look exactly the same as he had when he’d been with the child last.

“I’ll tell him.” Seth hesitated, then said, “Take care, okay?”

“I will,” Carly promised. “And thank you.”

She appreciated not just the fact that Bruce was on his way, but that Seth hadn’t flipped out at her call. In the past, he would have lost it. But she knew it wasn’t easy for him. His natural instinct was to guard her at all times.

“Just keep me in the loop.” His voice was hoarse.

“I will.”

Ironically, after last month’s case, Seth had more confidence in her than she did.

“Love you,” he said.

“Love you too.” She ended the call and turned back to the child. “Bruce is on his way.”

The boy’s face brightened just a tiny bit, but enough to let her know she’d made the right call. It didn’t matter who the child trusted, as long as he trusted someone.

She led him back inside the exam room.

The nurse’s face was tear-streaked, and her cheek was red, as if she’d been hit. “I’m so glad to see you.”

The boy scanned the room, then slipped into the corner and pressed himself into it as if he wanted to disappear into the wallboard.

The young resident hurried into the room. The boy startled. The resident stopped and smiled, her face tight. Kneeling on the floor, she checked the child over for injuries, then turned to Carly, her eyes relieved. “Physically, he seems to be fine.”

“How quickly can you discharge him?” Carly asked. “I’d like to get him out of here.”

Too many people came in and out of a hospital. They had no idea who was after the boy or why. Therefore, they wouldn’t recognize danger if it walked right into the room.

Which it had.

The boy cringed, retreating farther into the corner.

“I’ll get the nurse to start the discharge paperwork.” The resident disappeared.

Carly waited, watching the door and the boy. The child slid down the wall and sat on his butt, his knees drawn up to his chin. What was she going to do with him? She called the psychiatrist and was surprised—and pleased—to hear he had an office in Solitude and kept hours there two days per week. His schedule was full, but after Carly explained the circumstances, his receptionist gave her an appointment at four o’clock that day, after his regular hours were over.

The boy barely moved, but the second Bruce walked through the door, the boy’s demeanor changed. He flung himself at Carly’s brother, wrapping his arms around Bruce’s waist. Bruce squatted and returned the hug, then lifted the boy onto his hip.

“Did Seth tell you what happened?” Carly asked.

Bruce nodded. “He did.”

“Thanks for coming. I know you’re off duty, and you have to be exhausted.”

Bruce looked insulted. “Of course I came.”

“I didn’t expect any less,” Carly said. “But I still appreciate it.”

“Are we taking him to the farm?” Bruce asked.

“Maybe.” Carly’s mother, Patsy, had been approved as an emergency foster parent in the past. Carly’s late father had been the police chief of their hometown of Solitude for forever. Together, Patsy and Bill Taylor had been pillars of the community. There wasn’t a judge in the county who wouldn’t approve of Patsy Taylor looking after any child in need.

What else could Carly do? He couldn’t go to a foster home. She would not put other children or foster parents in danger. What were her options? Put a six-year-old in juvenile detention?

The rural community of Rogue County didn’t have any sort of protective custody.

“Give me a few minutes.” Carly stepped out into the hall and called her mom, who took less than a second to agree. Then she called Seth.

Seth picked up on the first ring. “I’m pulling into the hospital right now. Where are you?”

“In the ER hallway,” Carly said.

“The boy is all right?”

“Yes.” Carly glanced through the doorway into the exam room. Bruce was talking to the pretty nurse, and the nurse was smiling at her brother in a very different way than she’d smiled at the child. “I hate to tell you this, but I want to take him to the farm. Bruce is the only person he’ll respond to, and I don’t have anywhere else to send him where he’ll be safe.”

“I had a feeling this was coming.” Seth sighed.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Carly asked.

“No,” Seth said. “But I don’t want Brianna in danger.”

“Me neither,” Carly said. “I’ll call James and see if Brianna can stay at his house tonight.”

Carly’s older brother was the mayor of Solitude. He and his wife had two little boys who Brianna loved to boss around.

“Good idea,” Seth said.

As much as Carly wanted to protect this boy, she wouldn’t put her own daughter at risk.

Someone was clearly out to get the boy. Just having him at the farm would bring the danger home.