Special Agent Nanny Read online

  Especially since she yearned to. To tell him all, to let this undercover investigator take care of everything, including her.

  Yeah. He’d take care of her all right.

  And she’d wind up in prison—of one sort or another.

  Shawn Jameson clearly liked to be in charge. And Kelley knew just what it was like to have a man like that in her life.

  “You want to take a chance with your safety? Jenny’s safety?” He sounded incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe she was turning down the offer of his chivalric presence.

  “I’ll be careful. And we don’t really know it wasn’t an accident, last night.”

  He snorted derisively. “Yeah, someone stole an ambulance and accidentally sped it right toward you.”

  “Could be.”

  “Kelley, look.”

  Uh-oh. She was about to get the “be reasonable” speech. She’d heard one like it every time she’d dared to contradict Randall, as if he were the only one whose opinion was rational.

  She’d heard something similar during those rare times her mother had dared to defy her father.

  She wasn’t her mother.

  But she was a mother. Jenny’s mother.

  For her daughter’s sake and her own, she needed to take care of things herself.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow, Shawn,” she said, only narrowly preventing herself from wincing at the look in his eyes. Anger. She only imagined the hint of hurt.

  She headed toward the corner to collect her daughter.

  “KELLEY? IT’S SHAWN.”

  He had been watching as one light after another blinked out in the Stanton house, a cozy brick residence snuggled into a pleasant suburban community. Only a single light remained on now—the one in what he presumed was Kelley’s bedroom.

  “I know. I recognized your voice. Not to mention your SUV sitting right outside my door. Your cell phone has static.”

  “You could hear me better if you let me come in.”

  “I’m getting ready for bed now. Jenny’s asleep, and—”

  “Did she talk about the fire?”

  A pause. “No, not even to her therapist, though we both encouraged her.”

  “I’m sorry.” And not just about Jenny.

  He was sorry he hadn’t been able to check out the house before they went inside, though everything seemed fine now. And he was sorry he was sitting here, all cramped up in his vehicle, when he could be there, watching Kelley get ready for bed….

  Yeah. Right. That definitely wasn’t on her agenda. And it shouldn’t be on his.

  “We’re fine, Shawn. Go home.”

  “You’re not fine,” he shouted. Damn. That would get him nowhere. “Do you have a security alarm you can turn on?” He knew the answer already. He’d checked out her house that morning while she changed clothes. “Do you at least have a weapon?”

  Another pause. “Good night, Shawn.” Her voice was shaking. Damn again! Now he had frightened her.

  Which was good. If she was scared, maybe she’d let him in.

  Maybe she would finally talk to him.

  “Do you?” he repeated.

  A click, and then the remaining light turned off.

  But Shawn was certain that Kelley wouldn’t be sleeping.

  Any more than he would.

  THE ARSONIST DROVE BY.

  Not in an ambulance this time, but in a very ordinary car, one no one would notice. At an ordinary speed, too, like any other resident hurrying just a little to get home at this hour.

  But the arsonist saw Shawn Jameson’s big blue SUV sitting outside Kelley Stanton’s house. Saw a form in the driver’s seat. Jameson, of course.

  Shawn Jameson, who wasn’t all he seemed. The arsonist knew. Would have known anyway, even if the damned investigator hadn’t been asking so many questions.

  It didn’t matter. The answers couldn’t be found so easily.

  The arsonist had followed them yesterday, too. Had seen Kelley go to Jameson’s home. And not come out. A useful fact to throw into the mix.

  For the arsonist wasn’t through with her reputation. Not yet.

  Next time, it would definitely, irrevocably, be ruined.

  Chapter Ten

  Another day was well underway. Rounds were over.

  So was round umpteen with Louis Paxler.

  Kelley’s shoulders slumped as she headed back to her office. Her whole body slumped. She felt so exhausted, it might as well have been midnight instead of early afternoon.

  She felt as defeated as if she’d lost another patient. Of all the verbal battles she’d had with Louis Paxler, this had been the worst.

  But that didn’t mean her fights for the day had ended.

  She returned to her office to find Shawn there, staring out the window. Holding a disposable coffee cup in one large hand.

  She resisted the urge to throw herself into Shawn’s arms. Especially when he turned to face her.

  Comfort was obviously not at the forefront of his mind. But something was. And she didn’t want to know what.

  “Hi,” she said. “How’s Jenny?” She stood with one hand on the knob of the door she’d closed behind her. If her office didn’t turn out to be a haven this morning, she would have to leave it. Fast.

  “I’m sure she’s fine.” He was dressed in a vest she hadn’t seen before—rich brown suede over his navy shirt. His jeans showed no wear. Not the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. They looked good on him, though. He looked very…male.

  Her hormones began to ooze, but she controlled them.

  “Then you didn’t come here from KidClub?” She hadn’t seen him there that morning when she’d brought Jenny in. She hadn’t asked about him, either, despite how curious she had been.

  She’d looked for his car when Jenny and she had left the house that morning, in case he’d watched over them all night. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see he wasn’t there—but she was surprised at how disappointed she’d felt. Obviously he’d gone back to his place to sleep. Leaving Jenny and her vulnerable to the phantom ambulance driver.

  If something had happened last night, Kelley would have had no one to blame but herself.

  “No, I haven’t been to KidClub this morning.” His tone was level, but there was an edgy undercurrent she didn’t understand. “I had a meeting. With my boss. My real boss.” The expression on his face was bland. All except for his eyes.

  They had turned so chilly that she hugged herself.

  “I see.” She didn’t, really. But his meeting obviously hadn’t gone well. And the tentative warmth they had shared two evenings ago had apparently disappeared totally. She felt tears threaten but forced them away.

  “Damn it, Kelley, I told you the truth about why I was here because I figured you’d trust me. But you haven’t told me anything I can use. I’m in deep doo-doo for playing a hunch that didn’t pan out. For trusting you.” He slammed the coffee cup down on her desk. Fortunately, it wasn’t full, for nothing sloshed out of the plastic lid.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded with more force than she thought herself capable of at that moment.

  “Only that my employer’s miffed that I blew my cover. I’d have gotten away with it if I weren’t still short on results, thanks to you.”

  “What do you mean?” Her tone was shrill. She didn’t need this discussion. Not now. She had already survived one knock-down-drag-out this morning. Again she considered fleeing. But where would she go? Instead, she made herself cross the room casually and sit behind her desk. She was wearing a rose-colored silk blouse and a black skirt that didn’t quite reach her knees. She tugged at it, wishing she’d worn something to cover more. She felt exposed after her earlier argument.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” she continued calmly, though she heard the quiver in her voice. “You’re here to investigate the fire. I didn’t set it. And to figure out if I did something wrong in treating those Silver Rapids patients. I didn’t.” To her dismay, she nearly sob
bed aloud. She swallowed. Hard. “I didn’t,” she whispered rawly.

  He studied her with those ice-blue eyes of his as if speculating what was in her mind. “I’d like to believe that, but I know there’s more you haven’t told me. And until you do—”

  The dam of emotion that Kelley had erected inside her by sheer force of will collapsed. Her breathing deepened. So did her rage. “I don’t have to,” she shouted. “You’ll hear about it. Everyone will hear about it.”

  “Hear about what?” He approached and leaned over her desk. Digging at her with his words. His glare.

  “What Paxler told me. He says someone found a chart misfiled in another patient’s records. He showed it to me, said it was for one of the Silver Rapids patients—Peg Ahlers, one of those who died. The chart indicates that I said to hold off on antibiotics, to see how the symptoms continued to manifest themselves, because tests on other patients had shown the pathogen was a virus and antibiotics don’t help viral infections. But antibiotics can stave off other infections when the patient’s immune system is weakened, so it could have been malpractice not to medicate her. And because this one little sheet survived my torching the records office, word will get around that there’s proof I fouled up. My career is over.”

  He was around the desk so quickly that she pulled back in alarm. To no avail. He leaned over, grabbed her shoulders. “Are you admitting that you set the fire?” His face was so close to hers that she felt his warm breath, inhaled the scent of his recently drunk coffee.

  “I might as well, right? The paperwork is there to prove I messed up. I killed my patient. Maybe both of the ones who died. So the fire was for nothing, wasn’t it?”

  “Kelley, tell me—” His tone was ominous, but no more menacing than his fierce expression. He spoke one word at a time. “Did. You. Set. The. Fire.”

  “No,” she shouted. “I had no reason to.” A laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside. Hysteria, she diagnosed, stepping back from herself. Be clinical, like a good doctor should.

  A good doctor. She was a good doctor.

  “You see,” she continued, practically spitting her words into his face, “Louis wouldn’t let me see the paper. I don’t know where it came from. It was a lie. I didn’t treat Mrs. Ahlers different from the others. And it didn’t come from my charts. My files.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She wrested her arms away. Don’t do anything out of emotion, her detached mind told her. You may regret it later.

  But her anger was too far gone to consider all the possible ramifications. She stood. Walked to the file cabinet. Found the folder marked “Myles.” Extracted the key.

  She returned to her desk, opened the locked drawer, and pulled out the armful of files.

  “They didn’t burn.” Her voice was ragged, but no more so than her emotions. “I’d stolen them first, so they didn’t burn.”

  HOT DAMN! SHAWN hadn’t stopped grinning. It was better than he could have hoped for—the actual files. Not just reconstruction by memories faulty and false.

  Wouldn’t Colleen be pleased?

  Him, too, of course. Not that he’d understand all the medical stuff likely to be in them, but soon he would dig in and figure out all that led up to the fire. Maybe get enough to rule Kelley out once and for all.

  Or find enough in there to ensure she remained suspect number one.

  All he had to do was start looking. Soon.

  But first, he had to let go of the woman in his arms.

  He wasn’t ready to do that. She felt too good.

  Kelley had ended up there after her revelation. He hadn’t intended to urge her off her chair and tight against him. But she had been so defiantly sad. So fragilely strong.

  So contrarily enticing.

  Now, she clung to him as if he were her salvation instead of her tormenter. Not a great idea. But she felt so good, small and supple and curved in all the right places. Dressed in a blouse and skirt and all female, despite her responsible profession. And smelling like antibacterial soap and woman.

  Arousing his protective instinct. Arousing him.

  But there was no time or place for that. Now or ever.

  His grin disappeared.

  “It’ll be okay,” he lied into her fragrant hair. “I’ll take the files to my agency’s office. Even if anyone suspected they still existed, no one will figure I have them. And—”

  She was out of his arms, facing him with hands on her hips, anger warring with fear on her face. “No,” she said.

  “But we need to find out what happened. If there’s any possible tie-in with the fire.”

  “You won’t be able to tell from those files,” she said. “All you’ll be able to do is see who the patients were, the tests that were run on them and the results, the treatment prescribed. I can’t let them out of my possession, especially now. I have to show somehow that the chart Paxler has is a forgery.”

  Damn. This wouldn’t be easy—especially since he saw Kelley’s point. She had her own butt to protect, and the files could be her only shield.

  “My people can analyze handwriting, even ink. If we get the paperwork Paxler has, they can compare it, determine if it’s a forgery.” He saw her stiffen at the “if.” He should have been more positive. He sighed. “Kelley, one way or the other the truth needs to come out. I don’t think you did anything wrong. You certainly didn’t set the fire to hide these files, and I don’t think you set it at all. But if you keep hiding things, how can we clear you?”

  The rebelliousness in her ramrod-straight posture lessened just a little. “We?” she repeated scornfully, as if she doubted she’d heard him right.

  He nodded. Slowly. For he knew now that his number one arson suspect hadn’t had any motive to start the fire. Unless, of course, she’d been threatened, or Jenny had. Or Kelley had been coerced, blackmailed or even bribed. But Shawn had seen no indication of anything of that sort, no physical evidence and nothing in Kelley’s demeanor, though he couldn’t completely rule them out yet.

  Still, he’d come to figure that if he were sick, there was no one he’d like more to treat him than Dr. Kelley Stanton.

  Wise or not, justified or not, he believed in her.

  “We,” he repeated. “Let me help you, Kelley.”

  HIDING IN A NOISY CROWD kept anyone from hearing most cell phone conversations. Still, Shawn kept his voice low.

  “C? It’s me.”

  “Yes, Shawn? It’s only been an hour since our last meeting. Miss me already? Or did you want me to chew you out some more?”

  He ignored the sarcasm in his boss’s voice—especially since she really had reamed him but good at the ICU office that morning for his lack of progress in the case.

  Good thing she couldn’t see his smug smile. But he was damned pleased he had something positive to report. Finally.

  Though how helpful the new evidence was remained to be seen.

  “Hang around in Denver tonight,” he said. “I don’t want to draw any suspicion to Dr. Stanton or myself, but get some of the troops rallied, prepare them to analyze some files, will you?”

  “What files?”

  “The infamous Silver Rapids flu files.”

  He heard her intake of breath. “But they were destroyed in the fire.”

  “Not.”

  Silence. Then, “Get here soon, Jameson. Understand?”

  He flipped his cell phone closed. Good thing, too. He had just reached KidClub. And heard crying inside.

  He looked up at the ceiling. He looked down at the floor. He straightened his shoulders as he faced the closed door, then hesitated, looking around for an excuse not to enter.

  He met the eyes of some stranger passing by who grinned, as if reading his mind.

  Give me strength, he prayed, then went inside.

  And was enraged by what he found there.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN you blame Shawn?” Kelley slouched in the kitchen, her weight resting on her hip against the sink counter.


  She felt as if she could hardly stand at all, especially since the linoleum floor was damp, as if it had just been mopped.

  Marge Ralston’s arms were crossed over her characteristic paint-spattered smock. As she shook her head, her short, curly hair vibrated. “You know, though the guy says he’s studying child psychology, I have to wonder.”

  If you only knew. “What did he do?” Kelley tried to remain patient, but all she knew was that Shawn had called her a few minutes ago to come and calm Jenny.

  When she’d gotten here, her daughter had been hysterical. She’d held Jenny and comforted her and gotten her settled down. The poor little thing had been so exhausted that she fell asleep almost immediately on one of the floor mats they used for naps.

  Shawn was still in the next room, watching over her. The expression in his eyes would have made a lesser person quake.

  Not Kelley. But she wanted to get him alone. Soon. So she could figure out exactly what happened.

  She doubted Marge understood much.

  “The thing is, something obviously upset her. Shawn wasn’t even here when whatever it was set her off. She started throwing things again, really made a mess of some kids’ breakfasts. Then she grabbed some paper and crayons and began making jagged red lines on other kids’ drawings.”

  Fire again! Oh, no. Though Kelley felt the blood drain from her face, she waited for Marge to continue.

  “She was screaming. I tried to get her to stop crying but she was so upset. Then Shawn came in, saw what was happening, and he grabbed her—gently, mind you—but he tried to get her to talk. And when she didn’t, he let his frustration show and she got even more hysterical.”

  “I see. I’m sure he meant well, but…” She didn’t need to stick up for Shawn. She knew his agenda.

  If she hadn’t set the fire, someone else had.

  The fire still upset Jenny, and Kelley still didn’t know if she’d seen anything that night.

  “Speak of the handsome devil,” Marge muttered as Shawn strode into the kitchen, boots clumping rhythmically on the floor.

  “Stephanie is watching the kids,” he told them, naming another childcare attendant. “I told her to especially keep an eye on Jenny, to let us know if she so much as blinked. Or if anyone else comes in.”