Dead Reckoning (29 page)

“Covers a lot of vehicles in the metroplex.” Frank sighed. “Anyone at the scene check for tire treads?”

“We sent an accident team. They’ll write it up, put it in the report.”

“Can I get a copy of the report when it’s finished?”

“This got something to do with a case, or what?”

Frank handed him one of his business cards. “Just routine.”

“I’ll fax it over as soon as it’s written.”

Frank watched the two cops walk away. He thought about Kate and something uncomfortable niggled at the back of his neck.

In the city of Dallas, most hit-and-run accidents were alcohol related. Most occurred on major thoroughfares in the evening or late at night. Kate lived in a quiet residential area. Most of the streets were either cul-de-sacs or dead ends; there wasn’t much through traffic. Unless the driver lived in the area, it was unlikely he’d been passing through.

Unless Kate had been targeted and run down on purpose.

It wasn’t the first time the thought had forced its way into his mind. As much as Frank hated the idea, he was going to have to consider it.

Cursing under his breath, he left the hall and pushed through the double doors that took him into the emergency room holding area. Even this early in the day, the ER was a madhouse. There were a dozen curtained bays and all of them were occupied. A toddler clinging to his mother wailed as she tried to get him onto a gurney for a doctor who barely looked old enough to shave. A nurse in yellow scrubs spoke quietly to a young woman in a wheelchair. A technician jogged through the aisle, a clipboard in one hand and a tray in the other.

Frank spotted Kate at the end of the row and felt a hard tug in the center of his chest. She was wearing a hospital gown and sitting on a gurney with her legs dangling over the side. Even from across the room, he could see that both knees were badly abraded. A bandage the size of Texas covered her left elbow.

Liz was standing next to the gurney, her purse draped over her shoulder. She was talking animatedly. Relief went through him when he saw Kate smile. Damn, even drugged and skinned up she looked sexy as hell.

Her smile fell when she spotted him. Her eyes were dark against her pale complexion, and for a moment she looked vulnerable.

“I’m okay,” she said testily.

Frank stopped a foot away from her and let his gaze linger on her knees. “Yeah, the bloody knees are a dead giveaway.”

Unaware of the tension running through him, Liz leaned forward and gave Kate a hug. “I’ve got to get back to the office, kiddo. When I heard what happened, I just ran out and left my phone ringing off the hook.”

“I’ll be in later,” Kate said.

Liz shot Frank a pointed look. “I told you.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed, going from Liz to Frank. “Told you what?”

She shook her head at Kate. “The doctor said you should go home and get some rest.”

“I have back-to-back meetings all after—”

“Reschedule her meetings,” Frank said to Liz.

“I’ll get right on it,” Liz said.

“Don’t talk about me as if I wasn’t sitting here,” Kate said.

“I gotta run, honey. If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be at the office late. I can bring anything you need by your house later, okay?”

“Liz—”

Liz had already turned to Frank. Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. “Thanks for taking her home.”

“My pleasure.”

“Taking me home?” Kate looked a little alarmed.

Frank felt that same alarm running through him, but it had nothing to do with hit-and-run drivers and everything to do with the way she looked sitting on that gurney wearing nothing but a wrinkled hospital gown and a frown.

Smiling, Liz waved. “Be safe,” she said and pushed through the double doors.

“Traitor,” Kate muttered.

Frank turned his attention back to Kate. She looked calm and relaxed for a woman who’d been the victim of a hit-and-run. Then he remembered the doctor telling him she’d been sedated.

“Do you feel up to answering a few questions?” he asked.

“I just answered a bunch of questions for the police.”

“I’d like to hear what happened while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

For an instant she looked like she was going to argue. Then she sighed as if in resignation and nodded.

“You always run in the rain?”

“I don’t let weather stop me.”

“What time did you leave the house?”

“About six-thirty or so. I usually do a couple of miles. I like to run down to the bridge that spans Mustang Creek.”

As she spoke, he took a quick visual inventory of her injuries. Skinned knees. Bandage on her elbow. Even her knuckles were abraded. One of her fingernails had been broken to the quick. A powerful wave of male protectiveness washed over him when he thought about all the other places beneath that gown that might be skinned or bruised or both.

“How far did you get?”

“Almost to the bridge. I was in the zone, I guess. Not paying attention to what was going on around me. I heard the vehicle. I moved over to let him pass. The next thing I knew the car was right on top of me. I heard the motor rev. By the time I turned to look, it was too late.”

“The motor revved?”

She nodded.

“Did you notice any details about the car? Make? Model? Plate number?”

“All I saw were headlights. It happened fast.”

“Did the driver have his high beams on?”

Her brows snapped together, then her gaze went to his. “I think they were.”

“Then what happened?”

“At first I thought he was going to pass me. You know, that he’d just gotten too close. I moved onto the shoulder. And the next thing I know the car is so close I could feel the heat coming off the engine.” In an unconscious protective gesture, she wrapped her arms around herself. “Bumper hit my left hip. The impact sent me airborne.”

A shudder moved through her. He wasn’t sure if it was his hormones flaring or his need to protect, but the urge to touch her was powerful. But Frank kept his hands to himself.

“Did he stop? Did you hear him apply brakes? Did you hear the tires lock up in the gravel? Anything like that?”

Her eyes were filled with knowledge when they met his. “No.”

Frank didn’t like the way this was shaping up. Even a driver who was legally drunk would usually attempt to stop, even if it were only for a few seconds before realizing what he’d done and fleeing the scene. That left only one scenario: Whoever had struck her had done it on purpose.

The thought sent a wave of fury rolling through him. He wondered if she’d drawn the same conclusion. If she would have been so forthcoming without the tongue-loosening effect of the sedative.

“Do you think it was an accident?” he asked.

Her eyes were liquid and very dark when she raised them to his. “A drunk driver, maybe.”

Frank didn’t buy that for a second. He didn’t think she did, either. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t telling him the whole story. The only question that remained was why.

TWENTY

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 11:12 A.M.

By the time the X ray arrived from radiology, Kate was climbing out of her skin. She didn’t like hospitals. Didn’t like being poked and prodded. She sure as hell didn’t like the idea of some son of a bitch trying to run her down.

One look at Frank, and she knew he was feeling protective. Kate wasn’t sure how she was going to handle that. The man was sticking to her like glue.

The doctor gave her a clean bill of health and within minutes they were in Frank’s truck and on the way to her house. The doctor had prescribed some mild painkillers, which was a good thing because by the time they pulled into the driveway, every bruise and scrape had come to life with a vengeance.

“Stay put,” Frank said as he parked in the driveway. “I’ll get the door.”

Kate reached for the handle anyway. She was halfway off the seat by the time she realized the doctor hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her she was going to be hurting. Every muscle in her body felt as if it had been run over by a steamroller.

“I’ve got you.” Putting his hands beneath her arms, Frank eased her to the ground.

“I can do it.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you’re groaning.”

“I’m not groaning, damn it.”

“Whatever you say.” He closed the door and they started for the house.

She pulled mail from the mailbox while he took her keys and unlocked the front door. She walked into the living room and tossed the mail on the coffee table, absurdly happy to be home. She’d been planning on getting rid of Frank, grabbing a quick shower, then heading to the office. But as she crossed to the dining room, her head began to spin and she realized it was going to take a lot more than a shower to get her to the office.

Gingerly she walked to the kitchen, aware that Frank was behind her, watching her. She could hear the prescription bag crackling. Trying to appear unaffected, she pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with cold water from the refrigerator. “Thanks for driving me home,” she said, keeping a light tone.

“No problem,” he said.

Turning to face him, she feigned a yawn. “I think I can take it from here.”

One side of his mouth curved. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.”

“I like you, Matrone. Why would I try to get rid of you?”

“Because I’m not going to let you go to the office. Because I’m going to ask you questions about what happened. Because I’m wondering why someone tried to kill you.”

Kate had been putting off thinking about that last part. But she knew that at some point she was going to have to face it.

“Why don’t you take your shower and I’ll whip up some lunch? Then you can answer some questions, crawl into bed, and call it a day.”

She blinked at him, not sure if she was annoyed or charmed by his offer. “I’m not hungry.”

“You can’t take these on an empty stomach.” He set the prescription bag on the counter. “Judging from the way you’re moving, you need them.”

Kate had thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding the pain, but she was quickly realizing Frank was more observant than she’d given him credit for.

“We need to talk about what happened.”

He was watching her closely. Too closely. His scrutiny was beginning to annoy her.

“I already told you everything,” she said. “It was a hit-and-run. A drunk driver more than likely. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.” But the explanations sounded lame even to her.

“Kate, has it crossed your mind that maybe this wasn’t an accident?”

“Of course I’ve considered that,” she said. “I’m aware of the possibility that I’ve made some enemies over the years. But I’m diligent about reading the latest prisoner-release reports from TDOJ, and I know there’s no one I sent to prison who’s been recently released.”

“Those reports don’t take into consideration the prisoner’s pissed-off family members or spouses.”

“I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I can’t tell if it’s those painkillers making you dense or if you’re so deep into denial you don’t see what could be happening.”

“What I see is an ex-cop overreacting to a hit-and-run accident, reading all sorts of sinister conspiracies into it.”

Lowering his head, Frank pinched the bridge of his nose. “They say doctors make the worst patients.” He raised his head and scowled at her. “From what I’m seeing here prosecutors make pretty bad victims.”

Not liking the way he used the word
victim,
Kate turned away and started toward the living room. For an uncertain instant she stood there, looking around, desperately needing something to do, anything to keep this man from digging into something she did not want uncovered.

“This is the third incident inside two weeks,” came his voice from behind her. “For God’s sake, you’re a prosecutor. You know better than to let things go unresolved.”

She turned to face him. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth would be a good start.”

“I haven’t lied to you.”

“Lying by omission. You’re keeping something from me.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Kate.” His voice softened. “I’m not the enemy.”

He reached for her arm, but she stepped back. She tried hard not to limp as she strode to the coffee table and picked up the stack of mail. Ignoring Frank as best she could, she carried the mail into the kitchen. Junk mail went into the trash. Bills onto the built-in desk next to the refrigerator, along with an advertisement she wanted to look at later. She liked everything in its place. She was in the process of tossing several pieces into the trash when the plain white envelope caught her attention. There was no return address. Not even a postage stamp.

Curious, she carried the unmarked letter to the bar. The envelope wasn’t sealed. She lifted the flap, pulled out the single sheet of paper, unfolded it and began to read.

 
Shock was a violent punch to the solar plexus. For several seconds she couldn’t catch her breath. Kate stared at the ominous words, disbelief and dread climbing up her throat to fill her mouth with bile. Vaguely she was aware of the paper shaking in her hands. Of her heart pounding out of control. Of Frank watching her with a quiet intensity that made her want to turn tail and run.