Long Simmering Spring (27 page)

Don stalked toward her. “No use screaming. No one’s left. All the shops are closed up for the night. Downtown’s deserted. Cops are all at the bar. You’re alone.” His eyes narrowed. “And when I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you were dead.”

Julie turned and fled. If she could just get to the end of the alley and out onto Main, there’d be a chance someone was walking by and could help her.

Don caught her in a few strides and grabbed her by her hair. Julie screamed as loudly as she could, her shrill cry echoing down the alleyway. Don turned her to face him and cracked her across her right cheek. Julie had turned her head when she saw his hand coming, so the blow didn’t hit her with full force, but she lost her balance and teetered into the row of garbage cans. A metal lid smacked against the bricks and clattered to the ground. If Don hadn’t kept hold of her hair, she would have fallen.

Stunned, Julie didn’t immediately realize that Don was dragging her back to her office. She grabbed onto his hand holding her hair and was punished by an elbow to her stomach. She struggled with all her might as Don threw her into her office. She landed heavily on the floor as he followed her inside. He slammed the back door behind him and locked it from the inside.

Julie didn’t think she’d ever heard any sound as desolate as the lock clicking shut. Before she could scramble away, he was standing over her.

“Don, think about what you’re doing,” she said, looking up at him. Her cheek throbbed, and she was still winded from the blow to her stomach. “Hurting me won’t solve anything.”

Don grinned evilly. Once again, he grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off the ground. She was forced to her feet, forced to stare into his face.

“It may not solve anything, such as the question of where my bitch of a wife is hiding, but it’ll sure make me feel a hell of a lot better.” And with that, he hit her hard across the other cheek. Julie cried out and fell against the wall.

“So tell me where she is, or don’t tell me where she is.” Don shrugged. “Either way, it’s going to be fun for me.” He smacked one fist into the palm of his other hand. “Lots of fun.”

Julie couldn’t let him do this to her. She wouldn’t. Not without a fight.

She struggled to right herself and began to crawl away as fast as she could.

As she turned, Don kicked her in the thigh. Hard. He laughed at her cry of pain and followed her slowly as she crawled down the hall, evidently confident that she was too incapacitated to escape.

“Come back here, Doc,” he said. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

Her leg spasmed with pain, and her head ached. She tasted blood in her mouth. She kept moving.

“Think you’re so high and mighty around here? Think you’re better than us because you went to a fancy Boston school?”

Julie disappeared around the corner and made for a supply cabinet. There had to be something in there she could use. Quickly, she rifled through it, grabbing the one thing she knew could help her—a large, sharp scalpel. She ripped it free from its sterilized bag and clutched it in her hand. She’d used this instrument a thousand times before, but never for something quite like this.

“
Doctor Kensington
, come back.” He was just mocking her now. Laughing in anticipation of beating her senseless, the way he probably did with Margo. But Julie wasn’t going to be one of his victims. She got into position and waited.

When Don turned the corner he saw her ten feet away, propped against a wall, sagging slightly with pain. Her hands lay on the ground by her hips. She knew she looked defeated, disheveled, broken. Just what she wanted him to think. There was only once chance for this.
Make it count.

Don approached and stood over her. For the third time, he grabbed her hair with one hand, forcing her face to tilt up to his. He raised his other hand to strike her, but before he completed the blow, Julie swiftly snatched the scalpel she’d hidden under her leg and stabbed it into his thigh, forcing it deep.

Don squealed and let her go, both his hands reaching for the scalpel to pull it out. “Whore!” he screeched. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

Don yanked out the scalpel. Just as he lunged for her again, there was a huge crash at the front door of her office. Before Julie could even comprehend what was happening, Cole let out a battle cry and smashed Don to the ground with a punishing fist. There was grunting and swearing and jerky, hard movements. Soft hands turned her face away from the scene and cradled her gently.

“Cameron?” Julie asked weakly.

“Shhh,” Cameron said. “It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” She held Julie around the shoulders, her long black hair acting as a shield from the violence transpiring in front of them.

“How did you . . . oh . . .” Julie trailed off as warm blood began to flow down her chin. She touched her lip and looked at her bloody hand in disbelief.

“Oh, Julie, don’t try to talk, please.” Cameron looked close to tears as she rifled in her pocket. “Here.” Carefully, she began to dab Julie’s lip with a handkerchief. “I was working on a new display in my office when I heard a noise out back. I opened my rear door a crack, saw you struggling with Don, and called the police.”

Julie looked past Cameron to see both Hank and Cole kneeling on Don. Cole had him handcuffed, and Hank was reading him his Miranda rights. As soon as they finished, Cole yanked him up and handed him to Hank. Cole’s blue eyes had turned almost black with rage and a muscle wouldn’t stop ticking in his jaw.

“Get him out of here before I do something I really regret,” Cole said grimly, his mouth a stark line on his face.

Hank nodded and jerked Don to the door.

Cole crossed the room to Julie, and Cameron stepped out of his way. He knelt at her side and touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She wanted to touch him so badly, but she hurt too much raise her arm again.

“I can’t move her without knowing what her injuries are, but the EMTs should be here shortly,” he said to Cameron. “Get them inside as quickly as possible. Please.” There was desperation in his voice.

“Yes. Of course.” Cameron nodded and fled to the front room.

As soon as Cameron was gone, Cole bent his head down to Julie’s. “My God, Julie. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Julie whispered back, wincing with pain.

“Don’t talk. And yes it was. I wasn’t here.”

“You saved me,” she whispered. He’d smashed down the door to get to her. “I was so scared, Cole.”

“I know, Doc. I know,” he murmured into her hair. “We’re going to get you to the hospital.”

“I used surprise . . . just like you taught me.”

Cole’s smile was a grimace. “I didn’t teach you nearly enough.”

Julie tried to shake her head but couldn’t make it move properly. Something was wrong with her eyes; she couldn’t focus on anything anymore, so she simply closed them. But that didn’t stop the dizziness. As they waited for the ambulance to arrive, Julie struggled against the rising darkness. She tried to suppress it, tried to push it back. She wanted—needed—to stay awake.

But despite her best efforts, everything went black.

“Visiting hours are over for the evening,” the sad-eyed nurse informed him, deliberately keeping the door to the patient room open, an evident signal that he should leave.

Cole gave her a short nod and stroked Julie’s hair one last time. Her beautiful face was blotchy, bruised, and swollen, but he kept staring, unwilling to look away. She was still unconscious, but her eyes flickered behind her lids. Most likely she was replaying the horrible experience of being attacked by Don over and over again in her mind. The attending physician had assured him she’d wake soon, and that her injuries would heal. But what about her emotional scars?

From experience, he knew those would last. Fester. Until they ate you up from the inside.

Giving her one last lingering look, he grabbed his jacket and stalked out of the room. The glare from the fluorescent lights in the corridor made his already throbbing head pound even harder. Involuntarily, his muscles seized. He forced himself to keep going. To get out of the hospital, away from everyone. The last time he’d felt this bad . . . no. He shouldn’t go there.

But then he did.

Every bad memory, every situation that spiraled out of control, every gamble he’d taken and lost flooded his brain. The walls seemed to be closing in on him, suffocating him. He struggled to get a breath into his lungs. He was being buried alive.

Air. I need air.

He was choking, gasping. And then by some miracle he found an exit and pushed his way out to a parking lot.

Breathe, God damn it.

Leaning against the side of the building, he gulped in the fresh, clean night air. Several deep breaths later, the buzzing in his head had subsided somewhat. But the feeling of impotence remained.

She’d
done this to him. Brought him back into a past he didn’t want to think about. He thought he could get beyond this. Thought he could keep it together. But every time he pictured her broken, bruised face . . . Without warning, the rage blanketed him in darkness.

He turned and was about to smash his fist into the side of the building. Pushing back against the pain and the anger would feel good. Powerful.
No! Not like this. Breathe, man. Breathe.

So he breathed and pressed his forehead against the brick, praying for the strength to get himself under control. Every muscle was taut and his head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Too fast. He shoved his hands in his pockets, deliberately relaxed his muscles, and tried to slow the wild beating down. Long minutes later, he finally lifted his head.

Oh, God, he’d done it again. Quickly, he glanced around the parking lot, praying that no one had seen him lose control. It was dark, and there was no one around. He leaned back against the wall.

Control.

Whatever amount she’d helped him regain was gone in the blink of an eye. He couldn’t stay calm anymore. Not when it came to Julie being hurt. She’d been pounded to a pulp. She could have been killed. And if that happened, he wouldn’t be able to function.

He knew now that he was faced with two completely incompatible things—worrying about Julie and doing his job.

And that he had a terrible choice to make.

CHAPTER 22

A gentle buzzing sounded from Julie’s kitchen counter—her cell phone. Maybe
he
was calling. Rapidly crossing the room to get it, she picked it up and flicked it on, holding it a decent distance from her still-bruised face.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Hi, Julie.” Kate Everhart’s clear voice came through the line. To her chagrin, she deflated a little bit. “I’m calling to see how you’re doing,” Kate continued.

Not Cole.
Julie pulled herself together. She was glad to hear from her friend. “Recovering. Thank you for calling.”

“Can I bring you anything, my dear?”

“No, thanks. Lisa and Cloris have that covered. Plus, Lexie won’t stop bringing by treats for me. I swear she’s made something new every day, just so I’ll keep eating.”

“So there’s nothing I can do?” Kate sounded disappointed.

“Just hearing your voice is enough. And I’d welcome a visit, if you’d like to stop by. They won’t let me work or exercise for the next week and a half, so I’m going a bit stir-crazy at home.” Thanks to multiple contusions and a minor concussion, the attending physician who’d treated her at Cape Cod Hospital insisted she not tax herself, and Lisa and Cloris had all but barred her from the office.

“Oh, I’d love a visit,” Kate said, her voice brightening. “I’ll come by with Luke after he closes up shop later this afternoon.”

“Wonderful. And please, don’t bring anything. Like I said, I have way more food than I can eat here.”

Kate laughed. “That’s Lexie for you. See you tonight, Julie.”

“‘Bye.”

Julie clicked her phone off and walked outside to her porch, to stare out over the lawn and beyond that, the water. For a moment, she could almost forget that her body was aching. Worse, that her heart was hurting.

Because of Cole.

How many more days would he be M.I.A.? Once her health had stabilized and she was released from the hospital, he’d told her that solving the drug case was integral to her safety, ordered a twenty-four-hour watch for her, and simply disappeared. Hurt and confused, Julie was left wondering if she could have said or done anything differently to make him want to stay with her. Because she wasn’t afraid to admit that she needed him. She did, badly.

Of course, the whole town had rallied around her. She’d received a hero’s welcome back at home. People had gone out of their way to tell Julie how proud they were of her, how brave they thought she was, and how sorry they were that such a terrible thing had happened. They were her true friends, making Cole’s disappearing act even more difficult to swallow.

Suddenly, being trapped at home was beyond oppressive. She needed to move—to go.

Walking around the house, she spied Kip O’Leary, pacing back and forth on the driveway, his boots crunching on the gravel with each step. When he saw her, he stopped.

“You sure you should be up and about, Dr. Kensington?” he asked, concern written all over his face.

“I’m fine, Kip,” she said. “Just need to get some fresh air.”

Now he looked even more worried. “Not sure Cole’ll be happy about that.”

Irritation pricked at her. The man couldn’t even bother to come around himself, yet he was still dictating her movements, including whether or not she could go outside? She was about to give Kip a sharp retort, but she stopped and sighed. The deputy was just doing his job. “If you want, you can come with me. I’m going to walk to the park.”

“I think I should. Orders were to keep an eye on you, and I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I let you walk alone.”

Julie nodded, and slowly started off down the wood path, Kip trailing behind her. His handheld radio crackled, and she realized that he must have called in his position to the team. Ignoring him, she kept going. She didn’t know where she was headed, just that she needed to get out of her house and stop thinking for a while. Especially about him.