We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek Book 11) Read online

  “I think so.” She stepped closer, not wanting to wake either of the two sleeping in the beds. “She’ll be ok. I’m just…hovering.”

  “I stopped by after finishing with the deputy mayor.” Allen wrapped a hot hand around her elbow and guided her out of the room and into the hallway where she could see him better in the light. His touch felt…good. Like maybe she wasn’t so alone at the moment. “I was worried about her. Them. I brought him a bag of clothes I had in my trunk that should fit him. I figured he’d need them in the morning.”

  It was genuine concern she saw in his light-gray eyes. Then again, Turner had said they’d been friends for years. “Me, too. This...”

  “Shouldn’t have happened to them. Far too many things are happening to good people. People who don’t deserve to be hurt.”

  “No. I’m not even certain what did happen. Have you heard anything else?” He always seemed to know what was going on around FCGH. Allen was a natural leader; she’d noticed that before, when he’d been the temporary chief of medicine. Calm and in control. Steady.

  Maybe he didn’t irritate her as much as he once had.

  Maybe she was starting to respect his quiet dependability—even if it was wrapped up in take-charge arrogance now and then.

  He shook his head as he stepped closer, to put a black duffel bag in the chair next to where Turner was sprawled in the second bed. “I don’t think anyone is. Except the TSP and Turner and Annie.”

  “They aren’t saying much.” Jake had grabbed her in the ER and sworn her to secrecy. He hadn’t wanted his presence noted at all. Said this was part of a bigger case he’d been working for months.

  She was supposed to keep her mouth shut.

  He’d been covered in blood and had needed her to get him something to wear, fast. She’d borrowed from the lost and found in the back breakroom.

  She hoped he sanitized as soon as he got home. She made a note to bleach the shower before she used it again.

  She wouldn’t forget the blood covering him anytime soon. One of her greatest fears was the blood being his someday. Jake always seemed to be in the thick of things going on lately.

  “I don’t think they can, yet.”

  When Izzie did make it to her bed, she’d probably have nightmares.

  Before she could say anything, Cherise called her name. “I need help in room 407.”

  Izzie nodded, then looked at Allen one more time. For some reason, Izzie wanted to just stay right where she was for a little while. Until all the crazy stopped. Crazy didn’t seem to spin so fast around Allen right now.

  That, more than anything, had her hurrying to room 407.

  46

  Wallace Henedy’s son looked nothing like him. Jake stared down at the man on the bed, noticing every detail he could. Details were kind of his business, after all.

  Wallace Henedy was a tall man, something he and his son shared. He’d put them both around Jake’s own six three. The younger Henedy was broader shouldered and more muscled than his dick of a father. Healthier. From his years working construction.

  The younger had worked his way up using his hands and his back, while wearing real honest-to-goodness work boots.

  Jake had researched the man’s company thoroughly. Henedy Jr. had a reputation of doing good work. There were no secrets, no skeletons that he found so far in the construction company.

  Jake still had his people digging.

  There was a reason this man had been targeted. It would be damned coincidental if it didn’t have something to do with the man’s father’s actions.

  Jake looked at the other detective in the room. “You know I can’t be openly involved in the investigation. Not with what his father did to my niece.”

  Callum nodded. He and his partner would do the follow up.

  That ate at him. Every instinct he had told him this had something to do with the corruption case only he and a handful of others knew he’d been working. To have to sit along the sidelines now because of familial involvement pissed him off even more.

  He trusted Callum and Evers. The two were damned good at what they did, too. “Keep me in the loop, will you?”

  Callum nodded. “You know we will. We like Izzie. We’ll find out why this happened to her. And why it happened to this guy.”

  Jake nodded. His mind went over everything that he knew about the Henedy family. Something was sour in that family; he’d bet a year’s pay on that. Real sour.

  He didn’t know if it had trickled down to the next generation.

  Someone entered the room; Jake tensed, seeing the physician there.

  He fought back a snarl.

  It would be Jacobson. Jake didn’t trust him one inch. The man’s name kept coming up too often. It had for the last eighteen months. Something was going on, and if it was tied to FCGH he had no doubt that this was the connection right there. For all of Jake’s digging, he hadn’t found anything to implicate the man in anything illegal. Or even immoral, for that matter.

  Jake was hoping he didn’t find anything—considering what he owed Jacobson—but he was a firm believer in where there was smoke there was fire.

  Callum nodded. “Jacobson. Saw that you are the surgeon on record. What is the prognosis?”

  There was still a bit of hostility on Jacobson’s face when he looked at Callum. No love lost there, either, apparently. “Very good. He’ll most likely make a full recovery or close to it. It depends on how hard he wants to work at it. He’s young, healthy, physically fit. He should do well. He needs rest now. So if you would take your discussion someplace else, please? This isn’t the place for it.”

  It wasn’t a suggestion, and Jake knew it. He tried not to bristle. Jacobson had always set his teeth on edge, with that commanding arrogance of his. The way he had of looking at a man. The distrust and slight hostility was right there for him to see.

  No, Jacobson didn’t care for the TSP much at all. Jake wanted to know why. He found Jacobson far too much of a puzzle for his own liking. Especially considering how close the man kept ending up to Izzie.

  “What do you know about what happened? What have you heard?” Jake asked. Even he heard the hostility in his words, but it was too late to take them back.

  Jacobson stiffened. Jacobson sized him up; Jake returned the look levelly.

  The man didn’t say anything. He kept his cool at least; Jake would give him that. Damn it, Jake owed him for what he had done for Izzie. Kind of hard to forget that. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so abrupt.”

  “Are you asking if this has something to do with what happened to your niece? Well, your guess is as good as mine. I didn’t even know who the patient was until after the surgery was complete. That’s the nature of emergency trauma, boys. I save the life that’s on my table. I don’t think of their names until well after. As for what I know about Reggie Henedy, personally, that doesn’t violate medical privacy law, not much. I met him twice when he came by to have lunch with his father. Seems like a nice, hard-working decent guy. Why don’t you go ask Wallace Henedy what he thinks about all of this? Maybe he could shed some light on what in the hell’s going on? A man I greatly respect lost his house the other night, and he almost lost the woman he loves. Shouldn’t you be trying to find out exactly what happened with Turner and Annie? Wouldn’t that be a better use of your time than hanging out in a hospital room over a man too sedated to even begin to answer your questions?”

  No, Jacobson definitely wasn’t a pushover.

  Jake still didn’t like the sonofabitch much though.

  47

  Jennifer was finally starting to get ahold of herself. Telling Wallace what had happened to their son had been one of the hardest things of her life. It ranked just shy of how she had felt burying her nephew.

  Nothing had been as bad as burying their daughter all those years ago. Her arms still shook as she imagined holding Elizabeth. Jennifer had held her daughter almost the baby’s entire life—only Wallace had held her in the short moments Je
nnifer hadn’t.

  They had grieved together then. In the years that had followed. Grief welled again. Then…grief for Reggie. She couldn’t lose him, too.

  She couldn’t bury another of her children. She just couldn’t do it.

  A mother wasn’t supposed to outlive her children. Ever.

  Wallace had insisted that she request Allen Jacobson remain as the physician for their son.

  Wallace’s bail hearing was still a week away. She had the attorney working to make that happen sooner, but he had told her there wouldn’t be much chance of it. Even under these circumstances.

  Wallace’s former boss had been the surgeon who had saved Reggie’s life.

  Jennifer wasn’t lost to the irony of that. She would always owe Dr. Jacobson for that, for not holding what Wallace had done against their son.

  Jennifer had feared Wallace was about to have a heart attack right in front of her. The way he had paled had terrified her. Jennifer bit back the nausea.

  She’d learned one truth in that moment.

  She still loved him.

  She had to stop deluding herself that way. She still loved Wallace; she probably always would. No matter his faults, no matter what he had done—she would love him forever.

  She couldn’t let him rot in prison for the rest of his life.

  Her first priority was getting Reggie healthy and whole again. Then she would find a way to save her husband. Her marriage was over, her career was practically in tatters, but she wasn’t going to let Wallace spend the rest of his life in prison because of some no-name little whore.

  Wallace mattered to her and to Reggie too much for that. This would be her last gift to him. Get him out of jail so he could be with Reggie.

  Reggie.

  Her son had a hard road ahead of him. Jennifer wasn’t going to stop until she had him back to the way he was. Her son was going to have a life. He was going to have a wife who appreciated him far more than that for which Amanda had ever done. Amanda had deserted him, right when it mattered the most. She wasn’t worthy of Reggie. It was up to Jennifer to find a woman who was.

  Jennifer made it to the hospital and to Reggie’s room in time to see someone coming out the door. She recognized him.

  Tall, well-built, beautiful. Allen Jacobson was a gorgeous specimen of masculinity. She would freely admit that. She had long found him to be attractive. She’d even teased Wallace about that very thing a time or two. He hadn’t liked that. Wallace had always been so jealous whenever she looked at another man.

  He was such a hypocrite. Maybe that was why she had always enjoyed pointing out how attractive to look at Dr. Jacobson was.

  She should have known from the very beginning that a man like Wallace wouldn’t be satisfied in bed with only one woman; he had too many appetites. Appetites that she couldn’t satisfy. That was on her.

  That was what her mother had told her the one time Jennifer had been stupid enough to ask her for advice. Her mother had always adored Wallace—adored having a wealthy doctor in their family. She’d yelled at Jennifer to better satisfy her husband and not do anything to lose him. That Jennifer was going to ruin everything for her.

  Wallace had been supporting her mother for ten years by that point. It had been easy to see where her mother’s loyalties had lain.

  She’d never been stupid enough to go to her mother again.

  Dr. Jacobson paused. “Mrs. Henedy, how are you today?”

  Jennifer bit back a snarl. She had no illusions that the man gave a damn at all. Not considering what Wallace had done. Jennifer had watched the videos over and over and over, trying to decide what to do to fix what Wallace had done.

  There was still no clue why. Wallace wasn’t talking. Even to her.

  “Dr. Jacobson? I’m so sorry for what Wallace did. I’m just worried about my son. Please tell me he’s going to be ok.”

  Some men respected honesty. She suspected this was one of them. There was probably a bit of a chauvinist in this man. She shot him her weepiest, most vulnerable look. One she’d perfected with Wallace, Dennis Lee, and Carl.

  It had always been effective.

  That wasn’t a lie exactly; everything she did was for her son. It always had been. “Tell me how is he? Honestly. I…need to know.”

  “He woke about an hour ago for a few minutes. He knew he was in the hospital. He even recognized me from the handful of times we met before. He can move both arms and both legs. That’s a good sign. A really good sign. He’s young, strong, and healthy. He should pull through just fine.”

  She let out a breath at his words. He didn’t seem to be lying to her. Compassion was in his gray eyes.

  She’d always thought he had beautiful eyes. Gray, with the smallest hint of blue around the outer edges. There was a lot of character in his face now, more than had been there when she’d first met him more than half a dozen years or so ago.

  He was a tall man. He looked over her shoulder easily, and his face tightened.

  Jennifer turned reflexively—in time to see a trio of young women walking down the hall, deep in discussion over what appeared to be a file in their hands.

  She recognized them almost instantly. She’d met Dr. Finley Coulter many times before; frankly, Jennifer wasn’t that impressed. The woman appeared flighty and flaky.

  It was the other two women that made her want to scream and scratch their eyes out.

  Jennifer had always had a vicious side where other women were concerned. She embraced that fact. There was no one on the planet she wanted to claw at more than those two little smug bitches right there.

  “If you’ll excuse me? I need to consult with another surgeon.” Dr. Jacobson stepped around her, not giving her time to reply.

  He walked with a sure step straight to those women. She watched as he wrapped his strong fingers around the dark-haired whore’s elbow and stopped her right there in the hallway.

  Jennifer stood there, rage making her almost ill, as he redirected the trio. Focus. She had to focus. She couldn’t afford to forget why she was there today.

  Reggie; it was all about Reggie now.

  She pulled in a deep breath and stepped into her son’s room. He was where she had to focus now. There would be time to get back at Izzie MacNamara and Nikkie Jean Netorre later. That bastard Jake MacNamara who just wouldn’t stay out of her business at all.

  48

  Allen was crowding her. Izzie barely had time to look up into his face before she felt herself turned almost fully around and practically dragged down the hallway toward PICU.

  “What’s going on? Is the building on fire or something?”

  He looked at the other two women with her. They’d followed Allen like a pair of tiny ducks. “Fin, take Nikkie Jean back down stairs. I don’t want her going down the 300s hallway.”

  Nikkie Jean scowled up at him, looking ridiculous with her hair braided in two pigtails and cartoon unicorns on her glasses today. “Why for, Lieutenant? You have some explaining to do.”

  “Wallace Henedy’s wife just went into her son’s room. I don’t want a confrontation between you two and her. Not today. He was shot last night, shortly before the deputy mayor.”

  Izzie gasped. She’d seen Wallace Henedy’s son before. He’d been in a car accident at around the same time that she was in the hospital. They’d both been patients on the fourth floor and had come face to face—while she’d been wearing alien pajamas. He hadn’t seemed anything like his father at all. “What’s his prognosis?”

  “Most likely a full recovery.”

  Nikkie Jean’s name was paged over the intercom, and she straightened. “Aye-aye, Lieutenant. I’ll avoid this area. Come on. Fin, you can be my babysitter while Allen whisks Izzie away in the other direction.”

  Then Nikkie Jean was gone, dragging Fin with her, after shooting a wink at Izzie and a significant look at Allen.

  Izzie try to figure out what that was all about. She had no clue.

  Sometimes with Nikkie Jean, ther
e was no way to know what the woman was really thinking. Or plotting. Nikkie Jean was a real plotter.

  The hospital’s never-ending stash of chocolate pudding was proof of that.

  Someone had seen to it that Izzie had chocolate pudding on her food tray almost every single day during those three weeks she’d been a patient. It had most likely been Nikkie Jean, who seem to have an in with the dietary staff.

  “I need to get back downstairs. Nikkie Jean took the paperwork I was fetching for Cherise.” Izzie looked up at the man still holding her arm in his firm, warm grip and immediately forgot exactly what it was her supervisor had wanted from her, Nikkie Jean, and Fin. Just for a moment. “Thanks. The last thing I want to do right now is get into a confrontation with Wallace Henedy’s wife.”

  “I figured as much.”

  He finally released her elbow. Maybe, thanks to all the times he’d been there to save her, she was somehow conditioned to his touch.

  Why not? It made just as much sense as anything else. “Once again, thanks for saving me. You always seem to be there at the right time.”

  “Just my luck,” he said. He shot her a smile, and she understood all over again why the doofy first-shift nurses got all twitchy whenever he looked at them.

  Objectively, he was probably one of the most gorgeous men on staff at FCGH—with the unusual gray eyes and the caramel hair and the perfect smile. Not to mention the hard, toned body that looked damned good in a white coat.

  Him, Rafe, Virat, and Cage eclipsed every other man in the building. There was no way she’d ever deny that.

  There was something about his gray eyes now that was so different than it had been before. Before the evil pharmacy tech had gotten her hands on him. Back then, he’d been an arrogant jerk. He’d defined everything Izzie had hated about male physicians.

  He seemed so different now.

  Mostly with Nikkie Jean. Izzie didn’t think he was attracted to her friend. Not at all. Maybe at Ariella’s wedding he had been—back before the storm had struck—but now, he was almost brotherly where Nikkie Jean was concerned.