Searching for Cate Page 14

  Christian never hesitated. He called for a medication that, when injected into the girl’s arm, instantly made the spasms cease. As Cate watched, the girl fell back against the table, unconscious and limp. For a second, the very air around her seemed to freeze.

  Almost afraid to say anything, Cate raised her eyes to Christian. “Is she—?”

  “Dead? No.”

  Whipping his stethoscope from the back of his neck and inserting the earpieces, he listened to her heartbeat. It was settling down. He needed to stabilize her if he was going to operate, and there was no doubt in his mind that she needed surgery. He returned the stethoscope to its original position and stepped back.

  Into Cate.

  An annoyed sigh hissed through his teeth. “Why are you still here?”

  Cate took a single step back and no more. There was no way he was going to get her to leave. “Because I have a job to do.”

  Christian glared at her. “Since when is getting in the way a job?”

  She thought his ancestors must have been formidable opponents if they could cast thunderbolts from their eyes the way he did. “You only tripped over me once,” she pointed out.

  Placing his fingers on the girl’s wrist again, he resumed monitoring her pulse. It was getting stronger. Good.

  Christian slanted a glance at his sister-in-law’s annoying partner. “Did you expect her suddenly to sit up and tell you everything you wanted to know?”

  “I don’t know what to expect, that’s why I’m here,” she retorted. “Sometimes people experience a moment of lucidity just before the end.”

  That was for movies and books. Reality didn’t arrange itself nearly as neatly. “And most of the time, they don’t.”

  “But it’s not a sure thing,” she countered stubbornly.

  The woman just didn’t give up. Christian got the distinct impression that, given half a chance, she would probably try to argue God out of Armageddon.

  The situation temporarily calm, Christian stepped back from the table. Glancing toward Cate, he studied her for a moment, trying to delve into her thoughts. He got nowhere. “My sister-in-law seems to be wound up around this case, too. Is it personal for you, as well?”

  A glimmer of a smile took over her lips as she reflected. All of her work had always been very personal to her. She’d had to work on that. She’d come very close to burning out the first year in the field. It had taken her time to learn how to appear to keep things under wraps. There had been nights, especially in the early days, when she’d come home from work and just cried. Until Gabe had come into her life and let the sunshine in. He had a way of looking at things that didn’t just put them in their proper perspective, but somehow managed to keep them light.

  She missed Gabe in so many ways.

  “If you let something get to you, you’re not going to be any good to the bureau, not accomplish any good for the people you’re trying to protect and help. The picture’s bigger than just a close-up.” Gabe had been right, of course, and she’d tried to remember that. But at times, it just wasn’t easy.

  “Anything done to a child is personal to me,” she told Christian stiffly. She didn’t like being questioned. It made her feel as if she was on the defensive. “And under that misapplied makeup—” she waved at the still, small form on the table “—is a child. A child who never got the chance to be one.”

  Christian read between the lines. “So you’re a crusader.”

  “I’m anything I have to be to bring the bad guys in.” Realizing that her answer sounded rather flippant, she watched to see if he took offense.

  One of the X-ray technicians approached him. “Doctor, we managed to get a few films done before she began having seizures. They’ve just finished developing them.” He nodded toward the door on his right. “If you want to see those…”

  “Absolutely.” Christian walked into the next room where the X-ray films could be viewed more easily. Behind him he heard Cate following, matching him step for step. This had to stop.

  Christian halted abruptly. Unable to stop in time, Cate walked straight into him. “Are you planning on following me into the men’s room, too?”

  “Only if that’s where you’re reading the X-rays,” she deadpanned. She could see the humor fell on deaf ears. It was obvious that the man’s patience was wearing thin. “Look, I need to see those X-rays.”

  “Why?” he demanded. “Are you going to try to assist in the surgery?”

  “No, that’s your department.”

  “Thanks at least for admitting that.”

  She could have gotten frostbite from the sarcasm. “Look, I need to find certain things out.”

  “What possible difference could it make to you what’s on those X-rays?” he asked.

  She went toe to toe with him. “You want to know, all right, I’ll tell you. And it’s not a pretty picture I’m painting. Maybe whoever kidnapped her or bought her from her parents for the price of several ounces of drugs didn’t just use her as a prostitute. They could also be using her as a mule.” She saw that the term momentarily threw him. “Mules are made to bring cocaine into the country by either swallowing small balloons filled with the drug, or having them inserted in various body cavities.” Even after all this time, the thought of that made her stomach turn. “One balloon leaking—”

  Christian cut her short. “I know all about what happens, Special Agent. I watch the Discovery Channel, too.”

  “Yes, but I live it.”

  She said it as if she was ready to defend truth and justice, challenging the dregs of society. With little imagination, he could almost envision a cape flapping behind her in the wind.

  Christian knew that if he called for Security, they would remove Cate quickly enough, but it didn’t seem worth the effort just to win. Growing up Navajo had taught him not to compete, that trying to best his fellow person wasn’t polite. It was only when he’d become Americanized that winning had taken on some kind of meaning.

  So he’d focused on winning victories against diseases and injuries instead. And right now, he had to prepare for another battle. There was no time to waste arguing with a woman with a rosebud mouth and flashing green eyes.

  Without another word, he went through the door the technician held open for him.

  Cate followed, feeling a little triumphant. She’d won a battle. The house was on his side, not hers, and she’d still won a concession. It reminded her how much she’d liked beating the odds.

  The technician had all the X-rays that had been developed mounted against the screens. Backlighting illuminated them. The problem was easy enough for even a layman to spot. The girl had three cracked ribs. In addition to that, her spleen had been damaged and her kidneys were bruised.

  “That’s not right, is it?” Cate asked, pointing to the cracked ribs.

  “No,” he said quietly, “that’s not right. A girl her age should be daydreaming about her first boyfriend, not being manhandled by some scum with the price of a good time in his wallet.” The girl was small boned with dark hair. She made him think of Alma at that age. It was becoming personal for him, too, and he struggled to resist the feeling. “If we don’t tape her ribs, one of them might just pierce her lung.” He blew out a breath, looking at the radiologist who had come into the room. “It’s a wonder that it didn’t happen while she was having her seizure episode.”

  “We got lucky,” Cate said softly.

  He supposed that was one way of seeing it, although how the word luck could be applied to this girl was nothing short of a mystery to him.

  Christian surveyed the X-rays one last time. “I need her in surgery right away,” he told the radiologist.

  The latter nodded and began gathering together the X-rays as he shut off the backlight.

  Christian searched for the nurse who had initially brought him back here. She was nowhere in sight. With an impatient shrug, he crossed to the wall phone himself. After yanking up the receiver, he pressed the three numbers that connected h
im to the scheduling desk.

  “This is Dr. Graywolf. No, the other one,” he corrected. He noticed that Cate was trying to suppress the smile that rose to her lips. Somehow, the sight of it seemed to counterbalance the drama of the situation. He forced himself to look away. “I need an operating room. ASAP. No, not good enough. I mean now. A girl’s life might be hanging in the balance.” There was a pause as he listened to the woman on the other end. “I need an internal surgeon,” he told her, cutting in. “Is Dr. Bendenetti on call? He is, good, get him. Tell him it’s an emergency. Yes, I’ll assist. Operating room 3? Right.”

  Cate watched him drop the receiver into the cradle. He seemed satisfied with the answers he’d gotten. “I thought you were a gynecologist.”

  “I am. But I’m cleared to assist.” He paused, glancing at her. “Anything else you’d like to question?”

  “What are her chances?”

  “Slim. We’ll know more when we open her up. Go back and tell my sister-in-law that there’s nothing she can do right now, short of lighting a candle.”

  His comment surprised her. “You believe in prayer?” He didn’t seem like the type.

  “Lydia does. As far as I’m concerned, whatever sees you through the night is okay.”

  She couldn’t have really said, in the midst of all this, why it seemed important to her to get a handle on him. But it was. “So you don’t believe in prayer.”

  He looked at her for a moment that seemed to stretch out indefinitely. So much so that she decided he wasn’t going to answer her, other than to make her feel that it was none of her business.

  And then she heard him say, “No.”

  He didn’t believe in prayer. Because prayer had failed him. Over and over again. He’d lost track of the times he’d prayed, prayed that Alma would get over her demons, prayed that they could have a normal life together.

  And he’d prayed for the life of his little girl as she waged a infinitesimally short war against death that awful day. His beautiful daughter hadn’t died with her mother on the tracks. Somehow, she’d managed to survive long enough to be taken to the hospital, and he’d hoped, prayed…

  But ultimately, she’d died at the hospital before a single doctor could come to attend her. If there was a God up there, His answer had been no and he didn’t want to carry on communications with someone who didn’t want to take his calls.

  But he kept that all to himself, because to breathe a word of it was far too personal, far too hurtful.

  Cate nodded her head. She thought of how hard she’d prayed the morning of September 11. Prayed that Gabe would survive the awful catastrophe. After all, some people had come out of the buildings alive, why not him?

  But he hadn’t.

  God had not taken her call.

  “Me, neither.”

  Christian paused for a moment.

  He was tempted to ask her why she didn’t believe that praying did any good. He didn’t usually experience curiosity, not about strangers. And asking her something so personal would only pave the way for more personal information to be rendered. Something he neither wanted nor welcomed from people who were not his patients. Because that meant getting involved, and the only thing he wanted to be involved with was the vocation he’d taken an oath to uphold. That and his family.

  Maybe that was why his curiosity had been aroused. Because Cate reminded him of Lydia and he cared about his sister-in-law. About what she felt and what she thought. She made a dynamic impact on the lives of everyone she came in contact with.

  He wondered if Cate did. This woman seemed somehow darker than Lydia had been. Was it just because she was plagued with doubts that had to do with her parentage? Or was there something else, something more?

  And why the hell should any of that matter to him? More than likely, he’d never see her again after today.

  Even as he thought it, something inside of him whispered that it wasn’t true. That there would be more.

  Christian shut the thought out. He had no time for this. There was a life to save and that was far more important than satisfying a smattering of idle curiosity, which was all it was. If he was reacting to her on any other level, wanting to touch her and see how soft her skin was, it was just because he was tired, nothing more.

  “Tell Lydia I’ll call right after the surgery’s over and give her an update.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. There’d been something in his eyes just then, something that had nothing to do with hospitals, or the case. Something that spoke to the very heart of her. Cate shut away the wave of warmth that passed over her body. She was imagining things. Imagining his look, imagining her response. She refused to give either any credence. She was all about the case, nothing else. Nothing more.

  More. The word hovered in her brain. She forced herself to focus on what he’d just said.

  Cate nodded. “Okay, but Lydia’ll probably call you first.”

  He laughed shortly, shaking his head. “You’re probably right.” As she began to leave, he called after her, “Know how to get back?”

  It seemed to her an unusually thoughtful question, especially given the circumstances. In her experience, the stereotype was true. Most men didn’t think about directions.

  “I’ve got a natural sense of direction,” she assured him.

  Christian nodded in response. He found himself watching her leave longer than he should have, the sway of her hips drawing him in.

  The next moment, he was issuing orders to get the girl in the next room ready for surgery.

  Cate felt Christian’s eyes on her as she left. Knowing when she was being watched had developed into almost a sixth sense for her. She felt her mouth curving as she retraced her steps to the service elevators. Maybe it wasn’t all just her imagination.

  A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she glanced over to her left just before turning a corner.

  Cate stopped dead.

  Joan Cunningham was no more than twenty feet away.

  Chapter 19

  Her biological mother was so close and about to enter one of the rooms on the opposite side. A tall, young man was with her. Rangy, with reddish hair that seemed to echo Joan’s own darker red, the young man was dressed too casually to be a hospital employee.

  Joan’s son?

  Cate’s pulse quickened. Was that her half brother? The thought throbbed in her brain as she changed her direction and quickly stepped up her pace.

  “Joan?” she called out. When there was no reaction, she raised her voice and called again. “Joan?”

  This time, they heard her. The woman’s son stopped first. Joan appeared almost reluctant to acknowledge that someone was calling to her. When Joan looked over in her direction, her complexion, still pale from her ordeal, faded to the color of newly fallen snow.

  The man beside Joan appeared to be mildly curious as he looked at her. He had an easy smile, Cate noted.

  Like her.

  “Friend of yours, Mom?” Cate heard him ask.

  She was right. He was Joan’s son. She had a half brother. She had a family. She’d been aware of that already, but only on paper. It was different, seeing the evidence in the flesh.

  Would he reject her, too, once he knew?

  “How are you feeling?” Cate called out before she even reached the stricken-looking woman.

  The woman looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an approaching car. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t. Cate had never seen that look outside of a fugitive’s eyes. Until now.

  Joan’s sharp intake of breath told her she was right. Caught, Joan undoubtedly knew she couldn’t urge her son to rush away without causing a scene, without raising questions in his mind.

  “How are you feeling?” Cate repeated as she joined the duo. It took everything she had not to fire more questions at Joan. Not to ask why she refused to admit she was her mother.

  I’m giving you another chance. Don’t keep rejecting me.

  B
ut there was no mistaking the distress in Joan’s eyes, the silent pleading. So the questions she had, about all the minor details she hungered to find out about this woman, especially about how she’d felt about the man who’d been her father, had to be put on hold. Cate hoped not indefinitely.

  They burned on her tongue.

  But working for the bureau had taught her restraint. She dug deep into her reserve and forced a smile to her lips as she looked at the young man standing beside her birth mother.

  Hi, I’m your half sister, Cate. Didn’t know I existed, did you?

  She put her hand out, her smile warm, all the while scrutinizing his face, searching for similarities between this handsome young man and herself. “Hi, I’m Cate Kowalski.”

  Joan’s son leaned over and took her hand. His fingers dwarfed hers as they wrapped around them.

  My brother has a firm grip.

  “I’m Alex. Where do you know my mother from?” It was a question to which he supplied his own tentative answer. “The cancer support group?”

  “No.” She saw fear rise in Joan’s eyes.

  I’m your dirty little secret, aren’t I, Joan? The thought stung. I didn’t come all this way, looking for you to cause trouble. All I want is to know who I really am. And maybe get a family in the bargain.

  She hated feeling this alone, this adrift.

  But there would be no answers if she wound up completely alienating this frightened-looking woman standing before her.

  Cate thought of Christian and had her excuse. “We both have the same doctor. Dr. Graywolf,” she told Alex. “We met in his waiting room one late afternoon and just got to talking. I didn’t expect to run into her today.” At least that much was true, Cate thought.

  The look in Joan’s eyes was one of guarded relief, as if she still couldn’t relax. As if she still expected her to suddenly say something that would bring her house of cards tumbling down.

  Smiling had never felt quite as painful before, Cate thought as she looked at Joan again. “So, you still haven’t told me. Are you feeling better?”