Doctor and Protector
Autor
Meredith Webber
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Dr. Cassie Carew can't believe the mysterious letters are significant. But the police take them seriously enough to bring in surgeon-turned-criminologist Dr. Henry McCall to protect her. And, worst of all, he's posing as her lover! Over a few hectic days, Cassie has to cope with a threat to her life and a flood of medical emergencies. But it's her unwanted, much-needed bodyguard and his oh-so-convincing romantic pretense that's always on her mind.
CHAPTER ONE
âGOT a minute, Cassie?â
Dr Cassandra Carew, Medical Superintendent of Wakefield Hospital, looked up from the nearly illegible letter sheâd received from a local doctor, and smiled at her visitor. Dave Pritchard was the officer in charge of the local police station, but heâd also been a friend from when theyâd both started in year one at Wakefield State School.
âDave! Nice surprise to see you in the office for a change. I can say, with total honesty, Iâm pleased to see you, which I never am when you come in through the emergency entrance.â
âNo, Iâm usually bad news down there,â Dave agreed, turning towards a tall, black-haired figure in ancient cords and a faded football jersey whoâd followed him into the room. âThis is McCall.â
Heavy-lidded eyes blinked once as Cassie inspected the stranger.
âMcCall someone, or someone McCall?â she asked Dave, although she smiled politely at his companion to take away any offence.
âItâs Henry, actually, which, Iâm sure youâll agree, is not a name destined to gain acceptance in an Australian schoolyard, so Iâve always been called by my surname.â
It was McCall himself who explained, in a clear, precise voice, walking past her desk and peering out the window. She knew from doing it often herself that the view over the laundry and the gardenersâ shed was uninspiring, particularly at the moment when water restrictions caused by the drought in this part of central Queensland meant the usually lush green grass beyond the outbuildings was dry, brown and brittle.
Dave, meanwhile, was depositing his lean, uniform-clad figure in one of the visitorsâ chairs.
âIâm assuming this isnât a social call,â Cassie said, watching the second visitor slouch over towards the filing cabinet in the corner of her room and pick up one of the family photos she kept on the top of it.
âNo, I wanted to introduce you to McCall and explainââ
Daveâs own explanations were cut short by a squawk from his two-way radio.
âDomestic at the Churchersâ,â he said to Cassie, obviously recognising both the code and the street address. âIâve got to go. McCall will explain.â
âYouâve got five minutes,â Cassie told McCall. âThen Iâll be summoned to A and E to attend to whichever of the Churchers lost todayâs argument. I might have the grand title of Medical Superintendent at this hospital, but like all country superintendents Iâm still a working doctor.â
âIt wonât take five minutesâmore like five seconds,â McCall told her, turning from her filing cabinet with a photo still in his hands. âIâm your shadow.â
Before Cassie could query this bizarre remark, he held up the photo and continued, âFine-looking family. All girls?â
âUntil the twins arrived,â Cassie said, standing up and coming around her desk, feeling obscurely anxious about this stranger holding an image of her family in his hands.
As if he understood her anxiety, he handed her the photoâone of herself, Emily and Anne, with Abigail their mother, taken not long before Em had gone away. Cassie looked at it, seeing the similarities between the four of them in the thick, honey-blonde hair and strongly boned faces, though Anneâs cheekbones, at sixteen, were still partially disguised by the remnants of her early plumpness, and her hair was, at the moment, a teenage-rebellion black.
Cassie touched her finger to Anneâs face, and closed her eyes as a terrible anguish, so strong she had to repress a cry, clutched at her body.
She wasnât worried about dying herself. Sheâd prefer not to, of course, if she could possibly avoid it, but the panic really clutched at her when she thought of not being here to see Annieâs cheekbones come through.
To not see her flower into full, vibrant womanhoodâŠ
âYouâll be all right,â McCall said, as if he could somehow feel the gut-wrenching moment of fear himself. âThatâs why Iâm here.â
âThatâs why youâre here?â Cassie pulled herself together sufficiently to question this weird statement. âWhat are you? Some kind of bodyguard?â
Then the absurdity of such an idea struck her and she looked in McCallâs face and laughed.
âNo, of course you canât be! Not even Dave could be so dense as to think that would work!â
McCall saw eyes as green as emeralds scan his face, and felt a twist of the same fear heâd seen in her involuntary shudder a little earlier. What could he, an academic, do to protect this woman?
This very attractive womanâŠ
âNot a bodyguard,â he said, smiling inwardly at the confluence of his thought with what he was about to say. âA boyfriend. Though surely Iâm too old to be called a boyfriend, and youâre probably too old to have one, but Daveâs ideaââ
âBoyfriend? Too old? Where do you get offâ?â
The woman Dave called Cassie broke off as if her indignation was too immense to be put into words.
âIâm doing this badly,â McCall apologised. âBut to put it bluntly, Dave wanted me up here, and because youâre the latest recipient of threats, he thought it would be best if I was close to you. His idea is that you and I met when you were on holiday recently, and Iâm here following up our holiday romance.â
âHoliday romance!â
The words spluttered from Cassieâs lips, which, McCall realised, were as attractive, in their own way, as her eyes. Soft and full, the lips, demurely and naturally coloured a dusky kind of pink.
See, an internal voice snapped at him. I told you youâd be no good at this. Too easily distracted.
Now heâd missed what she was saying. Something to the effect that she hadnât been on holiday?
âBut youâve been away,â McCall argued, sufficiently off track that heâd forgotten most of Daveâs briefing. Somethingâhe guessed anger at his denseness, or perhaps at Dave for arranging thisâwas raising a tinge of pink beneath the lightly tanned skin of her cheeks.
âIâve been away rescuing my nephews from the useless lump of ectoplasm who fathered them. The lying hound fought my sister for custody, on the grounds she was doing a season in Antarctica, then had the hide to head off for the Himalayas himself, on an expedition heâd obviously been planning for at least a year, leaving the twins with his pleasant but quite dotty mother, who has less idea of child-rearing than my dog.â
âBut you have been away,â McCall reminded her, determined to stick to the facts, though his over-developed sense of curiosity would have liked more detail about the obviously dysfunctional family sheâd just described.
More detail on the dog, come to thatâhe was fond of dogs, though his lifestyle at the moment precluded having one.
These thoughts drifted through his head as he watched Cassie turn away from him, heading back to her desk with two long strides and lifting the receiver of the shrilling phone to her ear.
âCassie Carew!â
So she didnât stand on ceremony. Was that good or bad? McCall didnât know, any more than he knew if the attraction he was feeling for this woman heâd just met was going to be a help or a hindrance in the days that lay ahead.
Whateverâit was something heâd have to hide from her. From the no-nonsense way she was speaking into the telephone he could tell she wouldnât appreciate him taking advantage of a feigned relationship.
Not that he would, of course.
âWell, thatâs the call,â she said to him as she replaced the receiver. âIâm on my way. Perhaps we could continue this totally incomprehensible conversation some other time.â
Sarcasm rode shotgun on the words, but McCall found himself liking her attitude. He waited, still standing by the filing cabinet, while she shrugged into a white coat which had been flung over the back of her chair, then pulled a stethoscope out of its pocket and slung it around her neck.
âYouâve got to go now,â she told him, frowning as she glanced his wayâobviously displeased to find him still in her office.
âI am,â he told her, crossing to open the door and wave her through. âAfter you!â
Cassie seethed with aggravation as she walked out of her office. What on earth was Dave up to, saddling her with this man?
And surely he couldnât be serious about the âboyfriendâ scenario?
âYou canât come with me,â she said, turning towards the big man who appeared to be following her. âIâm going into Accident and Emergencyâto workâto patch up bleeding, injured people. Itâs not a spectator sport.â
âI wonât interfere,â he said. âJust hang around.â
Cassie stopped dead, and turned to face the man. He might be bigâhe might even, if he really was a bodyguard, be strongâbut he was obviously as thick as two bricks.
âEven if you were my boyfriendâwhich you arenâtâdo you think Iâd let you hang around in A and Eâin any part of the hospital, in factâwatching me work? My patients are entitled to their privacy, you know.â
His gaze slowly scanned her face, giving her time to take in smile wrinkles pressed into the skin at the corners of the brown eyes. Deep smile wrinkles, as if he smiled a lot.
But he was also tanned, so maybe he usually worked out of doors and the wrinkles werenât from smiling but from squinting against the sun.
As if it matters, Cassie, she mentally yelled at herself, then realised McCall was speaking again.
âNurses, aides, office staff are all involved with patients within the hospital,â he said, after what seemed an age but which might only have been seconds. âOne more person isnât much extra in the way of an invasion. In fact, in big hospitals there are security people as well.â
Annoyed that sheâd let wrinklesâof all thingsâdistract her, Cassie straightened to her full five ten and glared at him.
Glared up at him. He was tallâŠ
âThey are staff and covered by the rules and regulations of the hospital regarding privacy and discretion and duty of care.â
âI might be staff,â McCall told her. âAs far as the patients are concerned, I could be a doctor so enamoured of you Iâve come up to see if working here at Wakefield with you might suit me. You know, whether we get along at work as well as we do at playâthat kind of scenario. And Iâd have to try the place to see if Iâd enjoy working in the country. I could be a doctor on trial.â
He beamed at her, as if his brilliance in figuring out this new deception should garner high praise.
Unable to believe his effrontery, Cassie turned away and continued down the corridor, grumbling loudly at him as she went, âPretending to be a doctor would not only be unethical, it would be illegal, so forget it, sport!â
She pushed open the swing door into the small A and E treatment area, where Cheryl Churcher was being cleaned up by Betty Stubbings, the nurse on duty.
âNice area,â a precise voice said behind her, and she turned to find McCall had followed.
âYou canât come in here!â she told him, spinning around and whispering the angry words so neither Betty nor Cheryl could hear.
âOf course I can. I could be the patientâs friend.â
âPatientâs friends wait in the waiting room,â Cassie said, aware her furtive argument was attracting the attention of the other two women.
McCall smiled, the effect on his rather sombre face so unexpected Cassie was thrownâbut only momentarily. She was rallying for another argument when he added, âThen Iâll have to be your friend!â He smiled again, as if the simplicity of it all was delightful. âAnd as the boss, surely itâs up to you to say who can and canât come in.â
âI think this gash needs stitching.â
Bettyâs quiet words reminded Cassie of her first priority.
âIâve already said you canât come in,â Cassie reminded her unwelcome companion, but her words lacked strength as her mind was already racing ahead to her patient and wondering just how many head wounds one head could suffer and survive.
She gave up on McCall. Maybe she could ignore himâpretend he wasnât thereâthough mentally rendering someone his size invisible wouldnât be easy.
âI thought you and Bill had promised never to fight again,â she said to Cheryl, coming to stand beside the high, wheeled bed.
âHe started it,â Cheryl said, repeating the accusation whichever of them was admitted after a fight always used.
âHe started it, you started it, I donât care,â Cassie said, examining the open scalp wound that stretched from above Cherylâs temple down to behind her right ear. âYou two use up more of my sutures than anyone else in this town.â
âIs that all you care about, your stupid sutures?â Cheryl grumbled at her. âWhat about my head?â
âWhat about your head?â Cassie retorted. âYou donât care about it so why should I? The way youâre going, youâre running out of skin to stitch. Pretty soon, Iâll be putting stitches in the stitches.â
She turned away as she answered, washing her hands in the sink beside the bed, then drying them and pulling on gloves.
âHa, ha,â Cheryl grumbled. âYou used that joke last time.â
âI wasnât jokingâthen or now,â Cassie told her, working as she spoke, deadening the nerves around the wound with local anaesthetic before picking up the pre-threaded needle sheâd need for her fancy work.
âWhat do you fight about?â
The voice, coming from behind Cassieâs right shoulder, startled her, but Cheryl seemed unfazed.
âWhoâre you? New doctor?â
Cassie couldnât see McCallâs face but she could hear the fatuous smirk he was surely offering in the silky tones of his reply.
âNot yetâmaybe one day.â Pause. âActually, Iâm a friend of Cassieâsâchecking out the place.â
âWoo-hooâand about time! Cassieâs got a boyfriend!â Cheryl sang, while Cassie wondered which of them sheâd stab, the patient or McCall, with the handy suture needle.
âWe fight about anything and everything,â Cheryl continued. âToday it was whose turn it was to do the breakfast dishes. Bill said it was mine, and I reminded him Iâd done them yesterday, and Iâd cooked, and he said, âIf you can call it cooking,â so I threw the egg-beater at him, and he threw a cup, then I threw a plateâcopped him a beaut, I did, right on the nose. That wouldnât half have made his eyes water. Then he hit me with the frying-pan. It was still dirty, too. I hope you cleaned out any gunk!â
The final remark was obviously directed to Cassie, whoâd heard similar scenarios described dozens of time. She continued inserting, knotting and snipping off sutures.
âYou sound as if youâve had plenty of practice at this,â McCallâa man who was apparently unaffected by black looksâsaid admiringly to Cheryl. âHas anyone ever filmed one of your fights?â
âFilmed us? Why would anyone want to film one of our fights?â Cheryl demanded.
âYou could send it to one of those funny home video showsâmake some money.â
âYou having me on?â Cheryl was eyeing McCall with a mix of suspicion and hope.
âNo wayâI think it would be great!â
âEspecially if one of them ended up dead or maimed for lifeâand the whole thing was caught on film!â Cassie offered waspishly.
She finished the job, asked Betty to put a dressing on the wound and, cutting the man a look that said, Follow me, led the way out of the room into the relative privacy of the storeroom.
âHow could you do that?â she demanded when heâd followed her into the limited space between the shelves.
âSuggest they film their fights? I thought if they saw what they were doing, it might act as a deterrent. Itâs a technique being trialled by some psychologists in connection with behaviour modification.â
Somewhere in Cassieâs head the question of why a bodyguard would know about behaviour modification surfaced, but that wasnât the issue at the moment, so she ignored it.
âIâm not talking about your suggestion to Cheryl, though you had no right to be talking to her at all. Iâm talking about you telling her youâre my boyfriend.â Even in her own ears the conversation was convoluted, but she struggled valiantly on. âDonât you know anything about country towns? I canât keep Cheryl in here with a scalp wound, and that story will be all over town within an hour of her walking out the door.â
McCall, looming over her in the small area, smiled smugly.
âBut thatâs exactly what we want,â he said with maddening complacency.
âItâs not exactly what I want,â Cassie reminded him. âMy mother works in townâsheâll hear it from one of the office juniors coming back from lunch. Whatâs she supposed to think? That Iâve been having some wild affair and not told her about it?â
âDo you always tell your mother about your wild affairs?â
Wondering what the consequences would be of braining a man with a heart monitor, Cassie counted to tenâthen to twenty to make sure she wasnât going to damage hospital property.
âGet out of here,â she said, pleased to find no tendrils of smoke escaped from her fury to curl around the words.
âBut I thought you wanted me to follow you in here,â he said, and she was close enough to guess he was enjoying teasing her.
âI didâso I could say goodbye. And Iâm saying it now. Goodbye! I want you out of hereâout of this hospital and out of my life. Talk about overkill! I mention to Dave Iâve received a couple of funny letters and suddenly Iâve got a bodyguard.â
âYour mother already knows. Dave took me to meet her this morningâbefore we came here.â
It took a moment for Cassie to get a handle on this remark, going back as it did to an earlier bit of the conversation. But getting a handle on it didnât make it any more believable.
âDave took you to meet my mother?â
McCall nodded.
âI canât believe heâd do a thing like that. The last thing she needs at the moment are more worries.â
âSheâd already talked to Dave. She knew youâd had at least one letter.â
The manâs words, though quietly spoken, stopped Cassie cold.
âHow do you know that? How did she know?â
McCall shrugged ridiculously broad shouldersâof course bodyguards would have to be well builtâand said, âSomething to do with a child going into your room? I think thatâs what Dave said happened.â
The twins, one day last week. Apparently theyâd not only emptied all the lower drawers in her wardrobe but had been through her desk as well!
âMum should have said something to me, not gone running to Dave!â Cassie muttered, more to herself than to McCall. âWhat if Iâd opted not to bother Dave with this?â
âDave is there to be bothered, and only an idiot would not report anonymous mail.â
âWell, label me idiot, then,â Cassie snapped. âThereâs no way Iâd have mentioned it if I hadnât remembered something Lisa Santorini said to me not long before she died. Something about nuisance letters.â
âLisa? The woman who drowned? Did you tell Dave this?â
Suddenly aware of a change of atmosphere in the small, enclosed space they still inhabited, Cassie looked up at this man whoâd materialised so suddenly in her life.
âYes, I did tell Dave, but what do you know about Lisa? Itâs too late to do anything about her death, so why did Dave mention it to you?â
âBackground,â McCall said, but, though Cassie could accept it was reasonable Dave would pass on her concerns about Lisaâs death, she didnât entirely believe McCallâs answer.
Too swift. Too glib.
An uneasiness close to distrust skittered through Cassieâs mind, but before she could demand more answers they were interrupted.
âOK, you twoâout of there. Go canoodle somewhere else! I need to get some dressings to restock the trolley.â
âCanoodle!â The word escaped through Cassieâs gritted teeth, but Bettyâs voice had reminded Cassie of where they were, and she didnât need to see the wrinkles at the corners of McCallâs eyes crinkle and his lips twist into a beguiling smile to know exactly what he was thinking.
Their interlude in the storeroom had strengthened the lie heâd told earlierâthat there was something going on between the two of them.
âOh, for gosh sakes!â Cassie mumbled, pushing past him to escape both the culprit and the situation. Sheâd phone Dave and tell him he had to get rid of this man.
She didnât have to phone Dave. He was thereâright in front of herâwhen she emerged, probably flushed scarlet, from the storeroom.
âI came up to check on Cheryl. Billâs here, too. Heâll drive her home.â Dave held up his hand as if he knew exactly what she was about to say. âAnd Iâve given them both an official warning. I donât care who starts it, who finishes it or who gets hurt, next time Iâm taking them both in and charging them with disturbing the peace. The station first, hospital later if necessary, but itâs time this nonsense stopped.â
He nodded to McCall as if seeing him emerge from a hospital storeroom was no surprise.
âThatâs the only way I can take legal action against them,â Dave continued, explaining the local knowledge to McCall. âIf one charges the other, the charges are always withdrawn before it gets to magistrateâs court.â
Cassie frowned at Dave. He had no business explaining things to McCallâthe man didnât belong here. Heâd be moving on.
Just as soon as sheâd given Dave a piece of her mindâŠ
âCan I see you in my office?â This to the policeman.
Dave nodded and followed her out of A and E. Cassie didnât look, but she was reasonably sure the bodyguard was tagging along as well. She couldnât make a scene here, but she didnât have to let him into her office.
âOf course he has to come in.â Dave overrode her protests and ushered McCall into the room, where once again he didnât sit, but prowled, finishing up at the window, not right behind her because she could still see him in her peripheral vision, but far enough out of the way to give the impression he wasnât part of the conversation.
âI doubt the gardener or any of the laundry women are good enough snipers to shoot me through the window,â Cassie told him. âAnd if youâre trying to render yourself invisible, Iâd give it up. Youâre too big, for a start, to pass unnoticed anywhere but at a basketballersâ convention.â
âI know,â he said mournfully. âBut Iâm not a sitter. I tend to think better when I prowl.â
Good to know you can think, Cassie wanted to say, but the manners drummed into her by her mother made her hold her tongue.
She turned her attentionâor most of itâto Dave.
âLook, Dave, Iâm sorry if I bothered you with those letters, and that youâve gone to this trouble, getting McCall here from wherever, but, honestly, I can look after myself. And we donât know for sure the deaths are linked to the letters. I checked back over the hospital statistics at the weekend, and a run of fatal accidents is unusual but not way off the charts statistically.â
Dave nodded.
âOur stats told much the same story, and I wouldnât have done any more, but Mrs Ambroseâs daughterâthe one whoâs been living in the USâcame home last week. Albert, Mrs A.âs brother, had just shut up the house and left it until Roslyn arrived to sort out whatâs in it. She found these, neatly filed under âNâ, perhaps for nuisance.â
He passed Cassie a small wad of A4 paper, held together with a paper clip.
Cassie took it, conscious of the other man turning from the window and stepping towards her as if to read over her shoulder.
âMrs Ambrose?â she whispered, as she clutched the papers against her chest, unwilling to look at them. âMrs Ambrose got letters? Her death wasnât an accident?â
âYes, she got letters, but as for the accidentâŠThose are photocopies,â Dave said, then added bleakly, âNot that weâre likely to learn anything from the originals. Computer-generated, no fingerprintsâthe envelopes might have been a help but Mrs A didnât keep them.â
Cassie forced herself to release her death grip on the thin file. She glanced at the first note, a single sentence printed in the middle of the page, then looked up at Dave.
âMrs Ambrose had pets? Like dogs and cats? I didnât know that. She always travelled so much I didnât thinkââ
âI donât think the writer meant those kinds of pets,â the precise voice said, and Cassie turned towards the man whoâd spoken. âDave tells me she was a high-school teacher. Pets as in favourites?â
Cassie heard the words, but what registered more were the manâs eyes. Beneath the heavy lids, which gave an impression of a slumberous lethargy, keen brown eyes peered intently at her. He might smile easilyâcausing the little wrinkle linesâand his bulk and lazy way of moving might give the impression he wasnât the shiniest bauble on the Christmas tree, butâŠ
Disconcerted by her thoughts and the effect of this scrutiny, she turned back to Dave.
âI wouldnât have said thatâwould you?â
âI donât think thatâs the issue, Cassie, though it does suggest a local author,â Dave told her. âRead the other notes.â
She flicked through them, reading the nastiness that escalated into one final, unmistakeable threat.
You had pets.
You were unfair.
You think youâre so smart.
You will be sorry.
You wonât see seventy.
âAnd she didnât,â Cassie said bleakly, her fingers trembling slightly as she handed the papers back to Dave. âThere is someone, isnât there?â she said quietly. âMy letters are printed in the same wayâa single line in the centre of the page.â
For the first time she felt not the mild irritation the first letter had produced or the anger that had grown with the second and third, but cold, bone-chilling, tremble-inducing fear.
âYouâve had three?â
It was McCall who asked and though she glanced towards him, she directed her own question to Dave.
âYouâve shown them to him?â
âOf course. He has to know the background. In fact, he has to know everything you can tell him, which is why it was best to put him close to you. You knew Lisa well, Judy Griffiths less well, but you know the town and the people in it probably better than anyone. Talk to McCall. The more he knows the easier it will be to protect you.â
Cassie wanted to protest the protection angle, but disbelief that this could be happening blocked all other thoughts. She looked at Dave and shook her head. How could she need protection in a town of six thousand soulsâthe town where sheâd grown up?
Because someone in this town was killing people?
Might kill herâŠ
âBut they could all have been accidents. Lisa drowned swimming at night after sheâd been drinking, Mrs Ambrose could have hit the accelerator instead of the brake as she drove down into her garage, and Judy was the victim of a hit-and-run accidentâthese things happen,â she said weakly, going straight into deep denial in order to cope with the magnitude of her thoughts.
âYes, they could,â Dave agreed, âbut is it likely, given what we now know?â
âWe canât take that risk,â McCall said, coming around in front of the desk and resting his hands on the back of the second visitorâs chairâleaning forward towards Cassie as he spoke. âCan we?â
Big moment here! Cassie was only too aware of it, but she was also annoyed at being forced into a situation not of her own making. Well, she thought that was the cause of her annoyanceâŠ
âSurely thereâs some other way of doing this, without wasting McCallâs time hanging around me. Think about the cost. I donât know how much bodyguards get paid but he must get paid something and I know taking on an extra person at the hospital would play hell with the budget so I guess the same applies to your police budget, Dave.â
âDonât worry about the police budget,â Dave told her, though heâd paused before heâd replied and Cassie was almost sure sheâd caught a look she couldnât read passing between the two men. âBy rights, I should have a whole investigating team up here, but I couldnât get that on suspicion and veiled threats so I got McCall.â
McCall smiled. It was obviously meant to be a reassuring smileâan âIâm as good as a whole investigating teamâ kind of smileâbut it struck Cassie that someone else seeing the smile might interpret it differently.
Some women might even consider it downright sexy.
