Searching for Cate. Marie Ferrarella
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hers? There has to be some mistake,” Cate insisted.
There was no sympathy on the technician’s rounded, pockmarked face, just a weariness that came from doing the same laboratory procedures day after endless day. There was more than just a touch of indignation in his eyes at being questioned.
His voice was flat, nasal. “No mistake. I tested it twice.”
Her stomach twisted a little harder. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm went off, followed by the sound of running feet. She blocked it out, her mind focused on what this new information ultimately meant.
No more surprises, I can’t handle any more surprises. Cate had graduated near the top of her class at Quantico. In the field, there were few better. But on the personal front, she felt as if her life had been falling apart for the past few years.
And this might be the final tumble.
Cate’s eyes narrowed. Her voice was low, steely. “Test it again.”
Submitting to the blood-typing test had been nothing more than an annoying formality in Cate’s eyes. She’d thought it a waste of time even as she agreed.
Time had always been very precious to her.
Ever since she could remember, for reasons she could never pin down, she’d always wanted to cram as much as she could into a day, into an hour. It was as if soon, very soon, her time would run out. Over the years, every so often, she’d tried to talk herself out of the feeling.
Instead, she’d been proven to be right. Because there hadn’t been enough time, not with the father whom she adored. Officer Thaddeus Kowalski, Big Ted to his friends, had died in the line of duty, protecting one of his fellow officers during the foiling of an unsuccessful liquor store robbery. She was fifteen at the time. It seemed like the entire San Francisco police force turned out for his funeral. She would have willingly done without the tribute, if it meant having her father back, even for a few hours.
When she was a little girl, they used to watch all the old classic westerns together, and her father always told her that he wanted to die with his boots on. She’d cling to him and tell him that he could never die. He’d laughed and told her not to worry. That he wasn’t prepared to go for a very long time.
He’d lied to her and died much too soon.
As had Gabe Summer.
Special Agent Gabriel Summer, the only man she had ever allowed herself to open her heart to. Gabe, who had stubbornly assaulted the walls she’d put up around herself until they’d finally cracked and then come down. Gabe, who somehow managed to keep an upbeat attitude about everything in general and humanity in particular.
Gabe, of whom nothing more than his arm had been found in the rubble that represented a nation’s final departure from innocence on that horrific September 11 morning in 2001.
Like her father, Gabe had left her much, much too soon. They never had the chance to get married the way they’d planned, or have the children he wanted so much to have with her. The lifetime she’d hoped for, allowed herself to plan for, hadn’t happened. Because there wasn’t enough time.
And now, with her mother diagnosed with leukemia and her bone marrow discovered not to be a match, Cate had thought at the very least she could donate blood to be stored for her mother so that when a match would be found—as she knew in her heart just had to be found—at least the blood supply would be ample.
But now here was this stoop-shouldered man myopically blinking at her behind rimless eyeglasses, telling her something that just couldn’t be true.
“I can’t test it again,” he informed her flatly. “I’ve got work to do.”
Lowering his head, he gave the impression that he was prepared to ram his way past her if she didn’t let him by.
Cate planted herself in front of him. At five foot four, she wasn’t exactly a raging bull. To the undiscerning eye, she might have even looked fragile. But every ounce she possessed was toned and trained. She was far stronger than she appeared and knew how to use an opponent’s weight against him.
She temporarily halted the technician’s departure with a warning glare.
“Look, a lot goes on in the lab. You people are overworked and underpaid and mistakes are made. I need you to test my blood again. And then, if you get the same results, test hers. Just don’t come back and tell me they’re incompatible, because they’re not. They can’t be.”
The small man stepped back, his eyes never leaving her face. “Lady, you’re AB positive. Your mother’s O. I don’t care how many tests you want me to run, that’s not going to change. You give her your blood, she dies, end of story.” He drew himself up to the five foot three inches he came to in his elevator shoes. The vials in the basket clinked against one another. Annoyance creased his wide brow, traveling up to his receding hairline. “Now, I’ve got other patients to see to.”
“Problem?”
Cate recognized the raspy voice behind her immediately, even before she turned around. It belonged to Dr. Edgar Moore.
Doc Ed.
Tall, with a full head of thick silver hair that added to the impression of a lion patrolling his terrain, Doc Ed had been her family’s primary physician long before the term had taken on its present meaning. It was Doc Ed who had held her and comforted her when she’d found out about her father’s death. And it was Doc Ed who had called her at the field office to tell her to come home, that her mother needed her even if Julia Kowalski was too stubborn to get on the phone and place the call herself.
Cate had gotten herself reassigned to the San Francisco field office, where she’d initially started her career. That allowed her to see to her mother’s care. It didn’t help. Her mother’s condition was worsening by the week. By the day. Time was slipping away from her and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
On the verge of feeling overwhelmed, Cate sighed with relief. Reinforcements had arrived. Doc Ed would put this irritating person in his place.
She refrained from hugging the doctor, even though she felt the urge. Instead, fighting for control over her frayed emotions, banking down the scared feeling growing like an overwatered weed, Cate brushed aside a strand of straight blond hair that had fallen into her face.
“Doc Ed, could you please tell this man that his infallible lab has made a mistake.”
The doctor’s warm gray eyes looked from the annoyed technician to the young woman he’d known since her first bout of colic. “How’s that?”
Cate took a breath and collected herself. She hadn’t realized that her temper was so close to snapping. The restraint she’d always valued so highly was in short supply.
She gestured toward the technician and stopped to read his name tag. “Bob here is telling me that I can’t donate blood to my mother. That our blood types are incompatible.” The laugh that punctuated her statement was short and mirthless. And nervous. “We both know that can’t be true.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, they tasted bitter. Like bile. Instincts honed on the job pushed their way into her private life. Once again whispering that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. That the twisting feeling in her gut was there for a reason. There were no planes flying into buildings, no bullets firing, no cells mutating and turning cancerous, but something was still wrong. She could feel it vibrating throughout her whole body.
Because Doc Ed’s affable face had taken on a look of concern.
Cate suddenly felt like throwing up. Like running down the hall with her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear anything, anything that would further shake up her already shaken world.
She did neither. But it was all she could do to hang on. She’d spent a good part of her life trying to be tough, trying to live up to Big Ted’s reputation. He’d had no sons and she felt she owed it to him, because in her eyes, he’d been the greatest