Duty Bound Guardian. Terri Reed
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I want you to interview Miss Gomez.” The timbre of Gavin’s voice dropped to a dark note. “If she awakens.”
* * *
Lana hated hospitals. The antiseptic smells, the sounds of beeping coming from the monitors showing her vitals, and the claustrophobic way the white, sterile walls closed in on her. The only bright spot was the window allowing morning sunlight to stream in despite the spring rain tapping at the glass.
A nurse—her name tag read Cindy—adjusted the IV fluids flowing through a tube attached to Lana’s arm. Lana pressed the buttons to automatically raise the back of the bed to a more upright position. “How much longer do I have to stay here?”
When she’d awakened after being admitted to the ER, she’d been told they were keeping her for observation because she’d lost consciousness. The doctor had her moved to a private room and told her to rest. She had and now she just wanted to go home.
The blonde gave her a kind smile. “The doctor will be in shortly. You took a nasty hit on the head.”
She didn’t need to be told. Her head throbbed where that awful man had used the beautiful arrow to knock her unconscious. She fingered the bandages covering her skull near her left temple. Her heart ached knowing she hadn’t been able to protect the arrow. The loss was too much to bear.
“Can I get you anything?” Cindy asked.
Lana heaved a sigh. Even to her own ears she sounded pitiful. “No, thank you, though.”
“All right. There’s the button if you need anything.”
Cindy walked out, leaving Lana to stare at the boring walls and stuccoed ceiling. A black television set mounted high on the wall showed a blank screen. She didn’t feel like watching the TV when her world was spinning out of her control. A white board with her name, the doctor’s name and a list of the medications she’d been given was fixed to the back of the bathroom door. Her life had been reduced to markings on a to-do list.
She gripped handfuls of the blanket. A deep-seated sense of loneliness settled over her like a shroud. She was alone in the world. There was no one to care that she was here. No one to visit her. All she had was her career. And now that she’d allowed the arrow to be stolen, no doubt her livelihood would be taken away, as well.
When her boss found out, he’d fire her. She hoped he didn’t cut his vacation short, but knowing Mr. Floyd he would. He’d had reservations about leaving her in charge to begin with, and now...well, she wouldn’t blame him for letting her go.
Dejection spread through her chest, making her heart heavy.
There was no way the courts would give her custody of her nephew, Juan, if she didn’t have a job.
Her head drooped to the side. A tear slid from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. She hated feeling so pathetic. It had to be the painkillers. She normally wasn’t one to indulge in self-pity.
A sharp rap on the door brought her chin up. She hoped it was the doctor with discharge papers. “Come in.”
The door swung open. A large, black, intimidating-looking dog appeared, his claws tapping against the linoleum floor as he made a beeline for her bed.
And beside the animal came Officer Adam Donovan, dressed in his dark uniform and looking handsome despite the dampness clinging to his short-cropped, strawberry-blond hair.
Lana’s mouth went dry. The doctor had told her the police wanted to talk to her but he’d insisted they had to wait until morning. Why did it have to be this officer, with his icy blue eyes and thousand-mile stare?
Adam had been one of the elite K-9 unit officers present when Lana had talked to the director of the foster care where her nephew, Juan, had been taken after her sister, Rosa’s, death.
Hearing the devastating news of Rosa’s death and learning Rosa had a son—a child Lana had known nothing about—had frozen another portion of Lana’s heart. A familiar feeling, one she’d been living with since the day she’d heard of her parents’ horrific deaths five years earlier.
Adam had studied her as if he was trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together and didn’t like the picture emerging.
She mentally shrugged. Everyone dealt with sorrow differently. Her way was to contain everything inside. Not the healthiest way, but the only way she knew how to cope with the loss and tragedies and traumas that plagued her life.
“Officer Donovan.” The reedy wariness in her voice echoed inside her head, making her self-conscious of the fact she was in a vulnerable position with no ready means of escape. She smoothed her hands on the blanket as if somehow the motion would smooth her frayed nerves.
“Miss Gomez, I was glad to hear you’re recovering well.”
She doubted he’d felt much of anything regarding her health. He wanted information on the arrow. That was the only thing of importance. “I survived.”
“Yes, you did.” He stepped closer. The light coming through the window reflected in his blue eyes and made them appear almost translucent. “I have some questions regarding the break-in at the museum last night.”
“I hope I have answers.” Though she couldn’t think of anything she could say that might help him find the man who stole the artifact.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“It was late and I was working at my desk when I heard glass breaking. I went to see what was going on. I saw a man dressed all in white taking the Golden Arrow. I tried to stop him.” She fisted her hands at her sides. Frustration and anger and despair ran a race through her, making her head pound. “And lost.”
Something warm and rough touched the back of her clenched hand. The dog licked her hand again before resting his head on the bed to stare at her, his dark eyes watching her intently. She extended her fingers to rub them against the dog’s snout.
“Ace. Sit.”
The dog obediently sat. Her fingers curled.
“You didn’t see the intruder’s face?”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “He wore sunglasses. Not the dark type but the reflective kind that were popular in the 1980s.”
“Aviators.”
“That’s it. His face was covered, too, with a ski mask.”
“Could you tell skin color?”
“Caucasian, maybe. Definitely not African-American.”
“Height?”
She struggled to remember. “It happened so fast. I’m pretty sure he was taller than me.”
“What did the intruder use to hit you over the head?”
“The Golden Arrow.” She rubbed her dry lips. “I hope he didn’t ruin it.”
“Do you have any idea why you were attacked?”
Huh? “He came to steal the arrow.”
“But he didn’t.”
She shot upright. “What?” Pain shot through her temple and exploded inside her skull like a peony shell shot into the sky on the Fourth of July. She flopped back and stared at the officer. “What did you say?”
“I talked briefly with dispatch. They said as far as the DC police could tell nothing was taken. Only one display case had been damaged.”
“The intruder smashed the glass covering the Golden Arrow.” Confusion made her head pound. “The arrow was still in the display?”
“Evidently. But the police won’t know for sure if anything is missing or not until someone from the museum can verify that. Apparently your boss is out of town.”
She nodded as relief flooded her system. “If the