Fated (8 page)

“Not much,” Hart said, startled to find Toby’s dark eyes trained on him. “Why?”

“You’re breathing a little faster. We can take this to the couch if you like. You’d be more comfortable if you could lie back.”

“Uh, no. I’m fine here.” Hart looked down at his arm, bare now, and saw the extent of the injury there for the first time. Toby sat back and waited.

The back of his hand was only mildly red, the top of his wrist a bit worse than that. “So, you think it’ll scar?”

“Most likely, especially here.” Toby took hold of Hart’s hand, his thumb pressing into the palm, and turned it over. “I figure you used your arm to protect yourself, and your sleeves were rolled up, so the fleshy part of your forearm took the brunt of it. It won’t be terrible, and with time it will fade, but I do think it will always be there.”

Hart flexed his fingers, considering again how lucky he’d been. “I don’t care,” he said and shifted, waiting for Toby to start dressing the wound. He didn’t move, though, just sat on the other barstool staring at Hart, his hands gingerly cradled in his lap, making sure the gloves, scissors and tweezers didn’t touch anything.

“Chick’s dig scars, right?” Toby said, and Hart laughed, knowing he was fishing.

“Chicks are safe from me.” Hart averted his gaze. Why had he said that? Even if Toby was neither a witness nor a perpetrator in this case, he was still part of it, which meant he was off-limits. Not smiling at the way Toby’s eyes had lit up, however, turned out to be very hard.

“I’ll remember that,” Toby murmured, and he began redressing Hart’s arm. The muscles under his shirt bunched and flexed, and Hart saw no reason to look away. “When I’m done I think we should do your chest too, just to keep it covered for another day or two so the fibers of your clothes don’t end up causing an infection.”

“Okay.” Hart prayed to whoever happened to be listening that Toby didn’t notice his skin pebble into goose bumps at the thought of Toby’s hands all over his chest. Was he seriously developing a pathetic crush on his doctor, for Christ’s sake?

A spare and slightly guilty thought of Isaac was pushed aside. This had nothing to do with him.
Hart
had nothing to with him.

“Those painkillers should’ve kicked in by now.” Toby ducked his head, trying to catch Hart’s eye, eyebrows drawn down. “You’re still terribly pale. Did you get any sleep last night?”

He’d pretty much passed out with his phone pressed to his ear after talking to Isaac, so yes. “I’m all right.” He wasn’t about to explain away the paleness as part of his hangover. “Or I will be.” Hart flexed his fingers around the bandages. They were expertly tied, neither too loose nor too tight, but that didn’t exactly come as a surprise. “I’ve taken enough of your time.”

“It’s no trouble. I don’t live far from here. You can drive to the hospital with me. I’m sure Freddie won’t mind picking you up there.” Toby helped him stand, and then lifted Hart’s arm onto his own shoulder so he could wrap gauze around his waist. “Hold your arm there.”

“My dad’s car is in the garage. The keys must be… somewhere.”

“Well, let’s check first to make sure.”

Toby’s concern was oddly touching. “So, you said Mr. Drake doesn’t have any family?”

“You’re going to interrogate me now, Lieutenant?”

Hart ducked his head. They stood so close like this. He could smell Toby’s shampoo when he bent his head to check the bandage, a woodsy scent that reminded Hart of those early mornings on the Mountain, dew clinging to everything as he woke.

“It’s just a question.”

“I don’t think anything is ever just a question with you.” Toby put his hands on Hart’s waist, just underneath the wrappings, and left them there. “Do you expect to be in town long?”

“Just until Monday. That was the original plan anyway, before—”

“Before Ben happened.” Toby smiled a little sadly. “He’s not going to wake up.”

“It would be a hell of a breakthrough in the case if he did.”

“Do you remember anything from the moment the bomb went off yet?”

Hart opened his mouth, closed it again, and laughed reluctantly. “Point taken.”

Toby smiled mischievously and moved his thumb over Hart’s skin. “Do you think we could—” They both startled when Hart’s phone rang, Toby’s hands drawing him closer momentarily.

“Toby,” Hart said over the ringing of the phone. “I like you, but I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

“Say no more.” Toby took a step back with a wry smile, and Hart answered his phone.

“Hey, it’s Freddie. How’s it going?”

“I’m all right. Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. Just checking to see if you need a lift somewhere.”

“Ah. Uh, no, I—Toby’s here to take me to the hospital if I can’t find my dad’s car keys.”

“Toby, huh?”

“He came over to look at the burns this morning.”

“Did he now? I’ll meet you at the hospital either way. Supe said he’d lend you a car for the time you’re here, if you need it.”

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“No problem, Lieutenant.” She hung up without another word.

“Terrible timing that woman has.” Toby smirked. Gently, he touched the thin skin of Hart’s bare clavicle. “This is so—” He lifted his gaze to Hart’s and then dropped it again with a little laugh. “So inappropriate from a doctor-patient standpoint. Same goes for policeman-suspect, I imagine?”

“Your alibi checks out. You’re not a suspect.” Hart watched Toby nod and bite his lip. He cleared his throat. “And you’re not really my doctor, unless there’s some orthopedic surgery I don’t know about? But yes. I don’t—” The ache that had settled in his chest when Brightly’s general hospital called him to inform him of his father’s death flared hotter than any burn on his body. “I’m here to bury my dad, not—”

Toby’s hand fell away. “I know. I’m sorry, I know.”

It turned out to be a good thing that Toby stuck around because Hart was as hopeless at locating anything of his father’s as his mother had been. After getting dressed and searching everything from his dad’s study to the fruit bowl filled with old mail, he had to admit defeat. The car keys were nowhere to be found. Toby even joined in the search, but he seemed reluctant to snoop through a house he didn’t know.

“My mom always nagged at him,” Hart said as he pulled open kitchen drawers. “She could never find the keys when she needed them, and Dad never left them where he was supposed to.”

“It’s a big house to search.” Toby stood with his arms crossed, shoulder leaning against the doorframe leading back into the hallway, his features soft and open.

“Well, I give up.”

“Come on, then.” Toby pushed away from the doorframe and patted Hart’s shoulder. “I’ll drive you into town.”

“D
ON
’
T
PANIC
,”
Hart said, pressing his left elbow against his side. It had been a struggle to get his holster over the bandages this morning, even with Toby’s help, but Hart wasn’t leaving his service weapon behind again after yesterday, even if it did dig into the wound a little. “But I think we’re being followed.”

“
What
?” Toby’s grip on the wheel tightened, and he glanced in his rearview mirror. At least he wasn’t being obvious about it.

“Black van.” Hart reached into his hoodie. “They’ve been behind us since you left my street.”

Toby’s eyes remained trained on the rearview mirror for a few seconds, and then he stared at Hart until he had to turn his attention back to the road. “You do realize this is pretty much the only way into town from here, right?”

“Yes, I know. I grew up here. It’s just—” A
feeling
? Really? Hart fell silent.

“Look,” Toby said, and Hart appreciated the lack of condescension in his voice. “You nearly got blown to pieces yesterday. Anyone would be a bit on edge from that. No one is following us.”

“It’s not that far-fetched,” Hart said, hating how surly he sounded. “Someone planted that bomb.”

Toby bit his lip, then quickly reached out and squeezed Hart’s thigh once. “True, but I doubt it was—” Toby squinted at the rearview mirror. “—Angela’s Flower Arrangements.”

“You’re probably right.” Hart laughed softly and let his hand fall away from his holster. He did notice Toby keeping an eye on his rearview mirror.

Freddie leaned against her illegally parked Camry when Toby and Hart pulled into the hospital parking lot. “Why,” Toby asked, lifting the parking brake, “is she grinning like that?”

“She thinks I am a giant homophobe, and she’s enjoying my discomfort at being near you.”

“And are you?” Toby put his hands back on the steering wheel.

“What?” Hart had begun to reach for the door handle, but he sank back in his seat and stared at Toby with incredulity. “A homophobe?”

Toby glanced at him. “Discomfited.”

“Not for the reasons she believes.” He rolled his eyes and snorted. “Shit.”

Toby laughed. “What’s wrong?”

Hart smiled reluctantly. The car began to tick, electronics powering down, the engine settling. “You’re making me flirt against my will.”

“Don’t let it be said I ever make anyone do anything against their will.” Toby grinned and stepped out of the car. “You need a hand?”

“I’m good.” The burn on his side pulled a little as Hart got out, but it didn’t hurt as much as his wrist did.

“Nice ride.” Freddie had wandered over and slowly circled Toby’s BMW.

“Is this a new car?” Hart asked.

“I’m still not used to it.” Freddie wore a black suit today, with a startlingly pink blouse underneath. “Nice, though. I never thought I’d say this, but in a weird way it kind of suits you.”

“What suits you?” Hart asked, looking Toby up and down.

He shrugged and lowered his sunglasses, making Hart want to laugh again. “The car. I bought it last month because I wanted a change.”

“It’s a change all right,” Freddie drawled.

“What did you drive before?”

“A Prius.” Toby glanced at his watch and then back at Hart. “I have to go. Call me if you need anything, all right? Or if you need help dressing the burns.”

“Exchanged numbers?” Freddie raised an eyebrow at him as they watched Toby walk off.

“You’re parked in a spot reserved for ER doctors. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Changing the subject never works. Does it make you uncomfortable?” Freddie laughed.

“All right,” Hart gritted out. “I’m not a homophobe, let me just set that straight right now.”

“Set it straight, huh?” Freddie grinned and patted him on the back, mindful of his burns. “I didn’t think you were. I thought you were a closet case. Come on, let’s go to the station.”

“A
closet case
?” Hart demanded, falling into step beside her. “What the fuck made you think that?”

“Most gay cops are. I get it, believe me.”

“I’m not hiding anything, but I don’t hear anyone else introducing themselves with whether or not they like to take it up the ass, so why would I?”

“And do you?”

“What?”

“Take it up the ass?”

Hart tried not to laugh, but he wasn’t very successful. “Oh my God, fuck you.”

Freddie grinned as she unlocked her Camry. Before lowering himself into the seat, Hart scanned the parking lot, but there was no sign of the black van.

“How are you feeling?” Freddie reversed and pulled away from the hospital.

“Not bad. Did anyone else get injured yesterday?” The car wouldn’t stop dinging at him, so Hart struggled into his seat belt.

“Not seriously. A few scrapes and bruises, a few people in shock, but there’s a lot of property damage. Nearly half the cars in the lot were totaled, and a few of the closest buildings lost their windows. What I don’t understand is how someone could’ve placed that bomb without anyone noticing.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Hart stared out of the window as they slotted into downtown traffic. “To install it to go off when I pressed my key fob would’ve taken too long.”

“Which means someone was watching.” Freddie didn’t sound surprised.

“Which also means they weren’t out to kill me.”

“Then what? Warn you off? They should’ve known that wouldn’t work with a cop. On the other hand….” Freddie glanced at him. “You really don’t look like a cop. A hoodie? Really?”

“I already told you—Actually, that reminds me. Do you think you could pull in at Burton’s? They should have my suits ready.”

“Sure.” There was a space on Main Street in front of the shop, and Freddie parallel parked her car with ease. “Want me to come in with you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Some kid barely old enough to drive stood behind the counter, but at least he knew about Hart’s suits. It didn’t take long to look them over, thank the kid, and hurry back onto the road. He could hear banging coming from the back, however, and guessed Burton & Son would be one of the shops replacing windows.

“So where do you think we should go from here? Supe seems to think we have to continue the investigation.”

“I’m continuing it,” Hart said, grinding his teeth when the Camry insistently beeped at him to put on his seat belt again. “You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to.”

“It’s this or paperwork. What do
you
think?”

“The only lead we have is Mr. Drake. We should verify that he really didn’t have any family. Maybe there’s a lost aunt or cousin or something. I could start at the station by checking his background—”

“He had a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Ben had a girlfriend. They broke up about two weeks ago.” They made it through downtown, and traffic began to speed up. “We could track down her address and try there now.”

“I need to change into a suit first. I’m not doing any interviews in a hoodie. And are you sure about the girlfriend? Toby said Drake didn’t have anyone. Maybe he didn’t know.”

“He did know. I told him.”

“Then why wouldn’t he have told me?”

Freddie was silent, her face unreadable behind her sunglasses. “I don’t know. He’s a doctor, not a detective. She wasn’t relevant to him or the treatment of his patient.”

“If she’s the only one who knew him, she’s important. She can lead us to friends, colleagues, whatever.” Hart wanted to believe Toby hadn’t meant to hold back that piece of information, and this annoyed him. Already his interest in Toby was clouding his judgment.