Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (41 page)

“She saw something.”

“The sheriff was sending in someone to question her—”

“No point,” Gideon said gruffly. “She’s…” He closed his eyes and forced himself to steady out before he said it. “Hannah’s in a coma. Doctors aren’t sure if she’ll wake up at this point or not.”

“She’ll wake up.”

Hearing the low, determined voice, Gideon opened his eyes and stared at Griffin Parker.

The other man came out of his seat, glaring at Gideon, jaw tight and eyes resolute.

“Hey, Hodges. I’ll get back to you. I’m going to keep a man on her door. We’ll talk once you get up here.”

He ended the call without waiting for a response.

Eyes on Griffin, he tucked his phone away. “Griffin—”

“She’ll wake up!” Griffin said again.

The determination in the other man’s voice had Gideon nodding. Sometimes, a man just had to believe.

“She’ll wake up,” Griffin said again, but his voice was softer, as if he had to convince himself now.

Gideon nodded. Reaching out, he rested a hand on Griffin’s shoulder and squeezed. “Okay, then. I’m going to bet on you being right—and on Hannah. She’s a tough woman, there’s no doubt about that.”

“Yeah.” Griffin closed his eyes tight and sucked in a breath. “She’s tough. And she will wake up.”

“Chief.”

They turned as one to look at the doctor, standing in the doorway of the waiting room, one hand on the wall. His face was grim, his eyes dark.

“No.” Griffin’s harsh voice drowned out the doctor’s next words.

“She’s still alive,” Dr. Howard Briscoe reached up and tugged off his glasses, giving them a cursory wipe with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. He barely flicked a glance at anybody else, his gaze intent on Gideon and Griffin.

Too intent.

“What is it?”

The physician inclined his head and stepped back, holding up a badge to the electronic scanner near the door. It slid open with a hiss. “I think it’s best if we speak … privately.”

*   *   *

“Tests show swelling on the brain. Likely the cause of the coma. As she recovers…” Briscoe grimaced as he stood at the glass window, staring in at his patient. “It’s entirely likely she’ll wake up as the swelling goes down.”

“But…”

“It’s not much of a
but
.” Briscoe nudged his glasses up his nose, the gesture an absent-minded one for a man who did the same thing a dozen times a day or more. Briscoe was a tall man, rail thin, his graying hair buzzed short. He was going bald, but he’d never been the vain type and didn’t attempt to camouflage his slowly receding hairline. His eyes were hazel and studious, and still as grim as they’d been earlier.

“What is it?” Gideon asked when Briscoe tucked his hands into his pockets and continued to contemplate the silent form of Hannah Parker.

“We did some tests. Standard tests for all female patients.”

He turned then, staring at Gideon, his gaze briefly flicking to Hannah’s cousin, Officer Griffin Parker. Griff was her only living relative and he’d authorized Gideon’s presence. Having a cop in the family made things easier sometimes.

Right now, Griffin watched on, eyes narrowed. He hadn’t figured it out yet.

But Gideon had.

“Aw, hell,” Gideon whispered. Turning away, he rubbed his hands up and down his face.

“Now wait a minute,” Griffin broke in, his voice rough. “Are you telling me…” His gaze tripped over to his cousin, slid to her belly. There was no so sign of the baby growing there.

“She’s pregnant,” he said quietly.

Briscoe neither confirmed nor denied. After a moment, he said, “I’ve heard what happened—or what the police think happened. I know Shayla Hardee was murdered, that Hannah was in the area—or supposedly in the area. Is there…”

When he didn’t continue, Gideon turned to him. “Is there what?”

Briscoe took a deep breath, as if bracing himself to speak. “Speculation is that she was there, saw what happened to Shayla—in the wrong place at the wrong time. But what if Shayla was the one at the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“What are you getting at, doctor?”

Briscoe scratched his chin. “Hannah is a runner. I see her down at the path along the river all the time when I’m out on my own run. Anybody who knows her is likely to know she’d be out there running. What if
she
was the target and Shayla was in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

“Doing my job now for me, doc?” Gideon scowled at the idea of what Briscoe was laying out. He didn’t like the idea. At all.

“I’m just explaining that there are … interesting circumstances,” Briscoe said, shrugging. “She’s pregnant. Involved in something unusual and she’s the only one who could shed light on what’s going on.”

Shit
.

*   *   *

He looked like a maniac, busting through the doors—and the truth of it was, if everybody in town wasn’t aware of who the wild-eyed man was, it was entirely possible that the sober-eyed uniformed officer would have been moving toward him with a weapon in hand.

As it was, Officer Griffin Parker caught sight of Brannon McKay and curled his lip.

He’d just wrapped his brain around the fact that his cousin was in a coma and then he got slammed with the
new
fact that she was pregnant and
now
he had accept the possibility—slim as it was—that maybe
she
had been the victim all along.

The last thing he needed to deal with was this prick.

It was respect for his boss and his badge that kept him from turning away entirely.

But Chief Marshall had told him to keep an eye out for McKay and to be honest, Griffin had his doubts about whether or not the bastard would show up.

Looks like the chief called it again
. Griffin tried not to let his temper show as he cut McKay off. He didn’t want to be out here playing nice with some rich, entitled prick. He wanted to be back there with his cousin. But he was still on the clock and that meant the job came first.

Marshall had given him fifteen minutes of personal time to sit with Hannah and get his head on straight, and by the time he came back out here, he had to admit—yes, maybe he could see why the doctor and Marshall were concerned. No, it
wasn’t
likely that Hannah had been the target, but yeah, everybody knew she was down at the park all the time running. Nobody ever saw Shayla down there. She was even known to say that she preferred to do her sweating
indoors
,
thank you very much, where there are showers to be had when it’s all done
. People could tell the day and time by when her damn red car was parked outside the gym—Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from eight to ten and Thursdays from one to three.

Fuck, Griffin hated himself, but he hoped she’d been the target and not his cousin.

Some weird shit was going on and somebody might be trying to hurt Hannah.

As Brannon McKay came striding toward him, he crossed his arms over his chest and pasted a bland smile on his face.

Nobody got back to talk to Hannah without the chief’s okay.

Including Mr. Megabucks here.

As far as Griffin was concerned, Mr. Megabucks didn’t ever need to talk to his cousin again. Unless it was over a child support hearing. Griffen already knew who the daddy was. Then he could bleed zeroes for being an asshole.

“Hey there, McKay.” Griffin gave him an easy smile. Nobody had to know that he felt like punching the bastard. Griffin and Hannah were close. Maybe they didn’t sit around and braid each other’s hair but he knew his cousin and the woman was in love with this prick. Brannon McKay probably didn’t love anything other than his cars and himself. Maybe his sisters. But Hannah hurt over him.

“Out of my way, Parker,” McKay said, the words coming out in a low, nearly soundless whisper.

“Can’t do that.” He gave a mock grimace. “Hannah’s condition is pretty serious.” He paused and then added, “I assume you
are
here to see her. I think your sisters are down the other hallway—unless they’ve already come and gone?”

“Get out of my way,” McKay said again.

Griffin just smiled. “Come on, now. Shouldn’t you be sitting with Neve, patting her hand? She could have been killed tonight. Her and Moira both.”

McKay just stared at him coldly.

“That’s what I thought.”

Unblinking green eyes simply held his and Griffin suspected this could continue indefinitely. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled himself more comfortably.

McKay did the same thing.

His suspicion on how long this might last wasn’t tested, though.

The doors opened with a light
swish
behind him in the next moment and he heard a familiar voice. “Brannon. Had a feeling you’d show up.”

*   *   *

The affable smile on Griffin Parker’s face didn’t fool Brannon at all. He had to admit, Gideon’s timing was spot-on. If he hadn’t shown up, Brannon might have done something stupid. Something like gotten into a fistfight with a cop. He thought he could probably take Parker. He was bigger, and he suspected he was stronger. He had a healthy respect for the skinny wiry type—he’d seen that sort lay a person out flat quicker than it seemed possible, but he’d tangled with his share of skinny wiry types, plus, he’d seen Griffin taking a go at both Gideon and Ian down at the gym.

It might have landed his ass in jail for a while, but Brannon would have had a chance to see Hannah with his own eyes and know she was alive, breathing.

Gideon had saved him from that particular complication and for a while yet, he could say he still hadn’t seen the inside of a jail. As he cut around Griffin Parker, he gave Gideon a hard look. “I’m seeing her,” he said flatly.

Gideon inclined his head. “Maybe in a bit. We need to talk first.”

That wasn’t a
no
. Running his tongue across his teeth, Brannon debated and then he gave a quick nod. “As long as you keep it short. I need to see her.”

“You can’t be alone,” Gideon advised.

“Fine.” As long as he got to see her. His gut had been in a tangle ever since he’d heard the news.

He’d gone to Neve first.

It had taken him too long to get to his sister, because he’d stood by helpless, as paramedics cut Hannah out of the mangled car, then loaded her into the ambulance. The doors had swung shut before he even had a chance to try and leap in.

So he’d had to follow, emergency flashers on. Heaven help the person who tried to pull him over or slow him down.

They hadn’t let him into the emergency room and nobody had told him shit. He’d gone to see Neve and Moira, his older sister’s words still playing in his head.
William was here …

But for the first time in his life, he’d been torn between the love for his sisters and his need for Hannah. He’d clung to his siblings, breathed out silent prayers of relief over their safety.

And all the while, he’d worried over Hannah.

He’d had ten calls—most of them about the wreck, but three different people had told him a bunch of twisted-up shit—Shayla Hardee was dead, Joel Fletcher had made Hannah wreck and she’d been driving Shayla’s car.

What in the hell was going on?

Not seeing Hannah was driving him nuts.

“Parker.”

Gideon’s brusque voice caught Brannon’s attention and he looked up just as Gideon gave his officer orders to take over for Ruiz.

Ruiz
—an image flashed through Brannon’s mind. Petite woman. Hispanic. Short cap of black hair, big dark eyes that should have looked soft, but they were wicked sharp and could go hard as nails in a blink. Maria Ruiz. “You’ve got cops on Hannah’s door,” he said softly.

Gideon lifted a brow. “Yes, we do.”

“Why?”

“That’s my concern, Bran.”

Brannon dragged his hands down his face. “Let me see her,” he said abruptly.

“We discussed this.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he snarled, whirling on Gideon. “Just walk me by her damn door. I need to see that she’s…” His breath caught in his chest. “I have to know she’s okay. That’s she … she’s…”

He couldn’t even finish it.

He couldn’t say the fear that had taken root inside him when he’d heard that she’d been in an accident.

All of his fears, all of them, had happened in one day.

Neve.

Moira.

Hannah.

*   *   *

“I’m fine.” Neve sat on the edge of the bed, glaring at the doctor who stood in the doorway. “I want to leave.”

No,
want
didn’t describe it.

She
had
to leave. Just
being
here was wearing her composure thin and she could feel it shuddering under the weight of the storm building inside her. She was cold—
freezing
. Ice wrapped around her and she had the bizarre image in mind of an icicle dome while a storm raged inside.

“Ms. McKay, you had a rather traumatic experience. You were in shock when you came in.”

You were in shock
. The words bounced around in her head, refusing to connect, refusing to make sense. They were like raindrops pounding down on that barrier of ice.

And the ice was breaking.

“I was in shock,” she said slowly, taking care with each word. She nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was in shock. My former boyfriend comes after me, forces his way into the house, hurts my sister, breaks two of my fingers and then hey … I shoved a corkscrew into his…”

Her breathing hitched.

She twisted her fingers in the sheet, fisting it and tugging on it, and she could feel another crack splinter through the ice blocking out her emotions.

Breathe,
she told herself.
You have to breathe.

“He’s dead,” she said when she thought she could speak. “William is dead.”

Chunks of ice started to tremble and the ice barrier shuddered.

“Ms. McKay—”

“He’s dead!” she shouted and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Moaning, she started to rock.

“Hey, hey…” Ian shouldered past the doctor and crouched on the floor in front of her.

He caught her shoulders and shook her lightly, forcing her to look at him. “Look at me,” he said. He stroked his hand up her forearm. “Neve, look at me.”