The Betrayal (32 page)

A car door. A side panel. Part of the hood. The pieces of severed metal piled up on the side of the road.

Declan strained to catch a glimpse of Chloe. He spied a patch of clothing—the blouse she’d worn yesterday when she’d turned up at his apartment. The pale fabric was stained with blood.

His gut clenched in agony. There was so much blood.

Too much
.

He gasped against the pain that tore through him. He couldn’t bear it if she died. Not now. Not when they’d found each other. It wasn’t fair. It fucking wasn’t fair.

A shout went up and emergency personnel swarmed around the vehicle. Declan moved this way and that in an effort to see what was happening. A stretcher appeared and moments later, Chloe was lifted onto it.

Her eyes were closed. She lay motionless. His heart leaped in his throat. She was pale. So pale. Her hand hung limply over the side.

He wanted to go to her and cradle her in his arms and kiss her pain away. He took a step forward and then another. He didn’t realize he’d approached the blue and white police tape until he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. Spinning around, he came face to face with the detective he’d spoken to a few moments earlier.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you move any closer. The officers need to do their job. Let them help her. They can do more for her than you can.”

His words thrummed into Declan’s head. They made sense in a disconnected, dispassionate way, even when he didn’t want them to. He stepped back and the officer’s arm fell away. Declan watched through pain-filled eyes as they loaded Chloe into the waiting ambulance.

“Where are they taking her?” he croaked through lips that were way past dry.

“Canberra Hospital.”

The words had barely left the detective’s mouth when Declan spun around and ran toward his bike, tugging on his helmet as he went. Throwing his leg over the seat, he pressed the ignition switch and gunned the throttle.

Deftly swerving around the gaggle of bystanders and parked traffic, he skirted the accident site and accelerated. Averting his gaze from what was left of Chloe’s Honda, he headed toward the hospital and tried not to think about the impossibility of anyone surviving an accident marked by an almost-unrecognizable pile of wreckage. He clung to the fact the ambulance officers hadn’t covered her body with a sheet.

Please, sweetheart… Please don’t die on me. Please don’t die on me.

The words repeated themselves in his head, a desperate mantra that moved in time with the rotation of his wheels. The noise of the traffic and the road around him receded and he heard nothing but the echo of his soul-wrenching plea.

In less time than he thought possible and with nothing but a hazy recollection of his journey there, he pulled into the parking lot of Canberra Hospital. Finding a vacant space, he parked and ran toward the emergency department. As much as he was anxious to find out about Chloe’s condition, he was equally terrified some well-meaning stranger with a sympathetic face would be the one to tell him she hadn’t made it. He bit his lip in an effort to stem his panic, once again turning away from the possibility she was dead.

The automatic doors to the emergency department slid open at his approach. It was still early and the emergency room was empty. With his helmet tucked under his arm, he located the buzzer that allowed him to communicate with the hospital staff beyond the closed doors. It was answered almost immediately.

“Emergency, can I help you?”

“I need to see Chloe Sabattini. She was brought in by ambulance a short while ago.”

“Are you family?”

Declan paused, knowing if he told the truth, he’d be denied entrance.

“Yes, I’m her…husband,” he replied and was immediately flooded with guilt. He’d get someone to contact Chloe’s family at the earliest opportunity. If she had any. He was suddenly struck by how much he didn’t know about her.

“Come in.”

The door clicked and he pushed it open and found himself surrounded by the cold, sterile environment of the emergency ward. A middle-aged woman in a pale blue uniform bustled toward him.

“Mr Sabattini?”

Declan flushed. “Um…it’s Munro. Sabattini is Chloe’s maiden name.”

The woman nodded understandingly. “Of course. I’m Vera, one of the registered nurses on duty. The doctor is still examining your wife. From what I can ascertain, she’s a very lucky lady.”

Relief surged through him, weakening his knees. He leaned against the wall for support.

“Oh, thank God! She’s alive.”

“Yes, she’s alive but at the moment, she’s unconscious. Her injuries, while not fatal, are very serious. She’ll need surgery. The doctor will be around shortly to talk to you and obtain the necessary consents.”

Nodding his head automatically, Declan turned away, his head spinning. There was no way he could sign a consent form. Whether he liked it or not, he wasn’t her next of kin. He had no right to give consent. It was imperative he find out if she had any family living close by. Tugging out his cell phone, he dialed Clayton.

After giving his brother succinct instructions to locate Chloe’s next of kin, he ended the call and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He drew in several deep breaths and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. The nurse said Chloe was alive. He’d concentrate on that and deal with her injuries later. She was alive. That’s what mattered.

He found the nurse again and caught her attention. “When… When can I see her?”

Vera nodded and patted his hand. “Soon. The doctor will come and see you and let you know what’s going on. I understand she has a couple of nasty fractures, among other things. Why don’t you take a minute? Can I get you a glass of water?”

Declan shot her a grateful look. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

Vera padded away on silent, rubber-soled feet. Declan took the opportunity to bring his heart rate back under control. He didn’t want to frighten Chloe with his panic, especially now that the reason for that panic had abated. She was alive. A few broken bones, not life threatening. She was going to be all right. He prayed it was true.

Returning a few moments later with a cup of water, Vera offered him the drink and waited for him to finish it.

“Right now… Feeling better?”

He nodded and squashed the paper cup in his hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.” She smiled. “You’re not the first worried relative we’ve had in here.”

He managed a small smile in reply.

“Now, if you’ll just follow me, I’ll take you to your wife. She’s down in Bay Three. The doctor’s waiting to see you there.”

Feeling much less anxious, Declan followed the nurse through the curtained ward. Various moans and groans and muffled whispers could be heard along the way and he was relieved when Vera finally came to a halt and eased back the curtain surrounding Chloe’s bed.

He gasped when he saw her. He couldn’t help it. Iridescent blue bruises and angry red abrasions criss-crossed her face. Her eyes were swollen shut. A deep cut on her cheek was already held together with a row of neat, black stitches and glistened with brownish antiseptic. Her arm was in a sling. The bedcovers had been tented over her legs. Declan dreaded to hear what damage they’d sustained.

But her chest rose and fell unaided and the relief that coursed through him left him weak.

“Oh, sweetheart. Thank Christ you’re going to be all right.” He rushed over to her side and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. She winced and turned away. Her eyelids fluttered, but remained closed.

“She’s coming around,” the doctor who stood nearby informed him. “It’s a good sign. She sustained a head injury in the accident that knocked her unconscious, but fortunately, it doesn’t appear too serious. The most severe of her injuries are to one of her legs.”

Declan dragged his gaze away from Chloe’s battered face and stared at the doctor. The man’s expression was sober. A frisson of fear skittered along Declan’s spine.

“H-how severe?”

“She’s suffered multiple fractures to her right leg, including a compound fracture in her femur.”

“And her arm?” he asked.

The doctor frowned. “Her arm?”

“Yes, it’s in a sling.”

“Oh, yes. Her arm. She dislocated her shoulder. We put it back in a little while ago. It’s still in a sling so that she’s mindful of it when she regains consciousness. The ligaments have been stretched. It will be sore for quite awhile.”

“Are there any more injuries?”

“A couple of broken ribs, which we’ve strapped. Apart from that, there’s not much more we can do with them. Again, she’s going to feel it when she wakes up.”

Declan turned away and stared at the woman he loved. She lay still and pale in the hospital bed. He watched the slight rising and falling of her chest and thanked God she’d been spared.

A murmur of voices outside the curtain snagged his attention. He glanced over his shoulder. The curtain was pulled aside and two plain-clothes detectives hovered at the end of the bed, notebooks at the ready. One of them was the officer Declan had spoken to at the scene. His badge identified him as Detective Sergeant Harris.

“I’m sorry to intrude, Agent Munro,” Detective Harris said, “but it’s important that we talk to you again. “We’ve spoken to a number of other witnesses. They all agree that this was no accident.”

Declan’s jaw tightened. He glanced down at Chloe and then returned his gaze to the officers. “Let’s do this outside.”

They moved away from Chloe’s bed and walked a little way down the corridor where a trolley piled high with linen afforded a modicum of privacy.

Harris spoke again. “Do you have any idea who did this? We have a description of a silver-colored pickup that ran the Honda off the road. A couple of the witnesses said they saw a man behind the wheel.”

Fury burned through him. His fists clenched. “Yeah, I know who did it all right and I know why. You need to put out a BOLO for Federal Agent Charles Stanford.”

The other officer, younger and thinner than his partner, wore a badge that identified him as Detective Constable Allen. He scribbled in his notebook. A moment later, he looked up at Declan and frowned.

“A Federal Agent, you say? Are you sure?”

Declan narrowed his gaze. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

“Did you see Agent Stanford behind the wheel of the pickup?”

Declan made an effort to hold onto his temper. “No, I didn’t see him, but I recognized his truck. We… We worked together for a year. He drove that beast everywhere. I’d know it from miles away.”

The officers shared a look and Declan knew exactly what they were thinking. Despite his best efforts, anger ignited inside him.

“Look, I know it was Stanford,” he bit out. “Chloe—Agent Sabattini was in the middle of investigating him in relation to perjury charges and a heap of other things. She—”

Comprehension flooded Allen’s face. His expression in his eyes grew decidedly colder. “Now I know who you are. I was wondering why you looked familiar. You’re that copper who was charged with illegally accessing kiddie porn. I saw you on the TV. You’ve been committed to stand trial.”

Harris tensed. He stared at Declan as if he was something so offensive, the man could hardly bring himself to look at him.

“Agent Munro… Yeah, now I know who you are,” Harris’ tone was thick with innuendo.

Anger tinged with desperation tightened their grip in Declan’s gut.

“For Christ’s sake, this isn’t about me! Believe what you like, I’m not even going to try to convince you I didn’t do it. Right now, the only thing you need to know is that the fucker who rammed his truck into the side of Agent Sabattini’s Honda was Charlie Stanford.”

They continued to look at him with suspicion. Declan dug his fingers into his hair in frustration.

“Call her superior, if you don’t believe me. Detective Superintendent Tony Hammond at IA. He’ll tell you all you need to know. Just be sure to tell him I said it was Agent Stanford behind the wheel. And for fuck’s sake, do it
now
!”

Declan heard himself shouting, but was powerless to prevent it. Frustration, mixed with a healthy dose of fear that they’d ignore his information had annihilated his patience.

Stanford was still on the loose, escaping to God knows where, while Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were eyeing him like he was worse than a fresh dog turd stuck to their shoe. From the time they’d recognized him, they hadn’t even pretended they were interested in what he had to say.

Declan clenched his jaw to avoid saying anything further to antagonize them. He would achieve nothing by pissing them off. Taking a deep breath, he tried again.

“Listen, forget about me. The woman in that bed is lucky to be alive and the asshole who did this to her is still out there, roaming free. If you don’t believe
me
, that’s your choice, but at the very least, find Stanford and his truck. There’s no way his pickup came out of that without sustaining damage. Find the truck and let it do the talking. Find it before it disappears, and along with it, your best chance to bring someone to justice. And while you’re at it, take a closer look at Minister Sabattini.”

Allen’s eyes widened in surprise. “The Home Affairs Minister? You can’t be serious?”

Declan stared hard at the men. “I’m not even going to pretend you’ll believe a word I say, so take it to Hammond. He’ll tell you everything you need to know and when you’re through with him, you might arrange for a round-the-clock police presence outside Agent Sabattini’s hospital room. I’ll bet everything I have that Stanford, either acting on his own or pursuant to orders from someone else, just tried to kill her.”

Declan’s breath came fast. He glared at the officers, leaving them in no doubt about his anger that still simmered just below the surface. “There’s nothing to say he won’t be brave or stupid enough to try again.”

With that, Declan pushed past them, no longer caring what they thought of him. They’d call Hammond, he was sure of it. Even if it was to satisfy their curiosity. Hammond would confirm what Declan had told them and they’d put out an alert to be on the lookout for Stanford. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.