The Betrayal (34 page)

Declan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. In deference to Chloe and to the other patients, he’d switched it onto silent. He glanced down at the screen and saw it was Clayton and realized he hadn’t thanked his brother for making contact with Chloe’s family.

Declan stood and quietly made his way out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that now a uniformed policeman stood outside Chloe’s doorway. Relief surged through him. The detectives had spoken to Hammond.

He moved out of earshot before he answered the call. “Clay, how are you?”

“I’m fine. How are
you
? Better yet, how’s Chloe?”

“She’s good,” he reassured his brother. “Well, not
good
, but you know what I mean. She’s out of surgery and the doctor says she’ll heal. It’s only a matter of time now.”

“Thank Christ for that. I’m so glad. I like her. I think I’ve even forgiven her for her part in this nightmare you’ve been caught up in.”

Declan blinked at the sudden rush of emotion behind his eyes. “Yeah, me too,” he quietly admitted. “I-I like her a lot.”

Silence fell between them, but it was a comfortable silence as each brother digested and accepted the way things now were. A few moments later, Clayton spoke again.

“Did her family arrive? I got straight onto Hammond and told him what happened. He said he’d contact them.”

Declan thought about Giovanna and smiled. She was all of five foot nothing, but more than made up for it with her spirit and determination. It wasn’t until he’d repeatedly assured her he had only the most honorable intentions toward her daughter that she’d settled down enough to offer him a grudging smile.

“Yeah, they got here okay. They’ve been here almost as long as I have. They’ve only just left. By the way, thanks so much for getting onto Hammond. I didn’t have a clue how to contact her next of kin or whether she even had any.”

“No problem. It was nothing. I was happy to help.”

“Yeah, well I appreciate it, anyway.”

“What time are you leaving there? You must be tired as shit.”

The stress and fatigue of the past hours suddenly weighed him down. He ran a tired hand over his face. “Yeah, I am.”

“You ought to go home and get some rest. Chloe’s going to need you firing on all cylinders when she gets out of hospital.”

“You’re right. She’s asleep right now. The nurses told me she’s still on some pretty heavy-duty sedatives. She’ll probably sleep for most of the night.”

“As I said, you ought to go home and get some rest. She’s in good hands.”

“You’re right and now they have a guard outside her door, I’ll rest a lot easier.”

“Any word on Stanford? Have they brought him in yet?”

“No, at least, not that I’ve heard—but I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time.”

“Let’s hope so. I can’t wait for this whole nightmare to be over.”

Declan closed his eyes against the surge of relief that filled his belly. “You and me both, little brother.”

“I’m going to call Mom and Dad and let them know what’s happening. They already know about you and Chloe. I filled them in earlier. It took some convincing, but I think Dad’s even ready to call off the lawsuits.”

Heat crept up Declan’s neck, but he smiled, pleased. “Wow, he must be coming around. Thanks for going into bat for me, Clay. For both of us. And thanks for keeping them up to date. I-I really appreciate that.” Declan’s attention was snagged by the sight of Chloe’s uncle on a television that was running in the visitor’s room. Ronald Sabattini stood before a lectern and a row of microphones. The taskforce Chloe had mentioned earlier obviously hadn’t yet arrested him.

The Minister’s dark suit and tie matched his sober expression. His gaze skittered back and forth over the press gathered in front of him. The sound was down low, but there was no mistaking who it was.

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

“What is it?”

“Chloe’s uncle. He’s on the television. I think he’s going to give a press conference. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back later.” Quickly ending the call, he strode up close to the screen in order to hear what was being said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s with a heavy heart that I stand here this evening to inform you that earlier today, there was what can only be described as an attempt on the life of my dear niece, Senior Investigator Chloe Sabattini.” He paused and looked down at his notes before once again lifting his head to stare down the face of the camera.

“Around nine this morning, a silver-colored Ford F250 traveling north on the dual carriageway not far from Parliament House collided with my niece’s vehicle. Police and emergency services responded immediately. Early investigations appear to indicate the collision was no accident. The suspect’s vehicle has been identified as belonging to Federal Agent Charles Stanford.”

There was a collective gasp from among the gathered media. Declan’s gut clenched in shock.

“Agent Stanford has been giving evidence against Federal Agent Declan Munro in relation to the unauthorized access of computer files. My niece was the senior investigator on this case.” His voice trembled with emotion. He paused and swiped at the moisture that had gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“It pains me to tell you that Chloe came to me earlier in the week with her concerns about Agent Stanford. While I listened to her, I didn’t take her fears seriously and I will always regret it. If I had given them a little more consideration, perhaps she would not now be lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life.”

Declan snorted and anger stirred in his veins. Trust the Minister to get maximum mileage out of the story.

“As for Agent Stanford,” the Minister continued, “the police have issued an All Persons Bulletin for his arrest and we anticipate having him in custody very shortly. He will be dealt with according to the full force of the law.”

“What were Investigator Sabattini’s concerns regarding Agent Stanford?” a female journalist toward the front asked.

The Minister’s lips compressed and he appeared to be weighing his answer.

“Agent Stanford’s evidence was inconsistent. My niece was concerned Agent Stanford was lying and that he was framing Agent Munro.” The Minister pursed his lips, as if deciding whether or not to continue. A few moments later, he raised his head and eyeballed the crowd of reporters assembled before him.

“What most of you don’t know is that six months ago, my office was burgled.”

Declan’s heart skipped a beat and then pounded against his ribs. Blood rushed through his ears and he had to strain to hear the rest of Ronald Sabattini’s story.

“Nothing appeared to have been stolen and so I made the decision not to get the police involved. I now believe it was Agent Stanford who trespassed into my office.” He turned and stared straight at the camera. “I believe Agent Stanford stole the username and password belonging to Agent Munro and used this information to set him up.”

Declan stilled, shock holding him paralyzed. He could barely draw breath.

“What about Agent Munro? Stanford was the prosecution’s primary witness. Will the case against him be dropped?” another journalist asked.

Declan’s breath caught. The Minister consulted his notes and then looked up.

“I expect so, but that will be a matter for the DPP. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my family.”

The press conference broke up and regular programing resumed. Declan turned away. Shock, disbelief and a quiet elation ran through his veins, but beneath it all, he couldn’t help the uneasiness the Minister’s words caused deep in his gut. The burglary in Sabattini’s office sounded just a little too convenient.

Something wasn’t right.

He turned away, disquieted, his head spinning. Only then, did he become aware of the man who stood behind him. It was the uniformed officer who’d been guarding the entry to Chloe’s room.

Declan frowned. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be guarding Agent Sabattini’s room. Someone made an attempt on her life. You shouldn’t—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Declan caught movement inside Chloe’s room. He stared at her door and then his confusion morphed into panic.

The door was closed.
He’d left it open; he was sure he had. He’d wanted to be able to hear her, in case she woke and needed him.

And now the door was closed…

He took off at a run.

CHAPTER 32

Charlie breathed in the pungent smell of disinfectant that was typical of every hospital he’d ever been in and grimaced. He’d always hated hospitals. The smell of them was the least of it.

Countless hours of his childhood had been spent in emergency wards. His mother was either too incompetent—or simply didn’t care—to monitor his diabetes and ensure his insulin levels were adequate. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d gone hypo and ended up in a hospital.

It was past the end of visiting hours and he kept his gaze averted from the occasional doctor or nurse he passed in the corridor. Taking care to exert the authority he wore naturally after a decade as a police officer, he hoped any passersby would assume he was there on police business and leave him alone.

He’d learned long ago how important it was to keep up appearances. Most people saw what they wanted to see. No one in a hospital expected to see a murderer.

Pretending to be a concerned colleague, he’d called the hospital on his way and enquired about how the investigator was doing and what room she was in. He was counting on the fact that no one had yet wised up to the facts of the accident.

Whilst the switchboard operator was apologetic that she couldn’t give out any details about Chloe’s status, she happily advised him of the room number and told him he was welcome to visit her in the morning.

Charlie had chuckled quietly to himself from his seat in the back of the cab. There would be no visitors for Investigator Sabattini in the morning. At least, none that she would live to see…

Blinking away the memory, he focused on the job at hand. He glanced at the room numbers on each door. As he approached the one he sought, his steps slowed.

The place was quiet. He looked around, taking care to check behind him. He caught a glimpse of a man who was engrossed in the television. The man moved closer to the screen and Charlie froze.

Declan.
Not far behind him, stood a uniformed officer.

Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. He could barely hear over the sound of his blood as it pounded in his ears. He stood still, indecision gnawing at his gut. His gaze remained fixed on Declan, but the man he’d once thought of as a mate didn’t move.

A surge of determination ran through him. He’d come here to kill her, just like the Master had asked. He wanted to give him a reason to take back his ugly words; he wanted to him proud.

Turning away, he strode toward the open doorway that led into Chloe’s room. He closed the door quietly behind him and approached the bed.

She breathed deeply and evenly and he eased out his breath. He tugged the pouch containing the syringe and insulin out of his pocket and expertly drew up the contents of the vial until the syringe was full.

He moved closer to the bed and quietly located the rubber port that allowed substances to be added to the IV. With capable movements made efficient over years of practise, he slid the needle into the port and depressed the plunger.

With nobody the wiser, it wouldn’t take long for it to be all over for Senior Investigator Sabattini. Charlie smiled with glee. He couldn’t wait to tell the Master.

As quickly and quietly as he’d entered, he turned to leave and reached the door just as it flew open. It caught him in the chest. The syringe in his hand went flying and he gasped in surprise. Declan stared at him, fear and fury warring on his face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get away from her, you fucking asshole.”

Charlie raised his hands in a sign of surrender, relieved that Declan hadn’t noticed the syringe.

“Calm down, Munro. I’m only paying my respects.”

Declan’s gaze narrowed on his hand and Charlie cursed under his breath. Too late, he remembered the vial.

* * *

Declan stared at the glass vial in Charlie’s hand. It looked like it was empty. His blood ran cold. Without hesitation, he charged at the man he’d once called friend and pinned him against the wall.

“What the fuck have you given her, asshole?” he screamed, shaking Charlie by his shirtfront.

“Look, I found this!”

Declan looked behind him and saw the uniformed officer holding a syringe.

“It was on the floor over there.”

Fear like he’d never known held Declan frozen in place. His attention was drawn back to Charlie when the man started laughing.

“You’re too late,” Stanford chuckled, shaking his head back and forth. “No one can save her now. You’re too fucking late.”

Declan whirled on his heel and charged out the doorway, yelling to the officer behind him. “Press the emergency button and don’t let that murderer out of your sight.”

Racing down the corridor, Declan shouted for help, his voice lifting with increasing desperation. Hospital staff came running from all directions. He offered them a garbled explanation.

A nurse grabbed a crash cart and raced toward Chloe’s room. Declan followed, right on the heels of the medical staff and stared in horror at the sight of Chloe on the bed. She was as white as the bedsheet and lay deathly still. Her chest barely rose and fell with the shallowest of movements that seemed to take forever to repeat. For a moment, he was sure she’d actually stopped breathing.

“Everyone get out of the way,” the doctor yelled. “We need to clear the room.”

Declan stood rooted to the spot. Someone reached for his arm, but he shook them off roughly and moved out of reach.

The doctor looked at the monitor that displayed Chloe’s blood pressure and pulse. He lifted her eyelids and shone a light into her eyes.

“Pupils are dilated and nonreactive. BP’s eighty-over-fifty. She’s unconscious. Does anyone know what she’s been given?” he shouted.

Declan glanced at Charlie who was now straining against a set of handcuffs. The officer stood nearby. Finding his feet, Declan lunged forward.