Pandora's Daughter Page 2

  "I hear she almost fell apart when the kid died."

  "She was upset. She didn't fall apart. She'd never risk a patient's life by losing her composure." He turned on his heel. "And everyone in that room will tell you the same thing. Don't try to stir up trouble over this. The only mistake she made tonight was caring too much and she didn't let it interfere."

  "That's open to argument. I've heard the Chief Administrator thinks she gives the impression of being unstable." Hal smiled maliciously. "But then you probably enjoy that emotional side of her. How is she in bed, Scott?"

  "I wouldn't know."

  "Sure. That's why you trail behind her like a stud around a mare in heat. I bet she's one hot number when she needs to release some of that stored up-energy. I don't blame you for jumping her." Hal's gaze returned to Megan. "She's not bad-looking. I wouldn't mind screwing her myself. If she wasn't such a stuck-up bitch." He turned and walked away.

  Bastard.

  Scott smothered the surge of irritation that moved through him. He felt like decking the son of a bitch. Yeah, that's all Megan needed was to have the two of them brawling in the halls over her. Hal was right, the administration was keeping a close eye on Megan. They liked their hospital rolling on greased wheels and even a hint of instability in their personnel scared the hell out of them.

  And Megan was not unstable. No one worked harder. St. Andrews was lucky to have her. She'd been offered a job in a number of more prestigious hospitals in the Northeast before she'd graduated. The only reason she'd stayed in Atlanta was because she hadn't wanted to leave her uncle Phillip who had cared for her since her mother had died.

  Hell, Hal would probably have made a case against family feeling as well. Anything to bring her down.

  Including accusing her of sleeping around with a married man.

  The idea was oddly intriguing.

  What was he thinking? He and Jana had been married for only two years and they had been good years. Megan had been a good friend to him since med school. He would never have passed chemistry if she hadn't drilled him for almost a complete semester. After he'd married Jana, Megan had been there for both of them. Jana's young son, Davy, was crazy about her.

  She's not bad-looking, Hal had said.

  Understatement. She was damn good-looking with her slim, graceful body, glossy dark-brown hair and those enormous hazel eyes. But none of those features were what drew men to her. Hal had hit the target when he'd mentioned that stored-up emotional energy that never left her. Even when she was relaxed Scott could sense the emotional turmoil that seemed to electrify her. It was… interesting.

  And arousing.

  And he had better stop analyzing his responses to Megan. It wasn't fair to Jana. He would never be unfaithful but he was beginning to feel guilty.

  Yes, perhaps it would be better if he made an effort to keep Megan at a distance.

  MEGAN'S HAND WAS SHAKING AS she unlocked the door of her SUV. She took a deep breath before she got into the vehicle and started the ignition. She should probably wait until she recovered a little before she left the parking lot but she wasn't going to do it. She wanted to get home to Phillip. She needed her uncle's quiet steadiness and gentleness. She was raw and hurting from those hours she had spent with Delores Rivera.

  It would be better once she got home. After a few hours, she would regain the balance she had lost in that waiting room. The pain that was rising, roaring, inside her would fade the longer she was away from that grieving woman.

  Now that was really adult and responsible, she thought with self-disgust. She was planning on running home and dumping all of this depressing angst in Phillip's lap. God knows she had been doing enough of that in the past few years. Get a grip and give the man a break.

  She rested her head on the steering wheel, blinking back the stinging tears. So many wild emotions had been hurled at her during those hours. Delores Rivera's blame and agony and guilt mixed with a dozen other incomprehensible feelings that had mounted until she had been overwhelmed.

  Don't think about it. Call Phillip and the sound of his voice would help to make everything all right.

  No, don't do that to him again. Live with it. Get through it on your own.

  She drove out of the parking lot and turned left at the light.

  PHILLIP CALLED HER WHEN SHE WAS getting on the freeway. She pressed Connect on her cell phone earpiece for hands-free operation. "Everything all right? I don't want to be a worrywart but I knew you got off duty a couple hours ago. If you're out having a drink with Scott and Jana, just tell me to buzz off."

  Lord, she was glad to hear his voice. From the moment he had walked toward her at her mother's funeral, she had felt this warm sense of belonging whenever she was around him. "No, it was just a rough night. I had a few problems. I'll tell you about it when I get home. I'm on my way. What are you doing awake anyway? It's after two in the morning."

  "I was only dozing. The football game didn't end until midnight. We won in the last four seconds. I was too wired to relax."

  "Hoorah Falcons."

  "Damn right." He paused. "What kind of problems?"

  "A fourteen-year-old boy died on the table. I couldn't save him."

  "Shit."

  "Yeah. How about having a cup of hot chocolate with me and you can tell me about the game?"

  "Sounds good. I'll have it ready. How close are you?"

  "I'm on the freeway. Twenty minutes." She frowned as blinding lights glared in her rearview mirror. "Cripes, I've got a tailgater. It's a truck, I think. He must be drunk. At this time of night you'd think he'd realize that he's got plenty of room to pass me." The lights were suddenly gone. "Okay, he's passing in the left lane now. Good riddance. I hope he gets a tick-What the hell!"

  The truck had slammed into the side of her 4Runner! She fought the wheel as she was pushed toward the side of the highway.

  "What's happening, Megan?" Phillip's worried voice in her ear.

  No time to answer him.

  The truck slammed her again.

  Crazy bastard. He'd rammed her against the low bridge over the river. One more hit like that and her SUV might roll over and go into the water.

  She barely managed to straighten before the truck slammed into her from behind, sending her wheeling wildly in a circle.

  Straighten out. Get off the bridge. She had a better chance going down the embankment.

  She straightened back in her lane and pressed the accelerator.

  "Megan!" Phillip's voice.

  The truck was next to her again.

  Get off the bridge.

  She stomped on the accelerator and momentarily left the truck behind her.

  Twenty yards and she'd be across the water.

  The truck was gaining on her.

  He hit her rear door as she reached the end of the bridge.

  The 4Runner went off the highway and began bouncing down the embankment.

  She had to stop it before she reached the river.

  She stomped on the brakes and skittered sideways, slid fifteen yards before she was stopped by a pine tree.

  Her air bag went off, pinning her to the seat.

  Helpless.

  She could see the truck stopped on the road above her and a silhouette moving toward the embankment. He was tall, thin, wearing jeans and a cowboy hat.

  Her OnStar program was telling her that her air bags had gone off and that they'd notified 911.

  But the man on the bank was already starting down the ridge.

  Then she heard the sirens.

  Hurry. Dammit, hurry.

  The man hesitated and then turned and started climbing back up the embankment. A moment later he was in his truck and driving away.

  She felt limp with relief. Thank God.

  PHILLIP ARRIVED AT THE SCENE twenty minutes later. By that time Megan had been helped out of the wrecked SUV and was sitting on the riverbank with a blanket wrapped around her.

  He handed her a thermal cup. "Hot coffee. I fig
ured you could use the caffeine."

  She nodded and took a sip. "Actually, I could use a stiff drink."

  "I'd never offer you alcohol at the scene of an accident. You can never tell when the police might try to breathalyze you." He sat down beside her and tucked the blanket closer around her. "Okay, Megan?"

  "No, I'm mad as hell." She grimaced. "I couldn't even get the license number. I think it was a blue Ford pickup but I'm not sure. The only thing I'm certain about is that he's nutty as a fruitcake and should be taken off the road. He scared me, dammit. When I was sitting pinned in that SUV and he was coming down the embankment, I felt like I was being stalked by Freddy from Elm Street." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he'd regained his senses and was coming down to help me. But I was glad when he turned and took off in his truck."

  "Me too." Phillip glanced at the policemen measuring and marking the tire tracks. "Do they want you to check in at a hospital?"

  "Yes, but I'm not going to do it. There's nothing wrong with me but a sore chest and ribs from the air bag. I want to go home." She shook her head wearily. "It's been a hell of a night."

  He nodded and rose to his feet. "Let me see what I can do. Drink your coffee and leave it to me." He moved toward the sergeant giving orders on the embankment.

  Megan felt a surge of affection as she watched him. It was always safe to leave anything and everything to Phillip. He didn't give the impression of brilliance and ultraefficiency, but she had never run across a situation that he couldn't handle. Even now, dwarfed by those husky policemen, he quietly dominated the scene. In his early sixties, thin, small-boned, with a high forehead and large blue eyes, he was calm and reassuring. People instinctively responded to that gentle demeanor as she did. Her mother had never even told her she had an uncle, perhaps because he was only Sarah's half brother and he had moved away when her mother was only a teenager. But from the time Phillip had come to Myrtle Beach to assume guardianship after her mother had died of a heart attack, Megan had known that nothing bad could ever happen to her as long as she had Phillip Blair beside her.

  And Phillip's gentle charisma was working its magic once again. She saw the police sergeant hesitate and then shrug and turn away.

  "Thank you, Sergeant." Phillip winked at her as he started back. "The kind officer is willing to believe that the physician can heal herself. Now, you mustn't let me down by having a sudden relapse." He helped her to her feet. "He asked you to drop in at the precinct to fill out the reports tomorrow or the next day. He's hoping you'll remember something more about the hit-and-run."

  "So do I." She leaned on Phillip as she climbed the hill toward his car. Lord, she was tired. She could barely put one foot in front of another. "But I don't think it's going to happen."

  "A shower and bed," Phillip said. "I'll take care of everything. Trust me."

  Yes, she could trust Phillip. She was trying desperately not to be a burden to him these days. She wasn't that bereaved teenage kid any longer. But tonight maybe it would be okay to accept that comfort and strength that was always there for her…

  CHAPTER TWO

  "I THOUGHT YOU GOULD USE A LITTLE of that hot chocolate we talked about to relax you." Phillip stood in her bedroom doorway with a steaming mug in his hand. "Since I dosed you with enough caffeine at that river to keep an elephant awake."

  "I doubt if it will keep me awake." She smiled as he walked toward her bed and dropped down in the easy chair beside it. "I feel drained."

  "Good." He handed her the chocolate. "You're usually so charged after a bad night that being empty is practically therapy."

  "Therapy?" She made a face. "Don't use that word. I have enough trouble with people at the hospital thinking I'm a little off-kilter." She wearily shook her head. "Maybe they're right. I don't get it. I don't see why they don't feel what I'm feeling. So much pain… How can they just cruise the surface? Even Scott doesn't seem to get close enough to them and he's a good man, Phillip."

  "I know." He looked down into the chocolate in his cup. "You're a very sensitive young woman. I warned you that being a doctor might not be a good choice for you."

  "You make me sound like some idiotic swooning Southern belle. It was a good choice. I've never wanted to do anything else with my life." Her lips tightened. "And I'm good at it, Phillip. I'll just have to get over this bump in the road. I can do it."

  "I don't have the slightest doubt you can do anything you set out to do. I'm just hoping you can be objective enough to walk away if the going gets too rough for you."

  She tilted her head. "As cool and objective as you are when your football team is losing?"

  He chuckled. "Lord, I hope you do better that that, you scamp." He got to his feet. "Now I'll let you get to sleep." He moved toward the door. "And don't dream about that redneck nut who tried to run you off the bridge. He doesn't deserve another thought from you."

  "He's going to get quite a few thoughts," she said grimly. "Drunks like that shouldn't be on the road. I hope to hell the police can track him down."

  "Me too," Phillip said. "Just don't fret, okay?"

  She smiled. " 'Fret' is a Southern belle word too. Watch it, Phillip."

  "I guess I've been in Atlanta too long." He winked as he closed the door.

  She felt a warm surge of love as she put down her cup and turned out the bedside light. The reason Phillip had stayed in Atlanta had been because he had not wanted to uproot Megan from the South after her mother's death. He had only been her mother's half brother and he didn't really have any responsibility toward Megan. But he had taken the responsibility anyway. He had chosen to uproot himself from his comfortable life in Seattle and settled down with her. He had told her that as a freelance engineer, he could work anywhere and he had always liked Atlanta's ambience. He had made it sound like an adventure instead of a sacrifice.

  Bless him.

  "Go to sleep." Phillip had poked his head in again. "Everything is going to be fine. All we have to do is work at it."

  "I have to work at it," she corrected. "You've done enough for me. Now stop hovering and get some sleep yourself."

  "Yes, ma'am." He softly closed the door again.

  Her smile vanished and she tried to relax. As she had told Phillip, it was her job to take care of her own problems. And one of the problems was that she always had trouble sleeping after a traumatic evening. When she did sleep, she dreamed. Strange, disjointed, terrifying dreams…

  She hoped to hell she wouldn't have them tonight.

  PHILLIP WAITED UNTIL HE WAS sure Megan sleep was sound before he went into the living room and pulled out his cell phone.

  It was near dawn but Neal Grady's voice was wideawake and alert when he picked up. The bastard had probably been expecting him to call, Phillip thought. "We may have a problem."

  "That's no surprise. Since you haven't called me in the past three years." He paused. "Is she becoming volatile or erratic?"

  "No, dammit, she's fine."

  "Are you protesting too much, Phillip?"

  "No, she's handling it, I tell you."

  Silence.

  "Okay, maybe she's a little volatile on occasion when she's faced with some of the things she deals with at the hospital."

  "Mood swings?"

  "I haven't noticed any."

  "What about her personal life? I understand all that emotion could translate into high sensuality."

  "I don't think so. Hell, don't you know?"

  "I try not to know."

  "Well, it's not the kind of thing she'd discuss with me."

  "Maybe you should have persuaded her to discuss it. You should have discussed every possible sign of change. You know you have to be on the alert. Any nightmares?"

  "Not many. A few after deaths of her patients. Nothing abnormal."

  "I told you to steer her away from medicine."

  "I tried. Megan's not easy to steer when her mind is made up. I was hoping she wouldn't make it through medical school. There's enough stress to discoura
ge most people much less anyone as em-pathetic as Megan."

  "You should have found a way. At least, you could have talked her out of choosing ER. Talk about high stress. I told you that you'd have to be careful when I turned her over to you."

  "She thought she could make more of a difference in ER. Back off, Grady. You did turn her over to me and I've done a damn good job all these years. I don't need you sitting on your duff and criticizing me. Walk in my shoes for a while before you tell me what to do. Now shut up and listen. I didn't call to have you give me the third degree."

  "Point taken. You're right. You've done an exceptional job." Grady paused. "Then if she's not showing signs that a change is coming, why are you calling me?"

  "Molino may have found her."

  "What?"

  "I'm not sure. Someone driving a beat-up pickup truck tried to run her off the bridge tonight. The police think it was some local yahoo on a binge."

  "Description?"

  "She couldn't get a good look at him. He was just a silhouette against the freeway lights. Tall, thin, jeans, cowboy hat."

  "Could the police be right?"

  "Yes. But he kept hitting her, going after her. It sounds… determined."

  "What's her reaction?"

  "Anger. Indignation. She believes the cops are right. Just a drunk who deserves to be kept off the road." He tried to keep the anger from his voice. "You promised this wouldn't happen, Grady. You said they wouldn't find her."

  "They shouldn't have found her. I buried every record on her and Sarah before I came to see you."

  "Well, let's hope you didn't screw up. I'd say a mistake like that makes me not being able to talk her out of medical school look minor. What are you going to do about it?"

  "Check it out. I'm in Paris right now. I'll take a flight as soon as I can tie things up here."

  "Hurry. I'm not going to chance having them kill her." Phillip added deliberately, "It's time you took responsibility for her."

  "You have no idea of the responsibility I've devoted to her over the years. Talk about a monkey on my back."