He watched her blink, fear in the gaze she suddenly couldn’t level on him. Fear again? It had to be something else.
“You were with him when he died, weren’t you?”
She said nothing. Jon crushed the urge to grab her and shake her and demand the whole damn, blasted truth once and for all. But, checking his fury, he clenched his fists and stalked to the window.
Finally she spoke, her voice so barely above a whisper he had to hold his breath to hear her. “I’m so sorry. We’d driven—” She checked her words, for what reason, he couldn’t guess. “We’d done similar details before. Got stuck together overnight more often than not because of mudslides or bad weather. Never once had we been ambushed.”
He whirled, his heart pounding, his throat suddenly dry. It took him a minute to find his voice. “Ambushed? No one said anything about an ambush! What the hell are you talking about?”
Horrified, she fell silent again and looked away.
Ambush? Was that what the military was keeping from him? Rick had been attacked, in a country purporting to be at peace.
No. Even ambushes make the news, especially in these troubled times.
He stalked over to her and pressed a fist on either side of the black vinyl table, not caring if he towered over her like a madman. “I want to know about this ambush. Now.”
She wouldn’t even look at him. Swearing internally, he pulled back and raked his fingers through his hair. So close to the truth! So close he could feel it teasing him. How could she shut up now? “Look, Ms. Mitchell. Sylvie. My only living relative has died and no one will give me any details. Do you think that’s fair? Do you think Rick deserves to be forgotten so easily?” He sucked in a long breath in a desperate attempt to control his growing frustration.
Her hand strayed to her belly. The sunlight streaming in the window behind him caught a narrow, glimmering trail of a tear as it escaped her eye. She furtively swiped it away and pushed herself up, this time meeting his glare with equal intensity. “Rick isn’t forgotten, all right? I was there. I tried to keep him alive, but I couldn’t.” She paled, then sagged. Was she going to pass out again? “Now, could you please leave me alone?”
The door swung open and in strolled the doctor. He carried a clipboard and smiled at Sylvie. “Good morning. I hear you’ve fainted.”
Jon glanced at Sylvie. She lay back down and closed her eyes. “Yes, I did.”
The doctor directed his attention to Jon. “Could you please leave us for a few minutes? I won’t be long.”
Jon looked to Sylvie, hoping that somehow she might ask him to stay. But of course she wouldn’t. They were strangers, regardless of the fact she’d been with his only relative up until the moment—
Unable to form the words in his mind, Jon stormed out of the room. He might as well write off talking to Sylvie Mitchell today. But she’d mentioned a ranch outside of town. It wouldn’t be hard to find, despite there being nearly as many ranches here as Stetsons. Maybe talking on her own turf would make her feel less intimidated. And, hopefully, she’d have eaten by then and couldn’t use the excuse of fainting to avoid conversation.
For a tall, strong woman, she didn’t look the type to faint for lack of food. In fact, she looked pretty damn good, period. When he’d spotted her across the street, her creamy complexion had looked healthy, her body toned. Her short, blond hair gleamed with good health.
Her skin soft like warm peaches against his.
Whoa, Cahill. That’s pushing it, don’t you think?
Suspicion still curdling inside of him, Jon stalked down the corridor to the receptionist’s desk. He’d ask for a phone book there. He’d find her ranch.
“Excuse me?”
He turned at the sound of the voice. The receptionist bustled past him and behind the counter, throwing a smile at him as she went. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. Soon she’ll be outside, enjoying this lovely day. Best way to start the summer, isn’t it, with a great weekend ahead, weatherwise. Do you have her medical insurance card? I’ll need it.”
He bristled at the bright, cheery chatter. It had been a long time since he’d been in a small town. Toronto wasn’t the kind of place where people struck up friendly conversations with perfect strangers. They barely made eye contact. And being a cop, he found himself suspicious whenever someone he didn’t know started talking.
But he wouldn’t ignore the opportunity. “I’m sorry. I don’t have her card. I’m still worried about her,” he said, hedging his way into the conversation. “She’s…not the kind to faint.”
“It happens like this sometimes, but the symptoms should pass soon. You must be a…‘friend’ of hers?” Her stare was openly curious. She stood there, no doubt hoping he would fill the empty silence with an answer.
He forced a brief smile onto his face. Now why should she put so much emphasis on the word friend? He gave her a knowing look. “More than a friend, believe me.” Perhaps this chatty little receptionist could direct him out to Sylvie’s ranch?
The woman smiled back. Abruptly, the doctor strolled behind the counter and dropped a slim file on the desk along with a few sample packs of medicine from his pocket.
Jon glanced at them as they fell onto the file. Prenatal vitamins, in pale-pink wrappers.
Prenatal?
“Give these to Ms. Mitchell, will you, Fleur? And I want to see her in my office first thing next Wednesday morning.” The doctor noticed Jon, and his smile broadened. “Your wife’s fine. Though I suggest you take her home and feed her. She shouldn’t miss any more meals.”
Jon nodded, unwilling to correct the man on their marital status. The mistake could prove useful. “I will.”
The doctor gone, the receptionist scooped up the vitamins and smiled at him. “See? Nothing that won’t cure itself by December.”
His face fell. Talk about hitting the jackpot. All he’d hoped for were directions to her ranch.
Fainting, prenatal vitamins. The look of horror on her face when he spoke of Rick. The hand that slid to her flat belly.
Stuck overnight more often than not, she’d said.
Taking the offered vitamin samples, he strode down the hall. The cure coming in December? A hasty bit of mental math quickened his step. He should have known. Hadn’t his ex-wife fainted that one day and blamed it on missing a meal? Right before asking for a divorce? She’d been queasy all through their meetings with the lawyers. A blessing that had ended in an uncontested divorce.
She’d practically raced out to her lover after that, leaving him at the lawyer’s office with a bitter taste in his mouth.
A mental litany of the secrets she’d kept from him danced in his mind. The path ahead of him was starting to look pretty damn familiar, and while Tanya’s secrets meant squat to him now, Sylvie Mitchell’s were worth a hell of a lot more.
Jon thinned his lips. Did this have something to do with Rick’s commanding officer’s reluctance to speak to him?
His heart pounded in his throat as he swung open the door to the labor room. Damn appropriate room, he’d say.
Sylvie looked up as he strode in.
“Feeling better now?” His tight voice sliced the quiet.
A tiny frown creased her forehead. “Fine, thank you.”
He gritted his teeth as he dropped the pink packages into her lap. “So, is it Rick’s baby you’re carrying, or did you two just talk on those nights you were stuck together?”
Chapter 2