“Twenty-one seconds!” Hale slapped his leg. “I’ll bet that record’s gonna stand.”
“Isn’t she hurt?” a woman asked.
“I’ll bet she’s just playing possum.” Joel didn’t sound very certain, though.
In the pool, Rachel’s inert form drifted below the surface. A whole platoon full of trained officers and not one of them made a move. There she was in the deep end, not even struggling. Eyes half-closed. If she’d hit her head…Dismissing the dire possibilities, Russ focused on his task.
After whipping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes, he dove in. Cool heaviness closed around him, pulling at the clothes as he strained toward her.
As he’d learned in long-ago swimming classes, he gripped Rachel’s head from behind, out of reach in case she started to flail. He almost wished she would, but she floated limply as he towed her to the edge.
All her spirit and energy had vanished, and he missed them keenly. Missed the unique person he’d only started to appreciate.
When they reached the pool’s edge, Rachel gasped. A relieved Russ sucked in air. Then strong hands hauled them up.
“Good job, Doc.” Beneath his tan, Hale had gone pale. At last the peril appeared to have penetrated his thick skull. “She okay?”
Rachel sputtered and coughed as she lay on the cement. A moment later, she wheezed, “Had the wind knocked out of me.” Another few breaths and she added, “Did I win?”
“Yup,” Hale said. “By a wide margin.”
Rachel raised her fist a few inches in a gesture of victory. Russ wanted to hug her and scold her at the same time. “How’s your head? Did you hurt your foot?”
“Ankle’s bruised. Head’s fine.”
Someone tossed a couple of towels their way. While drying off, Russ checked his wallet. Except for dampness around the edges, it had survived intact, unlike his watch, whose digital face had gone blank. Worth the sacrifice, he decided. Next time, he’d buy a waterproof model.
A crash of wood against wood drew everyone’s attention to a gate flung open in the fence between yards. A petite blonde with outrage written on her face stormed in.
“What the heck was that racket?” Her furious gaze took in the dented bikes and overturned trash can. “Hale, you lunkhead, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Oh, great. We woke the dragon lady,” Joel muttered to no one in particular.
“Who’s that?” Russ inquired quietly.
“My ex-wife, Connie.” Joel ground his teeth. “That used to be my house. Hale and I should never have put in that gate.” Ruefully he added, “Used to be fun sneaking over here to drink beer while I was supposed to be doing yard work.”
The blonde advanced on their host, who found his escape route blocked by the grill. Russ caught the end of her tirade. “…can’t hear myself think!”
“We’re done,” Hale assured her, unable to retreat any farther without barbecuing his backside.
“Done with what?”
“A little contest.” He cleared his throat. “Good news! Rache won.”
Connie spotted the figure sprawled on the concrete and rushed over. “Are you all right? Hale, she ought to sue you!”
“I’m fine.” Rachel sat up. “Hale, are there any more burgers? I’m starved.” Taking Connie’s hand, she hauled herself to her feet, nearly toppling the blonde in the process.
Connie surveyed her friend with a frown. “I thought you were going to dress nice. Why are you wearing that?”
“I borrowed it from Hale.”
The reference to clothing confused Russ. Why had the two discussed Rachel’s clothing choices? Before he could draw any conclusions, the newcomer addressed him. “You must be Dr. McKenzie. I’m Connie Simmons.”
The fact that she knew his name meant Rachel had informed her about the outing and, presumably, sought advice. Interesting.
“Pleased to meet you.” Russ shook hands, embarrassed to be caught under such circumstances. “I assure you, I don’t condone this activity.”
“Neither does any sane person,” Connie declared. “You look a bit the worse for wear.”
“He fished me out.” Lowering her head, Rachel toweled her hair. “You should have seen me sinking like a pair of old sneakers.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I’m glad someone around here has a brain.” Connie swung toward Hale. “I ought to tell the chief about this insanity.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” growled her ex-husband.
Connie’s eyes narrowed. Her hostility appeared to be well justified, in light of the irresponsible behavior Russ had witnessed. “Let’s talk about who the real jerks at this party are, starting with—”
“Burger?” Hale proffered a plate, interrupting an incipient tirade.
The former Mrs. Simmons scowled as if she’d like to shove it down his throat. But she took the food.
Rachel was starting for the table when Connie intervened. “Go. Change. Now.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You should see what you look like.”
Rachel glanced at where the wet T-shirt revealed curves that some of the male officers were ogling with interest. “For heaven’s sake. You’d think I was Elise or somebody.” Glaring at the men, she groused, “Oh, all right,” and slogged away, limping a little.
Russ was glad he’d made a point of not staring. He couldn’t help noticing her tempting shape, especially not when his arms retained a sensual impression. Whoever Elise was, she couldn’t possibly compare with this woman.
“I wonder if I can still use that extension cord.” Hale sighed. “Hey, Doc, feel free to borrow dry socks and whatever.”
“Thanks.” Russ reached for his jacket just as, in the pocket, the cell phone rang. Although he wasn’t on call, the hospital operator might contact him in an emergency, so he excused himself and answered it on the way inside. “Dr. McKenzie.”
“Mike Federov. Can you spare a minute?”
“Sure.” Dropping the towel on a kitchen chair, Russ eased onto it. The somber note in his friend’s voice told him this wasn’t a casual call.
“Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I figured you ought to hear this.” Mike explained that while visiting his parents, who had a wide circle of friends in West L.A., he’d just learned of a tragedy several weeks earlier that concerned Russ’s daughter.
Lauren’s grandparents had been returning from a weekend in Lake Tahoe with friends when their small plane crashed, killing everyone on board. Lauren hadn’t been with them, thank heaven.
Russ ached for the five-year-old girl, his daughter, who’d lost her family. At the same time, it occurred to him that the whole picture had changed. Concern twisted through him, followed by a tiny ray of hope. “Who has custody? Janine?”
“I hear she’s the guardian appointed in their will,” Mike confirmed.
“Is she…how’s it working out with her and Lauren?” He couldn’t imagine Janine rejecting her daughter at this stage. Still, having the girl thrust into her care unexpectedly must be difficult.
“Nobody seems to know.”
“She must be terribly upset about her