everything.
'Sometimes, no,' the cleric agreed. 'But the tenderness does help soothe the pain.'
'You can't know that.' But Gaby prayed that somehow he could.
In answer, he patted her and his compassionate smile came again. 'I thank God often for the angels here on earth, the ones with the patience and caring to take on so much suffering day in and day out.'
Damn it, her eyes flooded again and the hankie received another loud honk. Choking out the words, Gaby said, 'I can't be in here. I have to go.'
He squeezed her shoulder. 'Of course, child. Go, collect yourself.'
But Gaby knew the nurses would stay.
The cleric would stay.
They weren't cowardly like her.
Angels on earth, he'd called them. It must be true, because even as she rushed to escape, she felt the cottony softness in the air, and around the black spots of imbalance and the gray shadows of sickness and lugubriousness, she saw the cocoon of sympathetic green and calm blue hues. They came from the caregivers.
They came from angels.
Two nurses rode the elevator with Gaby, speaking low to one another, giving her privacy in their averted gazes.
One said, 'I wish Dr. Chiles could always be on call. I really don't like dealing with Dr. Marton.'
'No one does,' the other nurse replied. 'Talk about clinical.'
'And lack of feelings…'
The nurses grew silent, leading Gaby to wonder about Dr. Marton. Was he like the doctor Father had, detached to the point of leaving a body shivering cold? Gaby had hated talking to the doctor, listening to his evasive non-answers and lack of respect toward a man who was no longer a man, but a shell with a disease.
The elevator doors opened and Gaby launched out, almost running, so anxious to breathe in fresh air that she thought she might hurl. In the very back of her mind, she thought she sensed a laugh, but the distress of her body kept her from reading it clearly.
She burst through the emergency room doors and, doing all she could not to fall to her knees, sucked in the humid summer air.
She could have returned to her apartment at that point, but she didn't want to.
Ignoring the strange crowd loitering outside the hospital, hoping to buy prescription drugs or trade sex for favors, Gaby headed for the street. She had a few miles to go before she'd reach the apartment. But she intended to go beyond that.
She intended to seek out the woods where she'd located the abandoned isolation hospital.
For some reason, she felt drawn there.
Chapter Eight
A sweltering, setting sun cast the dreary neighborhood in a muggy haze. The reflection off the blacktop patches on broken concrete roads could blind a person and added to the smothering heat, but Gaby didn't move from her position at the front of her apartment building. Sweat dampened her scalp and pasted her hair to her forehead, temples and neck. Even though she'd cut it, her hair still felt too thick and smothering.
Sunglasses in place, flip-flops kicked to the side, she sprawled boneless on the scabrous steps and surveyed every inch of the surrounding area. For the past four nights, she'd tried to go back to the isolation hospital. Each time she had to alter her plans, knowing someone followed her.
Detective Cross?
Morty?
Or someone,
Sleep became elusive, as did peace of mind. Her thoughts twittered with too many possibilities, too many questions. For once, she begged for a calling from God, a summons to attack, a divine guide to the evil that plagued her.
No summons came.
She wanted to curse God, but it wasn't easy. Commination against Him stuck in her throat. Her faith was such that if He didn't send her after the demon, she knew there had to be a reason.
It just sucked that the reasons were never in her understanding.
As Gaby pondered her quandary, a shadow climbed the stairs and crept over her.
Already sensing whom she'd see, she glanced up, and there stood Luther Cross. Too tired and strung out to care, she diverted her gaze away again.
Dressed in another button-front shirt and tidy slacks, he sank down to sit beside her. 'You are one hard woman to track down, Gaby Cody.'
Her first and last name. What else did he know of her? 'Drop dead.' Mentally, she retracted that order, just in case He was listening—which she doubted. God couldn't be bothered with such pettiness. She just didn't want to take any chances. Her soul had blackened enough already.
'I'd rather not, thank you. And I'd rather not arrest you, but I will if you make me.'
'Yeah?' Stiffened arms braced behind her, Gaby tipped her head back so that the sun caressed her throat. 'For what?'
'Assaulting an officer?'
In her tautened position, the laugh sounded more like choking. 'An officer who molested me?'
He chuckled—and Gaby felt his gaze on her chest. 'Touché. Not that anyone would believe you.'
Too drained to measure her words, Gaby straightened and asked, 'Why not? Because I don't have anything to grope, or because you have a pure aura? We both know you still did it.'
For half a minute, Luther remained utterly silent. Gaby listened to the rumble of engines and the quieter thrum of tires on pavement as cars went past. She heard the muted congestion of voices across the street, a few doors down, at the end of dark alleys. She heard doors opening, a dog barking, and off in the distance, the lone but not unfamiliar wail of a siren.
'Okay.' Luther propped his forearms on his knees. His eyes narrowed and his brow pinched. 'Let's skip the strange comment for just a second to clear up something else.'
'If you insist.'
'Yes, we both know I did it, no way for me to dispute it. But we both also know that's not why you ran from me.'
'When did I run?'
'A few days ago. With blood on your neck.' His jaw flexed. 'After you tried to unman me.'
Her smile quirked. 'Listen up, cop. If I'd tried, you'd be a choirboy. Believe it.'
Luther accepted that without expression. 'So why'd you run?'
Sighing, Gaby knew she couldn't lie. She had run, he'd seen her, so denying it would do no good. But her reasons would remain her own. Curious, she asked, 'Why do you think?'
Without missing a single beat, Luther stated, 'You know something about the murder and you don't want to tell me.'
Well hell. Gaby took off her sunglasses and scrubbed at her eyes. She had to throw him off that scent somehow. 'Yeah, you've got me dead to rights, officer. I know all about it.'
'Don't be a smart-ass, Gaby. If you saw something that night, it's your duty to tell me.'
'My duty.' How ludicrous that sounded.
Luther firmed even more. 'If you're afraid of retaliation, I can protect you.'
That brought about a genuine laugh—of amusement and bitterness. 'If you want to think so, who am I to say otherwise?'
His irritation hit her in waves. 'What exactly does all that sarcasm mean?'
Time to run away. Again.
But before she'd even gotten her ass off the step, Luther blocked her. 'I won't let anything happen to you,
