Chapter Five
Blair offered a tired smile as the final patient pushed through the glass door, the little bell tinkling into the hushed hallway. She leaned back against the reception counter, the laminate cool beneath her palms, and exhaled. Today had been long. Tomorrow would be worse.
She pulled a chair out and lowered herself beside Meridith, who sat with both hands pressed to her rounded belly. Her cheeks were flushed, her forehead damp, and she winced softly as she shifted in her seat.
“Are you alright?”
Meridith managed a shaky grin. “He’s doing backflips in there.” She blinked and closed her eyes for a moment.
Blair leaned closer. “Meridith. Are you in labor?”
“I think I might be.”
“Contractions?”
“Yes. About every ten minutes.”
“Okay. That’s manageable for now. Once they reach five minutes apart we’ll time them properly, length and frequency both. Any bleeding?”
“No. I just checked.”
“Good. No rush yet but call your doctor and give her a heads up.”
Meridith dug her phone from her purse, fingers trembling, and dialed. A soft exchange, a few nods. She hung up. “She said to go ahead and head to the hospital. She’d rather my water break there than at home.”
“Agreed. And you’re not driving yourself. Call Phil, or I’ll take you and he can meet us there.”
Meridith’s thumb hovered over the screen, then she typed quickly. “He’ll be there soon if you can take me.”
“Of course.” Blair stood and smoothed her scrubs. “Let me tell Dr. Workman.”
Blair’s footsteps echoed on the vinyl floor as she approached Dr. Workman’s office. She tapped once on the doorjamb.
He looked up from his desk, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. “Wrapping up for the day?”
“Meridith is in labor. I’m taking her to the hospital. Her husband will meet us there.”
He was on his feet before she finished, smoothing his lab coat as he moved past her into the hallway. “Meridith?” At her reply he quickened his pace. “How far apart are the contractions?”
Meridith pressed both hands to her belly, teeth clenched. “About nine minutes. They seem to be getting longer.” She groaned as another one hit.
“Let’s go.” He took her hand. “I’m sure Dr. Anderson has notified the hospital.”
Blair gathered Meridith’s bag and sweater. Together she and Dr. Workman helped Meridith to her feet and guided her down the hallway and out to the parking lot. Blair got the passenger door open, helped her in and pulled the seatbelt across her, then ran around to the driver’s side.
She drove fast but steady, glancing over every few seconds. Meridith’s face had gone ghostly pale, sweat beading on her upper lip, fingers white-knuckled against her belly. Meridith let out a low groan and gripped the door handle.
“Almost there. Breathe, Meridith. Just breathe.”
Meridith nodded and focused on her breathing, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. “Damn, it hurts, Blair. When I see Phil I’m going to throat punch him.”
Blair laughed, the sound cutting right through the tension. “I’m sure it would make you feel better.”
“Tell me about your date. Take my mind off this hellish pain.”
Blair nodded and started talking, her voice a steady counterpoint to Meridith’s occasional gasps.
By the time she finished, they had reached the hospital.
She pulled straight up to the emergency doors, tires squealing slightly on the pavement, and ran around to Meridith’s side.
The hospital doors whooshed open and several nurses in crisp blue scrubs came out, one of them pushing a wheelchair.
Blair recognized Abbie McBride among them.
“Hi, Blair,” Abbie said, calm and professional.
“Abbie. Contractions are about seven minutes apart, each one lasting longer than the last. Husband is on his way, probably breaking every speed limit between here and the barn.”
Abbie leaned in to look at Meridith, her experienced eyes taking in the situation quickly. “Hi, Meridith. I’m Abbie McBride. We’re going to take good care of you until Dr. Anderson arrives. She’ll get you up to labor and delivery where it’s quieter and more comfortable. Is this your first?”
“Yes,” Meridith managed between gasps.
“We’ve got her from here, Blair. You can park and wait in registration. Someone will bring her husband to her once he arrives.”
“Alright.” Blair touched Meridith’s hand, feeling the clamminess beneath her fingers. “No need to come in tomorrow,” she said with a grin.
Meridith laughed despite the pain. “Thank God.”
“Call me when you can. If you need anything at all.” Blair squeezed her hand and watched them wheel her through the automatic doors, which closed with a soft whoosh behind them. Then she moved her car and went inside to wait for Phil.
****
Hud sank into the plush king-sized mattress and looked around the room. Gleaming mahogany furniture, crisp white linens, decent water pressure. Dave never put his men in fleabag motels and Hud had long since stopped being surprised by that.
He flipped open his laptop, the glow illuminating his face as he worked through the department’s encrypted database.
“Carla Whittingham,” he murmured, tracing her address on the screen. “I need to talk to you.”
His phone vibrated against the nightstand. Creed.
“You’re too lazy to walk fifteen feet?”
“Fuck you,” Creed’s gravelly voice replied, laughter underneath it. “I was going to ask if you wanted pizza and cold beer, but not now.”
“That does sound good.”
“Figured. I already found a place. They deliver.”
“Of course you did.”
“Once it gets here I might wander over.” Creed hung up.
Hud set the phone down, still chuckling, and went back to the screen.
Fifteen minutes later they were settled at the wooden table by the rain-spattered window, an open pizza box between them.
Warm dough, bubbling mozzarella, pepperoni.
Each man held a cold beer, condensation beading on the can.
Outside, a light rain fell from gray clouds, softening the light in the room.
“Are you going to call Mrs. Whittingham before we show up?” Creed asked, tilting his beer toward his lips.
“Nope. We’ll surprise her. That way she can’t skip town first.”
Creed’s brow furrowed. “I hope she can give us something solid on her ex. From what I’ve read, she was smart to get out when she did.”
“I hope so too.” Hud tapped a finger against the table, the faint drone of traffic drifting in from outside.
Creed’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, face breaking into a grin, and answered. “Hey, baby.” His voice dropped to something softer.
Hud smiled and looked away. Blair’s laugh flickered at the edges of his mind uninvited. He watched Creed’s expression settle into that particular kind of fond amusement that belonged to men who had someone waiting for them. When Creed set the phone back down Hud leaned back in his chair.
“Abbie?”
“Just calling to say goodnight.” Creed picked at a stray piece of crust.
“You lucky bastard,” Hud muttered.
Creed chuckled. “You need a woman in your life, Hud. One woman.”
Hud’s jaw tightened. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I had a date Saturday. It was a disaster.”
Creed studied him over the top of his can. “What did you do?”
Hud’s lips curved into a half smile. “What makes you think I did something?” When Creed arched an eyebrow, Hud exhaled. “Yeah, okay.”
“What happened?”
Hud shifted forward, elbows on the table, and walked him through the night. He caught Creed stifling a laugh before he even finished.
“You think that’s funny?” Hud said.
“Hell, Hud.” Creed grinned. “You finally found a woman who won’t put up with your shit. The only reason you ever take someone out is for sex.”
“Like you were any different before Abbie.”
“I wasn’t. Just not as bad as you.” Creed shook his head. “I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off.” He took a long pull of his beer.
Hud shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Creed set his can down and leaned forward. “Do you think she’ll call you?”
Hud stared at the wood grain. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I hope so. We had a good time until I tried to...” He waved a hand. “Rush things.”
“Take her to bed. You can say it.” Creed’s eyes held a teasing glint. “We all know how you operate.”
“I’m not that bad. Am I?”
“Maybe not,” Creed said, voice gentler. “But you go through women like a revolving door. Maybe if you stuck with one for a while you’d feel different. Give it a real shot.”
“Deke and Case seem happy enough.” Hud shrugged. “I just never pictured myself married with kids. And this job, Creed. You know better than anyone what it can take from you.”
Creed ran his thumb slowly along the scar on his cheek. “Yeah. I do.”
“That was a bad night.”
“Losing an agent on top of everything else.” Creed was quiet for a moment. “Let’s hope this one goes cleaner. I don’t trust White and I’ve never laid eyes on him. He ran this whole operation and I want him. For the thefts and for what he did to Rawley.”
“When I saw Rawley go down I was sure we’d lost him.”
“We would have if he hadn’t slid down that tree when he did. That last shot hit right where his head was.” Creed shook his head as he pushed back from the table, pulled a couple of paper towels from the roll, laid two slices of pizza on them and grabbed a fresh beer. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Eight o’clock at the truck.”
“Sounds good. Night.”
“Night, Creed.” Hud followed him to the door and threw both the lock and the deadbolt behind him.
****
Wednesday morning hit like it usually did, fast and without mercy.
Blair had known before she even pulled into the parking lot that it was going to be one of those days.
The waiting room was full by eight fifteen, the phone hadn’t stopped ringing, and Sara, the temp covering the front desk three days a week, was doing her best but was clearly in over her head.
Blair caught her eye across the counter and saw the quiet panic there.
“I’m so sorry,” Sara said.