The Predator (23 page)

Feeling a long way from confident, she chose a deep plum lipstick that always looked good on her and swiped it across her lips. The color went well with her dark red winter dress that wrapped around her curves and ended in a flourish at her hip. The low neckline emphasized her generous cleavage.

She slipped on a pair of black stilettos and gave her hair a final tweak before collecting her handbag from the kitchen table and her keys from the hook near the door.

Her gaze landed on the clock above the sink. Eleven o’clock. An hour and she’d be in the city laying her soul bare to the only man she’d ever loved. Drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. Sending a silent prayer heavenwards, she opened the door and pulled it shut behind her with a resounding click.

* * *

Alex checked her rearview mirror and changed lanes. The traffic was reasonably heavy as people went about their daily business. For once, the sun was shining and the winter warmth of it lifted her spirits. Surely, once she explained why she’d kept Sam from him, Brandon would understand?

He’d be upset. She expected that, even anticipated it and she owed it to him to let him rant and rave and vocalize his hurt. But afterwards, after he’d had time to cool down, surely the love they had for each other, the love they’d always had for each other, would see them through this difficult time, would sustain them. She could only hope.

The sound of her phone ringing inside her handbag momentarily distracted her. Keeping her gaze on the road, she riffled with one hand through her bag. Her hand closed around the phone. She tugged it out and glanced at the Caller ID.

Sam’s daycare center.

Her heart jumped and she told herself not to be silly. It could be anything. Perhaps she’d forgotten to pack his hat? Maybe he’d fallen over and skinned his knee? Or it could be he just wasn’t feeling well. With a quick look over her shoulder, she changed lanes again and pulled over. Switching off the ignition, she pressed the button and answered the call.

“Alex, it’s Julie Wells from the Sunnysmiles Long Daycare Center. I-I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”

Her stomach clenched with dread, but she forced herself to remain calm.

“What kind of accident?”

The woman cleared her throat. “There’s been a car accident. A truck…” Alex heard the tremor in the woman’s voice and her apprehension grew.

“What happened with the truck, Julie? Is Sam all right?”

“The truck… Sam… He…”

Icy fingers tightened around her heart. Blood pounded in her ears. She forced a breath between closed lips and swallowed against the panic.

“Julie, please tell me. Is Sam all right?”

“No, Alex. I’m sorry. He’s not.”

The pounding in her ears grew louder, blocking out all but snatches of what the woman told her. A truck had run off the road. Plowed into the daycare center. Hit Sam and three other children. Ambulance. Hospital. Critical.

“Where is he?” she screamed. “Where have they taken him?”

“He…he’s been taken to the children’s hospital at Randwick. Th-that’s all I know.”

“Oh, God! Oh, God, oh God.” Her world spun madly out of control. She turned on the ignition and floored the accelerator. Vaguely, she heard the blast of a horn behind her and pulled the steering wheel hard, wrenching her car back into her lane. More horns blasted beside her, adding to the cacophony of noise in her head. She tried to block it out and focus on the road.

Images of Sam smiling and waving good-bye as she’d dropped him off that morning kept running through her head, faster and faster until they blurred in a kaleidoscope of motion and sound and color. She groaned and pushed a fist against her chest in an effort to stem the pain.

Please, God, please let him be all right. Please, please, please. I’ll do anything you want. Please, just keep him alive.

The mantra repeated itself in her head, over and over, until she could think of nothing else. She changed lanes and then changed again so that she could take the exit that led to the hospital. She was still more than half an hour away—maybe more with the thickening traffic.

It was fortunate she’d already been heading more or less in that direction. She suddenly remembered Brandon and swore. The clock on her dashboard read eleven forty-five. In fifteen minutes, he’d be expecting to meet her for lunch. She had to call him.

Working her way through the traffic, she pulled over and reached for her phone. She scrolled through her call bank and found Brandon’s number. Pressing the call button, she tried to get her breathing under control. He answered on the first ring.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I was just thinking about you. Are you there already? I hope you managed to find a place to park. The boss has—”

“Brandon.” Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Brandon, something’s happened. There’s been an accident. Sam—”

Her voice broke. Tears stung her eyes. She swallowed the lump that had lodged in her throat.

“Christ, Alex. Is he okay?”

She gulped and shook her head. “N-no… I don’t know. They’ve taken him to the children’s hospital in Randwick. I’m on my way over there, now.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She wanted to offer polite refusals, but the truth was, she was desperately grateful for his offer so quickly and so freely given.

“Th-thanks, Brandon. I’d really appreciate that.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. Trying to stay focused on the road in front of her, she sent up desperate pleas in fragmented thoughts and phrases that her little boy would be all right.

She arrived at the hospital in record time and screeched to a halt outside the doors to the Emergency Department. She ignored the signs that advised it was an area for ambulances only. Tow it away; she couldn’t care less. She had to find her son.

The doors slid open at her approach and she ran to the triage desk, her heart pounding. A young nurse looked up from where she sat behind a desk.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m… I’m looking for my son. He was brought in by ambulance from the Sunnysmiles Daycare Center. A truck accident.”

The nurse’s expression turned grave. Her gaze lowered to the paperwork on her desk. Fear squeezed Alex’s heart. Her breathing ceased.

“Please, please. Is he all right? I need to see him.”

“There were several children brought in from that Center. What’s your son’s name?”

“Samuel. Samuel Munro.”

The nurse shuffled through the folders on her desk and then chose one of the clipboards. Her expression remained grim. “Here it is. Sam Munro. We were given his name by a staff member at the Center, but we haven’t had the opportunity to obtain any other information. Are you able to help me with that?”

Alex frowned, her thoughts in turmoil. “Um… Yes, I suppose. But please, can’t I see him? I need to know he’s okay.”

“Mrs Munro, he’s in surgery right now. I’m not sure how it’s going.” The nurse’s voice lowered. “He’s in very serious condition. I understand he was trapped under the vehicle for some time. As soon as I know anything else, I’ll—”

A loud buzzing noise in Alex’s ears blocked out the rest of her words. She was paralyzed with shock. The nurse tried again.

“Mrs Munro, I really need to get some more information from you.”

Alex’s mouth moved, but no words came out. The nurse looked at her with understanding and then pushed back her chair and walked around to Alex’s side. With her arm around her, the nurse guided Alex to a seat and urged her to sit down in one of the hard plastic chairs that lined the waiting room.

“I’ll go and fetch you a drink of water. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Alex barely registered the nurse’s departure. Staring into space, she tried hard to process what she knew. Sam had been hit by a truck. He’d been pinned beneath it. He was in surgery. No one could tell her if he was dead or alive. No one could tell her anything. She looked around for Brandon, but the entry to the Emergency Department remained agonizingly empty.

The nurse returned with a glass of water. She offered it to Alex.

“Here. Take a sip. I know this is difficult, but we really need to find out as much as we can about your son.”

Alex swallowed a mouthful of water, forcing it past the tension that held her throat in a stranglehold. She snatched a breath and took another sip.

“Better?” the nurse asked, her gaze kind.

Nodding, Alex handed the glass back to her and took a steadying breath. She wanted to help. She needed to help. “What do you need to know?”

The nurse stood and went back to the desk to collect Sam’s notes. She returned a few minutes later and sat next to Alex, her pen poised.

“Okay, for starters, if you can give me his full name, address and date of birth.”

Alex recited the information and was suddenly thankful Brandon hadn’t yet arrived. Now wasn’t the time to tell him he had a son.

“Is Sam allergic to anything?”

She shook her head. “No, not that I know of.”

“Is he on any medication? Has he been ill recently?”

“No. The occasional cold and flu, but overall, he’s been so healthy.” Her voice caught and she bit back a sob.

“It’s okay, Mrs Munro. It’s okay.”

The reference to Alex’s married name jarred her. She vaguely recalled the nurse addressing her that way when she first arrived, but she’d been too focused on Sam and his status to pay much attention. Now it seemed too late to correct the assumption. Besides, it was still her legal title.

The automatic doors to the Emergency Department slid open. Alex looked up and saw Brandon striding toward them, his face pale.

Alex stood and was immediately enveloped in his arms. She leaned against him, grateful for his support. She breathed in deeply of his familiar scent, infusing herself with his solidness, seeking comfort from the warmth and strength of his broad frame.

“Mr Munro?” the nurse ventured.

Brandon’s arms loosened around Alex, but he continued to hold her close. “Yes?”

“I’ve just been speaking with your wife. Your son’s been badly injured. He’s still in surgery. We’ll know more when someone comes out with an update.”

“Thanks, but he’s not—”

Another door slid open and a tall, young man with short, dark hair and sober eyes strode up to them. He wore blue surgical scrubs. A blue surgical mask hung around his neck.

“Are you Sam Munro’s parents?”

Alex’s heart skipped a beat. Fear wrapped icy tentacles around her heart. “H-how is he? Please tell me he’s going to be all right.”

“I’m Mark Davis, one of the surgical registrars.” The doctor’s gaze settled on Alex, his face grave.

“Professor Shepherd, the head of surgery, is operating on him now. I’m afraid he’s in a bad way, Mrs Munro. Apart from several serious fractures, he has a ruptured spleen. We’re doing all we can to stem the bleeding, but he’s going to need a blood transfusion and fast. Do you know what his blood type is?”

Alex shot a quick look at Brandon, who remained motionless, his expression grim. “He… He’s A negative.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

The doctor muttered an oath under his breath. “I’ll call the blood bank and see what they have in stock. It’s an uncommon blood group. If we don’t have enough of a supply here, we’ll have to contact some of the other hospitals and see what they have. The problem is, it will take time and I’m not sure how much of that we have.”

Dread seized Alex’s heart and her belly clenched in fear.
Oh, God! Oh, God…this can’t be happening.
Not to her son. Not to her baby.

“I don’t suppose you’re a match?” the doctor asked, a gleam of hope in his eyes.

Alex shook her head. “No.”

“But I am.”

The doctor turned his attention to Brandon. “You’re his father?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

They spoke simultaneously. Brandon’s gaze clashed with Alex’s, shock widening his eyes and draining his face of color.

“I’m his—?”

“Oh, God, Brandon. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Fury and pain ignited in his eyes. “Do you mean to tell me he’s my son?”

Alex nodded her head, helpless against his anger. This was so far removed from how she’d imagined telling him.

Shock and disbelief ravaged his face. “How could you keep this from me, Alex? How
could
you?” His voice broke on the final word.

She felt every nuance of his pain. “Brandon, I’m so, so sorry. Please, believe me. I was going to tell you.”

“
When?
When were you going to tell me?” He bit off the words and hurled them at her. “It’s not like you didn’t have plenty of opportunity. I even
asked
you about his father, for Christ’s sake.” He shook his head, his body taut. “You lied to me, Alex. You
lied
to me.”

Alex had completely forgotten about the doctor until he stepped forward, his face stern.

“Excuse me. It’s obvious there are a few issues you need to sort out, but if you don’t mind, right now, we don’t have the time.” He turned to Brandon. “You’re A negative, is that correct?”

Brandon gave a curt nod, his gaze still lasering Alex’s.

“Would you be willing to donate blood? We’re going to need more than you can give us, but it’s a start.”

Brandon’s eyes were almost black with suppressed emotion. Devastation and disbelief still mingled with anger. Alex’s stomach clenched.

“Of course,” Brandon said.

Relief showed in the doctor’s face. “Great. Please, if you could come with me. I’ll find someone who can help us. Every second could make a difference.”

He turned and headed toward the way he’d come. Throwing her one last lingering look that shook her to her core, Brandon followed him.

When they had both disappeared from sight, Alex collapsed into a plastic chair. Her heart thudded against her chest. Her lungs constricted. She was panting like she’d run across the Harbour Bridge and back. The look in Brandon’s eyes before he’d left had been one of complete devastation.

She’d always known he’d be upset, angry even, when he found out, but his look of sheer horror and betrayal would haunt her for the rest of her life.

With a groan of agony, she doubled over and let the tears come. She tried to contain the sobs, but they overwhelmed her. Her shoulders shook and her nose filled. Shock and fear took over and she trembled violently.