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  Now, she wasn’t quite so sure. His behavior had become more and more erratic and his explanations more and more bizarre. She no longer cared about his affairs with other women, but it was almost laughable how he felt the need to concoct stories explaining away their existence.

  His inability to stay faithful was the reason she’d come with him to work. It was easier to keep an eye on him when she spent eight or nine hours by his side. She also fielded his phone calls. Well, up until the advent of cell phones, at least. Now she didn’t know who he called or who called him.

  Her friends wondered why she stayed with him, but they didn’t understand. She’d been Mrs Leo Baker, the wife of Sydney’s eminent doctor for so long, she couldn’t imagine being anyone else. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her identity and now even the thought of trying to get it back exhausted her. Besides, she relished the life she led.

  Money had never been a problem and by and large, she and Leo kept out of each other’s way. She still came into the office every morning and made sure the filing was up to date, but she did it more out of habit than the need to keep him under watch. She’d stopped caring about how he spent his time a long time ago.

  But the discovery of the house in Mount Druitt had sparked her interest and she couldn’t really say why. Now, she was even more confused. The house was dark and gloomy. What little furniture in the place was coated with a layer of dust. It was obvious it wasn’t a place where he took his female friends and after witnessing his behavior in the basement, she didn’t know what to think.

  With a sigh, she unlocked her car and climbed back in behind the wheel. She filed the information away, to be pondered over some other time.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Chanel approached the door that led into the offices of the hospital’s general manager with a feeling akin to trepidation. Less than half an hour earlier, she’d received the summons to present herself to Deborah Healy without delay. She’d been part way through her afternoon rounds and had excused herself as soon as they were over.

  The police had finished interviewing the staff a few days earlier. Rumors were flying thick and fast around the hospital: A member of the kitchen staff had confessed; a nurse with mental health issues was the culprit; another patient had taken it upon himself to suffocate the women with a pillow…

  They were ridiculous and totally baseless and Chanel had done her best to ignore them, but knowing that on paper, other than Doctor Baker, she was the only person who’d had access to all three victims played heavily on her mind. She’d wanted to deny Bryce’s suggestion that someone was setting her up, but the more she thought about it, the more likely that seemed.

  Surely, it wasn’t just a coincidence that all three patients were on her daily list? Doctor Baker had vowed to make her regret rebuffing him, but would his need for revenge extend to the murder of innocent people? The very idea was preposterous. He was a kind and dedicated physician. He truly cared about his patients. Besides, Amelia Arncliffe had died before Doctor Baker had made his tasteless proposition. He couldn’t have known beforehand that Chanel would turn him down.

  No, as much as she wanted to shift the suspicion from her shoulders, she didn’t believe Doctor Baker was at fault either. She just had to hope and pray Bryce would discover another truth.

  Bryce. His name rolled off her tongue so easily. She recalled the dream she’d had of him the night before and blushed.

  He was bare from the waist up, beckoning to her through the mist. His muscled chest was displayed to full advantage. When she finally found the courage to stumble through the dark toward him, she reached out a hand to touch him and found the image was no lie.

  His skin was firm and warm and flexed beneath her fingers. A light scattering of dark hair covered the edges of his nipples. She stepped closer and her breasts brushed against his chest. It was only then she noticed she was naked.

  He bent his head to nuzzle her neck and his breath whispered past her ear. She shivered from the delight of it and tilted her head away. He kissed and teased his way from her neck to her shoulder, all the way down to her chest. His hands cupped her breasts.

  When he suckled her, she cried out from the delicious sensations. Need spiraled deep within her and she pressed herself against him, wanting more.

  His erection strained against her stomach, thick and hard and hot. She moved against him, aching and wet and begged him to give her what she sought. He stared down at her with eyes so dark they were nearly black. When he spoke, his voice was rough with the strain of holding back.

  “Tell me what you want,” he demanded and pressed his cock against her skin.

  “You!” she gasped. “I want you!”

  “Are you sure?” he said, his eyes fixed on hers.

  She stood on tiptoes and did her best to press his cock against her clit. It throbbed and burned and tingled.

  “I need you,” she breathed and stared into his eyes. “Now.”

  His eyes flared with emotion and his grip tightened around her shoulders. He lifted her up easily and spread her legs around his hips. With one hand, he worked the zipper on his jeans and a moment later, his thick, hard cock sprang free.

  Fire sizzled her nerve endings and raged through every vein. She clung to him and begged him to take her, right there and then. He turned her around and held her close. She felt a wall against her back.

  “Are you sure you still want me?” he rasped, his cock straining against her wet slit.

  “Yes! Take me before I explode.”

  The urgency behind her words should have shocked her. She’d never before gotten so carried away. But she’d never been caught up in a need so great that she couldn’t think of anything beyond seeking fulfilment. She was burning from the inside out. She needed him hard and fast. She spread her legs even wider and begged him with her eyes.

  He didn’t need any more encouragement. With a slight shift of his hips, he plunged upward and inward and impaled her on his shaft. She screamed from the sheer ecstasy of it and moved frantically against his heat. His cock stretched her wide apart, she was being split in two. She screamed and sobbed and clung to him. He pounded and pounded and pounded…

  She’d woken with a gasp, the sheets twisted around her limbs. Her heart was beating double time and her core still ached with need. She’d woken before she’d climaxed and her body was still strung taut. She couldn’t believe she’d dreamed about the detective, or how real it had seemed.

  Now, the thought of it made her blush and sent heat rushing to her cheeks. She wasn’t one for hot, hard sex. She wasn’t one for sex, period. The two casual experiences she’d had in college had been less than satisfactory, but she didn’t have time to search for or put the effort into a more long-term relationship. She’d relegated the notion of hot and steamy sex to the pages of racy romance novels or Hollywood movies. She never imagined such a thing could happen in real life.

  Well, not exactly real life. She’d been dreaming, after all. But a part of her couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to get down and dirty with the hot detective. Not that she had time to contemplate that at the moment. The general manager’s door loomed before her. It was time to face the lions.

  Chanel’s firm knock was met with an equally firm command for her to enter. Pushing open the door, she was surprised to find herself in a bright and cheery reception area that was flooded with natural light. It was so different from the dim and subdued corridors of the hospital, she was slightly taken aback. The well-put-together older woman who sat behind the counter nodded a greeting.

  “Hi, I’m Doctor Munro. I received a message that the general manager wants to see me.”

  “Hi, Doctor Munro. Please, take a seat. Ms Healy won’t be long. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.” Chanel turned and took a seat on a comfortable leather couch, taking in the brightly colored prints that decorated the walls. Their black frames matched the window architraves and the color of the couch
. It was clear someone had a clever eye for design.

  The door to an inner office opened and a woman appeared in the opening. Chanel was hit with a fresh wave of nerves. She’d seen pictures of Deborah Healy around the hospital, but none of them did her justice. Chanel knew from the woman’s bio that she was forty-nine, but she looked a decade younger. Her red hair was in the latest style and framed a face that belied its age. Make-up had been applied with an expert hand, concealing all but the faintest of lines. The knee-length skirt of the woman’s tailored gray suit displayed a pair of sculpted calves that only came from hours devoted to the gym.

  “Doctor Munro, I’m Deborah Healy. Come in.”

  Like the reception area on the other side of the door, the general manager’s office was also filled with natural light. Plants adorned two corners of the room and despite her unease, Chanel couldn’t help but smile at the row of hand painted ceramic pots that lined the window ledge, each pot bursting with color.

  The woman took a seat behind her desk and Chanel took one of the chairs opposite. There were no preliminaries. Deborah Healy got straight down to business.

  “I’m sure you’re aware we’re in the middle of a police investigation into the deaths of three of our patients.”

  “Yes, Ms Healy. I was interviewed by the police earlier this week.”

  “Then you know you’re their prime suspect.”

  Chanel gasped, even though the news didn’t come as a surprise. Having it stated so baldly was difficult to take.

  “I’m aware all three patients were under my care, yes. I understand how the police might view me as a suspect, but I can assure you, I’ve done nothing wrong. I had nothing to do with the deaths of those poor women.”

  The general manager stared at Chanel, her expression grim and assessing. “I’m sure you know it’s not up to me to decide. We’re leaving that to the police. The reason I summoned you was because I’ve had a meeting with the board. Under the circumstances, we’ve decided to relieve you of your duties at this hospital, effective immediately.”

  Shockwaves ricocheted through Chanel and she gasped in disbelief. “Ms Healy, please! You can’t do this! It wasn’t me! I did nothing wrong!”

  The woman remained unmoved. “I acknowledge your protest of innocence, but you must understand, we cannot condone any risk that could put our patients in harm’s way. We’ll be lucky if the imminent lawsuits from the three known victims don’t bankrupt us. We can’t risk another.”

  “But, Ms Healy, it isn’t fair! My job means everything to me! I’ve worked so hard to get here. I can’t have it all taken away. Not when I’ve done nothing wrong. Please, you have to—”

  “That will be all, Doctor Munro. You’ll be suspended on full pay until such time as an arrest has been made. If you’re found to be innocent of any wrongdoing, then naturally, your position in this hospital will be reinstated.”

  Chanel shook her head, dazed at what had just happened. She pushed away from her chair and stumbled to the door. She couldn’t remember making it across the reception room and down the stairs to the ground floor, but suddenly she was in front of the information desk where a familiar face smiled down at her.

  “If it isn’t Doctor Munro!” Marjorie said. “How are things going, honey? You look like you’ve had a tough day.”

  Chanel stared up at the kindly old woman who’d been so friendly to her on her first day. The same kindness and gentleness still shone from the woman’s eyes and all of a sudden, Chanel found herself blinking back tears.

  “I-I’m fine, Marjorie. Thanks for asking.” Her voice cracked on the last word and the tears she’d tried so hard to hold back flooded her eyes. Before she knew it, she was sobbing beyond control.

  Marjorie’s expression turned to concern and she struggled out of the information booth and came around to offer Chanel comfort.

  “Oh, honey! It can’t be as bad as that? There, there. You’ll be all right. Stop crying, now. You’ll make those pretty eyes red.”

  The woman held Chanel against her soft bosom and patted her on the back. Chanel did her best to get herself under control and at last, managed to draw in a deep breath and heave a heavy sigh. She wiped at the tears with the back of her hand and offered Marjorie a shaky smile.

  “I’m okay, Marjorie.”

  “Are you sure? Would you like to talk about it?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. And thanks for your kind offer, but I can’t talk about it.”

  “You have a tough job, being a doctor, and we’re glad to have you on board. If it weren’t for you and those like you, where would the rest of us be?”

  Chanel managed another weak smile of gratitude and slowly turned away.

  “You take care of yourself, honey. You hear? If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, you just give me a holler.”

  Without turning around, Chanel nodded and continued on her way out the door. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever be allowed to return. The minute she reached her apartment, she tugged out her phone and dialed Bryce’s number. He’d given it to her after the interview and had urged her to call him whenever she needed.

  “Detective Sutcliffe.”

  The familiar, deep voice sent a surge of longing rushing through her but this time it had nothing to do with her dream. After the devastating way she’d been treated by her employer, she needed reassurance from someone she hoped would understand.

  “Detective… Bryce… It’s me. Chanel Munro. I-I need you. I need to talk to you. Will you come over?” Her breath hitched, but she forced herself to continue without waiting for him to reply. “I’ve been fired.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bryce stared down at the phone in his hand and tried hard to slow his racing pulse. The call from Chanel was unexpected. He hadn’t seen her since the day he’d taken her statement at the hospital and even though he was sure she felt the same connection he did, he was in the middle of an investigation with her as the primary suspect.

  It didn’t come as a surprise to hear that she’d been fired from her job. The hospital’s executive had been kept up to date with the investigation, including the fact the police had narrowed down the list of staff members with access to the victims. Chanel’s name was at the top of that list.

  He was still of the opinion she wasn’t responsible for the deaths. Apart from the fact she’d been the one to draw attention to the earlier deaths, she didn’t have a motive. In fact, they had yet to uncover a motive for any of the staff on their list and it was frustrating the task force to no end.

  Bryce checked the time. His shift had ended an hour ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the station. He’d been poring over statements, searching for clues that might have been overlooked, but so far, his extra efforts had come to nothing. The fact that all signs pointed toward Chanel’s guilt seemed a little too convenient, as did the fact that Doctor Baker had insisted during his interview with Jett that the only time he’d visited any of the victims was in the company of at least two or three of his students.

  Bryce had quizzed Jett about how he’d found the eminent doctor and his partner admitted he felt the way Bryce had three weeks earlier—the man had been polite and cooperative and had exhibited none of the usual signs of deceit. He’d answered all of Jett’s questions without hesitation and appeared for all intents and purposes as a man saddened by the loss of three patients and anxious to find the person responsible.

  When Jett had asked him if any of his students were ever alone with his patients, the doctor had said it was likely.

  “Of course. They’re students. The best way to learn is to be hands-on. I encourage them to check on their patients as often as time permits. Being a good doctor is just as much about establishing a rapport with a patient as it is about choices of treatment. If a patient doesn’t have faith in your ability to heal them, it makes your job twice as difficult.”

  His explanation made sense to Jett, just as it had to Bryce and they were no further ahead in ascertaining
the killer, despite all of the man hours that had been spent on just that. He thought of Chanel and how lost and bewildered she’d sounded when she’d told him she’d been asked to step down. He’d expected anger, but maybe that was yet to come.

  Despite her distress, he couldn’t deny the lift in his spirits when she’d called. The sound of her voice was the best thing he’d heard all day. She was upset and she’d called him. She’d called him.

  Suddenly clear on what he wanted, he sat forward, shut down his computer, tidied his files and then headed for the lockers. He already had her address from her statement. He could be outside her door in ten minutes.

  The thought sent a burst of adrenaline and excitement surging through him and all of a sudden, he couldn’t get to North Sydney quickly enough.

  * * *

  The sound of the doorbell sent a flurry of nerves cascading through Chanel’s stomach. Now that the moment was upon her, she didn’t know what she’d been thinking, making the SOS call to Bryce. She’d turned to a man she barely knew and invited him to her apartment. She’d practically begged him to come. She was just thankful Tanya had texted her to say she’d be staying at her father’s that night. Chanel didn’t want to have to answer questions about why the lead detective in the hospital investigation was getting cosy in their living room.

  The doorbell rang again and Chanel blushed. How rude of her to leave him standing out there when she’d specifically asked him around. He must be wondering what the hell was going on. Drawing in a deep breath, she hurriedly patted down a few loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail then strode to the door and opened it.