Imposter (8 page)

“You don’t believe he’s who he says?”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Burke said carefully.

“We can take him in for questioning?”

“No point to that.  We have nothing on him.  I want him free to make a move, if he’s going to.   Put a tail on him - a loose tail.  Let’s see where he goes.  Who he talks to.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Lanski said.

Burke ended the call.  He’d deliberately stepped away to take Lanski’s call, though, speaking with the agent could have waited until he’d finished speaking with Deligne.  The investigation was going nowhere fast, however, and Burke had decided to step away, to leave Deligne and Eve alone, to give them privacy to make a move, or plan one, if they intended to.

So far all Deligne had done was fawn all over Eve.  Burke scowled at the thought.  He didn’t trust Eve.  He certainly didn’t trust Deligne.  For all he knew, the man claiming to be an intelligence agent was as involved with the formula as she and Patterson were.  And, there was still the matter of just how Richard Patterson died.

Deligne gave Eve a mega-watt smile.  His interest in Eve was not Burke’s business unless it pertained to the investigation.  But when Deligne’s hand moved to Eve’s cheek, Burke’s scowl deepened.

  * * *

“I can’t go with you, Matt,” Eve said. 

Matt shook his head slowly.  “You’re making a mistake.”

“I have to clear my name. I’m innocent. I can’t live the rest of my life on the run.”  She’d be damned if she’d run, if she’d let her life be stolen from her. 
Not without a fight.
  She lifted her chin.  “I won’t go with you, Matt.  Thank you for believing in me.”

Matt lifted a shoulder, let it fall.  “That’s it then. You’ll be in Washington by this time tomorrow.”

Eve said nothing. 

Matt bent toward her and kissed her cheek.  Then he left.

Eve hugged herself against a sudden chill as her bravado deserted her.  The one person who’d believed in her innocence was gone and she was now completely alone.

* * *

Burke was awake on the sofa in the cottage, watching Eve through the window, when the call came in from Lanski.  Deligne had left some time ago.  She’d moved to the garden swing and had been sitting there ever since. 

“Hey,” Lanski said.  “Got the check you wanted on Deligne.”

“Hold on.”

Lanski’s voice was breaking up.  Burke tossed back the blanket, got to his feet, and made his way outside.  The air was chill and dressed in jeans, T-shirt and no socks, it raised gooseflesh.  A couple of mosquitoes took an interest in him, drawn to the glow coming off the panel of his cell phone.  Burke swatted them away.

Keeping his gaze on Eve, Burke said, “Go ahead, Lanski. What did you find out?”

“Our sources confirmed he’s legit.  Deligne is with British Intelligence.  He’s also a chemist and his specialty is chemical weapons terrorism.  He’s the British version of you, Burke.”

Burke grunted at that.  “Anything else?”

“On a personal level he’s single.  No kids.  No ex- wives.  He could be a poster boy for Queen and Country, he’s so clean.”

Burke’s lips thinned.  “Okay.  Thanks.” 

“Do you want us to call off our surveillance on him?”

“Yeah.” 

Burke ended the call as Eve returned to the cabin.  She stopped in front of him.

“I need to tell you one last time that I am innocent,” she said.  “You are making a mistake.”

Burke watched her, standing proudly before him, shoulders erect, chin uplifted, as she repeated her claim of innocence.  Beneath it all, though, there was fear in her eyes.   He didn’t like seeing it.  Didn’t like knowing that she was afraid.  

She was a traitor, for God’s sake.  She had devised a weapon that would kill innocents for her own profit.  She didn’t deserve his compassion.  He hardened his heart against her plea. 

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that from a suspect,” he said. “I wouldn’t be working for Uncle Sam.”

Burke brushed by her and entered the cottage, leaving her standing in the doorway, alone.

Chapter Six
 

Inside her bedroom, Eve sat on the end of the bed.  There would be no help from Burke. What was she going to do? 

She could understand his need to do his job and apprehend the terrorist, but couldn’t he see that she wasn’t a terrorist?  Richard had been on his own in this. She had nothing to do with it.  How was she going to prove her innocence if she were in custody in Washington?  She would hire a lawyer of course, but she had little faith and less liking for lawyers, a left-over dislike from her days on the LAPD, she supposed.

She needed to remain in the field - hunting the buyer herself - which wasn’t going to happen if she went to Washington in the morning.  She went to her purse and removed the pen injector that contained her regular insulin.  It was time for her last shot of the day.  She needed this shot.  She wasn’t feeling at top form.  No doubt the stress of the situation she was in and her constant sparring with Burke were depleting her strength.  She always took great care to keep her sugar levels balanced.  Her health was not something she took for granted.

At the moment, though, her hand was slick with sweat brought on by the disappointment that the accomplice and buyer hadn’t shown up and by her frustration with Burke.   If she didn’t focus, she would break the tip of the needle in her arm.  Inhale.  Deeply. Exhale.  Slowly.

She swabbed a spot on her upper arm.  She always aimed for a spot that was more fleshy than muscle, but missed this time and a drop of blood beaded at the insertion point.  She hissed in her breath. She swabbed alcohol onto the spot again, which startled another gasp out of her then fumbled with a bandage.

She changed out of her tan slacks and coral blouse and slipped on one of the lightweight night shirts she’d packed.   The cool crisp cotton, in a powder blue, was sleeveless and grazed her knees.  She was tired.  It had been a long and disappointing day.   She really needed to lie down.   

On the bed, sweat broke out on her forehead, and trickled down the side of her face.  Her next breath was fast and hard to take.  The green lilies patterned on the bedspread swam out of focus.  She must be more tired than she realized and rubbed her eyes, then the back of her neck.

Her hand fell away from her neck and dropped to her side.  A feeling of lethargy overcame her.  Her eyes drifted closed.  She forced them open.  Something was very wrong.  Eve called out to Burke.  He was in the next room and would surely hear her, but when she uttered his name, it was a feeble whisper that she barely heard herself.

She told herself to stand but only managed to lift her head and shoulders for an instant before crumpling back onto the mattress.  She needed help.  Her room wasn’t equipped with a phone, but her cell phone was in her purse which she’d left on the bed.  At the moment, the bag looked an ocean away.

The perspiration on her skin cooled and she shivered.  Her teeth chattered. She raised her arm.  Numbness was spreading through her body and her arm felt like a lead weight as she dragged it across the mattress.  She clawed at the flap of her purse.  Finally, the snap gave way.  She probed inside and in slow, jerky movements yanked out her phone.  Her fingers felt as thick as sausages as she pressed the ‘talk” button and then jabbed the buttons 9-1-1.

“Emergency,” a female operator said.

Eve’s lips felt numb and barely moved as she mumbled a garbled, “Help,” in a voice that was a croak. 

Her eyelids drooped.  She forced them open.  Her vision blurred and the light dimmed.  What happened to the light?  She realized her vision was fading.   No . . . No!   She screamed the denial yet she made no sound.  

She struggled to lift herself off the mattress and gain her feet.  Perspiration popped out on her forehead with the strain, yet she didn’t move. 

Her eyes closed.  Her fingers went slack.  She lost her grip on the phone and it struck the plank flooring with a dull thud.  Eve didn’t hear it.

* * *

Eve opened her eyes.  She squinted at the sudden brightness that hurt and groaned.  She raised her arm to fend off the intrusive light.  Something was attached to her wrist.

“Easy.” 

The low male voice was Burke’s. 

“Light hurting your eyes?” he asked softly.

It felt as if she were being nicked by tiny knives.  Eve mumbled an acknowledgment and the light dimmed.

The pain receded to a dull headache.  She exhaled deeply.

In the soft glow of the overhead light, she saw she was in a bed, but not the bed at the cottage.  This one had the chrome rails of a hospital bed.  She was in a cubicle, now enclosed by a white curtain.  Burke stood at the side of the bed.  His deep-set gaze was fixed on her. 

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You’re in St. Mary’s Hospital in Rowland County.  How do you feel?”

She gave a non-committal grunt that had Burke’s brows drawing together. 

“What happened?”  She raised her arm, this time to swat away hair that had fallen across her eyes, and was again stopped by what she now saw was an IV line.

Burke reached out and gently brushed the hair back from her face with his knuckles.  “You collapsed at the cottage.  That’s all I’ve been told so far.  A nurse took blood and ran some tests. We’re waiting for the results.”

Eve frowned taking in Burke’s words.  The last thing she remembered was reaching for her cell phone.

“Sounds like I was lucky that you found me and got me here.”

Burke shook his head.  “I didn’t find you.  An ambulance showed up at the cottage and the paramedics told me they’d received a distress call from that location.  I didn’t have anything to do with getting you here.  You saved yourself, Eve.”

She couldn’t remember placing the call.  The curtain shifted and a tall pear-shaped man in his middle fifties entered the cubicle.  His skin was a warm brown.

“I am Dr. Malhi.”  He smiled, exposing a crooked incisor and glanced from Eve to Burke, including him in the introduction.  “I am heartened to see you have awakened.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Doctor?”  Eve asked.

“We have only just received your test results. The blood work it has indicated that your blood sugar was extremely low.  Has your prescription insulin recently been changed?”

“No.”

“How often do you take insulin injections?”

“Three times a day.”

“Have you ever experienced a similar reaction?”

“No.”

“Paramedics retrieved your insulin medication and brought it here to the hospital.  I see that you are taking a rapid-acting insulin and a regular- acting insulin.”

“Yes.”

“The rapid acting insulin is only for your daytime use.  It appears that you administered the rapid-acting insulin a short while ago, rather than the regular insulin.  Doing so will lower blood glucose considerably and is likely to trigger the kind of episode you just experienced.  This is not a mistake to be made lightly.  Severe hypoglycaemia as you experienced can cause cardiac arrhythmia.  Frankly, you are most fortunate that this mistake has not cost you your life.”   “I did not take the wrong insulin, Doctor.  I know the risks and I’m very careful about my medication.”