Kiss Across Deserts Read online

  The car tilted and she screamed, for it was going to roll. She couldn’t bring her hands up, they were trapped under the airbags, which were softer now as the gas dispersed. She couldn’t see anything. All she could hear was the roar of the other car engine.

  The Mustang rolled, not just once. As it came to rest on its wheels once more, there was a second impact. The passenger side door was nearly up against her and she screamed again.

  The car rolled and this time, there was no air left in the bags at all. Sydney was rattled around inside the imploded car like a pea in a tin. Somewhere in the slow roll of the car, around when she heard the roof scraping on the tarmac, the other car hit again and she was thrown forward to jerk up against her seat belt. Her head kept moving and rammed into the padded steering wheel.

  Her focus blurred after that. She was still conscious, but knew it wouldn’t last. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, things were still functioning. Assessing. Three hits…that’s deliberate. Someone is trying to kill me. The cool fact asserted itself even as she was scrabbling for the wheel, to anchor herself. Her side hurt like she had been kicked by a horse. Cracked ribs, sweetheart, came the same cool voice.

  The car finished another half roll and came to a stop on the roof, which gave another plastic-sounding crumple. Then silence, broken only by the soft ticking of over-heated and stressed metal parts, and far away, the sound of another engine.

  Then boots, gritting on tarmac.

  Sydney swallowed as bitter adrenaline flooded through her. Even swallowing hurt. Her eyes wouldn’t focus properly and the pain was enormous. She hung upside down, but didn’t want to move at all, because it would hurt.

  All the while her mind was screaming at her. Get out! Get out! Those boots are the killer coming to finish you off. Where is your gun?

  But the gun was in the glove box, far out of her reach, per protocol.

  The boots stopped right next to her window. Man-sized boots, highly polished. No scuffs anywhere.

  She heard a gun cocking.

  Move it! She screamed at herself. She reached for the belt buckle and moaned as the expected pain seared through her. But she kept reaching anyway and found the buckle by touch. She slid her fingers over it, then pressed the button.

  The seatbelt retracted sluggishly, but it didn’t matter. The release of the belt sent her tumbling to the roof, to land in an inelegant huddle. For a moment, the world grayed out, then came swimming back. But Sydney knew it was too late. She couldn’t move any farther. She had used up the last of her strength.

  The boots shifted. The killer turned.

  “I wouldn’t, if I were you.” The voice was loud. Almost booming. Sydney winced. But it was a voice she knew.

  Silence, that seemed to last for a very long time. Far, far away, she heard sirens. They were a familiar, almost comforting sound to someone in her profession, and with a start she realized that they were coming for her. Someone had called it in. Bless them, whoever they were.

  “The police are coming,” the voice said. “I can stop you just long enough for them to get here and when they find out you’ve tried to kill one of their own…well, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

  A car door closed. Hard. The engine of the other car revved, then accelerated past her ruined Mustang, spitting pebbles.

  Sydney slowly worked it out. The killer next to her wasn’t the killer. He had scared them off, whoever they were.

  The boots shifted again and bent, then a hand came into view, propping him up. Then a face as he leaned down low to look at her.

  “Alex,” she breathed. Or perhaps she merely thought it.

  Alex was studying her, a frown marring his brow. “You’ll be okay, Sydney. Everything is fine now.”

  The knowledge was like a catalyst. She could hear and feel the muzziness sweeping over her. She was going to pass out and struggled against it. She had too many questions!

  With enormous effort, she formed the words. “Why are you here?”

  He looked up, to spot the approaching sirens, then back at her. His movement made something fall out of his folded up pants pocket. Something small and gold. She could focus on how shiny it was, while the rest of her vision turned gray, then black.

  “I wasn’t here at all, Sydney,” Alex murmured. “I’m just a figment. Wishful thinking. You’ll wake up in hospital and know you imagined it all.” His words came from far away. She could hear his boots on the tarmac, moving away, and reached out with her hand. It wouldn’t stop him, she knew. Ghosts couldn’t be held. So she probed with her hand, her vision already gone, and felt the shiny, smooth thing under her fingers and gripped it.

  * * * * *

  Sound was the first thing that came to her, just as it had been the last to fade. Sydney listened to noises, cataloguing them. It was a long while before she wondered where she was. Then she remembered and consciousness came crashing back along with all her memories.

  How badly injured am I? That was the primary thought. She opened her eyes and identified the room as a hospital room, which she had been expecting. She was propped up on pillows, a heart monitor was blipping quietly next to her, and there was an IV pole to her left.

  She let her gaze move around the room once more, without moving her head. Already, there was a vicious, jagging ache that seemed to envelope her entire brain and squeeze.

  Alexander Karim sat on the visitor’s chair beside the bed. She could just see him from the corner of her eye; the dark hair and trimmed beard were unmistakably him. She had been expecting him, she realized. She had known he would be there.

  “Alexander,” she said and it was a weak sound.

  He stood up and came to the side of the bed, where she could see him properly. He gave her a small smile. “They thought you would wake around now. How are you feeling?”

  “Head hurts.”

  Alexander nodded. “The attending doctor gave me the details of your condition. I told him I was your family doctor.” He smiled again. “I’ve been making a nuisance of myself, monitoring your treatment. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind,” she said. In fact, his concern was warming. “How bad is it?”

  “You have a concussion and a fractured rib. Lots of scrapes and nicks, but that’s all. Under the circumstances, you’re incredibly lucky.”

  “I hit my head on the steering wheel, when the car rammed into me from behind. That was the third time.”

  “Third time?” Alex repeated. “The police know someone hit you. There’s foreign paint buried in the dents. But at the moment they think it was someone running the lights, then took off before they got there. A third hit…are you sure, Sydney?”

  “You should know, you were there.”

  His face was quite blank. “I was?”

  “Yes. You came and spoke to me afterward, just as the emergency trucks were arriving.”

  He considered her soberly. “I really wasn’t there,” he said slowly. “The concussion and the shock…it could have made you think I was there.”

  I’m a figment. You’ll wake up in the hospital and know you imagined it all. Sydney shook her head, denying both Alex’s suggestion and the voice in her head, then winced as a booming pain echoed through her head.

  “Would you like something for the headache?” Alexander asked.

  “If you weren’t there,” she said, ignoring his question, “then how did you know I was here?”

  “This is my hospital,” Alexander replied. “There’s a nurse in the ER who I know quite well. She called me.” He straightened out the cover with a sweep of his hands. “Head injuries and stress can do some very strange things to your mind.”

  Sydney bit her lip. She could barely recall the last few minutes before she had passed out, now. “But your face. Your boots. It was so clear. You spoke to someone.”

  “I did?” he seemed amused.

  “You told them to back off. You scared them away. I heard you.”

  Alexander didn’t ans
wer, but she could see the disbelief in his eyes.

  “You don’t believe me,” Sydney said. “That doesn’t matter. I know what you did. You can deny it all you like, but I know. You saved me. They were going to kill me.”

  Again, his eyes widened and his brow rose.

  “Three hits,” Sydney said. “Then they stopped and got out of the car. They were going to come over and make sure they had killed me with their car, or finish me off if I was still alive. You stopped them.”

  She could see he was thinking hard, working out the ramifications for himself. “Who would want to kill you?” he asked reasonably. “You don’t work active cases anymore. Anyone with a grudge would have come after you a long time ago.”

  “Perhaps they just got out of jail,” Sydney said. “Until I look into my old case files I’m not going to make any guesses.”

  Alexander straightened up. “Your captain is waiting. He’s anxious to talk to you. I’ll go and get him, and talk to your attending about when you can be released. Sydney….”

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to lie, but you might find your story sells better if you don’t mention me being there.”

  “Because I imagined it all?” she asked.

  “Because someone trying to kill you actually sounds feasible,” Alex said. “The rest…” He shook his head. “You’ll dilute the facts if you speak of it.”

  She pressed her lips together. “You don’t want to be pulled into this,” she concluded.

  “I wasn’t there, Sydney. I was with Brody and Veris and Taylor tonight. It’s Taylor’s birthday. You can ask them yourself when you get out of here. But in the meantime, consider not mentioning anything about me. You know the police mind intimately. You know how they think. If you start raving about me stepping in and saving you, it’s going to sound…”

  “Crazy,” Sydney whispered.

  “It will put the rest of your testimony into question,” Alex pointed out.

  True.

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he murmured. “I’ll go and get the captain.”

  Sydney weighed up her options while she waited for Baker to step in. Before Baker arrived, though, another doctor came hurrying in, a clipboard in his hand. He was her attending, he told her, as he flashed a light in her eyes that hurt and inspected a cut on her face. He also repeated what Alex had already told her. She had concussion and a fractured rib, neither of which required hospital care. He would write her a prescription for the pain, but she should go home with a friend and was to stay awake for twenty-four hours.

  Sydney blinked. “Twenty-four?”

  The doctor was busy writing in his chart. “Yes, and no alcohol.” He didn’t look up.

  Because what I really want to do right now is party, Sydney thought.

  Baker arrived almost the moment the doctor left, which made her think he’d been held back until the doctor had completed his inspection. Baker was gripping his cap and kept clearing his throat, barely looking her in the eyes. She assumed from his constant shifting from foot to foot that he was uncomfortable. Whether his discomfort came from being in a hospital, or that one of his ‘men’ was temporarily down, she didn’t know.

  After a superficial enquiry about her health, Baker called in Dean and Alfonse, two of the senior detectives in her district.

  Sydney told them her story. Right up until the moment when the boots appeared and she heard the voice. Up until then, she had intended to tell them about Alex being there. There was no reason to omit the fact, except that it didn’t really seem to be a fact at all. Was it her imagination? Alex had been very convincing when he had maintained he wasn’t there.

  Finally, at that last moment, she changed her mind. “I think the sirens scared them off,” she said. “I heard the car take off, but I couldn’t see too much by then. It was all grayed over. Then I woke up here.”

  “We can pull traffic cams and security feeds in the area,” Dean said, scribbling madly. “We’ll get the bastard, Lieutenant.”

  “I know you will,” Sydney told him.

  He grinned. “On it,” he said, and he and Alfonse left.

  Baker was still crumpling his cap. “Any idea who did it, Lieutenant?”

  She gave him the same answer she had given Alex. “Until I look through my old case files, I couldn’t come up with a single name.”

  “Doc says you won’t be reading for a bit.”

  “God, did he tell everyone my health status?” she complained.

  Baker grinned. “Just me,” he said. “I’ll keep it close that you’re not able to chew bullets and shit steel for a while. Don’t want the boys thinking you’re going soft.”

  The crudity was typical for Baker and the station in general. It assured Sydney that things were normal. No one was worrying too much over her (except Alex), and they were doing all the normal things they would do to find the perpetrator when one of their own had been the victim.

  Something in her relaxed. She had survived this one.

  But she didn’t like that she had lied to her own.

  * * * * *

  Concussion, Sydney discovered, did stupid things to one’s balance. She found she was clutching Alex’s arm more tightly than she thought appropriate and was thankful when the nurse parked the wheelchair behind her and invited her to sit.

  Alex wheeled her through the hospital to the parking complex behind it. “You don’t have a car,” he said, “and I’m guessing you don’t have anyone at home to watch you for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “I have Bruce,” Sydney said, momentarily mourning the loss of her beloved Mustang.

  “Boyfriend?” Alex asked.

  “St. Bernard,” she replied. “He’s going to be breaking the front door down to go out for his walk, by now, too.”

  “A St. Bernard I can handle,” Alex said.

  “He’s protective,” Sydney warned. “We’ve been a couple for a long time.”

  “Don’t worry about Bruce,” Alex said. “Don’t worry about anything. At least not for the next day or so. I’m going to keep you entertained.” He pushed the wheelchair up to a black Mercedes, and opened the passenger door. “No arguments, Lieutenant?” he asked, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’ve been demoted,” she complained. “I was Sydney, for a while.”

  “That was merely my bedside manner,” Alex told her.

  She looked at the car again. “A Mercedes just doesn’t seem to suit you,” she said.

  Alex grinned, his white teeth flashing in the dim light of the car park. “But it suits a respectable doctor, yes?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Sydney conceded.

  “The Jaguar is at home,” Alex told her. “The suspension is so tight on that thing it rides up and down every single little bump in the road. Last thing a concussion patient needs.” He held out his hand. “Up you get. Nice and slow.”

  She took his hand. It was cool to touch, but she could feel strength to spare in his grip as he hauled her to her feet. Then he helped her settle in the passenger seat. He pulled the seat belt out from the doorframe, and held out the buckle. “Here.” She appreciated him not leaning over her to do it up himself. She was already resenting her helplessness.

  As he walked around to the driver’s side, Sydney saw a metal plaque on the wall in front of the Mercedes. Dr. A. Karim.

  Well, he hadn’t lied about this being his hospital, then. Perhaps the rest of his story was true…but no, she would establish for herself what had happened. Facts didn’t lie. Assumptions just screwed you up.

  * * * * *

  The next thirty hours were hazy in Sydney’s memory and always would be. Alex took her home and she remembered the hesitation she felt over allowing anyone into her apartment. But she really did have to have someone watch her, and so she drew in a deep breath and unlocked the door.

  “Brace yourself,” she warned Alex.

  Bruce almost leapt out of
the door. He was going to drop his front paws on her shoulders, the way he did when he was really excited to see her…or really anxious to hit the dirt so he could do his business. Sydney stepped back, afraid of how much it would hurt to hold his weight up.

  Alex got there first. He slid his arms under Bruce’s paws and held him up, looking into his eyes. Bruce started to growl, but Alex stayed perfectly still, staring at him. “You’re going to be obedient and quiet, aren’t you, Bruce?” He didn’t say it loudly, or forcefully, but in a normal voice, as if he was talking to a human.

  Bruce’s growls stopped. He licked his chops, just once and tilted his massive head to one side, looking back at Alex.

  “Your mistress is not well. We need to take care of her for a while. Will you help me do that?”

  Bruce whined. Softly.

  “Good boy,” Alex said and let him down.

  Bruce backed up until the doorway was cleared and sat down, looking at them.

  “That was amazing,” Sydney breathed.

  Alex stepped aside and waved her on. “After you.”

  He made her sit on the sofa, then unhooked Bruce’s lead from over the hat rack by the door. Bruce was still sitting at the front door and his tail thumped once. Alex held out the clip on the lead. “Let’s go,” he said softly.

  Bruce presented his collar, letting Alex clip the lead on, while Sydney stared in disbelief.

  “We’ll be back very soon,” Alex said and plucked a plastic bag from the dispenser sitting on the bookcase and pushed it into his jacket pocket.

  Sydney doubted they would be. Bruce liked his walks. But barely ten minutes after the door shut on them, they were back. Bruce seemed content and flopped onto the sofa next to her and settled down immediately.

  Alex explored her kitchen and made her tea after she confessed she didn’t drink coffee.

  “I make tea a special way,” Alex said. “It’s better than coffee.”

  He seemed to take forever to make it, but rich aromas came from the kitchen long before he brought the mug to her. “Sip. It’s very hot,” he warned her.