When the Storm Breaks Read Online Free Page B

hospital driveway. A few minutes later he strode into the ER and flashed his badge at the desk clerk. “I’m looking for a Jane Doe brought in with head injuries a little while ago.”
    “The doctors are with her in curtain three. I’ll page them.”
    “Never mind. I can find it.”
    Sean went through the doors into the heart of the ER. He walked toward a curtained area and saw a doctor standing in front of the green drape, giving instructions to a nurse.
    “Doctor? I’m Detective Richter. Is this our Jane Doe back here?”
    “I’m Dr. Springer. Actually, she’s not a Jane Doe any longer. She regained consciousness briefly after her head CT and was able to give us her name and address. That’s an excellent sign.”
    “So she’s going to be okay?” Sean asked.
    “It looks like she will. Her test results were good—a serious concussion, a nice bump, a couple of stitches, but no skull fracture. She has a very hard head.” Dr. Springer smiled briefly at Sean, then continued. “She’s still pretty dazed, so we haven’t pressed her for much beyond her basic information.”
    Sean got out his notebook. “What’s her name?”
    “Claire Lambert. Thirty years of age, lives in Georgetown.”
    “When can I speak with her?” Sean pocketed the notebook impatiently, already starting toward the curtain.
    The doctor held up a hand to stop him. “My patient is resting right now. She’s in pain, but we can’t give her much to ease it. She’ll be admitted to the hospital as soon as they can find a bed for her upstairs. She’ll likely be here for a couple of days.”
    “I don’t want to disturb anyone, but it’s critical that I speak to her as soon as possible. This woman is a potential eyewitness in a homicide investigation.” Sean’s intense look overrode the doctor’s objections. “What’s more, nobody gets into this area without authorization. Post a guard and let your staff know.”
    Dr. Springer nodded, stifling a yawn. “I’ll be back to check her in a while.”
    Sean walked through the curtain, eager to see his witness. The first thing he noticed was her hair, lying in a halo of black curls around her face. Her skin was very pale, with no freckles or blemishes to detract from itsivory smoothness. Her face was finely chiseled and delicate with well-shaped brows, a small nose, and a full mouth.
    Sean immediately thought of the painting of a young courtesan he had seen at a cultural exhibit one of Aidan’s girlfriends had dragged them to—Art of the Italian Renaissance, or something like that. He pulled his gaze from the woman’s face and moved on to the rest of her, automatically estimating her height at under five and a half feet. He took in her curvy build next. The slow rise and fall of nicely shaped breasts, the indentation at the waist, and the lush flare of hips beneath the light sheet. He stepped back to better absorb the image of the woman lying in the hospital bed.
    Well, well. Even laid up in a hospital bed, Claire Lambert was a knockout.
    Her hand lifted from the bed and moved toward her face. When she reached to touch the back of her head, he jumped forward to stop her.
    “Easy, now. You don’t want to be messing with those stitches just yet.”
    She made a soft sound, trying to pull her hand free. She wanted to rub the painful spot on the back of her head.
    “Ms. Lambert, can you hear me?” Sean kept one hand wrapped gently around hers to keep her from disturbing the bandages. “Ms. Lambert? Are you awake?”
    As he watched intently, long lashes fluttered, then opened. His insides squeezed at the pain in her dazed black eyes.
    “It’s all right,” he said. “You’re in the hospital, but you’re okay.” He kept his voice gentle and soothing as he stroked her hand. He wanted to erase the shattered look he’d seen in her eyes, to help ease her slowly into full awareness.
    “Who are you?” she whispered, as if speaking were painful. “What happened?”
    “Don’t you