Special Agent Nanny

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Six weeks ago

Dr. Kelley Stanton rounded the corner in the hospital corridor, massaging the ache in one temple with her free hand. At least she was out of her lab coat and in light street clothes appropriate to Denver’s August weather. Too bad she couldn’t shed the paperwork pending as follow-up to the day’s patients as easily. She inhaled deeply as a sigh formed in her chest. Except—

Smoke! She smelled smoke!

“Oh, no,” she whispered, automatically pulling her purse off her shoulder and grabbing for her cell phone. Don’t panic. It might be nothing.

She looked around. The corridor was long. Peach-colored walls. Lots of closed doors and hanging signs to direct patients. It was empty now. She was the only one there.

This wasn’t the hall to the parking lot exit. By habit, she had gone the wrong way, toward the administrative wing of Gilpin Hospital. Toward the area where her three-year-old daughter, Jenny, went to day care.

Thank heavens it was late. Her ex-husband, Randall, also a doctor, would already have picked up Jenny. And the admin wing held offices, not patients.

Still—

She sped forward. Surely someone had simply over-cooked microwave popcorn in a staff lunchroom. Or it was something equally innocuous. There couldn’t be a fire in Gilpin Hospital.

The heels of her low, comfortable pumps clicked briskly on the shiny linoleum floor. The rapidity of her pulse matched her pace.

She turned right, toward the increasing smell. An ominous gray cloud billowed at the end of the short hall.

In the direction of KidClub.

“Fire!” she shouted.

At least no one should be around. It was seven o’clock at night. The child-care center closed at six-thirty. Most admin staff were already gone by then.

Quickly she dialed 9-1-1 and gave the particulars. The operator promised to send firefighters immediately.

“Fire!” she shouted again. “Is anyone here?”

No reply. Good. Maybe everyone else had left.

But she couldn’t be certain.

Kelley glanced up at the walls, looking for a building fire alarm. The whole hospital should be alerted. The evacuation plan might need to be implemented.

She had to get out, too. But first she needed to make sure no one was in danger.

There was a fire alarm outside the child-care facility. She would go down the hall that far and pull the alarm. She had to make sure no one remained inside. No child. Jenny.

KidClub was three quarters of the way down this relatively short hallway. Its door was closed but not locked. The lights were still on.

The smell of the surrounding smoke gagged her.

She ran inside, checked the three large playrooms. The kitchen. The bathroom.

Thankfully, no one was there.

She hustled back to the corridor. A crackling roar filled the air from down the hall. The smoke was thicker. She coughed as she broke the glass and set off the alarm. The cacophonous pulsing blare surrounded her.

Where was the fire? In the large records storage room at the end? No one would be there, but all that paper would provide a huge source of fuel.

She coughed again. Her eyes stung, teared. She had to get out. “Is anyone here?” she called again to be sure.

And heard something.

Was it her imagination? The sound had been so tiny compared with the alarm and the thundering from the end of the hall, punctuated now by an occasional crash.

She had to check.

It wasn’t easy to see with her eyes smarting. A hand on the wall, she inched along. “Who’s there?” she called.

And heard the noise again. Like a child’s whimper.

“Please, God, no,” Kelley murmured, moving faster.

Another short hall veered from the main corridor. Kelley tried to peer down it, then heard a small voice. “Mommy!”

“Jenny? Oh Lord, Jenny?” Kelley shoved at the air, as if to erase the smoke. Below, on the floor, she got a glimpse of bright yellow.

Jenny had worn her bright yellow jumper that morning.

Kelley knelt. Her tiny, blond-haired daughter was crouched on the floor. At least there the smoke was not as thick, but Jenny coughed as Kelley lifted her into her arms and hugged her tight. The tears running down her face now were not entirely due to the fire.

Where the hell was Randall? How could he have left their daughter alone?

No matter now. There would be plenty of time to censure him, once Jenny and she were safe.

Coughing as she reentered the main corridor, her precious cargo snugged safely against her, Kelley glanced right. The only area on fire seemed to be the records room. She’d seen no one flee after she’d cried out and set off the alarm. Hopefully, no one else was here.