Page 49 of The Agent
Marley smothered another sigh. “I…liked being with him,” she finally admitted. “He’s such a hard man to get to know, hardly ever talks about his feelings, but I thought he was starting to open up to me.” She swallowed. “And when we had sex, I felt really…connected to him.”
“Then you need to talk to him again,” Gwen advised. “You need to find out if he felt that connection, too.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
She thought about Caleb’s confession, the regret flickering in his eyes, and for a moment she experienced a pang of doubt. But then the memory of all those computer monitors pushed its way into the fore-front of her brain, and the doubt transformed into anger again. She imagined Caleb sitting at that computer desk, watching her, talking about her, wondering if she was helping Patrick leave the country.
How could she ever trust him again?
Her mind was spinning, but considering she was about to start her shift, she couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Taking a breath, she stood up and said, “I can’t talk about this anymore. I need to worry about my patients right now.”
“Just promise you’ll think about what I said,” Gwen said.
“Sure,” Marley said, then kicked off her sandals. Determined to change for work, tend to her patients and forget all about Caleb and Patrick and every other headache pulsing through her mind, she walked to her locker and opened the door.
“Oh, my God,” she choked out.
“What?” Gwen rushed to her side, sucking in a gasp when she saw what Marley was looking at.
On the inside of the metal door, scrawled in the red lipstick she kept on the top shelf, was the wordWhore. And underneathit, attached with a piece of silver duct tape, was a photograph of Marley.
A photograph she recognized as the one Patrick used to keep in his wallet.
A photograph that now featured a big black X directly over her face.
CHAPTER 12
TWO HOURS LATER, MARLEY SATon her living-room couch, stiff as a board, unable to erase the memory of Patrick’s vile message. She and Gwen had called the police immediately, and officers had turned the nurses’ locker room into a crime scene, dusting Marley’s locker for fingerprints and questioning everyone who’d been working on the floor that day. So far, none of the hospital staff had admitted to seeing Patrick.
She fought a wave of nausea as she pictured what had happened. He’d waltzed into her place of work, strolled into the locker room. Opened her locker. Touched her things. She wanted to throw up just thinking about it. Was he fearless, or just crazy?
Crazy, obviously. And apparently enraged. She shivered and wondered what on earth she’d done to earn Patrick’s rage. The disgusting message was so different from the sweet email he’d sent only days ago. Something had changed during that time, something had infuriated Patrick so much that he’d decided to paint a target on her.
Fortunately, the police had decided to take this matter seriously. Her house was swarming with law-enforcement officers. Hernandez was in the armchair next to the couch, a notepad in his hand so he could take her statement. Three other officers from the SDPD hovered behind him, while three DEA agents, including Caleb and his partner, stood near the door. Caleb’s partner had introduced himself as AJ Callaghan, and Marley had been angry just shaking his hand, especially when she learned he’d been next door with Caleb this entire time.
Caleb had reacted with a brief flash of guilt during the introduction with AJ, but now he leaned against the bookshelf, his face completely expressionless.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him for more than a few seconds. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt and snug black trousers. The butt of a gun poked out of the holster on his hip. The weapon was a reminder of his true identity.
He hadn’t said a word to her since entering the house, but concern creased his handsome features.
How concerned had he been when he’d slept with her while pretending to be someone else?
She shoved aside the bitter thought and focused on Hernandez’s latest question. “It’s the picture from his wallet,” she said for the second time. “I gave it to him a few days after he proposed. You can tell from the creases that it was folded a few times to fit somewhere small.”
Hernandez jotted a note, then looked up at her with hard eyes. “And you say the locker was that way when you opened it?”
“Yes.” She gritted her teeth, wondering how many times she’d have to answer the same questions. “My last shift was yesterday morning, and I didn’t go back to the hospital until eight o’clock tonight. When I left yesterday, my locker looked normal.”
Hernandez made a harsh sound under his breath. Annoyance pricked at her skin like tiny little needles. For the love of God. What would it take to convince this man she was innocent, thatshewas the victim?
She opened her mouth to ask him just that, only to be interrupted by Caleb’s husky voice. “Detective Hernandez?” he called from behind. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
Looking irritated, Hernandez excused himself and made his way over to Caleb. As Marley watched, the two men went out into the hall, heads bent together, voices low. Whatever Calebhad to say, the detective didn’t like it. She could tell from the way his thick black eyebrows bunched together. Then Hernandez looked at the ground and his shoulders slumped.
What was Caleb saying? Whatever it was must have worked, because when Hernandez returned, his normally frosty tone had thawed considerably.
