Stranded With The Suspect. Cindi Myers

you see him, don’t try to deal with him yourself. He’s dangerous and may be armed. But he has enough of a head start that he’s probably already left the hotel.”

      “We’ll get someone up here to clean up this mess once the doctor is done,” one of the men said.

      “It can wait until morning,” Simon said. “I don’t want any more strangers in here than necessary.”

      Andi kept her eyes closed and let herself drift. Simon’s hands were warm, his fingers strong and soothing. Where had he learned to give a foot massage like that? As he dug his thumb into her aching arch, she had to bite back a moan. She may even have fallen asleep.

      She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when someone squeezed her hand. “Hello, Ms. Daniels,” said a smooth, lightly accented voice. “I’m Dr. Johar. I understand you’ve been experiencing some discomfort.”

      She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a handsome, brown-skinned man. She looked past him, searching for Simon. “Where’s Simon?” she asked.

      “He’s in the hallway, talking to the local cops.” The older security guard stepped forward.

      The police. They would be after Daniel. He wouldn’t stand a chance now. She struggled into a sitting position. “I’m fine now,” she said, hoping the words were true. She needed to talk to Simon, to plead with him not to be too hard on Daniel. Yes, he had hit her, but it must have been because he was out of his mind with fear. Ordinarily, he would never do anything like that.

      Then Simon’s face came into view, hovering over the doctor’s left shoulder. “She had at least two moments of pain that were strong enough to make her cry out,” Simon said. “I did what I could to help her relax.”

      “Are you her husband?” the doctor asked as he felt for Andi’s pulse. “Or boyfriend?”

      Andi waited to see how he would answer. “No,” he said and turned away. “I’m a cop.”

      “Perhaps you would like to step away and give us a little privacy,” the doctor said. “Ms. Daniels, would it be all right with you if I examined you? I want to check on your baby.”

      Andi consented, and with less embarrassment and discomfort than she would have thought possible, the doctor made a thorough examination. When she was dressed and seated upright once more, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Everything looks good,” he said. “You are not yet in labor, though you are effaced two centimeters.”

      Her face must have betrayed her confusion, because he added, “Your body is preparing for the upcoming delivery. The baby is shifting into position for birth and your cervix is getting thinner.”

      “How long before the baby is born?” she asked.

      “I take it this is your first child?”

      She nodded.

      “It could be a couple of weeks or a few days.”

      “What was the pain?” she asked.

      He glanced around the room, at the overturned tables and broken glass, at Simon standing by the window, his back to them. “The person who telephoned me said there had been an altercation. I assume the person who did this—” He nodded to indicate the mess “—is gone now?”

      “Yes,” she said. Daniel was gone, though she wondered if Simon was right, and he would return.

      “The pain was probably a stress reaction. A particularly sharp kick, a tension in the muscles.” The doctor shrugged. “What matters now is that you don’t worry about it, and try to get some rest.” He patted her hand. “You are young and strong and everything looks as it should be. When is your due date?”

      “I’m not sure,” she said.

      He raised one eyebrow, but didn’t comment, merely stood there. Simon turned toward them. “How is she?” he asked, though Andi was certain he had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

      “She is fine,” the doctor said. “All she needs is rest and no stress.”

      “Would you mind waiting with her here for a few minutes?” Simon asked.

      “For a few moments,” the doctor agreed.

      Simon left the room. The doctor looked down at Andi once more. “This cop—he is a friend of yours?”

      “Not exactly,” she said. She was sure the doctor was curious, but she refused to elaborate—not that she could have found words to explain the bizarre situation in which she had suddenly found herself.

      Simon returned in less than five minutes, carrying a black backpack. “Thank you,” he said to the doctor. “You can go now.”

      As soon as the door shut behind the doctor, Andi sat up. “What happened to the Prophet?” she asked.

      “He got away,” Simon said. “But the Denver police are looking for him. And hotel security will be watching for him.”

      “When you find him, promise you won’t hurt him,” she said.

      He glared at her. “He didn’t have any problem hurting you.”

      She flinched at the anger in his voice. “He’s terrified. He’s never been in a situation like this before,” she said. “I’m sure when he calms down he’ll cooperate.”

      “Save your breath,” Simon said. “No matter how much you want to believe it, Daniel Metwater isn’t the saint he’s been pretending to be. My guess is this isn’t his first run-in with the law.”

      Was Simon right? How much did she know about the Prophet, really? But he had always been so gentle and kind to her. She couldn’t make the crazed, angry man who had confronted her tonight fit with her previous experience with him. “What are you doing?” she asked as Simon set the backpack on the floor at the end of the sofa.

      “I’m staying here tonight.”

      “You can’t do that.”

      “I can and I will.”

      “I don’t want you here,” she protested.

      “Maybe not, but you need me.”

      She swallowed down the fear his words kindled in her. “He left,” she said. “He won’t come back.”

      “You don’t really believe that, do you?” He sat on the sofa, only a few inches from her feet. “He won’t give up that easily, and when he returns, you’ll be glad I’m here. What did he say to you while he was here?”

      “He wanted my help to get out of here. He planned to dress up in some of my clothes and pretend to be my sister.”

      “Did you refuse to help him? Is that what set him off?”

      She put a hand to her cheek, remembering the sting of the slap. “I asked him about Michelle and Hunter. I asked if it was true that he tried to hurt them. He became very angry and slapped me. Why would he do that? He’s never done anything like that before.”

      “He knows we’re closing in on him,” Simon said. “I think he’s trying to destroy everyone who could provide evidence against him.”

      “But what do I know that could possibly hurt him?” she asked.

      Simon regarded her coolly. “You’ve lived with him how long now? About six months?”

      “Five.”

      “You’re closer to him than anyone else.”

      They were the same words Michelle had used. But they weren’t true. “He isn’t really close to anyone.”

      Simon angled toward her, one arm along the back of the sofa. Weariness pulled at his eyes, and the dark shadow of beard showed along his jaw. If he had driven from Montrose this morning, that meant he had been up for hours. “Help me understand,”