"You're looking more like the Cheshire cat every day. Why the h.e.l.l didn't you tell me she was pregnant?"

"She made me vow to wait until she hit twelve weeks. Something about bad omens or old wives' tales or some such s.h.i.t." A deep breath left him. "She's only just eight weeks right now."

"And?" Ian's body tensed. Tripp's tone suggested worry. His grin beneath the stress told another story.

"Just one big blob of black on that ultrasound."

The tension in Ian's shoulders dissipated. "Big black blobs are ... good?"

Tripp bobbled his head.

"So, what happened tonight, then? How can-" Ian waved his hands through the air. "-all that stuff happen if she's still pregnant?"

"They aren't sure." He leaned up and back against the wall. "By the time we got here, she'd stopped bleeding. But, they wanted to check it all out, so they did an ultrasound, and there it was." A dad's grin took hold of his features. "I can't read s.h.i.t on those machines, but they said it was there-a little bigger than they thought it should be, but still there." He hiccuped a laugh. "I'm gonna be a dad."

Ian nudged him with his elbow. "You're gonna be an awesome one, too. You think you'll get a Lexi or an Emma? Or another Tripp?"

"G.o.d, I don't know. What if something happens to it, her, him ... to Lexi?" Tripp's tone turned serious. "I mean, what if tonight wasn't a fluke, but is a problem or-"

"You gotta stop thinking like that. Lexi's gonna need you, right? So, no sense filling a s.h.i.t-full of what-if baskets when she'll be just fine." Which is exactly what I need to be thinking. Way easier said than done, though.

That earned Ian a winged eyebrow. "You know nothing."

"I know, but I can make up c.r.a.p pretty good." He offered his most fake and cheesy smile.

Emma appeared with a white, plastic cup in hand. "She wants to go home. I think you ought to go in there and tell her she's not going anywhere until her a.s.s is signed off by those people with the big M.D. after their name."

Tripp rose, his feet squeaking on the tile as he did. "Stay close to her, Ian."

"It's what I do best."

Emma leaned back in the chair Tripp had vacated. "What's going on? Where's Taylor?"

Ian went through the story yet again.

"Wow. Well ... she is an emotional wreck. But, I can't see her trying to kill herself. Find out, Ian." She patted his arm. "It's what you do best, you know. Figure it out."

It's what I normally do best. The doubts crept in-with his failure to find details on key elements of his own physique.

A crackle overhead took some of Ian's attention. "Ian Sands, please report to Emergency. Ian Sands, please report to Emergency."

He bolted down the hall.

For the second time, Ian managed to cross throughout the entire hospital without paying attention to the building or its contents. He entered the Emergency department through its double doors and headed straight for the desk.

"I'm Ian Sands." The stairs and race through the hallways had taken his breath from him-that and the immediate stress of being called upon for who knew what reason.

The nurses nodded toward the far door. Ian spun. Riley sauntered toward him.

"What's going on?"

"My superiors are calling me back to the office."

"Go," Ian said.

Riley nodded. "Don't leave her alone again."

Ian sucked in air, placing his hands on his hips. "I won't."

"Scouts honor?"

"Dude, do I look like a boy scout?" At Riley's smirk, Ian said, "I won't."

With a nod, Riley disappeared into the night, and Ian took his place back in a waiting room chair.

12.

Taylor's body trembled as she forced her eyes open, and put effort into the action when they tried to droop down upon her again. A blurry Ian stood in front of her with some woman she didn't recognize in a white lab coat.

"Need-" A dry throat cracked her words. "-a drink." Running water sprayed to the right within a second of her request.

Ian held out a paper cup. "Here."

Taylor shifted to sit more upright. "Thank ... you." Taylor sipped at it, letting it coat the lining of her throat. "What's ... what's wrong? Why am I ... here?" Each drink gave new life to her voice.

Ian's grip on the rail lightened his knuckles.

"Perhaps we should have this conversation in private?" the doctor asked.

"No." Taylor met Ian's gaze and returned to the doctor.

She held up a pad, pen poised between her fingers. "What do you remember?"

A shiver tore through Taylor. Being held under water. Being drowned by a face I've seen before. They'll think I'm crazy if I say that. "I remember going to take a bath. To relax. And then ... waking up."

"You were found unconscious in the bath," the doc said. "We found nothing in your tox screen. Did you eat a food you're allergic to?"

Did I? Cheese and crackers. That had been a staple in her house as a kid. "No. I don't think so. Nothing unusual. Is something wrong with me? What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," Ian said.

The doc's lips pursed.

"I want to go home." Taylor reached for the IV in her arm.

The doctor put a hand on her wrist. "I can't let you go just yet."

"Why?"

The doc gazed up at Ian.

"You ... drowned, Taylor," he said.

"I'm fine." She shivered. "I'll go A.M.A. if I have to."

The doc stopped her again. "Ms. Marsh, we'd like to run more tests, to-"

"No." As her energy returned, so, too, did the memory, the scene, the sensation of being held under water. "I just-I just want to leave." Hospital. Jail. Either or. They both had the same effect.

"Come, on Taylor," Ian started, "I'll call Riley back and he-"

"Riley knows about this?" Anger mixed with embarra.s.sment, heating her cheeks. That Ian still stood in the room only made it worse. "I need to go."

"Ms. Marsh," the doc said.

Ian held up a hand. "Can you give us a second?"

On a low sigh, the doctor nodded and walked out.

"You almost died, Taylor." His comment came out serious and without a hint of humor.

"I know."

"What do you mean, you know?"

Taylor cringed. How do I tell you that I remember every detail, and I know it wasn't a dream? "I almost drowned once. Before." No time like the present.

He popped back up. "What?"

She wrung her hands. "When I was a kid. I hate most bodies of water-pools, lakes, oceans-because of what almost happened. We were playing Marco Polo-you know, the kids game-when it happened. It was me, Riley, a few friends of his, and a couple kids from school who'd come to join. I don't even remember all the people there. But I can tell you the smell of chlorine is etched into my mind. I can see the surface of the water over my head and the bubbles as they sucked away my air." She heaved a breath as if it would be her last.

"You don't have to tell me this."

"I was hiding under water, coming up for air just long enough to get away. The crystal clear blue kept me from whoever was *it'. I don't even remember that part anymore. Just the darkness that came over me. I thought it was an air mattress, so I tried to get out from under it." She closed her eyes at the memory. "But then, the whole pool went dark. I couldn't see anyone. I couldn't hear. My head started spinning. I couldn't find the surface. All I could see ... oh, G.o.d, this is going to sound crazy." She heaved a breath. "I saw a face. And ... I saw it again. This time. I remember what happened, Ian. Between getting in the tub and waking up. I didn't want to say anything and make the doc think I'd gone nuts, but ... I have to tell you this." She wrung her hands in front of her. "I-I know the face who watched me as a kid, and the one that held me under in the tub."

Ian's gaze stayed on her. After a deep breath, he asked, "Who was it?"

"It was you, Ian. You."

a a a Taylor kept her back to the door as she redressed. The docs had given her discharge papers, but they kept coming back into the room with information and advice, thoughts and ideas as well as what she should look out for in the future. Added to that, they told her, in no uncertain terms, to take at least a week off work due to the fractured ribs from Ian's CPR efforts.

She and Ian hadn't talked any more about her revelation, and Taylor figured that meant either he didn't believe her, thought she'd gone crazy, or he needed to process it. Maybe he just didn't care. She knew it hadn't really happened, just somehow his face had been superimposed in the water, but it had been his face. How he'd been there when she'd been a child, she'd never know, but figured faces blurred by the ripples of water could have been anyone.

The swish of the door accompanied a rap and a "knock-knock" in Ian's voice. With Riley back on not-friend-cop-only duty, Ian had offered to be her transportation.

"Come in." She turned as he filled the doorway. "They aren't going to give me any grief, right?" A yawn opened her mouth wide.

"Tired?"

"Yeah. Sore, too." She placed a hand on her rib. "Ian, look-"

He touched a finger to her lips. "It wasn't real. I know what you're going to say, and it wasn't."

"I know, but it felt real. And I remember it. Like, every detail. And while I think it was your face, I know it wasn't."

"See? You've already gone from think to know."

"You don't even seem freaked by this."

"I'm processing."

Taylor couldn't help the smile. "Processing? Is that your word for freaked but not showing it?"

Ian chuckled. "Sure. We'll go with that."

She rolled her shoulders, pulling at the muscles in her chest wall and cringing at the stab of pain on her left side.

Ian waggled a finger in her direction. "I'd suggest a nice, relaxing bath to ease the soreness, but that didn't go so well last time." His grin brought out her own. At least he hadn't lost his sense of humor.

"What time is it again?" she asked.

Ian turned his watch face around. "Ah ... almost two."

"Still plenty of time to tuck in for a good night's sleep."

"Is that what they say down here?"

Taylor's laugh snuck up on her. "You really are New York, aren't you?"

"Born and bred." He held out a hand. "And two in the morning is prime partying time."

She grabbed her papers. The little touch to his fingers sent heat through her body. "Hey, Ian?" He stopped and turned toward her. "Would you mind driving by my house?"

His gaze stayed on her. "I don't think that's a good idea."

She c.o.c.ked her head and jutted out a hip. "Would you stay away if it was your place?"

a a a The only description that could fit Taylor's lawn would have been *war zone'. A single light burned under the pitch black night sky.

"I'm pretty sure they're done gathering, and now it's just a matter of verifying there isn't anything else." Ian cut the engine to the Jag.