"He asked if he could take my statement, and Galloway agreed. He had his hands full." He threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Mind if I use the bathroom first? I'll be quick."
"Be my guest."
In the process of bending down to pick up his boxers, he caught her with her hands far above her head, back arched, stretching lazily. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on her breasts. He fondled the raised tip. "Maybe I don't want you to get in that chopper."
"Ask me not to and maybe I won't."
"You would."
"I have to," she said ruefully.
Sighing, he withdrew his hands. "Yeah." He got up and went into the bathroom.
"Maybe," Tiel whispered to herself, "I could convince you to come with me."
She removed a bra and panties set from her suitcase, put them on, and was just about to step into a pair of slacks when she sensed Doc watching her.
She turned, ready with a suggestive smile and a saucy remark about peeping Toms. But his expression didn't invite either. In fact, he was practically bristling with rage.
Mystified, her lips parted to ask what the matter was when he held out his hand. Lying in his palm was the audio tape recorder. It had been in the pocket of her slacks, which she'd left along with her other dirty clothes in a pile on the commode lid. He'd moved them, found the recorder.
Her expression must have been a dead giveaway of her guilt because with a vicious punch of his thumb, he depressed the Play button and his voice cut across the silence. "For instance, the hospital buckled beneath the weight of bad publicity. Bad publicity generated and nurtured by people like you."
In a like manner, he stopped the tape and threw the recorder down onto the bed. "Take it." Looking scornfully at the tangled bed linens, he added, "You earned it."
"Doc, listen. I—"
"You got what you were after. A good story." Pushing her aside, he picked up his jeans and angrily thrust his legs into them.
"Will you stop with the righteous indignation and listen?"
He flung his hand toward the incriminating recorder.
"I've heard enough. Did you get everything? All the juicy details of my personal life? I'm surprised you've tarried this long. I'd've thought you'd jog back to Dallas if necessary just so you could start assembling all the good material you've got on me."
He buttoned the fly of his jeans and yanked his shirt off the floor. "Oh, no, wait. You wanted to get fucked first.
After Joe what's-his-name turned out to be a dud, your ego needed reinforcing."
The insult smarted and she reacted to it by striking back. "Who came to whose room? I didn't track you down.
You came here, remember?"
He cursed when he couldn't find but one sock. He shoved his foot into his boot without it.
"Nor is it my fault that you're a good story," she shouted.
"I don't want to be a story. I never did."
"Too bad, Doc. You are. You simply are. Once notori
ous, you're now a hero. You saved lives last night. Do you think that'll go unnoticed? Those kids and their parents are going to talk about 'Doc.' So are the other hostages.
Any reporter worth his paycheck is going to be clamoring for the lowdown. Even your friend Montez won't be able to shield you from the publicity. You would've made news no matter what. But since 'Doc' is the reclusive Dr.
Bradley Stanwick, you're big news. Huge news."
He gestured toward the recorder again. "But you've got them all beat, don't you? Is there another recorder under the bed? Were you hoping to get titillating pillow talk?"
"Go to hell."
"I wouldn't put anything past you."
"I was doing my job."
"And here I thought I was speaking confidentially. But you're going to use it, aren't you? The stuff I thought I was confiding to you?"
"You're damn right I am!"
His jaw flexed with rage. He glared at her for several seconds, then marched toward the door. Tiel barged after him, grabbed his arm, and pulled him around. "It could be the best thing that ever happened to you."
He yanked his arm free of her grasp. "I fail to see that."
"It could force you to face up to the fact that you were wrong to run away. Last… last night," she said, stuttering in her haste to make her point before he stormed out.
"You told Ronnie that he couldn't run away from his problems.
That running from them was no solution. But isn't that exactly what you did?
"You moved out here and buried your head in this West
Texas sand, refusing to accept what you know to be true.
That you're a gifted healer. That you could make a difference.
That you were making a difference. For patients and
families facing a death sentence, you were granting reprieves.
God knows what you could do in the future.
"But because of your pride, and anger, and disillusionment with your colleagues, you abandoned it. You threw out the baby with the bathwater. If this story draws you back into the limelight, if there's a chance it will motivate you to return to your practice, then I'll be damned before
I'll apologize for it."
He turned his back on her and opened the door.
"Doc?" she cried.
But all he said was, "Your ride is here."