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mind,” he teased.
    Tracy stiffened, then realized what he was doing and raised her brows. Ken shrugged and turned his gaze to a now silent, Jenny.
    “What do you have for me, Jen?”
    Jenny thrust the clipboard into his arms. “Patient is stable. You can read the rest in my notes.” She glanced at Tracy. “You okay now?” Tracy nodded, her chest hurting for her friend.
    “C’mon, Dev, we better get back on shift.” Jenny started toward the ambulance.
    Dev gave Ken a commiserating look before hurrying after his departing partner.
    Tracy shivered as she watched the lights fade away. Men. They really could be jerks sometimes.
    She followed the gurney into the hospital, aware of Scott dogging her heels. The episode between Jenny and Ken couldn’t have come at a better time. She knew better than to develop feelings for a guy. They couldn’t be trusted. She’d make sure the pup was going to be okay and then she was going to say good-bye to Scott Anderson.

Chapter 8
    T he shopping cart clattered its way down the sidewalk overloaded with an array of bottles, discarded clothing, scraps of pungent smelling food—and bells. It was those freaking bells that drove him onto the road in the first place. He’d already tried to remove them without success—they were tied with some kind of fisherman’s knot even his knife couldn’t cut—and so he’d been stuffing whatever he could find into them to dull the noise when the cart took off on him as though possessed.
    With the cops just moments behind, Ray knew he couldn’t just leave the blasted thing rolling down the street so he’d chased after it and almost ended up a shit-stain on the pavement when that cab rounded the corner.
    He’d padded the shirt to increase his bulk, and with the addition of wide frame glasses and some face paint, even Anderson hadn’t recognized him in that cheesy guard’s uniform. But it wouldn’t take long before every cop in the city would have a description and be hot on his trail, so he’d done what he needed to do. It wasn’t that he enjoyed killing. It was simply a means to an end. That old bum looked like he was at death’s door anyway. He’d just given him a push, that’s all.
    He grimaced over the odor of cheap wine and urine emanating from the filthy clothes, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
    Ha . He snickered over his own joke. A few more blocks and he could ditch this flea-infested basket and get back to his own world. A world he’d worked hard to build up, and no one was going to take it away from him.
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    L ucas drove down the residential street at a snail’s pace, his hands sweaty on the wheel. One yard had a trampoline sitting empty off to the side while in another a tire swing shaped like a pony swung from a big ol’ willow tree.
    “There.” The newly named Mike pointed, his voice vibrating with suppressed emotion. “The one with the picket fence.”
    Of course it was.
    Lucas guided the taxi into a parking space and killed the engine.
    “I’ll just wait here.” He stared straight ahead and swallowed hard. “Take your time.”
    Silence descended like a dark shroud.
    He slid the windows down and inhaled the sharp tang of night air along with the sweet, perfumed smell of Rugosa roses. His grandma had grown a set of matching bushes by her front door. One of few childhood memories he cared to remember.
    The house was a perfect two-story white gingerbread with a wraparound porch and big bay windows for the parents to watch their children at play.
    Except, now there was only one parent.
    Two kids’ bikes lay discarded in the driveway and the grass was in need of a mow. A single light shone from inside, as if the rest of the home lay steeped in sorrow and sadness.
    A figure appeared on the doorstep and Lucas tensed. “Who’s…?” He glanced in the rear of the car, the words dying off when he realized he was alone. That was going to take some getting used to. He turned back in time to see Mike just sort of