Special Agent Kade Ryland raced up the steps of the Silver Creek hospital. Whatever was going on, it was bad. No doubt about it. The voice message from his brother had proven that.
Get to the hospital now, Grayson had ordered.
Since his brother Grayson was the sheriff of Silver Creek, it couldnât be good news. Nor was the fact that Grayson wasnât answering his phoneâprobably because he was in the hospital, a dead zone for reception.
Kade prayed that someone wasnât hurt or dead, but the odds were thatâs exactly what had happened. He had four living brothers, three sisters-in-law, two nephews and a niece. Since all his brothers were in law enforcement and one of his sisters-in-law was pregnant, there were lots of opportunities for things to go wrong.
The automatic doors swished open, and he hurried through, only to set off the metal detectorâs alarm. Kade mumbled some profanity for the delay. Heâd just come from work and was still wearing his sidearm in a shoulder holster concealed beneath his jacket. He also had his backup weapon strapped to his boot. He didnât want to take the time to remove either of them.
The uniformed guard practically jumped from the chair where he was reading a battered copy of the Silver Creek Ledger. His name was Rowdy Dawkins, a man that Kade had known his whole life. But then Kade could say that about half the town.
âThe sheriffâs waiting for you in the emergency room,â Rowdy said, waving Kade through the metal detector. His expression was somber. His tone dripped with concern.
Oh, man.
Kade didnât even take the time to ask Rowdy for details, though the man no doubt knew what was going on. He didnât just hurryâKade ran to the E.R. that was at the other end of the building. The hospital wasnât big by anyoneâs standards, but it seemed to take him an hour to reach the E.R. waiting room.
No sign of his brother or any other family member.
Kadeâs heart was pounding now, and his mind was coming up with all sorts of bad scenarios. Heâd been an FBI agent for seven years, not nearly as long as his brothers had been in law enforcement, but that was more than long enough to fuel the worst sort of details about what could be wrong.
âYour brotherâs in there with Dr. Mickelson,â a nurse volunteered as she pointed the way. She, too, gave him a sympathetic look, which meant he was probably the only person in the whole frickinâ town who didnât know what the heck was going on.
Kade mumbled a thank-you to her and hurried into the doctorâs office, the first door in the hall just off the waiting room. He tried to brace himself for what he might see, but he hadnât expected to find everything looking so ⦠normal.
Well, almost.
Grayson was indeed there, standing, and looking fit as a fiddle as his granddaddy Chet would have said. He looked as he usually did in his jeans and crisp white shirt with his badge clipped to his rodeo belt.
Dr. Mickelson, the chief of staff, was there, as well, practically elbow to elbow with Grayson. Nothing looked out of the ordinary for him, either. The two had obviously been expecting him.
âI was in the middle of an arrest when you phoned,â Kade started. âThatâs why your call went straight to voice mail, but I tried to get in touch with you after I got your message. I tried your office, too, and the dispatch clerk said her orders were for me to speak directly to you. Whatâs wrong? Whoâs hurt?â
âNo oneâs hurt,â Grayson said, but then he wearily shook his head. âAt least no one that we know about.â He stepped closer and looked directly into Kadeâs eyes. Ice-gray eyes that were a genetic copy of Kadeâs own.
Oh, yeah. This was bad.
And downright confusing.
âWhat do you mean by that?â Kade asked.
Grayson and the doctor exchanged glances. âYouâd better sit down. We have something to tell you.â The doctor tipped his head to the chair next to his desk, which was cluttered with folders, computer equipment and papers.