Devil's Harvest

Chapter 1

She sensed his presence even before she saw him.
Her heartbeat quickened. Apprehension slithered down her spine. Her throat tightened.
Swish. The sliding glass door of the surgical suite closed behind her. The holding area was empty, the nurses' station unmanned, the corridors deserted.
Silence.
Her eyes narrowed. Where was everybody?
The scent of antiseptic filled her nostrils. Familiar, yet oddly comforting. She frowned, straining her ears for the sound of a voice, a beep of a monitor. Anything.
Instead, she heard only the staccato rhythm of her heart pounding in her ears. What was wrong with her?
Then it hit her. Sleep deprivation. That must be it. Exhaustion. She'd been awake for almost thirty-six hours. No wonder her imagination was running rampant. Either that, or she was in the midst of her very first panic attack.
She was being irrational, and irrational behavior was unacceptable. She was always cool, calm. No matter what. ESP, intuition, whatever they wanted to call it, played no part in way the way her brain worked. She would not allow fatigue to cloud her good sense and fill her brain with nonsense.
The soles of her worn sneakers squeaked on the freshly-waxed tile floor as she crossed the empty waiting area to the reception desk.
Her gaze shifted to the flashing lights on the console near the phone. Three operating rooms were in use, which explained why no one was around. They were busy. Nothing more. She wasn't losing her mind after all.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she scanned the operating list pinned to the bulletin board. She was off duty for the next three days. She shouldn't even be interested in the OR schedule. But she couldn't help herself. She was. And if an unusual case was scheduled, she'd be here watching. Or assisting, if the attending surgeon allowed it.
She was pushing herself too hard. Everyone told her so. But they didn't know - couldn't possibly understand the gnawing desperation inside her - her need to become the best.
She glanced at the clock on the wall behind the desk. Two-fifty-three. Almost four hours since her shift ended. Four hours she'd spent in ICU waiting, watching, whispering a silent prayer that her elderly patient wouldn't crash. For now, he seemed to be stable. They'd call her if he went sour.
Tucking her stethoscope in her pocket, her thoughts shifted to the glass of wine and the long hot bath waiting for her at home. Not to mention at least twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Directly ahead, two corridors intersected, one leading to the administrative offices of the Department of Surgery, the other to the residents' lounge and locker rooms.
A faint sound reached her ears as she passed. Stopping, she squinted down the shadowy length of the hallway.
Then she saw him.
Tall. Solid. Hair the color of strong coffee.
Her heartbeat tripped. What the--?
The offices were closed. Who was he? What was he doing in a restricted area in the middle of the night with his hand on the knob of Mason Blackwell's door?
For a split second, she stood, frozen. As if he knew he was being watched, he looked up. Looked right at her. Dark eyes bored into her with such intensity it took her breath away.
"Excuse me." Her voice echoed in the empty corridor, bouncing off the concrete walls.
He didn't answer. Letting go of the handle, he turned and headed towards the exit.
"Hey. Wait a minute." She took a step towards him.
He picked up his pace. He raced around a corner, barely avoiding a collision with a potted Benjamin fig tree.
"Hey." She began to run, but he had a head start. "Wait a minute."
Scant moments later, she heard the metal clang of a door closing. She rounded the corner, then slowed to a stop.
He was gone.
What could anyone possibly want in this area of the hospital? There were no drugs, no cash. Nothing of real value on the street.
He'd been empty-handed, so it was unlikely he'd had a chance to steal anything. Still, she'd report it to Security on her way out.
Turning back the way she'd come, she noticed a sliver of light spilling out from under Mason's door. Why was he still here at this time of night?
The last thing she needed was to get into another confrontation with Mason. She'd said all she had to say to him earlier. But as chief of the department, he should be notified of an unauthorized person on the floor.
"Mason," she called out as she threw open the door. "I--". Her breath caught in her throat.
Mason lay sprawled on the floor, one hand clutching his throat. Lifeless ice blue eyes stared up at her.