Of course, they would wonder why Robin didn’t call them herself. She glanced at Maggie, her shoulders sagging. She never would have gotten the words out without sobbing.
“The bullet’s out, and he’s doing well. They’re moving him to ICU soon, so when you get here you’ll probably be able to go right in.”
She made it sound so simple. He was out of surgery, and the worst was over. Robin took a deep breath, and for the first time since she got the news, she relaxed.
About twenty minutes later, a nurse came through the door and called Robin’s name. She led Robin down the hall to a door marked No Unauthorized Persons Allowed. The nurse pushed open double doors to a large curtain-partitioned room with a central nurses’ station. She stopped at the third one from the end.
Robin’s eyes moved past the figure in the bed and boomeranged back when she realized it was Mark. She stumbled, and the nurse reached out to steady her. Seeing him lying there, so helpless, caused her heart to flutter. A tube threaded into his nose, and another one snaked from his arm to a bag of clear liquid above his head. Wires stuck out of the neck of his gown and linked him to a heart monitor. Its steady beep gave the only sign of life. His face, normally tanned, now almost matched the bandage around his head. His arms rested outside the blanket.
Robin held his hand, entwining her cold fingers with his warm ones, and raised it to her cheek. She ran her free fingers through his wavy black hair to smooth it, but the stubborn locks popped over the bandage again. When she bent to kiss him, her tears fell on his face. She grabbed a tissue from the night table, dabbed them away, and dried her eyes. “You’ll be OK, honey. It’s going to be OK. Open your eyes now, and talk to me.”
The nurse who led her back had said she should speak to him, but she didn’t know what to say. She hooked her foot on a chair leg and hauled it closer. “We got a new client today.” She stroked his face. “It’s a nursery for a sweet couple having twins. I know I said I wouldn’t take any more of those, but I think it’ll be fine. Ken, the husband, was so nervous. You would like him.” She babbled on until she ran out of things to say and then sat for a while smoothing a wrinkle out of the sleeve of his gown.
Mark’s parents surged through the door. Silvia burst into tears. Ed’s eyes were damp and red, but he clamped his lips shut like Mark did when he was stressed. He so resembled his son, Robin couldn’t help but smile. Silvia’s short blonde hair spiked straight out on the sides, as if she’d been running her fingers through it. Robin wrapped her arms around Silvia and let her cry, patting her on the back. “He’ll be OK. It looks worse than it is.”
With everything inside, she hoped her words were true.
Silvia took some halting breaths, gave Robin a quick squeeze, and backed away. Linking her hand with her husband’s, she moved to the bed.
Robin slipped out to give them some privacy. She padded down the hall to the crowded ICU waiting room. Was the whole drug task force here? Nine or ten men and women stood around talking. It seemed impossible that their small community had enough drugs flowing in to warrant a task force, but Mark had been passionate when he’d agreed to join. He was the first to volunteer, and Peter right after, as did most of the others in this room. Did the shooting have something to do with drugs?
Robin stood back for a moment, glad to see the room filled with friends. They would be as anxious as she to hear good news. Maggie, Chief Donovan, Peter, and his wife, Libby, congregated in the far corner, talking. Making her way toward them, she passed another small group, Detectives David Green and Greg Williams, and the chief’s administrative assistant, Beth—all deep in conversation.
“Did you hear Cindy Carroll is dead?” Beth asked. “I heard she was found in the same warehouse as Mark.”
David snorted. “I want to know three things.” He held up three fingers, one at a time. “Why was he in a warehouse at that time of day? How did Cindy get shot? And why did he have that kind of money on him?” David added another finger. “Oh, and why didn’t he call it in?”
Robin slowed, hoping they wouldn’t notice her.
Beth tipped her head his way. “What are you saying? Do you think Mark’s working with them?”
David scowled. “Well, somebody is. Somebody’s spilling information. I hear the upper ranks think it’s one of us.”
“You don’t think it’s Mark, do you?” Greg asked.
“It’s suspicious is what I think. That’s all I’m saying. It’s mighty suspicious.”
Cindy, dead? Her young face bloomed in Robin’s mind, bringing a wave of sadness. It was the first she’d heard about that. And who did they think Mark was working with? She opened her mouth, but the chief reached out, pulling her into his group with her friends.
David stopped talking.
“How is he?” the chief asked.
Robin took a deep breath. “He’s looked better, and he’s not awake yet. The doctor tells me the surgery went well, but I wish Mark would tell me himself.”
Greg shifted to join the group.
Beth and David followed.
“How about you? How are you holding up?” Greg asked.
“I’m OK.” Her smile faltered. “I’ll be a lot better though when he wakes up. Then is he ever going to get it for scaring me to death!”
Everyone chuckled at the old joke.
“I think it’ll be awhile before they move him to a room,” Robin continued. “Then the doctor will probably allow visitors.”
Beth’s face blushed pink, and tears welled in her eyes. “He’ll come out of this, Robin, won’t he?”
“Yes, of course, he will. He knows you all won’t accept anything less.” Strange how easy it was to say what people needed to hear. Brave words for someone who didn’t feel so tough.
When Beth and David moved away, Greg lightly touched Robin’s arm. “Whatever you need, day or night, please call me.”
She stiffened, remembering their discussion. “Thank you.” Did he mean it? He eyed her like he wanted to say more but patted her shoulder and moved away.
Mark’s parents came out, and the chief and Peter went in for a few minutes, leaving her standing with Maggie and Libby. She leaned forward, not wanting anyone else to hear. “What will I do if he doesn’t wake up?”
“That won’t happen,” Libby said.
Maggie gripped Robin’s shoulders. “You always say God is good. If He is, I don’t think He would do that to you after all you’ve been through. You have to be strong and not say such things.”
Strong? Her insides felt like warm oatmeal. “You’re right, I know you’re right. He’s going to be fine.”
The chief and Peter returned to the waiting room, and Robin went back to ICU and sat with her in-laws, all of them watching Mark’s chest rise and fall. Did Maggie think this was some kind of test? If God is good, Mark will live; if not, he’ll die? Robin knew, as much as anyone, that one can’t manipulate God into getting what one wanted, but she refused to think of Him as anything but good. Please, God, don’t let him die.
Failing to get Robin and Mark’s parents to leave long enough to eat, Libby brought in some milkshakes.
Robin sipped hers gratefully, knowing she should eat, also knowing nothing solid would stay down. She needed a break. Taking the shake with her, she roamed ICU, stretching the kinks out of her legs.
Patients crowded the area, so to keep from disturbing them or their families, she returned to the waiting area. New people occupied the room now, and most of Mark’s friends had gone home. Maggie and Libby were still waiting, sitting next to a large potted plant. She should have let them leave hours ago.
Hopeful eyes looked up from various groups as she passed, other families obviously waiting for news. She skirted some children coloring on the floor and joined Libby and Maggie. “You guys should go home. There’s nothing going on here.”
Maggie shook her head and opened her mouth, but Robin placed a hand lightly on her arm. “I promise I’ll call you if there’s anything to report.”
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Maggie held her gaze. “I want to hear about any change. I mean it. Don’t try to be tough now. You call me.”
Robin dropped her hand and cocked her head. “First you want me to be strong. Then you say don’t be tough.”
Maggie blushed. “Well, I mean…”
Robin grinned. “I know what you meant. Don’t worry. Tough isn’t on the menu tonight. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
Libby craned her neck to see around the potted plant. “Have you seen Peter?”
"He was in ICU last time I saw him. Do you want me to get him for you?”
Maggie stood. “I can drive you home.”
Libby smiled her thanks and turned to Robin. “Just tell him I’ll see him at home, would you?”
Maggie picked up her purse. “Who has the kids? Do we need to stop and pick them up first?”
“The kids are home. The neighbor’s watching them.”
Her two friends gave Robin a hug and left together. Robin went back to the ICU room and sat next to Mark. Nothing had changed, even his hands rested in the same position.
The doctor came in around 8:00 PM, checked the chart, and made a few notes. “Mrs. Clayton, he’s stable and doing as well as can be expected. We can call you at the slightest change if you want to go home for the night. Stop at the nurses’ station and make sure they have the correct contact number for you.”
She must have grimaced, because he stepped forward and placed his hand on her arm. “If you want to stay, you can, but at least go home and get something to eat. We don’t want another patient on our hands, now do we?”
She wanted to argue, but when she stood, the room tilted. She grasped the back of the chair. “I’d better at least try to eat. Besides, our house isn’t far from St. Andrews, so I can be back fast if he wakes up. You will call, won’t you?”
He nodded.
A shower would be nice, too. She turned to Ed and Silvia. “Can you guys take me home? I came in with Maggie. We can make up the guest room for you when we get there.”
They agreed and headed to the nurses’ station.
According to the tag on the front of his scrubs, Kevin was the nurse on duty. He looked up as they approached. “How may I help you?”
“We’re going home for a bit, and I want to make sure you have my correct contact information to call me if there’s any change. I’m coming back right after dinner.”
Kevin nodded, asked for the patient’s name, and then verified with Robin the correct cellphone number.
Feeling somewhat relieved, Robin headed to the parking lot with her in-laws.
The motion sensor doors slid open, and a cold wind blew snow into the reception area.
Robin tightened the scarf at her neck and raised her voice over the wind. “Can you believe it was sixty degrees last week?”
“The storm was just starting when we left Cheyenne,” Silvia shouted. “The weatherman said it should clear up by morning.”
They stopped under the overhang, Robin searching the lot for Ed’s vehicle. Several inches of white shrouded the cars in the lot, and thick flakes swirled past. The tulips next to the hospital doors bent over the landscaping lights, their bright blooms shining through the snow.
“Be right back, ladies. Wait here while I bring the car around.” Ed sprinted across the slushy lot, wobbling on an icy patch.
Silvia looped her arm through Robin’s and hugged her close. “It’s freezing out here. Who’d have believed it in April?”
Robin faced away from the wind and frowned at a car idling near the entrance. Though the front window was clear, white blanketed the car. Steam rising from the tailpipe indicated the running engine. The poor person inside must be trying to warm up before cleaning the snow off.
“It’s springtime in the Rockies.” She gave Silvia a smile. “I guess this is what I get for living in Colorado.”
Silvia laughed. “Wyoming isn’t any better. At least you don’t have the wind blowing dirt in your teeth all year long.”
Ed brought the car to a stop, and the two women dashed to it.
Inside, Robin brushed off her hair and coat, tapping her boots together to clean them. Then she relaxed in the backseat, watching huge fluffy white flakes slide down the window. Spring snowflakes were so much more beautiful than the frozen little January pellets. She checked her phone. She hadn’t looked at it all afternoon.
A swipe of the screen revealed three messages. Two were from clients—Maggie could return them tomorrow—and one from Dr. Tracy, asking to see her. He ran some tests for her thyroid at her last physical. The results were probably in. No time to think about it now, she’d call back when Mark was out of the hospital. She lay back, closed her eyes, and let the quiet seep into her soul.
A screeching engine shredded the gentle silence. Something slammed into the side of their car.
Robin slammed against her seatbelt, and a shattered side window rained glass pebbles on her head and shoulders. Her cheek stung as she brushed a hand over her face. The back window splintered but held.
Ed fought the steering wheel for control as the tires spun on the slick road. The rear wheels slid, dragging the car across the lane, banging into the curb on the other side.
Once the car stopped, Robin took a deep breath. “Is everyone OK?” She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned into the front seat. “Ed, Silvia, are you all right?”
Ed’s hands clenched the steering wheel, almost as if they had frozen there.
Silvia put her hand on his arm. “Honey?”
One at a time, he peeled his fingers off the wheel. “Yeah, I think so. Where did that guy come from, anyway? I didn’t even see him. I’d better check and see if he’s hurt.” He got out of the car then poked his head back inside. “He’s gone.”
While her father-in-law dialed the police, Robin reached to open the passenger rear door, but it stuck fast. Her knees shaking, she scrambled out the driver’s side.
The other car was nowhere in sight.
Neither was anyone else.
4
Tony Rossetti wiped sweaty hands on his jeans for the thousandth time since he’d buckled into the pickup. Why did Carlo have to come anyway? He could’ve handled this himself. And if he did have to drive, why couldn’t they take his Ferrari? Or the brand-new Corvette Tony had gotten for his birthday? It was hardly snowing now. Anything would be better than this beat-up old truck. Good thing it was dark—none of his friends would see.
Carlo jerked to a stop.
A streetlight streamed golden light in front of the silent house. A soft snow swirled in the spotlight.
Tony followed him up the walk. Carlo splashed in a puddle, and Tony snickered under his breath.
Carlo muffled a curse, yanked open the screen door, and held it.
Tony slowed. “Shouldn’t we ring the bell?”
“Nah, they’re not home. The wife’s keeping your dad’s friend away while we put this in his house.”
“But what if they came home early?”
“Then there’d be lights on. You don’t see any lights, do you?”
“No.”
“Then there isn’t anybody home, genius.”
His face burned. “I didn’t think of that.” He tried the front door. Locked.
Carlo motioned him aside. “That’s why I make the big bucks. Here, let me do that.”
Tony moved away and grabbed the screen.
“The wife was supposed to leave it unlocked. Good thing I come prepared, eh, kid?” He fished in his pocket. “Here. Hold this.” He handed Tony a briefcase and faced the lock. His back blocked his actions, but soon the door sprang open.
“Stash it where we discussed, and don’t turn on any lights. It’s a surprise, and we don’t want him to see us if he’s in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, I got it.” A ridiculous amount of trouble for a joke. The joke had better not be on him with a bunch of people ready to jump out and scare him to death. Carlo had a weird sense of humor sometimes.
<
br /> Tony crept through the living room to the stairs. The bright streetlight guided him up the staircase. From there, he groped his way to the first door on the left. Bedroom curtains hung open enough to illuminate part of the room. He headed for a door to what he hoped was a walk-in closet, tripped over something, and fell into a wall. He growled. If he obeyed Carlo, he’d kill himself.
He found a switch and flipped it. Light filtered through the crack at the bottom of the door. He opened it and, sure enough, it was a closet. He shoved the case where Carlo ordered and hurried out of the house, locking the front door behind him.
Carlo waited in the pickup. “Everything go OK?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
Carlo smiled, his big teeth shining in the moonlight—like a shark. Tony pictured the pockmarked face above those shiny teeth and shivered.
Carlo jammed the old truck in gear. “I’m taking you home, but be at the restaurant in an hour. We’re having a meeting.”
Tony’s heart raced. His first meeting. Did that mean he was getting a promotion? He jumped out in front of his house.
Before he slammed the door, Carlo leaned toward him. “Good job, kid. I knew you could do it.”
The shark teeth reappeared. Why had he never noticed them before?
Forty-five minutes later, Tony sped his cherry red Corvette to Rossetti’s, his family’s Italian restaurant. His palms began to sweat inside his gloves. Better not say anything dumb. Mom would say he shouldn’t speak unless spoken to.
It’d be fun to see the business part of the restaurant. His father always said what he did was important, but he meant Tony was too young to do whatever kept Jimmy’s pockets full of money and his life full of girls. Now he was sixteen, and things were gonna change.
The lot was full. He was lucky to find a space under a light pole. A bit of mag chloride had sprayed onto the car’s gleaming red finish, so he tried to rub it off with his coat sleeve. He only managed to smear it. Hopefully, the snow wouldn’t accumulate too much. Corvettes had no clearance. Maybe he should have left it home. Shaking his head, he hustled across the parking lot. The same excitement he’d felt when he was fourteen and old enough to work in the restaurant quickened his steps. Now he was sick of dirty dishes and cleaning up other people’s messes. Tonight, he’d moved up.
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