by Brenda Gayle
Two men in dark suits stepped into the room and walked toward Nora. She didn’t recognize them although the third man coming up behind them was familiar—Robert.
Karen positioned herself between the men and Nora’s bed. “Do we have to do this now? The doctor hasn’t even seen her yet,” Karen said.
“Just a few questions ma’am,” one of the men said.
Robert stepped forward and placed his hands on Karen’s shoulders. “It’s important, Karen.”
She nodded and allowed him to lead her to the end of the bed. “Just a few questions, though. She’s been through a lot, and she needs to rest.”
“Miss Cross, I’m Detective Martinez and this is Detective Robson. We’re with the Albuquerque Police Department. We need to ask you a few questions about the shooting.”
“Shooting? Ahhh—” In her surprise Nora started to sit up, but as her arms reached down to support her, her right shoulder buckled under the searing pain, and she crumpled back onto the bed.
“Enough.” Karen said. “Can’t you see she’s not ready? Robert, stop this.”
“What do you remember?” Detective Martinez ignored Karen’s outburst.
“I was shot?” Nora murmured to herself, more as a question than a response to the detective.
“Do you remember what you were doing when it happened? Why you were in that neighborhood?” Detective Martinez continued.
“What’s going on?” Doctor Challice called into the room. “Stand back from my patient.” His voice was authoritative and Nora was impressed. Maybe he was a real doctor after all.
There was shuffling as the two detectives stepped back, and Doctor Challice’s face appeared. “How are you feeling Nora?”
“Better, I think. Confused.”
“Do you know where you are?” He had taken her wrist and she could see him counting in his head.
“A hospital.”
“Good. Do you know where?”
The detectives had said Albuquerque Police Department. “Albuquerque.”
“Excellent. Do you know what year it is?”
“Oh come on. I don’t have amnesia or anything like that. I know my own name. I recognize Karen and Robert. And I even remember you, Doctor Challice.”
He smiled, obviously pleased, and turned to Karen. “I think she’ll be ready to go home in the morning. Just keep her quiet for a few days, and watch for any unusual behaviors.” Then he looked back down at Nora. “Your body has had a serious shock. You’re going to be fine, but you do need to give yourself some time to recover. I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”
“You heard the doctor,” Karen said after he left. “She needs to be kept quiet. No more questions tonight.”
“No, wait.” Nora needed answers. What had happened to her? They said there was a shooting.
“Nora?” Robert stepped closer to her. His voice was kind and patient. Nora wondered what it was about him that rubbed her the wrong way. His politics were different from hers, but he seemed to be a very nice man in all other respects. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions? It’s very important for the detectives to know as much as possible as soon as possible. But if you’re too tired, it can wait until morning.”
“I’ll try,” Nora said. She saw Robert nod to the two detectives, and return to stand beside his wife. He wrapped an arm around Karen and pulled her in closer as she leaned against him, seeming to need his support.
Nora felt a stinging in the back of her eyes. What would it be like to be able to truly count on someone? To be able to turn to them when you were sad or lonely? Or to have someone who would share all your joys and triumphs?
“What do you remember before you woke up in the hospital? Anything?” Detective Martinez said.
Nora pushed aside the fanciful thoughts and focused on her current reality. “I had had an argument with my board of directors and I went for a walk to cool off. I don’t know where I ended up. I’d never been there before.”
“Where were you meeting with your board?”
“The Plaza Tower.”
“Okay. Go on.”
Nora closed her eyes and tried to see in her mind what had happened. “I was heading back. Trying to. I heard a car engine and some popping. Something hit me.”
“Did you see anything?”
“White. Something big and white.”
“Like a van?” Detective Martinez asked.
“No. Not that big.” Nora wracked her brain trying to see it. “It was long, not high like a van. More like one of the old cars from the 70s.”
“Good. That helps. Did you see anyone?”
“Kids…teenagers…about a block before.”
“It was probably one of them that called it in.” Detective Martinez turned to Robert. “Of course no one is admitting to seeing anything. We’ll continue to canvas the neighborhood. Maybe we’ll get lucky and some Good Samaritan will come forward.”
“You don’t sound optimistic,” Karen said.
“I’m not. Not in that neighborhood.” He turned back to Nora. “Thank you Miss Cross. You’ve been most helpful.”
“But wait.” Nora struggled to sit up, careful not to put any weight on her right arm. “What happened? You said there was a shooting.”
Detective Martinez looked to Robert, who came to stand beside Nora. It was Robert who explained. “From what we’ve been able to piece together, you were shot in a drive-by shooting.”
“Random?” Nora felt her body go cold as she waited for Robert’s answer. Even before he replied, she knew what he was going to say.
“Possibly.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, which only heightened her unease. “But given the recent break-ins at your apartment and office...” He shrugged. “We’ve got to investigate every possibility.”
“It’s not a neighborhood known for gang violence. And you were the only one that seemed to be targeted,” Detective Martinez added.
“Maybe those kids I saw can help you.” This can’t be happening, Nora thought. Why would someone want to hurt her? Rob her, maybe? But shoot her?
“As I said, we’re checking into every probability,” Robert said.
Nora felt off-balance. She couldn’t reconcile what she was hearing with what she remembered. Maybe if she knew more... “You said I was shot.”
“Yes. Three bullets,” Robert said. “Your computer stopped the first two, which would have hit you in the hip and abdomen, likely causing serious damage. The third nicked your shoulder.”
“My computer.” She remembered it now—the feeling of her satchel being blown back against her abdomen, forcing the breath from her lungs. Oh no, the computer Karen had given her. “Karen, I’m so sorry. The laptop, your lovely gift. I never even thanked you for it.”
“I don’t understand,” Karen said. “I never gave you a laptop.”
“Yes, after my other one was stolen. I should have called...”
“Nora, I did not give you a computer.” Her voice was strained, and she looked frantically to Robert.
“Nora,” Robert’s voice softened. “Tell me about the computer. When did you get it?”
“It arrived at the Roundtree Hotel where I was staying last Monday morning. It was gift-wrapped, but it didn’t have a note. I assumed Karen had sent it.” She looked to her sister, pleading with her to acknowledge the gift.
“Think, Nora. Who else could have sent it?” Robert reached out and gently brought her head around to face him.
She remembered her excitement when she’d unwrapped the laptop, and her assumption that Hunter had bought it for her. Only when he denied it did she consider Karen. Could he have been lying? Could he have sent it and pretended otherwise? No. She could tell by the surprise on his face that he’d had no part in it. “No one,” she whispered.
Robert turned to Detective Martinez, who nodded and left the room. “What’s going on?” Nora felt a tingle of fear in the pit of her stomach.
“That’s what we’re going to find
out. But for now, you need to rest.” Robert’s confidence failed to soothe her.
“I’m going to stay,” Karen said.
Nora watched as Robert embraced his wife and then led the remaining detective out of the room.
“He’s a good man,” Nora said. “I should be nicer to him.”
Karen laughed. “Yes, he is a good man. To be honest, though, I think he enjoys sparring with you. Not many people have the nerve to stand up to him.”
“He loves you so much.”
Karen sighed, and seemed to sag a little. Nora was seized with the realization that it was almost midnight. People must be wondering what had happened to her. “I need to call Becca and my chair,” she said. And Hunter.
“Relax. It’s all taken care of. Becca was the first one they called when they brought you in. She called me, and I presume she also called that horrid woman who was here earlier.”
“Sylvia was here?” Nora was surprised.
“Just long enough to make sure you weren’t dead.”
“You were nice to her, weren’t you? She’s the chair of my board.”
“Nora, I’ve been a politician’s wife so long, I could be nice to Atilla the Hun if I had to. Don’t worry about her.”
What about Hunter?
Nora fought against the wave of sadness that came with the thought of him. Had he been worried when he’d arrived in his suite and discovered she hadn’t returned? Would Becca have called him?
Her body ached, desperate to feel his arms wrapped tightly around her, protecting her. She thought again about Karen and Robert, and what they had together. That would never be her and Hunter. And somehow, that hurt more than the rebuke from the board and the bullet that had ripped into her shoulder.
She wanted this to all be a bad dream—the board meeting, the shooting. She wanted to wake up and find Hunter smiling down at her, his lovely lavender eyes darkening with desire. She wanted to feel the same way about him and their relationship as she had felt when she’d left him this morning.
She glanced over at Karen, who had returned to her chair at the end of the bed. It wasn’t a dream. And regardless of the reason, it was good that Hunter wasn’t here. She couldn’t see him, not now. She needed to get better, be stronger. Because the next time she saw him, she’d have to find the strength to tell him it was over between them.
Chapter 19
“Well, look at what the cat dragged in.”
Hunter glared at the woman in front of him. He was not in the mood to take crap from anyone, least of all Nora’s sister.
“Nice of you to show up. I hope we haven’t interfered with some pressing social commitment.” Karen’s voice dripped of sarcasm and she stood, hands on hips, blocking the door to Nora’s hospital room. She looked really pissed off.
Well, he was pissed off, too. It was eight-fifteen in the morning, and he hadn’t slept.
When Nora wasn’t in his suite—or her own—after he’d finished at the restaurant he had called her cell phone. He’d been surprised that she hadn’t left him a message—she was generally more conscientious than that—but he hadn’t been overly concerned. He’d figured her meeting had run late and she was staying in Albuquerque for the night. But as her voice mail kicked in time after time, he’d felt unease settle over him.
Where was she?
She wasn’t at her office either. He’d slammed down the receiver, not bothering to leave a message. There was Becca, but he didn’t know her last name.
Damn.
Libby had been surly when he’d awoken her at two o’clock in the morning. Although the phone number to the attorney general’s residence was unlisted, he was certain his grandmother would be able to get it for him.
She’d been less irate when she’d called back twenty minutes later. “I can only get the Santa Fe number tonight,” Libby had said. “They have a private residence in Albuquerque, but I’ll have to wait until morning to get that one.”
Hunter had thanked her, and promised to let her know when he found Nora.
After several attempts at calling the Pearce’s Santa Fe home, a very groggy woman had finally answered the phone and informed Hunter that both Mr. and Mrs. Pearce were in Albuquerque, and no, she had no idea where Mrs. Pearce’s sister was. She’d refused to give him the phone number of the Albuquerque house, but promised to pass on his message.
He had startled Becca when she arrived at the office at seven. He’d been keeping vigil in the hallway since four o’clock, imagining the worst. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
Becca hadn’t wanted to talk to him at first. After he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to give up, she’d finally told him—Nora had been shot. His heart still raced at the thought of it.
She was fine, Becca had insisted, but that did nothing to quell his anger. Why hadn’t Becca called to tell him?
Her response had stunned him.
Despite the early rush hour traffic, Hunter pulled into the hospital parking lot fifty minutes later, and after several forceful inquiries—he didn’t know why everyone was so reluctant to disclose her whereabouts—he stood outside Nora’s room.
“Get out of my way.” He’d never hit a woman before and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to now, but it was a near thing, requiring every ounce of self-control.
“You just calm down a minute. She’s supposed to be resting. Her body has had a terrible shock. Where the hell have you been anyway? Becca was supposed to have called you yesterday.”
“Yeah, well Becca didn’t. It seems the chair of Nora’s board told her not to. She said that Nora had told the board we weren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“What? Is that true?”
“Of course not.” He raked a hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted, all fight gone from him. It’s not true. “Look, I’ve been up all night trying to find her. Please, let me see her.”
Karen stepped aside, and Hunter could see Nora watching them. She looked small and frail, propped up on the inclined bed, silhouetted by an assortment of whirring and blinking machines.
He hurried into the room, slowing as he neared her. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, to make sure she was really there and that she was going to be okay. But there were bandages on her face, and one arm was in a sling. He was afraid he would hurt her if he touched her.
She looked wary as he approached, and she wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“Nora, sweetheart, I was worried about you. Are you okay?” He stood, gazing down at her, unsure of what to do. He reached out a hand and gingerly touched her cheek. She winced and pulled back. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said.
“Of course I should have. I’m just sorry I wasn’t here sooner. There was a, ah, miscommunication. I just found out an hour ago.”
“An hour?” Finally she looked at him. Her unbandaged eyebrow rose skeptically, and her lips curled into a hint of a smile. “You got from Santa Fe to here, and found parking, in an hour without being stopped for speeding?”
He grinned, relieved to see a glimpse of the old Nora. “I live a charmed life.”
She nodded and turned away, her expression troubled again.
“When are you getting out?” he asked.
“The doctor said it’ll probably be today.”
“Great. You’ll definitely be needing some TLC for your recovery, and I’m just the man for the job.”
She turned to him. Her beautiful coffee eyes were large and luminous, and he realized she was trying to hold back tears. What’s wrong?
“It’s all right, Nora.” He reached out and took her good hand. “You’ve had a terrible fright, but you’re going to be fine. I can take some time off from the restaurant—whatever you need.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The tears had escaped now, and he carefully wiped them away, first from one cheek and then, with extreme care, from the bandaged one.
“No.” She said it so quietly
that if he hadn’t seen her lips move he would have thought he imagined it.
“Nora?”
“Hunter, I’m sorry. I’m going home with Karen.”
“Karen? Are you sure you want to do that? Before—”
“It was different before.” She seemed to be rallying her strength. Her voice was stronger. She turned to gaze directly at him. Her eyes hardened and her mouth formed a stern line of resolve. “Everything was different before. It’s for the best, really.”
“What’s for the best?” He was getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but he didn’t think he was going to like it.
Could there be some truth in what the board chair had told Becca? Nora had given him no indication that she was rethinking their relationship when she’d left yesterday morning. In fact, after the weekend they’d had, he was pretty sure she was as content to let things continue as he was.
“It was fun, but c’mon Hunter, this isn’t going anywhere.”
“What’s wrong with fun? I thought you were okay with that. We’re great together, Nora. You can’t deny it.”
“I don’t.” She turned away again, and stared at the red button blinking on the panel of the machine beside her bed.
“I don’t see the problem. You’re not seeing anyone else. I’m not. So why not enjoy each other while it lasts?”
“That is the problem. If it’s not meant to last, it’s meaningless. I guess I’m the sort of person who needs to have meaning in her life. Maybe you were right about me from the beginning. I’m just not the fun type.”
This made no sense. When people had near-death experiences, they usually resolved to get more out of life. Some resolved to find meaning, true, but not at the expense of removing all new experiences—and joy—from their lives.
“Can you look at me, Nora?”
When she turned to him her face was a mask, giving nothing away.
It was over. He recognized the inflexible expression. She’d made up her mind. Nothing he could say or do was going to sway her. He felt defeated. Tired and beaten.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “You are one of the most fun people I know.”