Grandy nodded. “That would be the anesthesia she’d managed to get into you, right before the police arrived to save the day.”
It hurt to furrow my brow. “But how did the police know?”
“Because,” Diana said, striding into the room with a nurse on her heels. “We were watching you. Did you honestly not notice? We’ve been following you for days.”
“You’ve been following me?”
“Not just me. We took turns. All of us. Nolan figured you’d stumble on to some important information sooner or later and you’d lead us to Rayburn’s killer or Rozelle’s kidnapper if we gave you enough space. So he gave the order and we followed.”
As she spoke, the nurse wheeled a portable blood pressure machine into place then slapped a cuff on my somewhat free arm.
“And so they broke into the vet’s office? They . . .” I had climbed in through the window. How did they get in?
Diana leaned over the bed, grin on her face. “The front door was open, you dummy. It seems Lee planned on making a quick getaway after she helped herself to a few syringes of sedatives. While she was stuffing her purse, you went and climbed in a window. And the door was open the whole time.”
I was remotely aware of painkillers dulling my nerve endings, and yet I had the instant sensation of feeling every muscle and bone in my body ache at the thought of clambering through that window. “And you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Pressure’s good,” the nurse said. She released whatever control allowed the cuff to relax its grip on my arm and I felt a dull sense of blood returning to its normal flow. “How are you feeling?”
I told her I was feeling confused, beat up, and hungry.
“I’ll see if we can get some food up for you. You’ve got a hairline fracture in your elbow and you’ve cracked your tailbone, so I’d avoid hard chairs for a while if I were you. The crazy woman you tangled with injected you with a pretty heavy anesthetic. It’s going to take a couple of days for your system to really clear it, so you’re spending the night with us here and the doctor will see you in the morning. Questions?”
I ran her request through my brain. Did I have any questions?
“You comfortable? Doctor left a scrip for a painkiller if you need one after your last wears off.”
“Question,” I said.
She raised her brows, expression welcoming my question.
“Is my cat okay?” I asked.
“Questions I can answer,” the nurse clarified.
“Friday’s fine. I spoke with Dr. Bucherati. After she got past the shock of finding out her receptionist was an alleged killer, she said the surgery was uneventful and all you have to do is make sure the fur ball doesn’t go hanging off any chandeliers for a while,” Diana said. She smirked at the nurse before looking back to me. “Your stepfather has her.”
Oh, good grief. “He’s not my stepfather,” I said as the nurse murmured a “be right back” and headed out of the room.
“Your mother’s husband.”
“Ben. Fine. He’ll have to do. I’d hate to ask Carrie to have to take her.”
“Well, she couldn’t anyway. She’s down in the coffee shop waiting with your mom.”
Dread dragged through my belly. “Mom’s going to try and get Carrie on her side to convince me to move out of Wenwood the minute I’m released.”
Grandy caught a curl of my hair between thumb and forefinger and tugged, the same as he had when I was young. “You stay as long as you like. Leave your mother to me.”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I was in the hospital; my friends and family were there with me. And I could stay with Grandy indefinitely. Maybe it was the anesthesia aftereffect, maybe it was the pain and discomfort, maybe I had some lack of sleep going, but I was on the verge of becoming a puddle of mush.
“Did you call Carrie?” Grandy asked.
Diana shook her head. “Not yet. I thought I’d give Tony a head start.”
“Tony?” I said. “He’s . . . he’s not here, is he?”
Diana gave me one of her oddly rare smiles. “That loser’s been in the chapel for the past half hour. He swears he wasn’t asleep but—”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Tony said.
Because all at once he was there, in the room, pushing past Diana, taking my hand in his as he slipped past Grandy to stand next to the head of the bed. He leaned over the railing and pressed a long, fervent kiss against my forehead before pulling back and locking his gaze on mine. “You okay?” he asked softly.
Ignoring the discomfort of the IV hanging from my hand, I pressed my palm against his cheek. “You’re here. You’re staying. I’ll be fine.”
Well, I could have done without the cast that was going to limit my stained glass work for the next several weeks, and heaven knew the broken tailbones were going to pose a problem with Grandy’s antique and hard-as-stone furnishing, but Rozelle was safe, Friday was okay, I would heal, and most of all, best of all, I may have been a lot of things, but alone wasn’t one of them.
Jennifer McAndrews is the national bestselling author of the Stained-Glass Mysteries, featuring Death Under Glass and Ill-Gotten Panes. Her love of mystery began in middle school, and despite the occasional foray into romance fiction, she is happiest when weaving puzzles on the page and leaving a trail of clues for the reader to follow. She resides in the greater New York metro area with her husband, children, four cats, and three rescue dogs. Visit her online at jennifermcandrews.com.
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