form. He appeared to be sleeping comfortably now, but before she’d left, he’d been turning restlessly, moaning from time to time. Lara had been shocked; Conley was the heaviest sleeper she knew. Was it pain that was bothering him or something more? She thought back to the look he’d sent her when Dr. Sorelli had said he’d called the police. What had that been all about? She’d wanted to ask, but in the end she’d said nothing because Conley wouldn’t have answered her, anyway. He’d have to give answers to the two cops who’d already come by, though. Explaining that he was sleeping, Lara had asked them to return later and they’d agreed.
Too jittery to sit still, Lara opened the door and stepped into the corridor. She was halfway to the coffeepot at the nurse’s station when Bess MacDougal came out of the elevator. The older woman was clutching the stethoscope around her neck, her face wreathed in concern. Her gray hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun, jeans and sneakers peeking out from beneath her white coat.
“Lara! I’ve been doing rounds and I just now picked up my messages and got yours! Is Conley all right? What happened?”
Just seeing Bess made Lara instantly feel better. Ed’s third wife and the only one closer to his age than Lara’s, Bess was a pediatrician and Lara’s surrogate mother. She confided in Bess in a way she couldn’t with Sandy, even as close as they were. Sandy was a good friend, but Bess was…something more.
“Your office told me where you were,” Lara said. “I knew you’d come when you could.”
“How is he?”
“He’s fine,” Lara answered, “at least physically…” They sat down on a nearby couch and Lara gave Bess the details. “He seems awfully nervous, though. I don’t understand it.”
“Well, good grief, child, he just got hit by a car. You’d be a tad nervous yourself!”
Lara nodded. “You’re right. Things were so crazy this morning before he left I’m not thinking straight, I suppose….” She gave the older woman the rest of the story.
Without comment, Bess listened until Lara ran out of words. “Sandy thinks I’m an idiot,” she concluded. With a troubled frown, she looked up at Bess. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
“Oh, Lord, Lara…I don’t know.” Bess reached into her pocket and pulled out an orange sucker. She offered it to Lara then stuck it in her mouth when Lara turned it down. “Relationships aren’t exactly my strong point, you know. Ask your father if you don’t believe me….”
Something more than her usual self-depreciating humor echoed in Bess’s voice. Any other time Lara would have asked the other woman about it, but right now, her concern about Conley overrode everything else.
“I just don’t know what to do,” Lara said. “The last time we got to this point, I let him talk me out of it. When things slipped back into the same old routine, the pain was twice as bad.”
Bess patted her on the knee. “It always is the second time around.”
“I can’t go through that again. And I’m tired of trying. I have to protect myself.”
“Well, you’ve already made your decision, honey, so stick with it and see what happens. That’s all any of us can do. Young or old—” She started to say more, then her beeper went off. Grabbing the device and looking at it, Bess jumped up. “Oh, Lord, I’ve got to run! I’ve got a sweetie on the fourth floor who needs me. A bad case of flu—” She gave Lara a quick hug then flew down the hall toward the stairs. Wishing they could have talked more, Lara watched her leave. Bess would have been good for Ed, Lara thought for the ten millionth time. If they’d stuck together, he’d be a different man.
Turning around, Lara headed back to Conley’s room, her emotions more tangled than ever. When she cracked open the door, her confusion only grew.
Conley was sitting up in bed.
With his rumpled hair and unshaven jaw, he looked vulnerable, defenseless…and sexy, Lara realized with a pang. Conley had always been one of the most handsome men she’d ever known, but he’d gotten more so as he’d aged. His eyes, forever dark and intense, now held shadows in them that drew her even closer. The few threads of silver that gleamed in the hair at his temples only added to his attraction. In one of those strange twists that couldn’t be explained, the further apart they’d grown, the more appealing he’d become.
He lifted a hand to his forehead and touched his bandage. Then he threw off the sheets and started to get out of bed. Moving his right leg too quickly, he paled immediately, a sharp curse following the movement as he fell back against the pillows with a groan and pulled up the covers once more.
Lara couldn’t help herself; she hurried into the room and to the side of the bed. “Are you all right? Do you want me to call the nurse?”
Before he could answer, the door squeaked open again. Lara and Conley both turned at the sound, but under his sheets, Conley immediately tensed, his whole body going taut and rigid. She glanced down at him in surprise then faced the two men who stood in the doorway. The two cops who’d stopped by earlier looked back at her.
“So you finally woke up, eh, Mr. Harrison?” The taller of the two, Officer Margulies, Lara recalled, walked to Conley’s bed and held out his hand. He introduced himself and then turned to the shorter man beside him. The other one, Officer Fields, nodded at Conley.
“We came by earlier, but you were asleep. Your wife suggested we come back later.”
Conley’s mouth went tight. “She didn’t tell me you had come.”
“I didn’t have a chance yet.” Lara sent an apologetic smile to the officers, then a puzzled look to Conley. He was always short with his words, but he was rarely downright rude. “I was going to—”
“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter,” Margulies dismissed her apology with a breezy wave of his hand. “We just wanted to talk to you about what happened, see if we can’t track down the son of a gun who put you here, that’s all.” His smile was friendly enough, but behind his demeanor, Lara caught an edge of determination. He pulled out a notebook and pen as a wave of tension rose from Conley’s bed. Lara was pretty sure the cops couldn’t tell, but she could. If he’d been able, Conley would have sprung from the bed and raced down the hall to get away from the men.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “I’m sure it was an accident. The guy just didn’t see me—”
“So it was a male driver?”
Conley tightened his mouth. “I couldn’t tell for sure. I just meant the driver. Whoever he—or she—was, they couldn’t see me. The snow was too bad and I was crossing the street against the light.”
The cop wrote something. “Car, van, truck?”
“It was a car,” Conley said, almost grudgingly. “A coupe, I think.”
Margulies looked up. “Didn’t get a plate number by any chance, did you?”
Conley shook his head.
“Color?”
“I don’t know.”
“Make?”
“No
