foolish and I will swear you tried to prevent me from leaving the hospital, but I need to find some kind of clothing.”
Silence hung between them, giving Pria time to notice again that Joe had really wide shoulders and probably had a gorgeous chest to go with them. And beautiful dark eyes that looked tired in the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights hanging overhead.
“So, what’s the rush?” Joe asked after a moment. “Do you need to be somewhere? I mean…can someone bring you clothing at least?”
“I just don’t like hospitals,” Pria admitted. The fact that she’d ended up in one was going to be problematic enough. In ways the detective could not even begin to imagine. “Do you think I could borrow a set of scrubs or something?”
“Look, let me find a doctor to look you over. Just wait here,” Joe ordered. “If one of the docs say you’re okay, I’ll drive you home myself.” Joe’s plan was to find some sane nurse or doctor to tell Pria that she needed to remain in the hospital. He could not quite get her need to go, but the hospital had no authority to hold her against her will. As he whipped the curtain aside, he found himself face to face with a group clearly headed for Pria.
A tall man dressed in black, with wavy, blond hair that brushed his shoulders was right behind an enormous, dark haired guy, dressed in denim and a tall, elegant blond woman in dark glasses moved past Joe to Pria. The blond immediately lowered the bed bar, pulled her dark glasses off and drew Pria into a loose hug.
“We’re taking you home, Pria,” she said, plopping a gold tote bag on the bed. “I brought you something to wear.” Holding Pria at arm’s length, the woman looked her over critically. “Are you in pain?” she asked.
“No, Miri, no pain,” Pria answered. “This is the police officer…detective…from the bank,” she said, nodding in Joe’s direction. “He came into the bank to save me.”
The woman and both men turned to Joe. The blond man shook hands with him quickly, as the woman moved to the other side of Pria’s bed to disconnect the IV line and remove the needle from her arm. Joe noticed that she seemed to know what she was doing.
“We are extremely grateful for what you did,” the blond guy said. “We’re Pria’s family. We’ll care for her now.”
“She seems very eager to leave the hospital,” Joe said. “Maybe it would be best if….”
“No,” the woman called Miri said firmly. “We will care for her, but I thank you for saving her life. Everyone out now, so I can help Pria dress,” she said shooing the men, who walked out into a busy corridor within the emergency department.
“I’m Keircnan,” the blond man told Joe. “This is Monroe,” he said gesturing to the other man. “What happened to the man who was holding Pria? Was he killed?”
“Yes, he died at the scene,” Joe answered, without going into the details of an apparent lack of a cause of death for Whitwater. Plunging ahead, he said, “In fact, Marcus Whitwater…the guy that took Pria as a hostage… didn’t shoot her. She was accidentally wounded by a police sniper, who was aiming for Whitwater.” Joe paused to let that one sink in, before continuing. “The department apologizes for the fact that she was wounded in what went down at the bank and the medical bill….”
“Arrangements have already been made for the bill to be paid,” Keirc said quickly. “I was simply curious about this man, Whitwater. I can assure you, Pria will not be interested in suing the police department or speaking to the media about any of this. She has no wish to embarrass the police department. Her privacy is important as she will be recovering at home.”
“I didn’t know she’d spoken with her family,” Joe said, surprised again. She’d been out cold when he’d been with her and the hospital personnel had not contacted them, because they hadn’t known exactly who to call. “I wasn’t aware the hospital had called anyone. Are you her attorney?”
“Pria is my stepsister, but we are close,” Keirc replied. “I can assure you, her desires are as I have told you. Will the police department need to speak with her, do you think?”
For a fraction of a second, Joe thought he saw Keirc’s palm up near his face, but when he blinked, he saw the man’s hands at his sides. “The district attorney’s office…,” he said, struggling for a moment to recall the question.
“I see,” Keirc said. “She will be with us for a few days. I think I can convince her to stay with us that long, before she insists on returning to her business. If you need to reach her, leave a message at the Maidenheart Bakery. Pria is the owner.”
The sound of a cell phone interrupted the conversation. Monroe pulled the phone from his jacket to answer.
“Miri and Pria are in the car,” Monroe advised Keirc, ending the call. He shook Joe’s hand quickly, murmuring, “Thanks,” before turning to leave.
As the men left, Joe wondered about the odd conversation. A family that appeared from nowhere to take a woman with a gunshot wound home from a hospital that hadn’t officially discharged her. A beautiful victim who couldn’t get out of the hospital fast enough. A stepbrother who seemed to be doing the talking for her and nobody seemed to have any desire to hang the cop who’d shot her. And how in the hell had the women gotten out of the ER so fast? Without him seeing them?
Joe was still thinking about Pria as he headed through the hospital’s exit to his car. Jogging for the parking lot, he walked directly into Georgia Hudsis, TV anchor and professional pain in the ass. Seeing him, she whipped a hand through her blond bob, pulled her dark glasses off and moved in like the predator she was.
“Hey, gorgeous, “she breathed, standing a little too close. “Miss me?”
“Not really, Georgia, but how are you anyway?” Joe lifted a hand toward the reporter’s cameraman, who was already hoisting the large camera to his shoulder to start shooting in Joe’s direction. “No pictures,” he said firmly.
“You look camera-ready to me.”
Joe fixed Georgia in a hard stare, as her cameraman dropped the bulky camera to his side again.
“So, what happened at the bank?” she asked.
“Talk to Cy Kent yet?” Joe asked, referring to his supervising officer. With any luck he could dump the reporter in his lap and move on from Georgia’s relentless clutch. Looking around he saw no other news teams had appeared at the hospital, a good thing for the other hostages who were still being checked over inside.
“What would Cy know anyway? You were there,” the reporter said, moving a little closer to Joe.
“Yeah, I was there but you know how it goes. Can’t release any information that might compromise any investigation .blah…blah…blah. I’m not who you need Georgia. Talk to Cy.” he advised.
“What investigation, Joe? The guy went into the bank. He took hostages. He wanted money. You guys shot him and he’s dead.” Georgia put her hand on a cocked hip.
“Not much of a story, when you put it like that, huh?” Joe pointed out, beginning to move away from the blond.
“I heard there was bad blood between the two of you,” she said keeping pace with his long strides. “You and the guy at the bank, I mean. Any truth there?”
“Really?
