shoulders jostled as a broad smile spread across his face. Since he’d returned from his last assignment where he met Nora, he’d been smiling and laughing a lot more than usual. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you. But don’t worry about it. I’ll keep it safe until you’re released.”
Heather scowled, her hand searching for the cool handle of her Glock out of pure habit. She pleaded with her eyes for him to give her back her gun, but Nate shook his head. “Nope. You’re on way too much medication, not to mention the amount of oxygen just sitting next to your bed. When they let you out of here, you’ll get it back.” He smirked at the glare she shot his way.
She swallowed again, forcing her vocal cords to recall their job. “How did you get it?”
“Your mom gave it to me. I guess the hospital had it with your clothes and other personal affects.” He tugged Nora a little closer and whispered in a mock-conspiratorial tone, “Apparently she had it with her in the helicopter. Because, you know, when I go on a strictly sightseeing tour of Mount Saint Helens and Mount Hood, I always bring my weapon with me.”
Nora shoved her fiancé’s shoulder. “Give Heather a break.”
Heather shrugged, then cringed as pain shot through her shoulder. Twisting as much as her multiple braces and injuries allowed, she turned toward Nate. “So where are my parents? Does the hospital only allow two visitors at a time?”
He looked away then brought his steel blue eyes back to meet hers, all teasing aside. “Listen, Heather, I’m sorry.” He swallowed thickly, and her stomach turned with a sudden knowledge.
“Kit’s funeral?”
“It was this morning. Nora and I skipped the grave-side service. Your mom wanted someone here when you woke up.” He studied the spot on the floor between his shoes, and she realized that he was dressed in his best black Hugo Boss. They’d worked together for almost three years, and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him wearing the slick suit.
When he brought his gaze back up to meet hers, all she could see was the pain there—all traces of humor gone. He just shook his head. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there. Your parents wanted to wait, but the doctors don’t know how long you’re going to be in here. And your dad’s unit was called back overseas. He ships out right away, so one or the other of you would have had to miss it. And the funeral home couldn’t wait indefinitely, so the director suggested just going ahead with the service.”
Through the fierce ache in her shoulder, Heather lifted her hand to her eyes, brushing away two unruly tears.
She’d missed her chance to say goodbye to her little sister. And she didn’t have any idea why any of this had happened. Why their helicopter had gone down. What Kit had meant about following the drugs. None of it made sense.
Yet.
But she would figure it out. Kit was far too special to just let go without a reason.
Reining in her emotions, Heather cleared her throat. “I’ll bet my parents told you not to tell me all of that.”
“They said they weren’t sure you could handle it just yet. I knew otherwise.”
“Thank you, Nate. It’s better to know. Right?”
“Right.”
A yawn caught Heather off guard and made her two friends smile.
“We better get going and let you get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow,” Nate said before squeezing Heather’s hand and standing at the same time as Nora. Hand in hand they took a step toward the door before Nate suddenly stopped.
“Heather, I need you to promise me something,” he said over his shoulder.
“What?” The word was more of a croak than anything else, but he seemed to understand.
“It’s going to take you a while to recoup. Give it some time.” His brow furrowed, his mouth turning stern. “Don’t try to push yourself too hard.”
After a long pause, she conceded. “I won’t.”
He nodded and gave her a knowing look. “And let the police do their job. Stay out of this investigation.”
Nate’s face softened.
She didn’t respond, and he took a firm step toward her, his face a concoction of sharp angles. “I’m not kidding, Sloan.” He didn’t usually call her by her last name unless he was tired or she was being obstinate. “I need you to focus on getting better. Nothing else. You won’t get involved in this case beyond answering whatever questions the investigator has. That’s a direct order. Understood?”
She had no other choice but to agree. “Yes.”
“Have the nurse call me if you need anything,” Nora called from the doorway just before they disappeared. “See you tomorrow.”
The way Nate had rested his hand on Nora’s back mirrored the familiar actions of Clay Kramer, Kit’s fiancé. Except now he wasn’t engaged to her anymore. Because she was—
Heather closed her eyes, willing the image of Clay and Kit laughing together the night before the crash to vanish. It faded slightly, leaving only an imagined likeness of the pain Clay was enduring, his handsome face twisted in agony. How could he survive with the love of his life gone? How could she ever think of having a happy life with her sister gone?
Beyond questions of her own happiness lay more sinister inquiries that were painful just to ponder. Had someone really wanted to hurt Kit? Why would they want to kill someone everyone loved? Was it possible that Heather’s own life could be in jeopardy, too?
These questions haunted her as she fell into a fitful sleep.
Heather heard the rattle and click of the turning door handle before she was consciously awake. Her brain still foggy from sleep and the pain medication, she struggled to open her eyes, wondering if she was having another visitor. Her parents had been by earlier, but she’d insisted they go back to the hotel. She could see how drained they were after the funeral.
At the same moment that the door opened, her eyelids raised enough that she could see through her lashes.
A short, round man ducked into the room, looking over his shoulder as though confirming that he wasn’t being followed, before silently closing the door behind him. When he turned to face her, she could make out only his ratty, gray jacket and violently shaking hands. She’d never seen anyone’s hands shaking that badly—except drug addicts going through withdrawal.
But what was an addict doing in her hospital room?
He spun around slowly before shuffling toward her bed. She flexed her hand, feeling around for her gun. Which Nate still had. Maybe she could reach the call button on the side of the bed without tipping him off that she was alert—if somewhat groggy. Before scaring him off, she needed to know what he wanted.
A wave of body odor nearly sent her to the floor gagging, and she quickly adjusted to breathing through her mouth.
“Put the tube in the line,” the man mumbled. “Put the tube in the line. Then get the
