to—”
“For me, it seems I allowed the job, and my father, to come first.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Milt Davis interviewed me,” she said. “Then he warned me the mansion will remain a crime scene until further notice. The FBI might be stepping in if the evidence suggests the attack on Dad—if that’s what happened—could be political in nature.”
“Did Milt give you any indication whether or not the police thought that could be the case?”
“We don’t know what happened yet. Dad is just bleeding for no reason, bruising beneath his skin, as if his clotting factor has suddenly failed.”
“That isn’t a naturally occurring event,” Geoff said. “I know your father doesn’t have hemophilia.”
“That’s why the police are suspicious of foul play. I’m sure they’re looking for a weapon at the house, but I don’t know of anything that would cause that kind of bleeding.”
“You won’t be able to stay at the mansion, obviously.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to leave here anyway while Dad’s critical. A policewoman is going to pack some things and bring them by for me later. I’ll stay at The Capitol Plaza.”
“You can come home with me. You’ll be safer there.”
She looked up at him, her eyes misting. Then she dropped her gaze and shook her head. “Not this way,” she said softly.
He sat down in the chair across from her. “Did anyone actually see a wound?”
“No. As much as Dad was bleeding, the doctor would have seen blood coming from a specific wound, but there was nothing.”
“Where did you get the idea that this was a shooting?”
“He said the word,” Shona told him. “He said, ‘Shot.’”
“That’s it?”
She spread her hands. “Then he said for me to…” She gave him a quick glance, then looked down at her fingers. “He said to get away.”
“From what? From him? Why would he—”
“He might have been trying to tell me to get out of Jefferson City.”
“What else did he say?” Geoff asked.
She didn’t look at him. “I think he must have been hallucinating. He said something about getting the little one out…I’m not sure exactly what he said. It made no sense.”
Geoff studied her expression as she continued to avoid eye contact. What was she not telling him?
His cell phone rang, and he groaned. He was supposed to turn it off when he entered the hospital. In the excitement, he had ignored the sign, even after mentioning it to Wendy.
To his relief, he saw the caller was not Wendy, nor did the number belong to anyone else with his news team. It was Linda Plinkett, Kemper’s old friend, fellow committee member on the Drug Task Force, and, quite possibly, a whole lot more. He answered in spite of the hospital policy restricting cell phones, knowing there were no machines in this section of the building that would be disrupted by the electronic transmission.
“Yes, Linda?”
“Geoffrey Tremaine, what on earth is happening to Kemper? I just heard on the news that he’s been shot!”
“He’s still in critical condition.”
“Where? I can’t reach Shona.”
“We’re here at the hospital.”
“Which hospital? I can’t find him, and these blasted federal regulations prevent the hospital staff from telling me where he is.”
Geoff glanced at Shona. “We’re at St. Mary’s.” Linda might as well jump into the investigation with both feet. She would be embroiled in it soon enough.
“I’ll be right there,” she said.
Shona couldn’t face Geoff with the swift rush of suspicion that held her mute. Dad couldn’t have been talking about Geoff. He must have meant Jefferson City. Longtime residents often called it just plain “Jeff.”
She hugged herself, unable to stop shivering. How many times would she have to repeat Dad’s words in the next few days? Geoff was bound to hear it from someone. The police would want to question him, if only because of that one statement Dad made.
And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Geoff. For these few moments, they were being more civil with each other than they had been since before their separation. She didn’t want to break the spell because of her inability to trust.
Geoff stood up and shrugged out of his sport coat, then gently placed it around her shoulders. She could smell the warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave as his hands rested briefly on her shoulders.
It would be so comforting to allow him to take care of everything.
That was impossible, of course. Too many issues remained between them to simply erase the past. And besides, there was this suspicion….
Instead of returning to his chair, Geoff sat on the arm of the love seat. “Do you have any idea what your father might have been talking about? What did he want you to get away from?”
“He was practically incoherent, and he lost consciousness while he was still talking. He could have even been hallucinating.”
“But you got the impression he was warning you about something?”
She glanced up at him. Why did he insist on pursuing the subject? “I didn’t get any impressions at all at the time, okay, Geoff?” she said more sharply than she’d intended. “He was bleeding badly. All I cared about was getting help.”
“The police are combing the mansion for evidence of a crime. It would be foolhardy to consider going alone to a hotel room if there is any danger at all. Can’t we forget the issues between us long enough to see this through? Your safety is more important than—”
She raised a hand to silence him. “Dad’s in the other room, fighting for his life. That’s all I can think about.” She wrapped his coat around her more tightly and stood up. She never had been able to sit still in a crisis.
She glanced over her shoulder at Geoff. Her husband could be a model for a clean-cut, all-American grown-up Boy Scout. His blue eyes were clear beneath straight, light brown eyebrows. She knew him so well, had known him for so long, since they were love-struck teenagers in high school. So why did he suddenly seem like a stranger to her? Not a stranger, exactly, but…somehow different.
She reached into her pocket for some change, but it was empty. She had locked her purse in her car. Why had she done that?
“Coffee?” he asked.
She nodded. “Anything to take this sour taste
