Let Sutton choke. Danger wouldnât flirt any closer to Olivia than it already had.
Sebastian strode toward the edge of the road.
âHey,â Denley called, âwhere do you think youâre going?â
âLooking for evidence.â
âYouâll mess up the scene.â
Like that was going to make a difference with the way the EMTs had trampled it to rescue Olivia. âHe already has a warrant out on him for the murder of two marshals. Whatever evidence I find here wonât change anything.â Cutting down the timeline was more important than preserving this sceneâa scene that would melt away before morning. Sebastian headed into the fog that covered the black hole where Oliviaâs car had plunged.
Denley shone his flashlight at him. âYou should get to your wife.â
âIf I donât catch this puke, heâll go after her again.â
âHe might not have anything to do with this. Thereâs deer tracks. The roadâs slippery. On a night like this, could be just an accident.â
No, Sebastian didnât believe in coincidence. Not with someone as determined as Kershaw. âWhat if he did? You donât want that on your conscience. To get what he wants, heâll go through anything and anyone. Heâs armed. Heâs motivated. He has nothing to lose.â
âGetting aggressive and imaginative at this time of the night wonât help you collar your mutt.â
Aggressive and imaginativeâcop-talk for breaking the law. This was for Olivia. Heâd get as aggressive and as imaginative as it took to bring down Kershaw.
IGNORING THE BEEPER vibrating at his belt, Sebastian placed a call. Working alone, heâd woven a wide network of contacts. The best way to information was knowing who to tap.
âFelicia?â a sleepy voice greeted Sebastian on the other end of the line as he paced the hospitalâs emergency-room waiting area.
Officially, Aurora Cates was a librarian. But her real persona was information specialist. Why she hid her true calling was a mysteryâone that was none of his business. Five years ago, heâd accidentally discovered that if he needed a fact, any factâobtained legallyâRory Cates could dig it up. Best of all, she could do it efficiently and discreetly.
âSebastian Falconer.â
âFalconer?â He heard the rustling of bed sheets. âDo you know what time it is?â
He glanced at his watch. Where had the time gone?
âItâs one-thirty in the morning,â Rory informed him. âWhat could be so important at this time of the night?â
âI need information.â
âI figured that much.â
Sebastian swallowed around the knot in his throat. âInformation on coma.â
âComa?â
His strictest rule was to never mix business and pleasure. Thatâs why heâd never asked Rory why she was hiding in a library when her skills were better suited elsewhere. Business took place on one level; personal life on another. Few people knew where he lived, that he was married or anything about his background. Safer that way, heâd thought. Kershaw had proved him wrong. âMy wife was in an accident.â
âWife? Youâre married? How long?â
âTen years.â
âAnd Iâm just finding out now?â Her laugh was a bird-song. âIf I need a secret kept, I know where to go.â
Mixing both planes of his life was as awkward as doing surveillance in a snake pit, but Kershaw had smashed those boundaries. âWhoâs Felicia?â
âMy sister.â Rory sighed, and Sebastian heard the frazzled threads of a knotted relationship. âI havenât heard from her in a while and Iâm worried.â
âSheâd call you this early?â
âThis late. Yeah. Iâd take her call anytime, though.â The click of a pen. The shredding of a sheet of paper. Change of subject. Just as well, chitchat wasnât his forte. âWhat do you need?â
âAnything you can dig up on coma and brain damage. Recovery.â The word tasted dry and made him wince.
âJeez, Falconer,â Rory said as she scribbled down what heâd told her. âIâm really sorry. I hope sheâs all right. She has to be a saint to put up with someone like you.â She gave a mirthless chuckle. âIâll see what I can find for you.â
Not a saint, but his angel. âThanks, Iâll owe you.â
âIâll hold you to that.â
AS SEBASTIAN WAS disconnecting, the emergency-entrance doors burst open and his sister-in-law strode in like a witch riding a twig broom. Her ICBM-like gaze zeroed in on him. He didnât stand a chance, so he braced for the blow.
âWhy wasnât I called immediately?â Her question screeched across the room, making the nurses at the desk look up. Her bottle blond hair bobbed with every laser-sure step in his direction.
âIâm just coming up for air myself.â
One of Paulaâs hands beat the air like a conductor gone mad. âFor hours no one answered the blasted phone. I was going out of my mind. Then I had to find out about Olivia from that man.â
That man being Mario Menard, the Aerieâs groundskeeper and handyman. That man was even now installing another layer of protection to keep Paulaâs baby sister safe. Sebastian couldnât figure out if she treated Mario like a nonentity because he was the hired help or because he was always polite to her even when she was giving him her best impression of a third-degree black belt witch. The situation only seemed to get worse after the bankruptcy and suicide of Paulaâs husband and Paula had to get a job.
âYou were next on my list, Paula,â he said gently. After all, Paula had raised Olivia. Paula had been more of a mother to Olivia than their own mother, who hadnât wanted the burden of a menopause baby.
âNext? I should have been first. What happened? How is she? When can I take her home?â
âWhoa, there.â He put up both hands against her verbal assault. âSheâs coming home with me where she belongs.â
Paulaâs eyes narrowed to barbed slits. âSheâs coming home with me. We both know she was leaving you. Thatâs where she was going at that ungodly hour. To my home. Away from you. I figured you were giving her a hard time and thatâs
