by Winnie Reed
“If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t think you had any faith in me at all.”
“No comment.” She ended the call before I had the chance to say goodbye, yet another thing she never did. I’d really hit a nerve this time.
The next thing I knew, she’d be calling my mom and tattling on me.
Chapter Nineteen
I have something I think you should see. Where are you? Text me back.
I slid my phone into the pocket of my jeans, frowning. Something was up. Joe would’ve gotten back to me by now if nothing was up. Sure, he was working, but this was important.
Maybe you’re not as important to him as you think you are. Oh, I hated that nasty voice in my head with a passion.
Especially when that voice had a point. I wasn’t the center of Joe Sullivan’s universe, even if I happened to have in my possession a note which some anonymous person had slid under my door. A note I thought he might be interested in, to say nothing of the information Brian had provided earlier.
If only he’d get back to me and say he was too busy to talk. That, I could understand.
Radio silence made me worry. What if he came storming into the hotel to arrest Georgia? What if that’s what he was in the middle of putting together? My stomach churned, and I had to stop for a second and rest against a wall.
“You okay?” a stranger asked with a sympathetic smile. “These conferences are exhausting, aren’t they?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m wiped out.”
“Pace yourself,” she advised before hurrying off someplace else. I wanted to call out to her, reminding her to follow her own advice, but it was too late and that would only sound petty.
The problem was, I had no idea how to pace myself. I’d never been good at it. Always the first one to work herself into nervous exhaustion. My soulless ex, Landon, used to complain to no end when I’d work on my food photography until all hours.
It wasn’t like I did it every night. I tried my best to balance my work with our time together. I couldn’t help being passionate, was all. Last time I checked, it wasn’t a crime.
Not like murder.
The very thought of the word got me moving again. I had to eat a little something, as half of my breakfast had gone to waste in favor of discussing the case with Joe. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to eat the buttery center of the pancakes. My absolute favorite part.
“Of all the people to run into,” I said as I approached Nell and Trixie from behind. They were in the middle of taking sandwiches and chips from the lunch spread that had been set out in the ballroom. I had to say, the event organizers did a good job of keeping us fed during the day.
“Where’ve you been all day, young lady?” Nell asked, looking me up and down.
“The same place you’ve been. Mingling with hundreds and hundreds of people. It’s amazing I’ve run into you at all.” I grabbed a turkey sandwich and a cookie and followed them to a table, reflecting on how it wasn’t all that difficult to spot Nell in a crowd. Today’s outfit was a pale yellow dress with a white belt, white sandals and a yellow headscarf.
“Hey, Aunt Nell.” I pulled Georgia’s book from my bag after sitting down. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor. If you have any free time today, that is.”
“I’m going to have to take a little time to rest in the room,” she sighed, eyes rolling. “I’m not as young as I used to be. Even being on my feet all day at the library is nothing compared to this.”
“Super. You should rest. And while you do, you can page through a wonderful new book.” I placed it on the table and tapped the cover. “Believe me. You wanna get in on the ground floor with this one. You’ll be hearing her name quite a bit in the future.”
“Why her, though? Why do I have to read her right at this very minute?” Nell opened the book and flipped to the first page.
“Because I think she might’ve been copying somebody’s work,” I whispered. “Shh. That’s a secret. And I don’t know if it’s true or what. I figured if anybody would be able to read a little bit and tell me if her work reminds them of somebody else, it would be you.”
“She has a point there,” Trixie pointed out with a mouthful of tuna. “You read more than anyone I know. Except maybe Darcy.” She was right. I used to wonder if Darcy’s love of books and subsequent bookstore had anything to do with her close relationship to Aunt Nell.
“I like to consider myself well-read, but I’m nowhere near as informed as you are. Please? Pleeeease?” I folded my hands. “I’ll get down on my knees if I have to. I’ll reshelf books for a week, no charge.”
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about how to do it properly,” she scoffed.
“I’ll wash your car. Sweep your sidewalk. Paint your house. Buy you a new house.”
She laughed. “All right, all right. Whatever you need. Have you read any of it?”
“I devoured it,” I assured her, taking a bite of my cookie.
“You haven’t eaten your sandwich yet,” she scolded with a wry smile.
“Yeah? And?” Now I wished I’d taken two or three cookies since the one I had was so good. “Anyway, I think she’ll be a big deal once her name gets out there a little more. She had a great signing today.”
“Oh, I noticed her table, now that you mention it,” Trixie nodded. “She had quite a few people standing in line, or else I would’ve hopped in to see what all the fuss was about.”
“That’s so good to know. She needs a little positivity after everything that’s happened.” We spent the next several minutes chatting about the conference, the hotel, how much Trixie had lost at the slot machines. At least she was cheerful about it.
“You absolutely have to give it a go,” she urged me. “The exhilaration is unlike anything you can imagine. Will you lose? Will you win? It’s all wrapped up in that breathless moment between pulling down on the lever and those three symbols sliding into place.”
“You lost three hundred dollars,” I deadpanned.
“Yeah? And?” She batted her eyelashes, then looked to Nell for approval. “Did I sound like her?” She jerked a thumb in my direction.
“Pretty close,” Nell chuckled.
I would’ve come up with a crushing retort, only my pocket started buzzing. Joe? My heart skipped a beat, which I wished it wouldn’t do. “Excuse me,” I murmured, reaching for the phone.
“Cell phones,” Nell sighed. “They’re the bane of humanity, I’m telling you. Nobody today has an attention span better than that of a goldfish, and all because of those silly things.”
I chose to ignore this in favor of reading Joe’s message.
And when I did, I gasped.
“What is it?” Trixie asked, touching my shoulder and leaning over to see.
“It’s Joe. He’s sick. I have to go to him.” I got up before either of them had the chance to tease me about calling him by his first name.
In light of the fact that he was in the ER with chest pains, it didn’t matter too much what I called him at that moment.
Chapter Twenty
There was something about seeing a man who normally looked and acted like he was in control of the entire world left weak and alone on a gurney.
I only had a split second to think about this as I hurried into the curtained-off area the nurse led me to when I practically shouted Joe’s name at her. He was resting, a pillow behind his head, a bunch of sensors attached to his bare chest. There was an IV in one arm and a blood pressure cuff around the other, while a monitor on his forefinger measured something or other.
His eyes opened when he heard the curtain being pulled back. “You came,” he murmured with a faint smile.
“What did you expect?” I closed the curtain behind me after thanking the nurse. “Of course, I’d come.”
“I didn’t expect you to. You’re busy with other things. Your conference.”
“What conference? Who cares about the conference? You’re in the hospital, for heaven’s sake. Have they
said anything?”
He shook his head. “But it can’t be too serious, or else they’d be working on me. Right? I mean, after they did an EKG they didn’t seem too worried.”
“That’s good. How do you feel now?” I stood at his side, noting his grey pallor. “You look like crap.”
“There’s that sweet talk I’ve come to expect.” He sighed, wincing like he was uncomfortable. “I feel better than I did before.”
“You drove yourself here?” He nodded. I slapped a palm to my forehead. “What were you thinking? You could’ve killed yourself, or somebody else!”
“No kidding,” he grunted. “I wasn’t thinking straight. Not at all. It’s a miracle I made it here at all. I guess my reflexes took over.”
“Oh, Joe.” I sank into a chair by the bed. “You’re burning the candle at both ends, and it’s no good. Look what you’re doing to yourself. You’re, what?” I looked down at his bracelet and the birthdate printed on it. “Thirty-three. That’s way too young to be in this position.”
“Any further advice, doctor?” He managed half a smirk.
“Yeah. You can’t save the world. You’re not a superhero.”
“Watch it,” he warned. “Just because there’s a tube in my arm and sensors on my chest doesn’t mean I’m okay with having my words thrown back in my face.”
“I don’t remember asking whether or not you were okay with it. And I don’t care very much, either way. If you were some bully cop, some meathead—I’ve met my share, as I’m sure you can imagine—I wouldn’t care half as much. But you’re a good man. You care. Too much, in fact. And it’s hurting you.”
His eyes slid away from mine, fixing on the ceiling.
“You took a little time off last month. It didn’t do you much good, did it? You jumped right back into it and worked harder than ever, because you have no idea how to delegate or ask for help. And here you are.”
“Is there a point to this? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you being here and caring, but…”
“My point: you can’t save everybody. You can’t undo the world’s wrongs. You can’t do your best for people if you’re coming apart at the seams. Thirty-three is way too young to fall apart. You’ve got lots of time left before that sort of thing happens.”
“So you’re assuming I’ll fall apart at some point?”
“Sure.” I grinned. “We all do. You know what I’m saying.”
He nodded, still staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know how to slow down.”
“I think your body’s telling you to figure it out. Soon. Or else. This is a warning. This is a demand. You need to figure it out.”
Instead of offering argument, which I fully expected—I hadn’t ever taken this serious a tone with him before, but then we’d only been this personal once before—he chuckled. A real, genuine, warm chuckle without a bit of sarcasm or anything.
“What am I missing?” I asked when he did it again.
“She used to say the same thing. She’d get on my back for working too hard. Never a complaint for herself, that I was working too much and she missed me. None of that. Always concern for me and how hard I worked.”
I didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. Jeez, she was such a big part of his life. I had no idea how long it had been since she died or any of that. It could’ve been last year for all I knew.
Though something told me it was longer than that. There was no tan line on his ring finger, for one thing.
“She was right, then,” I whispered as gently as I could. “She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
“What else am I supposed to do? I have nothing else to do. I need something.”
“So find something else. I know it’s not as easy as that,” I was quick to add. “But you have to. You owe it to yourself. You can’t keep doing this.”
“What do you suggest?” He managed a little grin, tilting his head slightly so he could look at me.
“Knitting? Crochet? Gardening?”
“Cute. There I was, thinking you might have an idea.”
“How do I know?” I laughed. “Do you have friends? Or did you? Can you reach back out to them? What about family? Sports? You’re pretty fit.”
More than pretty. It was a supreme test of my self-control to keep from staring in open-mouthed awe at his chest. It was like something carved out of marble, only tanned and very much alive.
“I’d need to find the time for any of those things.”
“Find it. It’s there. But nobody’s going to invite you to take time for yourself. You know? You have to carve it out and stick to it. I know.” I laughed at the look on his face. “It sounds silly.”
“Not the word I was thinking of, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” Even so, a look of peace came over his face. “I appreciate it. You’re completely right. I know it. I don’t have to like hearing it.”
“I don’t have to like seeing my friend here, hooked up to machines when he thought he might be having a heart attack earlier.”
He smirked, but it was a gentle smirk. “Is that what we are? Would you consider us friends?”
“I wouldn’t consider us enemies. And you texted me about this.”
“Because you texted me first, and I thought you should know there were other things fighting for my attention. Like somebody trying to stick me for an IV.”
“You didn’t want me to come?”
“I wasn’t fishing for company… but I’m glad you came. There wasn’t anybody else I could imagine having here with me right now. Isn’t that terrible?”
“Not so terrible,” I muttered. “I consider myself decent company.”
“What I mean is, I hardly know you. You hardly know me. We keep ending up in each other’s orbit, but you’re not one of my go-to people. I wouldn’t call you up out of the blue to hang out like I would with one of my old buddies. They drifted out of my life, or maybe it was me drifting out of theirs. I don’t remember now. You’re someone I know because of work, and you’re probably the only person who would bother to come. There’s something wrong with that.”
“Depends on how you look at it. I think you’re lucky to have anybody who’d want to come at all. Lots of people don’t. Look at Lawrence Miller. I know, I know,” I added when he rolled his eyes. “But he’s a prime example, even if we’re not talking about the case right now. I’d bet there wouldn’t be anybody running to help him or sit with him, nobody worrying about him.”
“You may be right,” he admitted. “That’s a sad sort of life.”
“And you’re not that far gone. Not yet. You can turn things around. You’d better, or else what’s gonna happen to Paradise City? It’ll be overrun by crime. Women and children won’t see fit to walk the streets at night. It would be chaos.”
“You have way too high an opinion of my abilities.”
“I don’t think I do. You’re a dedicated cop who genuinely wants what’s best for people. But you’ve gotta start with yourself. And that’s the last of my nagging for today, I swear.” I held up my right hand to prove my sincerity.
“Thanks for that.” He managed a smile. “So. What were you trying to tell me when you texted earlier?”
“Nope. We’re not talking about that right now.”
His mouth fell open. “You. You’re telling me we’re not talking about something? You, Emma Harmon, who normally steamrolls her way over me—”
“I do not, either,” I mumbled.
“You do, and you know it. I must be hallucinating. What’s in this thing, anyway?” He tapped the tube running into his arm.
“Saline, and you know it.”
“Then I really did die. This can’t be reality.”
“I know you’re only saying this because you’re in the emergency room and you think I won’t smack you, but you might be wrong about that. I have my limits.”
“Okay. But seriously. What did you find out?”
I knew I should’ve argued with him. For his own good and all tha
t. But darn it, I was only so strong. “Georgia and Deidre have the same agent, for one thing, and I’d already met him. His name is Brian Murphy. And guess what?”
“I’m all ears.”
“Lawrence accused Georgia of plagiarism. That’s what he was harassing her about. At least, part of it. Maybe there was more. Brian didn’t go any further into it. When I asked what sort of problem Lawrence might’ve had with Deidre Price, he acted like I spoke blasphemy. Who would ever have a problem with Saint Deidre?” I rolled my eyes.
“You’re not too impressed with her.”
“I still can’t get over the way she acted when I met her.”
He frowned. “You never told me about that.”
“I didn’t? I thought for sure that I had. Well, long story short, she freaked out when I mentioned the gossip about the death. I didn’t know what to call it at that time, you know. We didn’t know his name. She shut down, or just about, and she accused me of being with him. Or working with him. Something like that—I was shocked. I couldn’t pay the sort of attention I should’ve.”
He bent his good arm, the one without the IV, and wedged his hand behind his head. I wished he wouldn’t. His bicep flexed, his chest tightened.
My mouth went dry. I had to look at the floor.
He didn’t notice, thank goodness, still deep in thought. “She freaked on you when you mentioned the dead man. She said something about being in league with him. Him, specifically?”
“She only said him. No name.”
“I think we can assume she was talking about Lawrence, since you brought him up. It only makes sense. Once I’m out of here, I’ll have a chat with Saint Deidre.” He scowled. “If she knew him and didn’t say anything when we talked to her—”
“You talked to her?” I gasped.
“Don’t hit me,” he warned, smiling. “I didn’t speak with her personally, but one of my team members did. They asked if she noticed him hovering around her signing, but she pled ignorance. She was too busy with her fans.”
“I mean, sure. The room was chock full of people. She never saw him again, I guess.”
