How was Sophie going to feel when they ended things?
Mark cursed silently. That was what she’d been trying to tell him that morning. That was why she was so mad when she realized they were sleeping together. Sophie and JoJo had connected in a sincere way and now he’d started them on an inevitable path toward separation.
Because eventually, they would break up. Like he’d broken up with Helen. Like he’d ended any sexual fling he’d started. Eventually people just got tired of one another.
A rush of heat flooded him as he remembered what it felt like to be inside JoJo, to be on top of her, to have her on top of him. Tired of that? He couldn’t fathom it. At least not now. But wasn’t that how it always went? The chase, the game, the excitement leading up to the big moment, then the sex. Hot sex. Passionate sex.
Then okay sex. Then boring sex.
Then he was gone. Or she was.
Inevitable.
The thought irritated him. He didn’t want to be so damn predictable. He didn’t want to look at JoJo and see a time when she wasn’t going to be there. At least that was different. When he compared JoJo with the other women in his life, there was more than just sex with her. More than the chase and surrender.
They worked together. They protected Sophie together.
He trusted her.
The truth of that was like a knife to the gut. He didn’t trust. Period. Not people in general because most of them lied. Not women specifically because he’d trusted Helen once and she’d done more than lie. She made him into a bad father by making him choose.
But with JoJo trust just happened. Like he’d never had a choice.
So what the hell did that mean?
The sound of a discordant note echoed in the theater. He heard the reaction of the crowd, gasping, muttering. He focused his attention on the stage and watched as Sophie tried to lift herself off the piano bench.
Her hand crashed down on the white and black keys. The notes clanked and the surprise of it froze Mark for a second. He’d never known his daughter to make a sound with that instrument that wasn’t absolutely lovely.
“Mark, something is really wrong.”
JoJo’s words didn’t register. He was already jogging down the center aisle, and some people started to stand. Doctors maybe, getting ready to help. He pushed his legs to go faster. No one was going to beat him to his daughter. She was his to take care of. His to protect.
He leaped onto the stage and heard more gasps from the audience. Sophie was bent over, legs buckling, her hand on the piano the only thing holding her up. When he reached her, he saw the sweat pouring down her face, dripping off her nose.
“Dad…I’m gonna be sick….”
“I got you, baby.”
Then she fainted into his arms.
*
THE NEXT FEW hours were a blur to Mark. He hadn’t been able to form any coherent thought other than his daughter was sick, his daughter was sick. Fortunately, he hadn’t needed to. JoJo had called 911 as soon as he’d run for the stage. Together they rode in the ambulance with Sophie, who was groggy but awake as they hooked her up to an IV.
She cried when she realized she had ruined the performance by cutting it short with her dramatic exit. But Mark didn’t give a shit about a crappy performance. They reached the hospital and Sophie was assigned a bed in the emergency room, with nothing more than a curtain on either side separating her from a knife wound and a heart attack.
Her feistiness was intact, though.
“If I don’t see a damn doctor in the next five minutes…”
“Relax. Your impatience isn’t going to help, Sophie.”
“I don’t need a doctor. I have the flu. I can’t believe you took me to the hospital,” Sophie huffed.
Mark looked at his daughter, her cheeks so pink she must be filled with fever. Her formal green dress such a stark contrast to the thin white hospital sheet that only half covered her.
The flu. A bad cold. Certainly the lights onstage wouldn’t have helped. A plausible explanation. He might have even been convinced if he hadn’t received notes that threatened her life.
“Five minutes,” Mark growled. “Then I’m going hunting.”
“Ooh, Sophie. Did you hear that? Your dad is going to hog-tie a doctor for you. You should be flattered.”
“This isn’t funny,” Mark snapped. “She’s sick.”
“She is and she’s in the hospital. A doctor will be by shortly. Going rogue commando on us isn’t going to help. It’s only going to piss off the staff.”
Mark wanted to throttle JoJo, who looked completely calm sitting in the chair beside Sophie’s bed. He wanted to rail at her. She wasn’t a parent, she didn’t understand this gut-wrenching awful feeling that his child was in danger and he was without the power to help her.
If only she wasn’t so damn right. Going crazy wasn’t what Sophie needed right now. Sophie thought they were overreacting to a normal condition. Sophie didn’t understand that Mark suspected something else.
Finally the curtain was pulled back and a short and harried-looking man stepped into the crowded space. He had short curly dark hair and massive circles under his eyes. His appearance screamed resident and Mark wasn’t having anything of it.
“No, not you,” Mark protested. “I want your boss or your chief or whatever you call the real doctor on call.”
The man sighed. “I’m Dr. Fishman and I assure you I am a real doctor. Now can I please look at the patient?”
“Mark, don’t be a jerk,” Sophie commanded.
He looked to his daughter and nodded tightly. He would hold his tongue until the doctor was finished and then he would find the man’s boss.
Fishman leaned over Sophie and smiled. “I saw you once. In New York. You broke my heart with your playing.”
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly.
“Forgiven. These your folks?”
“He is. Sort of. She’s my friend but she also works for him. They are sleeping together.”
JoJo gasped and Mark swallowed. “She’s a little out of it, Doc.”
“I am,” Sophie said. “Like I can’t focus.”
“It’s probably the fever,” Mark suggested. “Isn’t that what happens if it gets really high? She might be delirious.”
“Yeah, that might explain it if it wasn’t for one pesky little thing,” Fishman said as he read her chart. “She doesn’t have a fever.”
“She doesn’t?” JoJo popped out of her seat. “But she’s completely flushed. She’s been like this all day. Mark, go find someone else.”
Fishman held up his hand. “Look, I could put a thermometer in her mouth and prove it to both of you, but—oh, that’s right—I’m a doctor not a lawyer and all I care about is finding out what’s wrong. Not proving the facts. Now both of you back off and let me do my job.”
Mark crossed his arms over his chest and JoJo sat down with a hard thump.
“Talk to me, Sophie. How do you feel?”
“Dizzy. Fuzzy, I guess. Totally nauseous. I got sick on Bay. Onstage I felt like I couldn’t breathe right.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose when she mentioned what happened in that hotel room, but he put it away and said nothing. Even he understood that now wasn’t the time. Fishman continued to study her. He checked her eyes and ears, used his stethoscope on her chest and lungs, asked a few more questions, then wrapped the stethoscope around his neck and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’m going to admit her overnight.”
“No…” Sophie wailed. “I have to perform tomorrow.”
“Not going to happen,” Mark interjected. “You’re sick. Deal with it. They will reschedule the shows. This shit has to happen to other performers, doesn’t it?”
“Not to me.”
“Yeah, well, tough. He says you’re staying, you’re staying. Now it’s my turn to tell you. Don’t be a jerk.”
“Whatever.”
Fishman nodded. “We’ll find her a room. I want to run
some more tests.”
Again JoJo popped out of her seat.
“What kind of tests?” she and Mark asked in unison.
Fishman shook his head. “Sophie, are you sure they’re not your parents?”
She smiled but didn’t seem to have the energy to fire back. Fishman took a few steps away from her bed and Mark followed him like he was on the trail of a terrorist leader. JoJo was immediately behind him.
“What tests?”
“Look, it’s not the flu. Or a cold. She has no fever, no congestion. I would say maybe dehydration, exhaustion is a possibility….”
“That’s possible.” Mark jumped on the idea that all she needed was rest and some water. “She’s been… This whole year, she’s been through a lot. And she doesn’t let up. It’s practice, then rehearsal, then performance. In between all that she gets A’s on all her schoolwork. She’s…she’s amazing.”
Fishman nodded. “I get it. Look, we’ll find out what’s going on. But she’s been on the IV for a while and she’s still a little confused. It’s why I want to watch her. At least for a night. I’m going to take some blood samples to see if it’s something chemical.”
Mark froze. Blood samples. He felt JoJo grip his arm, her fingers tight around his wrist.
“Oh, God, Mark. Anderson’s daughter…”
Mark didn’t need for her to finish. They both understood what might be happening.
“You need to listen to me. I’m a private detective. In Philadelphia. Lately I’ve been receiving notes of a threatening nature. Nothing overt, but notes that I might interpret as being from someone who wants to harm Sophie. Either myself or JoJo has been with her around the clock, but if these notes are saying what we think they might…” Mark gulped. He couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t imagine that his fears could be true.
“Doctor, we want you to check for poison,” JoJo said. “Any type of toxin, anything that might be out of the ordinary.”
The man’s eyes widened. “You think someone poisoned that girl? Why?”
“Me,” Mark said, closing his eyes. “They want to hurt me.”
“Please just check.”
“Yeah, okay. If we do find anything I’ll need to let the police know.”
“Yeah, that’s good. We’ll need their help once I find out who did this.”
The doctor nodded and left them. Mark clutched his head with his hands. “Jesus, JoJo. If we’re right…”
“We can’t speculate. Not until we know. Don’t let your emotion cloud the facts.”
“The facts are,” he said in a harsh whisper, “my daughter is in a hospital bed with an unidentifiable condition. We know Anderson poisoned his daughter. We know someone broke into their house, stole a car off the same street and came after her. We know someone wants to take Sophie from me. What other facts do I need to know?”
“We’ve been with her around the clock. If it is poison, then how did they do it?”
“Not around the clock. Not when she was in that damn hotel room. I’m going find that kid. I want to know if he gave her anything.”
“She was already sick by then….”
“Mark, JoJo!”
Mark turned at the sound of his name. Nancy was rushing down the corridor, bundled in a scarf and winter coat. “How is she? Is she all right? I got here as soon as I could.”
“She’s resting,” Mark said carefully. Instinctively he reached to check the phone in his pocket. No missed call. No message from Ben.
“It was so awful. I felt so helpless just sitting there watching her. What did the doctors say? Is she going to be okay?”
Mark felt every muscle in his body clench. Was it her? Had she sent the notes? She’d had the opportunity. She ate with Sophie on a regular basis. How hard would it have been to put something in her food?
The silence must have gone on too long, or maybe it was his expression, because he could see Nancy’s face change. She actually took a step back.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I just…when I saw her faint I got so worried.”
JoJo stepped in front Mark. “The doctor is going to admit her. He thinks it might be dehydration mixed with exhaustion.”
“Oh, well that doesn’t sound too bad. I can certainly scale down her tutoring sessions. She probably doesn’t need a full three hours. Especially with her grades…”
“Did you do it?” Mark asked. He was done waiting. Done searching. Done investigating. He wanted to know who wanted to hurt his daughter and he wanted to know that answer now.
“I don’t know what you mean. I thought we agreed on the time….”
“The notes. Did you send the notes?”
Nancy’s face scrunched up in a picture of confusion. “Notes? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mark pushed JoJo aside and stood over Nancy, using every inch of his height advantage over her. He could see her cower, could practically feel her shrinking in on herself. This was what he’d wanted in a girlfriend? Someone nice? Someone respectable? Someone safe?
JoJo would never have let him do this. JoJo would have kneed him in the balls by now. But Nancy wrapped her arms around her waist and pushed her shoulders together.
“Mark, if you think I’m somehow responsible for her exhaustion, that’s a little unfair.”
“I want to know about the notes, Nancy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What about Jack Anderson? Do you know what I’m talking about now?”
“No. Who? Mark, I understand you’re upset about Sophie.”
“Yeah, I’m upset. And when I find the person responsible for this I’m going to show that person how upset I am.”
“Okay, back off, Mark.” JoJo pushed her way between him and Nancy.
“What is he talking about? I don’t understand any of this. I just wanted to come and see how Sophie was doing.”
Tears were dripping down Nancy’s face.
Mark wanted to tell her that he’d seen coldhearted terrorists cry, just like that. Pretend they were innocent, pretend they were simply part of the village. Cry and protest, all while plotting to kill him.
Tears didn’t move him.
“Nancy, maybe you should go,” JoJo offered. “It’s been a rough night. Obviously, he’s upset.”
She nodded, shifting her purse up over her shoulder. Wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her heavy coat. “If you want me to leave Chicago…quit…I’ll do it. I don’t know what I did, but I don’t think I want to work for you anymore.”
JoJo put her arm around the woman and squeezed her. Mark wanted to squeeze her, too, squeeze her until the answers he wanted to hear came out of her mouth.
“Look, Nancy, just give us time to cool off. Okay? I’ll come find you tomorrow. Explain everything.”
Nancy kept her eyes focused on JoJo. “Okay.”
“Sophie’s going to be fine. We all need some rest.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Nancy turned to Mark, who didn’t have it in him to respond. He simply stared at her, trying to see if her pupils were dilated, if she was sweating or showing any of the telltale signs Greg might have used to determine whether she was lying.
Finally she turned and walked back down the hospital corridor. It took everything he had not to follow her.
“You shouldn’t have let her go. If it is her, she’ll be on a plane tonight.”
“Uh, yeah. If it is her, she now knows we suspect her. Way to go, spy man.”
“Don’t.”
JoJo shoved him, hard enough to force him back a step. “No, you don’t. You need to get your head out of your ass now. If Nancy is responsible you’ve just tipped our hand and yes, she could be headed to the airport right now.”
“You let her go,” Mark snarled back.
“With my phone in her purse, you jackass. I have a tracking app. If I get to a computer I’ll be able to see where the phone is located. You stay wi
th Sophie and call me when you know something.”
“How? You gave your phone away, remember.”
“I’ll pick up a go phone. Let me see your number.” She took his phone and memorized his number. “As soon as I have the phone I’ll call you. Tell Sophie I’ll be back.”
“Don’t lose Nancy. Not until we know for sure.”
“Trust me.”
Mark grabbed her arm. “I do. I trust you with everything.”
JoJo nodded.
“Then I guess I better not let you down.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JOJO WALKED INTO the Chicago hotel with a sense of urgency. She’d been able to pick up a GoPhone at a pharmacy not far from the hotel and had called Mark to give him her number. Then she stopped at their hotel room for the extra security measure Mark had brought, just in case. Assuming Nancy hadn’t bolted directly for the airport, but had taken time to pack, JoJo should catch up with her. Assuming the woman had reason to run.
Heading for the computer room, JoJo brought up a Google page and activated her find-a-phone app. As she waited for the signal to hit on a map, she considered calling Mark again. But she doubted he would have an update after only five minutes had passed since she’d last talked to him. Now it was all about waiting.
Waiting on Sophie’s doctor to find something conclusive.
Waiting on Ben to see if he could learn more about Nancy’s adoption.
A map with a green dot appeared on the screen and JoJo zoomed in. The phone was in the hotel. Nancy had come back. Which meant she was either not panicked by Mark’s questions or she was completely innocent.
Or she’d found the phone in her purse and ditched it.
Leaving the room, JoJo headed over to the concierge desk. A dapper man in a gold vest smiled as she approached. She smiled back and watched his smile dim a bit as he took in her appearance.
She was wearing a black cocktail dress and low-heeled pumps with a black wool overcoat that was open down the front. Mark had said she looked pretty in her dress, a word she wasn’t used to hearing describe herself. It pleased her and made her feel like a girl. Which, she admitted, was the point.
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