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“How is she?” he asked.
“She’s going home tomorrow,” I said. “Have a car sent.”
He nodded and then asked, “The baby?” Sorin’s voice hitched around the word.
“Fighting, but they don’t know if she’ll make it.”
“She will,” Sorin said with certainty, something I wished I shared.
“Natasha,” I said and she stood.
“Go to the house, have the blood cleaned and have all of the…” I trailed off and then took a deep breath and continued. “Have the nursery emptied.”
“Why?” she asked.
“If…” I trailed off, not able to continue.
“But shouldn’t Fawn?—”
“Go,” I said.
Natasha’s mouth dropped open at the harshness in my tone, but she nodded and then headed down the long, overly bright hallway.
I stood with Sorin, listening to the others in the hall, the sound of joyous laughter, the cry of babies.
But there was no laughter for us, only worry about whether she would live.
I looked at Sorin, whose eyes glittered hard and certain.
No, Fawn and I didn’t have laughter.
But there would be vengeance.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Fawn
“Miss Michelle?”
I looked up at the sound of my name and the light knock, as did Vasile, who stood when he saw a man I didn’t recognize come in. He flashed a badge.
“Detective Murphy, metro homicide. Is now a good time to talk?”
“Homicide?” Vasile said.
The detective glanced at Maria, and almost involuntarily, I pulled her closer. “As we understand it, Miss Michelle’s baby is not out of the woods yet,” he said.
His words were almost matter-of-fact, but I saw through them, saw he was attempting to get to Vasile, who mostly managed to avoid the bait. “Maria Petran is doing fine. Is there something we can help you with?”
As Vasile spoke, he’d moved to stand between me and Detective Murphy and now, both men eyed each other, seemingly uncaring I was there.
“I’d like to speak to Miss Michelle. Alone.”
“That’s not necessary,” I said. “I can speak in front of him.”
“For purposes of this investigation, it’s best you don’t, ma’am.”
I looked at Vasile, who looked at Murphy.
