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Both Sabrina and Dylan turned to gaze anxiously at him.
"Carson, it's a bad idea," Dylan said flatly. "Let it go. There's no closure to be had. Not in a situation like this. There's only an opportunity to send your blood pressure soaring, and screw up your recovery."
"I don't want closure." Carson stared Dylan down. "I want confirmation. As for my recovery, it's a nonissue. She couldn't kill me when I was vulnerable, with my back to her. She's sure as hell not going to hurt me now, when I'm the one in control, loo
king her straight in the eye."
"You're sure this is what you want?" Sabrina asked.
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"Okay, but Dylan and I are staying."
Her bullying tone actually caused a wry grin to twist his lips. "No need to sound so menacing. By all means, stay. There's nothing intimate about what I have in mind." Carson nodded at Jeannie. "Tell your partner to bring her up."
Ten minutes later, Frank shoved open the door and led Susan in. She looked worse than she had when Carson was first shot—her makeup blotchy, her hair mussed, and her eyes filled with haunted realization. Then again, this time it was her life, her future that was on the line, not someone else's.
Officer Garner continued to stand guard outside the door, along with Bernard, although no one really perceived Susan as a threat. Not now. Standing there, her hands cuffed behind her and her head bowed, she looked more like a broken bird than a criminal.
Her gaze flickered over Sabrina and Dylan, and she winced, averting her head—whether because she couldn't bear the sight of them or because she couldn't deal with the reminders they represented, it wasn't clear. Either way, she didn't speak to them, but looked straight at Carson.
"Carson..." She wet her lips, searching his face for some sign of compassion, and finding none. "Can I come closer? I don't want to talk to you from across the room."
"Good idea." Carson stunned everyone by waving away Detective Barton's oncoming refusal, and beckoning her forward. "Don't worry, Detective. I doubt she's packing heat with her hands in cuffs. Let her come over to the bed."
Relief flooded Susan's face, and a flicker of hope lit her eyes as she approached his bedside—Barton close behind.
"I..." She struggled for the right words. "You don't know what I went through when I realized it was you. I thought you'd left the building. You said you'd be gone by five. The person in your office was alone. Of course I assumed it was Dylan. He was the only other person at Ruisseau that day, and he spends more time in your office than he does in his own. It never dawned on me..." A sob shuddered through her, and she bent over, laying her head on the bed near Carson's pillow. "I'd never hurt you. You have to believe that. I love you. I was just so afraid that Dylan would get to you, tell you things that would turn you against me."
"You mean, like the truth?"
"No... yes... Carson, please let me explain." She pressed her face against his shoulder, her tears drenching his hospital gown. "I fought my way out of that damned hick town I grew up in. I've been fighting my way up ever since. And I've been fighting alone. I don't have your inner strength. I can't make it by myself. I need security, someone by my side. I need you—your love, your name."
"My money," Carson added.
She blew out a shaky breath. "Fine. Yes, that, too. I need financial security, for me and for YouthOp. I do care about those kids, no matter what Dylan told you. Everything could have been so perfect. But he wouldn't stop poking around. Neither would Russ. And then Sabrina showed up, a daughter you'd never met, but felt obligated to take care of. As if that weren't bad enough, she got involved with Dylan. It was only a matter of time before he shared his suspicions with her. Then, she'd be in my face, too. I couldn't take that. You and I had built a future together. I couldn't let some unknown sperm donation come between us. She'd ruin everything. I couldn't survive that. I love you too much."
Carson hadn't so much as blinked through her long burst of hysteria. But there was a harsh glitter in his eyes, and a hard set to his jaw, both of which said he wasn't even a tad bit moved. Still, he turned his head slightly toward her, drawing a sharp breath as he did.
An odd expression flickered across his face, a sort of self-censuring awareness, as if he'd found whatever confirmation he'd been seeking.
"Get up," he commanded, in a tone so scathing it made even Sabrina cringe.
Susan's head snapped up and, when she saw the icy condemnation in Carson's eyes, she complied instantly, stumbling to her feet. "Carson, please..."
"Shut up. If you think I agreed to see you so you could profess your undying love and I'd forgive you, forget it. You'll rot in prison, if I have anything to say about it. Okay, Detective Barton, you can get her out of here."
Stark disbelief flashed across Susan's face. "I don't understand… I thought..."
"That I was an asshole?" Carson supplied helpfully. "That I'd melt the minute you told me how much you love me, and forget that you're a murderer? Honey, if that's what you thought, then you're the asshole." He settled himself back on his pillows. "So long. See you on the six o'clock news."
Barton took Susan's arm and urged her toward the door. He paused to exchange glances with his partner and shrug, before leading Susan off.
The door slid shut behind them.
Detective Whitman folded her arms across her breasts. "Okay, Mr. Brooks. What was that all about? And don't tell me you wanted to hear her beg. That's not your style. You had an agenda. That agenda involved getting her over to your bed. So what's the scoop?"
A corner of his mouth lifted. "You're good, Stick. Have I mentioned that? Damned good. Remind me to call the police chief and tell him what an asset you and your partner Stone are."
