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“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she assured him. “The man is truly a monster, but in this case—trust me, please—his words mean nothing. I really do know how to manage against an ass. I can take it. Especially if we got what we needed.”
He nodded, eyes closed for a second, a long breath escaping him.
“Monster. To call him a pig would be an insult to swine.”
She smiled. “I agree. Mark, he was The Embracer. This time around with Dierdre, there was no letter to the press. And I do believe that’s because his accomplice—or copycat—had maybe expected Carver to be proud of him and write the letter. But you, Ragnar, and Red had taken Carver and rescued Sally, so this new would-be killer couldn’t go to Carver and tell him what he had done to get his approval. So, maybe that’s the reason there was no letter? The copycat-slash-accomplice meant to go to Carver but couldn’t. And worse for whomever it is—we discovered Dierdre in time to save her life.”
He nodded.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
They retrieved their weapons and thanked the guards and staff. When they reached the car, Red obediently hopped into the back seat.
“Where are we heading?” Colleen asked as she buckled in.
He glanced at her. “First, I’m going to give Ragnar a call.”
“Do you think either of the men have left the hospital?”
“If they leave, they’ll be followed,” Mark said. He was quiet a minute. “As for a way to follow up, well, there’s a ton of paperwork to go through again. And while I don’t believe we need to follow up on family members or disgruntled lovers of Emily and Lainie, it would be interesting to find out if anyone in the families had a connection to Carver—or to Gary Boynton or Brant Pickering.”
“Right,” Colleen murmured.
“We can relieve Ragnar at the hospital, let him get some dinner. We can get dinner, or better yet, I can get you home and you can spend time with Megan.”
“I don’t need to worry about Megan tonight. She’s meeting with one of her authors.”
“Nice. I never knew editors came to their clients.”
“From what I understand, they do for a few reasons. Sometimes, to wine and dine an author to lure them to the house, but that’s rare. Or it could be because the author is a special case. She came down to see Justin Millhouse—an author she works with and loves—because he uses a wheelchair and getting out is difficult for him. She’s going to work with him on a few videos for special venue bookstores and his web page.”
“That’s great. So, fish and chips?”
“No! I mean, they were fine, but...not again. The hospital cafeteria is okay, but—”
“Ragnar is probably being spelled by other agents. But he’s determined to watch this pair as long as he can handle it. And at this time...”
He shrugged and said no more.
“At this time? What?”
He hesitated, and then went on, “It’s been a while now. Maybe two—no, almost four years ago. It happened before we were partners. Ragnar was engaged. His fiancée was a Maryland cop who had just been accepted into the academy. She had to have been an amazing woman. I never met her, but she died jumping in front of an out-of-control car while saving a toddler in a stroller. She got there just in time to shove the stunned mother aside and thrust the stroller off the road. She had to have known there would have been no time to save herself.”
“How tragic. And what a person she must have been.”
“Yes. Ragnar throws himself into work. He would anyway—the Krewe is filled with agents who don’t believe in hours. They manage outside lives, but being with the Krewe isn’t just a job...”
“It’s a vocation. But I see it as more. It was strange, learning how to pretend I didn’t see or hear things. And with the Krewe—”
“We all get to feel normal. And useful.”
“Yeah, exactly,” she said softly.
She turned to watch him as he drove. And she winced inwardly. Well, he’d been a jerk—an attractive jerk—but his evident distaste for adding her to his team at first had been truly irritating!
But now...
She looked back at the road. It would definitely be a mistake to find her partner not just an imposing and attractive man, but...a man who attracted her.
“Any cravings?” he asked her.
Cravings?
Oh, Lord, she had to stop the way her mind was twisting!
Right. Cravings. Food.
“Um, no, anything is fine. Except anything too spicy. Sad palate—no jalapeños for me. I like Mexican just fine. Especially in Mexico. I just watch out for the jalapeños.”
She was babbling a little ridiculously. She didn’t babble.
“No jalapeños. That’s easy enough. There’s an Asian restaurant on our way to your place—cooked entrées and sushi. And it’s all good. We’ll just check in with Ragnar.”
“Works for me,” she told him.
They reached the hospital. Red jumped out.
And even at this hour, the dog seemed to know everyone at the hospital.
Ragnar was where they had left him, staring at the screens.
