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She shifted on the bed and felt her shoulder twinge again just as Reed reappeared. His anger had ebbed a bit, though he still wasn’t smiling. “The doctor is supposed to be signing you out soon,” he reported. “So, I’m going to check on Morrisette, then I’ll swing over to the house and grab you a change of clothes.”
“Wait,” she said. “Have you heard anything about Sylvie?”
“Not yet.”
“Still in surgery?”
“As far as I know.”
“I need my phone.”
That brought a wry smile. “It’s dead.”
“Wha—oh.” She remembered sliding it into her back pocket before she’d fallen into the river. “I need one.”
“Not tonight.”
That thought made her heart sink. Yeah, there was a hospital phone on the nearby table, but it wasn’t preprogrammed with the numbers in her contact list and every call would have to go through the hospital’s switchboard.
He checked his watch and frowned. “Look, I’ll be back in half an hour or so. Just sit tight.”
“As if I could do anything else.”
He actually barked out a short laugh.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. To let the dog out. And to change, maybe grab a shower. I’ll bring you clean clothes.”
“And a new phone.”
“Dream on.” He gave her a wink. “Hang in,” and then he left.
And he was gone. As the door closed she caught a glimpse of a gurney being wheeled in the curtained hallway beyond, an orderly in scrubs pushing an elderly woman with pale skin and a bony hand clutching the rail, an IV pole attached.
Impatiently Nikki adjusted the ice pack on her shoulder, leaned back on her pillow and closed her eyes as she waited. She needed to get home, to check on Bronco Cravens, maybe schedule an interview with him. That would be a start. And then there was research on the old Beaumont estate. What had happened to it in recent years? Yeah, it had fallen into horrible disrepair, but there had been a time when it had been rented, right? After Beulah had moved into a retirement community? Or had it been after her death? She tried to think. Beulah and her husband had one son, Baxter . . . or had there been a girl as well? Maybe one who had drowned in the river.
She shuddered, knowing how cold that water could feel and now Morrisette . . . no, she wouldn’t think about that now and pushed any worrisome thoughts aside. She wished she had her damned cell phone. She was clearheaded enough that she could connect to the Internet and do a little search on the Beaumont estate.
The phone on the bedside table rang sharply.
Thinking the caller had to be Reed, she stretched, winced and managed to get the awkward receiver to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Nikki? Oh my God, I just heard!” Charlene sounded breathless.
Of course.
Didn’t she always?
“I saw it on the news and I tried to call you, but I couldn’t get through, so I got hold of Reed and he filled me in . . . well, a bit. What happened?”
“It’s a long story, Mom.” Nikki’s relationship with the woman who had borne her had always been complicated, never easy. An impossibly thin woman with fine graying hair, sharp features and eyes that missed very little, Charlene prided herself on being the boss while playing the victim. Forever trying to manipulate those around her while pretending to “go with the flow.” That hadn’t worked with her headstrong daughter and so they’d never gotten along all that well, and then there had been the big wedding that hadn’t come off. Charlene had yet to forgive Nikki for eloping with Reed rather than go through with the over-the-top nuptials her mother had planned. Though Charlene always appeared on the edge of frail, Charlene Gillette had true inner grit and had survived a loveless marriage, as well as the death of her oldest son. A born survivor. And Charlene Gillette wasn’t known to be all that great in times of crisis. No matter how many she’d lived through. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding Charlene. Not now.
You can do this.
“Are you all right?” Charlene asked.
