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“Quin’s in charge?”
He heard her skepticism. They both knew Quin was no more removed from Tanner than McCrae was. He wasn’t unbiased.
“We may have to draft an outside investigator,” McCrae admitted, which made Delta’s heart clutch.
“I need to go home to my son,” she said. “I need to be with Tanner, but I have to go.”
He glanced around to Quin, who was still talking to the nurse, but they were both edging toward the double doors that led to the emergency room cubicles. The receptionist pushed a large button on the wall, and the admitting doors slowly swung inward. Quin strode through them as they were still opening.
She said, “He’s going in. I want to, too.”
“Wait.”
McCrae’s voice was clipped, and Delta, who’d risen to her feet and was about to hurry toward the now closing doors, stopped short.
“You can’t go in there. Tanner was attacked. He’s . . . in a kind of lockdown until we know more.”
“He’s my husband.”
He just looked at her.
“You do think I did it,” she said, her heart twisting. Of course, he did. Of course, they both did. “I didn’t. I would never. Could never!”
He grabbed her elbow and steered her out of the ER and into a long, windowed hallway that led toward the main doors and hospital reception. Outside, the rain was still peppering the glass windows, obscuring the parking lights beyond through a watery shield. Currently, they were the only ones within
earshot of their conversation. “Give me a quick recap of your evening, and Tanner’s, to the best of your knowledge.”
“I thought you couldn’t help me,” she said.
“I can take down some information. You’ll probably be telling your story to a number of us.”
“So get it straight the first time?”
“That would be helpful,” he said, refusing to be baited.
Delta suddenly felt extremely tired. There was a narrow bench in the hallway, and she walked over to it and sank down. “I need to call my mom again,” she said on a sigh, pulling her phone from her purse, and then did so while McCrae walked a few feet away to give her some privacy.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, and her throat closed. She couldn’t say anything more. She was overwhelmed and felt so bereft that she couldn’t speak.
“How’s Tanner?” Mom asked fearfully when Delta choked up. “Oh, honey. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” she managed. “I’m . . . I’m talking to the police, and I wanted to say that . . . I might be a while.”
“Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She hung up and put her head in her hands and cried. After a few minutes, she pulled it together and had the presence of mind to worry about the state of her makeup. She looked up at McCrae. “What do you want to know? Oh, yeah. Where I’ve been . . .”
She launched into the tale of her evening, the event at the Bengal Room. She wondered how much she should say about Jonah Masterer, or whatever his last name was, and ended up not saying anything at all. It had been nothing. A mild flirtation, and it had nothing to do with her real life.
Then she told him about finding Tanner, the stuck door, about the blood seeping through the white shirt covering his chest, his eyes rolling around.
“He called out to me several times, Dee . . . Dee . . . but even when I answered, he didn’t say anything else.”
“He calls you Dee?”
“It’s short for Part D. The whole Five First thing, you might remember.” She felt silly, suddenly, and she could feel face heat from a rising blush. Was that good, that she could still feel embarrassment even through the devastation of Tanner’s situation? Or was that narcissism?
