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“Currently no visitors are allowed. I was at the hospital earlier and saw Tanner. No change.”
“Is he going to live?”
“I don’t know.”
McCrae had learned one of the stab wounds had grazed Tanner’s heart. There was talk of surgery. A punctured lung that had collapsed and been reinflated. He was being closely monitored, but Les Stahd, Tanner’s father, had come into the station and demanded to see his son, and Quin had allowed it. The elder Dr. Stahd’s skin was gray, his jaw slackened. McCrae hadn’t seen the man in years, but it was clear his son’s serious injuries had aged him.
“Those reporters . . .” Delta looked over at him as they drove away. Her eyes were hidden behind the glasses, but her mouth quivered slightly. “What have they been saying? Have you seen the news?”
“They’re reporting that Tanner was stabbed at his clinic. They’ve been camped out at Laurelton General.”
“I didn’t do it,” she blurted, as if she couldn’t contain herself any longer.
He acknowledged with a nod. Until he knew more, there was nothing much to say.
She seemed to expect him to add something, but when he didn’t, she fell silent the rest of the way to the station as well. A news van was waiting there, too. Channel Seven.
“Ellie?” Delta questioned, stricken.
But it was Pauline Kirby standing outside the front doors, facing a camera as if she were about to report. Her chin was lifted in that somewhat arrogant way of hers, and she was getting one last brush of her dark hair. She’d been an institution at the station for many years, although Ellie had made some inroads, as McCrae had seen her a time or two reporting on something more than the weather. Not often, but sometimes.
He whisked Delta in through the back and took her to what was considered an interrogation room at the West Knoll station: the only room besides the break room with a table where any kind of discussion or meeting could take place.
Quin entered, followed by Corinne Esterly, of the administrative staff, who brought them all chilled bottles of water.
Corinne wa
s also the ex McCrae had become involved with at the station, his last relationship.
Corinne’s eyes strayed to Delta, who’d taken off her sunglasses as she sagged into a chair. Corinne was pretty in an elfin way, with curly, light brown hair. She was small and wiry and had a tendency to swell herself up whenever she met another woman. She was staring at Delta, who, though she clearly had had the stuffing knocked out of her and was paler than normal, had a natural beauty that couldn’t be denied. McCrae watched Corinne swell up and thrust out her chest before she was thanked by Quin, her cue to leave.
When she was gone, Quin looked at Delta and asked, “How’re you doing?”
Her dark eyes were bright with unshed tears. She reached for her water bottle, unscrewed the top, took a sip. “I’m okay.”
“If Tanner stabilizes, we’ll allow you to see him.”
“Thank you.”
Quin hesitated. This was emotional for him, too. Bailey and Delta had been close friends once upon a time.
McCrae said, “We want to find who stabbed your husband.”
“I do, too,” she responded quickly.
Quin first asked her if she knew where his cell phone might be. She thought about it, then slowly shook her head.
“He always had it with him,” she said.
“Maybe it’s at your house?” Quin suggested.
“No, he called me on it that night from the clinic.”
“You’re sure he was at the clinic?”
“Well, yeah. I was there within a few minutes after I spoke to him.”
Quin absorbed that, then asked, “So, after you got to the clinic, what happened?”
