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“You can, of course, but she may not be responsive. Tomorrow she should be more so.” He gestured to his right. “She’s in room five oh four.”
Finley thanked him again before he walked away. They’d met at the nurse’s station on the cardiac intensive care floor. She walked the short distance to Mrs.Roberts’s room. Pushing through the door slowly just in case there was someone on the other side, Finley surveyed the room.
No nurse or anyone else, just the sound of the machines monitoring the patient. She pushed the door closed and walked toward the single bed that stood in the middle of the small space. The light was dimmed, but even so, her neighbor’s face stood out, pale white, in thenear darkness. She looked small and frail, far older than Finley suspected she actually was.
Funny how this little old woman could have been so strong with such a serious underlying heart condition. She’d seemed tough, confident, judgmental, and nosy. Finley shook her head. She’d turned out to be a damned good neighbor.
Considering the surgeon was surprised at how well she’d come through the surgery, maybe she was stronger than even Finley had realized.
For a while, Finley stood by her bed. She wasn’t really sure why. Roberts slept quietly. The only sounds were the machines. No one else came into the room. Finley glanced around, wondering if she should leave. Her gaze stalled on the bedside table. There were no flowers. How sad it was to reach this age and have no one to send flowers. Finley could get very upset with her mother at times, but she would never want her to be alone at a time like this. Her dad either.
Shewouldn’t want to be alone at a time like this.
The last was the hardest part. The climb back up from not caring if she lived or died had been harder than she’d anticipated.
But here she was.
From what Finley had witnessed the past year and a half, her neighbor was strong like that. She would make it through this.
Eventually, Finley decided to go home. Matt would be there by now, and she didn’t want to be so late again.
She stroked the sleeping woman’s hand—the one without all the tubes stuck into it. “Don’t worry, Mrs.Roberts. I’m taking care of the dog. I’ll check on your houseplants and water whatever needs it when I get home. Just focus on healing, and I’ll be back tomorrow.”
No response, not even a twitch. If she could hear, at least Finley had said the right things. Hopefully.
She left the hospital, watching the people and cars around her closely as she crossed to where she’d parked. Her cell shimmied in herpocket, but she ignored it until she was locked in the car. She started the engine, allowed the call to go to the speaker system.
It was Jack.
“Hey,” she said as she eased out of the slot.
“Just catching up with you, kid,” her boss said. “I’m headed to the Drake.”
When Jack Finnegan had been a partner in a prominent law firm, he’d owned a gorgeous town house in a prestigious Nashville neighborhood. Now he operated his exclusive, as he liked to call it, firm from a former church, and he had made a home by renovating two rooms at the Drake—an iconic has-been motel.
His methods and lifestyle these days were certainly different from before. Unique, Matt would say. As long as he stayed sober, Finley didn’t care where he lived or how he operated.
“I’m leaving the hospital after checking on my neighbor. Headed home.” She should give him an update on what she’d learned today. “I spoke with Houser and with Jerry Bauer, a PI Louise Cagle hired to look into her daughter’s murder.”
“Did you learn anything we might need if this thing catches fire?”
Finley hesitated for only a moment. Jack was her godfather. He adored her and her family. Had secretly been in love with her mother for most of his adult life, which was just another part of his fall off the wagon half a decade ago, but he’d dealt with that. He and Finley’s dad were friends—more than friends, really. Jack loved Bart like a brother, and the feeling was mutual.
Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the story of what she’d learned about her father’s involvement with Lucy Cagle.
“I’m glad it turned out to be nothing, kiddo,” he said, his relief almost palpable.
She opted not to mention that she wasn’t completely convinced it was nothing, but she sure as hell hoped that proved to be the case.
One thing was certain, and Finley said as much. “I’m getting the impression the Johnsons are far more than just low-level developers.”
“Yeah, they’re not exactly altar boys, which is why we will focus only on the Cagle case.” Jack heaved a sigh. “I know how you feel about guys like Johnson, Fin, but I couldn’t say no. We okay on this one?”
She appreciated his concern, but she’d learned long ago that as an attorney, sometimes you just had to do the job whether you liked the client or not. “We’re good.”
“Glad to hear it. What’s your overall take so far?”
“So far,” she pondered the question, “I don’t think the police have one damned thing that actually ties Ray to the Cagle case.” Finley considered something Bauer had said. “You know, we talked before about the idea of why someone would have left evidence of murder lying around on his property. I mean, if our client is guilty, why leave proof lying around, particularly when he was ready to sell the property?” She made the turn for Shelby Avenue.
