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“Okay, I’m coming to you.”
“No.” She kept a close eye on the rearview mirror. “I’m going home, and I do not want to take this home to Matt.”
Silence.
Damn it. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud either.
“You should tell Matt. This guy could be following him too. He needs to be aware of the potential danger.”
Damn it. Houser was right. “Okay, I’ll tell him. I just don’t want him to overreact.”
“It sounds like this guy got more aggressive after your meeting with Dempsey.”
There was no denying that was the case. “Yes.”
“We have to take that as a sign that maybe he is following orders from Dempsey.”
“The problem this time ...” Finley’s throat closed with the building anxiety. She would be a fool not to be a little bit afraid.
“Finley?”
She hated like hell to throw this into the mix. “The problem I have this time is that Dempsey has nothing to lose. He’s screwed and he knows it. What’s one more dead body?”
“You need security, Finley. Whether you want it or not.”
“I can handle this. Look, I have to go. I just remembered I need to stop by the hospital and check on my neighbor before going home.”
“Don’t forget what I said,” he reminded her. “Bring Matt up to speed. If you don’t, I will.”
“I’ll do it. Now let me focus on driving.”
Finley ended the call before he could say anything more.
She had never carried a gun in her life. Never felt the need.
But this was different.
Dempsey wanted the kind of revenge she suspected only her death would bring.
She had to consider her options ... whether she liked them or not.
22
Vanderbilt Medical Center
Medical Center Drive, Nashville, 6:10 p.m.
Finley was tired. She needed to go home and talk to Matt. But she couldn’t ignore this obligation. She owed Helen Roberts. When she walked into the room, Finley felt some amount of relief at seeing the flowers she had ordered.
“Better late than never,” she mumbled.
Helen Roberts was asleep. Finley walked to her bedside and stood for a long moment, hoping she would wake up. The minutes passed, and she didn’t move or open her eyes. Finley glanced at the clock on the wall over and over as she waited for the woman to rouse. Matt was home. He’d sent her a text as she pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. He had probably gone straight over to feed and walk the dog. Spot.
Finley mentally rolled her eyes. Who named a dog Spot when the dog had no spots whatsoever?
Knowing Matt, he would finish that task and then go back to the house and prepare dinner or order something to be delivered. He always took care of everything. She thought of the face that had pressed against her car window. She had to tell Matt everything. Shehad to take care of him the same way he had taken care of her a million times.
“I hope you like your flowers,” Finley said aloud. Maybe talking to her would get her attention.
