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“One of the specialists should be here any time,” Kane said, checking his watch. “And we should get an update from several who have been communicating via video chat.”
We had so many people working on Penelope’s condition that someone had to come up with a viable solution. One that would have her back to us as soon as possible.
“I’m worried about the head trauma.” I squeezed my eyes closed. “What if that cinder block had hit her?”
The police report and the doctors both felt it was impossible she’d been directly impacted by the cinder block. Her head wounds were from the shattered glass and the car flipping several times. The wound on her forehead seemed consistent with the shape of the steering wheel.
He shuddered. “Let’s not focus on what could’ve been.” He slumped in his seat. “I wired a donation to the hospital so we can keep this room. I didn’t want to take a chance they’d kick us out.”
“Thank you for not suggesting I leave.”
He dropped his head to the back of the chair. “We’re not going anywhere without Penelope.”
Even if I wasn’t in the same room as her, at least we were down the hall.
Daniel strode back in and sat across from us. His expression was stormy, though that seemed to be his normal.
He set his phone on the table. “Alma wasn’t after you.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
KANE
Blood red.
Everything had a red haze as my heart rate rose to an unhealthy level.
In the far recesses of my mind, I’d given Alma some leniency because I simply couldn’t believe she’d do something to hurt the child she’d given birth to.
Our entire relationship had been about jabs at me. Every day was a little push to see how far she could go.
I’d reached my limit.
And that power over whether she lived or died beckoned me to seize it. To take hold of it with both hands and get justice for Penelope.
I laughed bitterly.
There was no such thing as justice.
Daniel looked at me with that unreadable expression he always wore, while JoJo’s was one of concern.
Maybe I was losing my mind.
Alma had pushed me over the brink. Had me considering things I’d never otherwise do.
But she’d gone after Penelope on purpose. Intended . . . to kill her. What else could she possibly have thought would happen?
“Who threw the cinder block?”
The power of the grim reaper slid its tendrils further around me. I wanted to snuff out their life too. Anyone who could do such a thing to an innocent person deserved to die.
I stiffened.
I’d defended people who had taken innocent lives and won, setting them free. What had I put those families through?
Nothing would bring their loved ones back.
But they should’ve gotten some form of justice.
