put an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should have listened to you.”
“You know our time’s up.”
She nodded weakly.
“You know I had to tell the police we were coming here.”
Her head dipped once more. She had received her five minutes. That was all he had promised.
“Mr. Spade?”
Wayne shifted toward the voice. Shauna looked too.
An Asian woman stood in the entry. One of the staff maybe. Shauna didn’t recognize her but found herself caught by the woman’s eyes, which met her gaze though she spoke to Wayne. Two different colors, one dark brown, and one lighter. Hazel maybe.
“There are officers here. They’re asking for Ms. McAllister.”
5
“Nothing, then?”
“Nothing. When it comes to the last six months, she’s as brain-dead as a church mouse in formaldehyde.”
“And you’re sure she knew nothing before then? So we’re clear?”
“As long as her memory of the last few months doesn’t return, we’re good. But if she does begin to remember, we got us a whole new ball game. Fifty-fifty odds.”
He blew out some air. “I still say we do her now.”
“We can’t. Not yet. We may dodge this bullet yet. If she remembers, we kill her immediately. Until then, we keep an eye on both of them.”
“Fine. But this could blow up.”
“It’s already blown up, remember? She blew it up. We’re trying to put the fires out.”
Shauna lay on a narrow bench and faced the wall in the concrete detention center. Her nose nearly touched the chipped paint. Though her body was long and slender, she had to balance on the plank to avoid rolling off. Her entire body ached. A sharp pang in her side had knifed her through the night. She focused on the pain. It hurt less than her present situation.
She had been booked the night before and arraigned first thing Thursday morning, thanks to the insistence of Wayne, Uncle Trent, and Trent’s influential attorney, Joe Delaney. It seemed the press wasn’t yet aware that she’d left the hospital, just as Wayne had hoped. Mr. Delaney set up an appointment to meet with her at his offices October 26, one week from tomorrow, giving her time to attend to her medical needs and get settled in at home again. Her trial date had been set for November 19, more than a month away.
What was she supposed to do in the meantime?
Now she waited for Uncle Trent, who’d insisted on flying in at midnight on a private flight to post her bail. “It’s a father’s duty,” he’d asked Wayne to tell her.
It was. It was.
She closed her eyes, wavering between fading into oblivion or trying to come up with a plan to redeem her latest gross mistakes.
“Let’s get out of here, Shauna.” Wayne’s soft voice roused her, and the sound of a sliding gate jolted her off the bench. He carried a light coat for Shauna.
Uncle Trent entered the cell with an outstretched hand and helped her up into a bear hug. His round face was gently wrinkled and baby soft, and his mouth turned up in a perpetual smile. He wore his trademark turtleneck and blazer on this cool October day, business casual at all times, whether at home or in his executive suite. His short white hair caressed her cheek like velvet.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. This is all going to blow over soon enough.” She closed her eyes. In the security of his embrace, it was easy to believe him. “You lay low at your dad’s place until you’re a hundred percent. Wayne here is going to stick around to make sure you have whatever you need.”
“I’d rather go home. I mean to my home.”
“Honey,” Trent said, “your dad terminated the lease on your loft a couple weeks after the accident, had your stuff packed up and moved.”
Shauna could not believe what she was hearing.
Yes, she could.
“He really does mean to look after you while you recuperate.”
And how would he do that? A man campaigning for president had no time to look after anything but his own interests.
“Landon and
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should have listened to you.”
“You know our time’s up.”
She nodded weakly.
“You know I had to tell the police we were coming here.”
Her head dipped once more. She had received her five minutes. That was all he had promised.
“Mr. Spade?”
Wayne shifted toward the voice. Shauna looked too.
An Asian woman stood in the entry. One of the staff maybe. Shauna didn’t recognize her but found herself caught by the woman’s eyes, which met her gaze though she spoke to Wayne. Two different colors, one dark brown, and one lighter. Hazel maybe.
“There are officers here. They’re asking for Ms. McAllister.”
5
“Nothing, then?”
“Nothing. When it comes to the last six months, she’s as brain-dead as a church mouse in formaldehyde.”
“And you’re sure she knew nothing before then? So we’re clear?”
“As long as her memory of the last few months doesn’t return, we’re good. But if she does begin to remember, we got us a whole new ball game. Fifty-fifty odds.”
He blew out some air. “I still say we do her now.”
“We can’t. Not yet. We may dodge this bullet yet. If she remembers, we kill her immediately. Until then, we keep an eye on both of them.”
“Fine. But this could blow up.”
“It’s already blown up, remember? She blew it up. We’re trying to put the fires out.”
Shauna lay on a narrow bench and faced the wall in the concrete detention center. Her nose nearly touched the chipped paint. Though her body was long and slender, she had to balance on the plank to avoid rolling off. Her entire body ached. A sharp pang in her side had knifed her through the night. She focused on the pain. It hurt less than her present situation.
She had been booked the night before and arraigned first thing Thursday morning, thanks to the insistence of Wayne, Uncle Trent, and Trent’s influential attorney, Joe Delaney. It seemed the press wasn’t yet aware that she’d left the hospital, just as Wayne had hoped. Mr. Delaney set up an appointment to meet with her at his offices October 26, one week from tomorrow, giving her time to attend to her medical needs and get settled in at home again. Her trial date had been set for November 19, more than a month away.
What was she supposed to do in the meantime?
Now she waited for Uncle Trent, who’d insisted on flying in at midnight on a private flight to post her bail. “It’s a father’s duty,” he’d asked Wayne to tell her.
It was. It was.
She closed her eyes, wavering between fading into oblivion or trying to come up with a plan to redeem her latest gross mistakes.
“Let’s get out of here, Shauna.” Wayne’s soft voice roused her, and the sound of a sliding gate jolted her off the bench. He carried a light coat for Shauna.
Uncle Trent entered the cell with an outstretched hand and helped her up into a bear hug. His round face was gently wrinkled and baby soft, and his mouth turned up in a perpetual smile. He wore his trademark turtleneck and blazer on this cool October day, business casual at all times, whether at home or in his executive suite. His short white hair caressed her cheek like velvet.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, honey. This is all going to blow over soon enough.” She closed her eyes. In the security of his embrace, it was easy to believe him. “You lay low at your dad’s place until you’re a hundred percent. Wayne here is going to stick around to make sure you have whatever you need.”
“I’d rather go home. I mean to my home.”
“Honey,” Trent said, “your dad terminated the lease on your loft a couple weeks after the accident, had your stuff packed up and moved.”
Shauna could not believe what she was hearing.
Yes, she could.
“He really does mean to look after you while you recuperate.”
And how would he do that? A man campaigning for president had no time to look after anything but his own interests.
“Landon and
Similar Books
