Unseen. Nancy Bush
Simultaneously, another elevator’s doors opened. Edward Letton’s wife, Mandy, stepped out and glanced over at Will, whom she’d met briefly in Letton’s room. Then as both sets of elevator doors closed behind them she turned to Gemma, whose bandage had been removed, leaving the splendor of her bruised face and swollen eye for all to see.
Mandy understood who Gemma was instantly. “You…” she said tautly. “What are you doing on my husband’s floor?”
Gemma, who’d seemed locked in her own thoughts, looked blankly at Mandy.
“This is the fourth floor,” Will told Mandy. “Your husband’s on five, but he’s not allowed visitors. You know that.”
She didn’t even register a word. “You’re the woman who ran him down.”
Gemma’s eyes widened.
“Ms. Letton, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Will said, stepping between Gemma and Mandy Letton, whose gaze had zeroed in on Gemma like twin laser beams.
“I don’t know what kind of monster you are,” Mandy said with a catch in her voice, “but my husband’s barely alive because of you! Were you drinking? On drugs? Or was this some kind of thrill kill! Luckily, you didn’t succeed. He’s still alive and he’s going to make it.”
Gemma’s gaze turned from Mandy to Will. He could read the questions in her eyes: Why didn’t Letton’s wife know what Letton had been about to do? Will would have loved to tell her that members of both the Winslow County Sheriff’s Department and the Laurelton Police Department—the city where Mandy and Edward Letton lived—had tried to explain about the guard at Edward Letton’s door, but Mandy was actively not listening to anything they said that alluded to—or explicitly described—the van and its special chains, cuffs, and restraints.
“You should be the one with the guard outside your door,” Mandy declared in a shaking voice.
Gemma’s lips tightened. “I’d choose my words carefully if my husband were a predator.”
“Wait.” Will put up a hand and blocked Mandy’s view of Gemma and vice versa.
“You’re the one who started those vicious rumors! I should sue you for assault and slander!”
“If your husband survives, he’s going to jail,” Gemma stated certainly. “He earned that all by himself.”
“He’s going to survive. And you’ll be the one going to prison for attempted murder!”
“Ms. Letton, I’m going to escort you downstairs,” Will said, turning to Gemma’s orderly. “I’ll meet you down there,” he said, actively blocking Mandy from any further progress toward Gemma.
Gemma was having none of it. She climbed out of the wheelchair and walked the last few steps to the elevator, slamming her palm on the call button of the second elevator. “I’m leaving on my own power. You can tell whoever’s in charge of hospital policy, what they can do with that wheelchair.”
Mandy Letton tried to get past Will, who kept his body between her and Gemma. He realized he would probably find humor in the situation later on, but in the moment he was aware that, given their own devices, these two women could end up in a physical fight. Stranger things had happened.
Mandy struggled again to get past Will. The orderly tried to convince Gemma to get back in the wheelchair. Gemma’s elevator car arrived with a bell-like ding. Will watched her get inside and turn to tell the orderly she didn’t want him or the wheelchair anywhere near her, then the elevator doors closed.
Mandy Letton pushed Will hard in the center of his back. “Damn you. You’re letting her go? She tried to kill my husband!” Hysteria flooded through the anger.
The orderly said in awe, “You just pushed an officer of the law.”
Mandy whirled her flash-fury on him. “Shut up. Shut up! Everybody shut up!”
“Ms. Letton, you need to get control of yourself,” Will warned. He didn’t want to arrest her. Didn’t want this scene to become a deep hole and more fuel for the media on the Letton case.
Her mouth quivered and her eyes grew hard. When the second elevator arrived, she turned into it blindly and faced to the back. Will and the orderly joined her. Nobody said a word.
As soon as they hit the street level, Mandy pushed past both Will and the orderly. They watched her hightail it to the parking lot and Will was hot on her heels. If she was looking for Gemma LaPorte, he was going to make sure no physical violence occurred.
Gemma was nowhere in sight and Will was annoyed. He followed Mandy out to her car, a white compact, and waited under a watery sun as the wind threw a shimmer of rain at him.
Then he slowly turned around, searching the lot for a glimpse of a woman with straight brown hair whose movements were cautious with the need to keep pain at bay.
She had no idea how to get home, but she was outside the hospital. In the parking lot in a fitful rain. No purse. No socks. No damn underwear. No funds. No means at all. She couldn’t think of the number of a close friend—for that matter she couldn’t think of the name of a close friend—and her half-baked plan to ask hospital administration to loan her cab fare and add it to her bill, was out the window. She wasn’t going back in there for any reason. Any reason at all.
She was free, and she intended to stay that way.
And she was insanely furious at Letton’s deluded wife. Insanely furious. The pounding in her head was rage which was aggravating her injuries.
Had she tried to kill the man? She hadn’t believed herself capable, but God, she hadn’t expected the depth of her revulsion, the extent of her anger. She wanted to throttle that blonde, pillowy bitch. The woman was all curves and boobs and hips and a mouth that just kept yammering.
And she was driven by fear, too. Mandy Letton’s threats about Gemma’s possible incarceration had been heard, processed and given her more impetus to get…the…hell…out!
But now she was stuck. Standing in the gray, late-morning light, a cold breeze throwing rain at her, cutting through her clothes and making her quake like she was stricken with seizures, she scanned the lot for deliverance. She’d used up all her strength just leaving the building. Now she wanted to collapse on the ground and hug herself to contain the little warmth that had followed her outside.
She heard the footsteps behind her and whipped around, nearly overbalancing herself. She knew before seeing him that Detective Tanninger had followed her. She heard a car turn down the lane, squealing a little as it came too fast, then the detective grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.
Tanninger grated, “Let’s not make it your day to die. Come here. I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. My car’s over there.” He actually put an arm around her and guided her toward the department-issue car at the end of the row. She could have cried, the warmth and strength of him felt so good. She sensed dimly that she’d been negotiating life on her own for a long, long time, and the support was welcome yet unfamiliar.
He bundled her inside, grabbing a jacket from the backseat and laying it across her knocking knees. She smelled leather and maybe a hint of aftershave and a whiff of coffee from the forgotten paper cup in the cup holder. He climbed into the driver’s side with a squeak of leather. He switched on the ignition, put the vehicle in gear and eased toward the exit.
“Quarry?” he asked.
She nodded.
And that was all they said until they were away from the hospital and down Highway 26 to just outside of the Quarry city limits, some thirty minutes later. Will drove the patrol car through the city’s downtown area—basically one street with businesses on either side that petered out and turned into rural farmland at the far end. Gemma gazed out the window as they passed Thompson’s Feed & Grain, Century Insurance Co., Pets and More, the Burger Den, and other businesses whose names rippled through her consciousness, familiar and