Josie rested her head against the pale pink wall. Who made hospital walls pink, anyway? She shifted her weight onto the hard leather of the seat. Waiting. She hated waiting. Shane had been in surgery for an hour. Maybe more.
Matt dropped by every once in a while for an update, otherwise staying in the background. Just his presence somewhere in the hospital brought her some relief. She took a deep breath. Enough of the on-again, off-again plans for her future. She’d seen the worst of Shane, and she’d seen the best. It was time to make a decision and stick to it—no matter what. A near-death experience tended to put things in perspective now, didn’t it?
She could go on her own way and build a pretty good life for herself. Maybe even find a nice man and have a couple of cute kids.
But something would always be missing. She’d always dream of Shane, and of what they might’ve had. His life expectancy wasn’t great, but he had some time. And she wanted to be a part of that time—to take what they could. Maybe they’d even win and find a happy life. But she never wanted to look back and wonder—and she couldn’t waffle anymore. The decision she made, sitting in the scary hospital, would be the one she stuck with absolutely.
For the first time, she had people who were hers. The sense of possession surpassed the sense of belonging she’d always craved. No wonder people died or killed for family. There was no other feeling in the world as being bound and not alone. Right or wrong, she felt safe.
She chose Shane. The risk was worth it. Peace settled through her body.
The doctor, still in surgery scrubs, sidled his impressive bulk down the hallway toward her. Bushy eyebrows rose over thick spectacles. “Mrs. Dean?”
“Yes.” She straightened in her chair, wincing as bruises from her journey in the trunk flared to life.
“Your husband came through the surgery just fine.”
Her breath exhaled in a whoosh of relief. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. Her lungs cried for more oxygen, and she breathed in deep. “He’s all right?”
“Yes, quite.” The doctor pursed full lips. “He’s in excellent shape. The bullet did minimal damage, though I’d like to keep an eye on him tonight to ensure there’s no internal bleeding.” He nodded at a passing doctor wearing a long white coat. “Your husband should be up from surgery in about thirty minutes, and then you can see him.”
Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Shane was okay. “Thank you, Doctor.”
With an absent nod, the doctor turned and followed his colleague.
Detective Malloy sidled up from around the corner.
Josie sighed. “Is there a case in town you’re not assigned to?”
Malloy grinned, twirling a toothpick in his mouth. “Lots of them. But you and your husband, Mrs. Dean, well… you’re mine. Whenever your name comes up, I get the call.”
“Lucky you,” Josie breathed, pushing matted hair off her forehead. “I suppose you just heard?”
“Yep.” Malloy dropped into the seat next to her. The cushions protested with a wheeze of air. “The major is in excellent shape and will be fine. Good to know.” He flipped out his battered notebook. “So. Run me through what happened.”
Josie told the tale, leaving out the parts about finding Billy’s body as well as Matt’s name. She explained in detail who Billy was and what he’d done for his clients. She sighed. “Max the drug dealer said he killed Billy on the ninth floor of my building. You should check it out.”
Malloy raised an eyebrow, grabbing his cell phone and barking orders. “I sent two uniforms to investigate.” He sat back. “So. Tell me about this mysterious man who helped your husband.”
Josie rubbed her eyes. “I can’t. Shane said he met him in the alley, and the guy helped out. Maybe he was ex-military or something. Those guys stick together, you know.”
Malloy nodded, a slow smile spreading across his weathered face. “Just out of curiosity, how stupid do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all.” And she didn’t. She’d known the detective wouldn’t buy Shane’s lame story about Matt. But she also knew Malloy couldn’t prove it was a lie, either. If she and Shane stuck to the story, even though they all knew it was a lie, there was nothing Malloy could do about it. “What did the Agers say?”
“That’s irrelevant.” For the first time, Malloy allowed irritation to flash across his thick features. “Describe the man.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look at him. I shot Max, Shane showed up, Max shot Shane… it’s all a blur.”
“Try.”
“Well, I guess he was about average size? Maybe with light brown hair and, I don’t know, maybe brown eyes?” She leaned forward, her gaze running the length of the sparkling clean hallway. “I only saw him from the corner of my eye. My focus stayed on all the guns.”
“Did mystery man have a gun?”