When one of the nurses called Hunter’s name, he jumped. So did everyone else in their party.
She ushered them into a small room, where the women took a seat and the men stood. “You’re wife is resting comfortably, Mr. Blackwell. The doctor medicated her and splinted her arm.”
“Splinted her arm?” Samantha asked.
“A fracture. Nothing that won’t heal in six weeks.”
Hunter wasn’t worried about her arm. “Can she hear anything yet?”
The nurse didn’t commit. “Like the medics told you . . . the blast will affect her hearing for a few hours. She responds to loud sounds, but words might take a day to come back. Most of the time this is temporary. The man she was with—”
“Solomon?” Neil asked.
“Yes, his hearing is already returning.”
Thank God. At least they could talk to him and learn something about what had happened. Not that Hunter needed that.
“When can I see her?” Hunter asked.
“I can take you back now. Two at a time. We’re really busy and can’t have the halls filled with people.”
Hunter stood and Judy took the space beside him. “If I don’t give Meg an update, she’ll go crazy.”
The nurse led the two of them through the busy halls of the ER and into a private room where Gabi lay.
Her eyes were closed, her arm hung in a sling. The monitors hooked to her buzzed with bleeps and dings. None of it made any sense. All that mattered was that the woman on the gurney was breathing She opened her slightly glossy eyes and tried to smile.
“Oh, Gabi,” Judy moved to the gurney first, placed her hand next to Gabi’s. “Can you hear me?”
Gabi focused for a minute, then muttered, “Can’t hear you.” She lifted a white board someone in the ER had given her and pointed to it.
Judy lifted it, scribbled the question How do you feel? and then turned it toward Gabi.
“Like garbage,” he heard Gabi say.
Gabi laid her hand over Judy’s before she could write another question. “Tell Val I’m fine.” The words were almost a whisper this time . . . evidence that Gabi couldn’t hear her own voice.
Judy looked at Hunter. “Does she look fine to you?”
No. She looked tired, injured, drugged. “There isn’t anything Val can do, even once they get here. Put the man at ease. Tell him what the nurse told us. Broken arm, temporary hearing loss.”
“What if it isn’t temporary?”
Hunter’s nose flared. “There still isn’t anything Val can do. Give the man something to hope for.”
Judy nodded and wrote a note. Calling your brother. Love you.
Gabi tried to smile before closing her eyes.
Judy left the room and Hunter moved to the chair beside the gurney and sat while Gabi slept.
He slowed down . . . to the beats of her heart on the monitor . . . Hunter paused his life.
Every once in a while a loud noise would present itself outside the door of her room, and he felt her jolt. Proof she was hearing something even as she slept.
The phone in his pocket buzzed, rocking him out of his thoughts. He answered when he saw Remington’s number. “I don’t have time for you right now.”
Silence.
Hunter waited, and then bit his lip.
“Get my message?” The Hispanic voice filled the call.
You’re a dead man sat on his lips. Practicing the patience life was teaching him. Hunter said, “Yes.”
“No cops, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Questions will be asked.”
“Questions you can divert. Ten million . . . cash.”
“Not possible.”
“Shall I blow up a day care, Mr. Blackwell?”
Hunter now knew what it felt like to have his balls in a vise. “When?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Pause . . . Pause everything.
Easier said than done.
Random car explosions had a way of attracting police attention. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Gabi wasn’t able to communicate with the authorities. The amount of friends that exploded on the scene was ridiculous. And to sweeten the pot, the media had parked themselves outside the hospital doors in search of a story.
Hunter looked around the lobby of acquaintances and found one set of stoic eyes. He waved Neil over and suggested they find a quiet, private place to talk.
“The police are asking questions,” Neil told him once they were alone.
“The caller said no police.” Hunter ran a hand on the back side of his neck.
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
Hunter rephrased the first conversation on the phone, and then told Neil about the second. “Both times, the phone calls came in from phone numbers I recognized. First was Gabi’s cell, then a colleague.”
“So our guy has hacking skills.”
“How can he do that?”
“Same way someone sends e-mails about Viagra to you using Grandma’s e-mail address. All you need is a contact list.”
Hadn’t Remington said that his phone had been jacked in Columbia? “Fuck.”
“He had a thick Hispanic accent.”
Neil scowled. “Like, say, a Colombian drug lord?”