“I thought he was your friend. That you liked him.”
“I like him all right. But you don’t know him. He’s obsessive. Tough. A workaholic. I can admire a man like that, but I don’t know if he’s right for you. Ashley, there were all kinds of rumors going around—”
“I know about the rumors.”
“Ashley—”
He broke off. Sharon had come in. She was standing hesitantly just inside the room. “Excuse me, you two. I’m sorry. I know this is personal, it’s just that…well, I need to get to the bedroom and get out of this robe and into work clothes.”
“Sharon, don’t be ridiculous,” Ashley said. “Go right through.”
Sharon gazed at Nick, empathy in her eyes, and she smiled. “Love you both,” she said, and hurried past.
“Young lady,” Nick began, setting his cup on the bar and leaning close. “I don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t want you getting mixed up with someone who’s a great guy from a man’s point of view, but maybe a little jaded when it comes to women, I—”
He broke off again. She turned and followed his gaze to the door. She smiled despite the gravity of their talk. Sandy was standing there in bare feet and cutoffs, carrying Ashley’s purse.
“Sorry, Dilessio asked me to bring this to you, Ash,” he said.
“Bring it in,” Nick said sighing.
Sandy came over. “You got coffee, Nick?”
Nick and Ashley looked at one another. “Think I could have a dinner date sometime soon, away from here, with my own niece?” he asked her.
She grinned, leaned across the counter and kissed him on the cheek.
“You bet.”
Her cell phone started ringing. In all the excitement she’d forgotten that someone had tried to call her. Were they trying again now? Sandy plopped next to her at the bar as she dug for the phone.
“Ashley? Ashley Montague?”
“Yes?”
“It’s me. David Wharton, the guy you met at the hospital. I need to see you. Someone tried to kill Stuart.”
CHAPTER 15
Ashley met with David at the News Café in Coconut Grove. It was his suggestion. They were out in the open, on the sidewalk, in plain view of others and far from alone.
Before she had even returned to her room for a shower, she had gone through twenty minutes of trying to get through to Mr. Fresia at the hospital. A volunteer had given her Stuart’s condition as recorded on his records. According to them nothing had changed. The nurse in the unit had refused to put her through to the room. She had finally discovered Nathan Fresia’s cell phone number in an old address book, and when she dialed it, she was gratified to find it hadn’t changed.
But speaking to Nathan had done little good. He had sounded exhausted, and though he had been as kind as ever, he had insisted that she not come to the hospital—there had been so many people in and out and so much commotion the night before that a plug had been pulled out of the wall, with nearly fatal consequences.
Ashley couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had been the last of their group to visit Stuart, and she knew she hadn’t pulled any plugs from the wall. She also knew that Stuart’s respirator had been running just fine. When she tried to say that to Nathan, he snapped, telling her that his wife was now hospitalized, and whether she wanted to believe it or not, it had happened. Then he apologized for barking at her but insisted again that they needed to be alone, at least for a few days.
Stunned, she showered, then drove to the Grove to meet David Wharton.
He greeted her cordially and took a seat opposite her. As soon as they had coffee, he started right in. “Word is one of you girls pulled out a plug last night.”
“The hell we did!” she said indignantly. “But you know something and you’d damned well better tell me right now.”
“Hey, I called to talk to you, didn’t I? If you don’t get rid of that cop attitude fast, I’ll walk away right now.”
Ashley sat back, letting out a sigh and staring at him. “We didn’t pull any plug. So what happened?”
“How the hell do I know?”
“You were there, apparently.”
“Right. But not in his room. Do you think they’d let me in?” he asked, shaking his head. “But I can tell you this, Lucy Fresia isn’t a sicko, losing her mind and longing—somewhere in the deep recesses of her subconscious—to let him go. I may not have been in the room, but I was hanging out awfully darn close, watching the hallways and what was going on. And only his parents and hospital personnel were in and out of that room.”
“How can you be so certain? You didn’t go down for coffee once last night?”
He exhaled, staring at her, not about to admit he might have missed something. “I’m pretty darned good at what I set out to do.”
“So someone from the hospital is trying to kill him?”
“I doubt it.”
“Isn’t that what you just said?”