“You have a visitor,” he said. He moved aside to make room for someone to enter the room. Alice thought maybe it was Kuvi or Dave, even though she knew the kids’ buses didn’t leave until after lunch today. But instead of Kuvi or Dave, Maggie Lopez entered the room.
“Maggie,” Alice cried, overwhelmed at seeing the familiar face of her mentor and friend. Maggie had been her graduate school advisor. She’d been so proud of Alice for getting hired as a Camp Durand counselor. Alice rented the apartment above Maggie’s garage, and they’d become close.
“Dylan called me last night,” Maggie said, coming over to the bed. She reached to hug her, but paused, looking worried about Alice’s injuries.
“It’s okay,” Alice assured, extending her arms. Thankfully, they’d removed her IV that morning. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Maggie hugged her delicately, laughing. She planted a warm kiss on her right temple to make up for her weak embrace. Her heart went out to Maggie when she straightened and studied Alice’s face. She wasn’t able to entirely disguise her concern and anxiety.
“I look a lot worse off than I actually am,” Alice assured. “Right, Dylan?”
Dylan still stood in the doorway, watching them. “The doctor says all indications are good. She’s not going to have any lasting damage. She’ll heal, in time.” Alice held his stare for a moment, gratitude in her eyes that he’d called Maggie. How had he known that she was precisely the person Alice needed at that moment.
Why do you have to be so perfect? Not perfect in some objective way. Perfect for me.
Dylan nodded once, as though he’d understood her thanks, even if he probably hadn’t decoded her longing for him. Her confusion. He pointed down the hallway. “I’m going to make a few calls, give you two some time to catch up.”
Maggie turned and gave Alice her familiar game face. Her gaze flickered to the trophy on the bedside table. She grinned.
“Dylan told me all about your big win,” she said, picking up the trophy and looking at it proudly.
“Since when are you two on a first-name basis?” Alice asked, amused.
“Since he called me last night and told me everything,” Maggie said, giving her a sharp glance. She set down the trophy. “Or almost everything. Surely a story of this magnitude can’t be told in a forty-five-minute conversation. I kept thinking I’d heard it all, and then Dylan would spring some new shocker on me.”
“You’re telling me,” Alice said, rolling her eyes.
“So . . . Adelaide Durand?”
Alice shrugged and nodded in agreement at Maggie’s incredulity.
Maggie cast a glance over her shoulder toward the doorway. “And Dylan Fall?” she added, eyes wide.
“I know. That’s the part no one else can believe either, including me.”
Maggie gave a bark of laughter and squeezed her forearm. “That part is actually starting to make more and more sense. I saw the way you two were looking at each other just now.” She pulled the chair behind her closer. “Now, I can only stay a few nights because of Doby.”
Alice smiled, all too familiar with Maggie’s rambunctious Irish setter.
“How is Doby?”
“Healthy. Which means he’s bound to eat my Aunt Janine into poverty if I don’t get back to Chicago by Monday. So . . . talk to me, Alice.”
*
AN hour and a half later, Dylan looked up from making a call and saw Maggie enter the waiting room. He hit the disconnect button, halting his call in progress, when he noticed the dazed expression on Maggie’s face.
“Is everything okay?” Dylan asked her when she plopped down in a seat a few feet away from him.
“Yeah. It’s just a lot to take in. I’m glad you told me about how beat up she was before I saw her.” She met Dylan’s gaze squarely. “This son of a bitch who did that to her, are they going to nail him good?”
“I just got off the phone with one of the agents a few minutes ago. The FBI is building evidence against Kehoe even as we speak. The U.S. Attorney’s office is confident they’re going to have a solid case against him if Kehoe dares to plead not guilty.”
“Good,” Maggie snarled.
He sagged down in the chair next to her. He’d already decided he approved of Maggie Lopez, but seeing the evidence of her tight-lipped, steaming fury, he liked her all the better. But Maggie’s hurt and anger also lit a match to his guilt and helplessness. He kept reliving the seconds when he’d rushed through the house that night in order to meet up with Alice at the usual designated spot. She and Kehoe had probably just been feet away from him: Alice unconscious, Kehoe silent and watching. If only he’d known and intervened then, he might have saved her that horror down by the bluff . . .
. . . and in the pantry.
He winced.
“No offense, but you look like crap. When was the last time you slept?” Maggie asked him.
He opened his eyelids. “Lots of fronts to fight on, lots of fires to put out,” he muttered. Maggie’s gaze on him was kind, but shrewd.
“That’s odd, because Alice said you’ve hardly left her side.”