“Fine.” Daniel huffs, then heads toward one of the two doors at the back of the suite, separated by a little kitchen alcove. “I need to make some calls anyway.”
Sam gives an almost identical huff as Daniel closes the door behind him.
“You’re Anna. I’m guessing this is Deo?”
Deo nods.
“You’ve probably guessed I’m Sam Quinn, grandfather to the rude young man who left without bothering to introduce us, although strictly speaking it doesn’t appear to have been necessary. My other two grandchildren are slightly better behaved, at least most of the time. Seems the two of you have had a bit of excitement today.” He motions to the sofa on the opposite wall, which, much like the desk, was clearly chosen for its sleek styling and not comfort.
“Yes, sir,” I say. “That pretty much sums it up.”
Sam gets us water from the fridge and chats amiably about a couple of sports teams that Deo and I don’t follow. We both make polite noises, and Deo adds a comment about some player that must make sense because Sam nods enthusiastically and takes off on a conversational track that delves much deeper than Deo’s casual acquaintance with the Baltimore Ravens.
“Have you heard anything more about Mr. Porter?” I ask. It’s partly to rescue Deo, but also because I want to know, and even if Molly can’t press the issue from behind my wall, I’m pretty sure she wants to know, too.
“Yeah. He was awake for the last twenty minutes or so before I left the hospital. Or rather before Ella—that’s his sister—ran me off, telling me he needed his rest. He’s gonna be fine. I’m guessing they’ll release him tomorrow or the next day. Bullet lodged in his shoulder, but the surgery went well and he didn’t lose much blood thanks to Aaron’s—” He cuts off, clearing his throat.
“It’s okay. Aaron told me he gets . . . premonitions about that kind of thing.”
Deo gives me a surprised look, obviously wondering why I didn’t tell him earlier.
But I don’t have time to explain, because Sam continues, “Yeah, well, Daniel would probably say Aaron had a lucky guess, but I don’t question it when he gets one of those twinges. Neither does his mom. Last time we didn’t listen, my only son ended up dead a few days later.”
Based on what Aaron said earlier, I think Sam is being a little hard on himself. But I just give him a sympathetic smile.
“I tried to tell Jerome he was in danger,” he says, “but that man is as stubborn as a damn mule. He wants firsthand evidence, and that’s kind of hard to produce with Aaron’s flashes.”
Sam looks at me, then says, “When Jerome came out of surgery, Ella was convinced the poor man was crazy, because he kept asking if Molly was okay. Once he was a little more coherent and he and I got a moment alone, the first thing he did was ask about you. He saw them shooting in your direction, saw you jump into a car, but didn’t recognize it as Aaron’s. All I can say is that you managed quite an impressive turnaround. When I spoke to Jerome yesterday, I think he was half tempted to shoot you himself, and me and Aaron telling him he should keep an open mind only made him madder. Whatever you did today seems to have made a believer out of him. He swears he was talkin’ to Molly. Of course he followed that up by sayin’ he must be losin’ his damn mind.”
“So . . . you actually let Molly out?” Deo wasn’t exactly keen on the idea, even with Kelsey there.
“Yes. It wasn’t easy on either of us. She didn’t know her grandmother had died and she was worried about Porter, and I think there was a little part of her that was tempted to—”
“Stay. Yeah. That’s exactly what I told you. I saw your eyes that day at the piano. They weren’t . . . you.”
I raise my eyebrows, hoping to indicate that this conversation is one we should have later when we’re alone, even though I’m well aware that a simple look may not stop him. When Deo is locked on to a topic, it’s like he’s worried the question or comment he’s holding in is going to chew his tongue off if he doesn’t let it out.
Thankfully, the front door opens and Deo’s focus shifts. He sniffs the air a second before I catch the scent of fried chicken that we smelled earlier in the parking lot.
“I haven’t eaten,” Aaron says, nodding down at the large white bag in his hands. “And I’m guessing Daniel didn’t feed you on the way over, because . . . well, because he’s Daniel . . . so I bought extra. Do we have plates in the kitchen, Sam?”
When Aaron and Sam go off in search of utensils, Deo says, “The older brother is a pain in the ass. But this one, I could learn to like.”