Aaron laughs. “Busted, Sam. Does Ella know you brought O’Malley’s to the hospital?”
“She does not.” Porter says off screen. “And don’t you be tellin’ her, neither. A man gets shot, he deserves some real food. Sam was the only one with the decency to oblige.”
“We won’t snitch,” Taylor says through a mouthful of pizza. “But you boys better be sure to take your cholesterol meds. Scooch over so we can see Pa, too.”
Molly’s listening—no surprise there. But she feels faint, wispy, as though most of her attention is somewhere else.
A chair screeches as both of them try to get in position. Taylor says he needs a selfie stick, and Sam mutters a curse in response.
“Why don’t I just hand him the damn phone?”
Porter’s propped up in bed. He somehow appears younger in the light-blue hospital gown. One arm is immobilized, but aside from that, he actually looks better than he did when I last saw him at Kelsey’s office. Of course, he’d just received a pretty major shock yesterday.
He squints, then says, “Hey, Anna. Glad to see you’re okay. I saw you open that door yesterday and heard another shot go off as I was going down. Is . . .”
I know the question he’s hesitating over. It’s the same one Taylor just asked me.
Need a tattoo on my forehead: Yes, Molly is still in the house.
Only if it’s the temporary kind.
“She’s still here,” I tell him. “But . . . a lot farther back now.”
His face twinges, but he nods. “You be careful, okay, girl? What Sam’s been tellin’ me sounds flat-out crazy, and I’m still not entirely sure I believe him. But I think it’s clear these ain’t people to mess with. Aaron and Sam will keep you safe and they’ll help get your friend back. I’m sorry the two of you wound up in the middle of all this.”
The words are such a change from yesterday’s attitude of blaming me for everything that my eyes tear up a bit. I expect Molly to chime in with some variant of I told you so. But she doesn’t.
“Thank you, Mr. Porter. I’ll be careful.”
Porter gives me a sad smile and hands the phone back to Sam.
“So . . . have you heard anything new?” Sam asks. “Or did you guys just call to check in?”
“Nothing else about Deo. But we . . . found . . . something.”
“Ah,” Sam sighs. “I wondered why Taylor was there. And why she was talking with her mouth full. Your mother—”
“Is in Barcelona today,” Taylor says. “Two more cities and a half-dozen galleries left to go. And since the brother she left in charge packed up his bag and headed off to play soldier boy bright and early this morning, I did the only responsible thing and came to stay with my other big brother.” She gives Sam a cheeky grin. “But yes, I’ve been working today. Aaron’s company card is going to have a hefty charge from Domino’s. Worth it, though. I found the house.”
“Oh. Okay.” Sam’s eyes shift nervously. “On that other case. The one we talked about last night?”
I get the sense he’s keeping things vague to avoid upsetting Porter, and that seems like a good idea. The man is still hooked up to drip bags, so any in-depth discussion of the house where his granddaughter was tortured and killed can probably wait.
“Um . . . yeah,” Aaron says. “We just ran into a snag. It’s owned by a corporation that I can’t connect to any of Cregg’s other businesses. I’ll text you the info so you can run it through your databases. Maybe come up with something I missed.”
“But you couldn’t get anything on where they might be holding Deo?” Sam asks.
“I’ve got something,” Taylor says. “Just not enough yet to start playing hide-and-seek. I need to clear my head and see if things come into better focus.”
“Taylor?” Porter says, and Sam hands him the phone. “Sam told me you were the reason they found Molly’s body. Said you drew the spot, that there never were any hikers—which sounds like somethin’ off a damn TV show, but . . .” He looks down, shaking his head, then adds, “He also said you spent so much time on it you nearly had to repeat ninth grade. I know it hit you as hard as it did us, and you need to know that Mimmy was able to go with some peace in her heart because she finally knew, even though it wasn’t the answer we hoped we’d get. So, thank you from both of us.”
She shakes her head, angry. “I was too late—”
“Taylor Quinn.” Porter’s voice is stern. “I just said thank you. The only proper response to that is you’re welcome. Although I guess I’d also accept, you’re welcome and we’re going to catch those sorry sons of bitches.”
Her mouth quirks upward on one side. “We’re going to catch those sorry sons of bitches.”
Either Porter or Sam clears his throat. Probably Porter, because she grudgingly adds, “And you’re welcome.”
“Better.”
Aaron ends the call. Taylor gives me an odd look. She must have been expecting Molly to say something. To ask me to tell Porter good-bye, that she loves him.