Chapter 31
A felony, Emory. A felony?”
“You don’t have to shout, Jeff. I heard you the first dozen times.”
“I doubt you’ll be charged, but…for chrissake. Think of the negative publicity.”
“I apologize for any embarrassment I have caused or will cause you.”
He stopped pacing and turned to face her. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy here.”
“I’m not. I didn’t mean it sarcastically. You have every right to be upset.”
He had been humiliated, and she deeply regretted that. Throughout the day, he’d remained stoic and publically supportive. But now that they were alone for the first time since the burglary video had come to light, he was venting justifiable outrage.
It was a befitting note on which to end a day that had begun with her in the throes of a panic attack. She’d convinced herself of Jeff’s culpability, only to discover that it was she, not he, who might have to face criminal charges. On the bright side, she wasn’t spending the night in jail.
Upon their return from the cabin, Sergeant Knight had made it clear that she was still a suspect—or, at the least, a material witness—but he had grumbled about the “shit that would hit the fan” if they put her in lockup until they had all their t’s crossed and i’s dotted.
Lisa Floyd had been questioned by a female deputy, and it was reported to Knight and Grange that the girl had praised “Dr. Smith” to the hilt. It was only after learning that Lisa had told the deputy the nature of her medical crisis that Emory confirmed it to the detectives.
“Her condition wasn’t immediately life-threatening, but it was traumatic, and she was in a great deal of discomfort. I did what I could.”
“Those are what I’d call mitigating circumstances,” Knight had said. “Why didn’t you explain all this as your reason for breaking into the doctor’s office?”
“It would have been a breach of patient confidentiality.”
“That the only reason? Or are you still protecting your accomplice?”
She’d said nothing to that.
“Who got Lisa Floyd pregnant?”
“That remains confidential.”
“Him?”
“No. Lisa will tell you the same. He had never even met her until that day.”
The defense attorney arrived from Atlanta late in the afternoon. After being fully apprised of the situation, he’d insisted that Emory be detained no longer.
“It’s the mystery man from the cabin we want, not you,” Knight had told her as, with obvious reluctance, he escorted her out. “We’ll resume tomorrow. Right now I’ve got to drive halfway to Asheville and pick up a fed from New York who got himself lost in the fog.”
“A fed from New York?”
“That’s right. Seems this FBI agent has been after Hayes Bannock for several years.”
“Who is Hayes Bannock?”
“As if you don’t know.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t.” Then her lips had parted in wonder. “Is that his name?”
Reading her reaction, Knight propped his fists on his hips. “Well, I’ll be damned. You honestly didn’t know his name, did you?”
Hayes Bannock. She had tried it out and decided that it fit him to a tee. Then the rest of what Knight said had sunk in. “He’s wanted by the FBI?”
“Looks like. Special Agent Jack Connell can’t wait to get here and join the chase.”
With that troubling thought prevailing, she had hoped that a long soak in a hot bath would relieve her anxiety, but with Jeff’s pacing and haranguing, she could barely hear herself think. Relaxation was out of the question.
He was saying, “Last night you let me go on about turning over a new leaf. I owned up to having been difficult to live with. I waxed poetic about how vital you are to my life. All the while I was babbling about fresh starts, little could I guess the surprise you would spring on me this morning.”
“I didn’t spring—”
“During my mea culpa scene, how did you manage to keep a straight face?”
“Jeff, nothing I did was done to spite you.”
“Perhaps not, but the net effect is the same. How am I going to explain this to my clients? To the partners of the firm?”
“They won’t hold you responsible for my actions.”
“The hell they won’t. And what about your associates? I put Alice off, telling her only that you were clearing up paperwork. But how are you going to explain your criminal activity to her and Neal? To your patients? Your behavior has placed the future of your precious clinic in jeopardy.”
“I’ll explain it to them just as I explained it to the detectives, to you, and to the defense lawyer. I did what was necessary to treat a patient. Even if no one else understands that, I’m confident that Neal and Alice will. They would have done the same.”
“At the risk of a malpractice suit? I don’t think so. Neither of them would be that foolhardy.”
“I didn’t take potential lawsuits into account. Not at any time. I was concerned only about Lisa’s welfare.”
“Oh, it’s a compelling argument. I’ll hand you that. The lawyer can make a case with it. He’ll probably even spin the burglary till it looks noble and just.”
“Then why are you so angry?”
“Because, as your husband, I’d like to know what happened in those four days that changed you from the reasonable, rational adult who left Atlanta on Friday into a hillbilly outlaw.”
“Isn’t that a rather ridiculous overstatement?”
“Not from where I’m standing. The Emory I know—knew—would have taken the girl to the emergency room if she were that concerned about her condition.”
“Lisa refused to go.”
“This mysterious man, Bannock, he didn’t factor into your decision to treat the girl at home?”
“He pleaded with her to call nine-one-one. He offered numerous times to drive her to an ER, despite the icy roads. It was only after she refused that he…involved me.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Emory.”
“Yes, I know. But that happens to be the absolute truth.”
He snorted with skepticism as he walked over to the bar that separated the living area from the kitchen.
They had rented a suite in a chain residence hotel that didn’t meet Jeff’s standards, but which he deemed a huge improvement over where he’d spent the last several nights, courtesy of the sheriff’s office. The suite was bi-level, with the bedroom and bath upstairs.
On the way there from the sheriff’s office, he’d stopped at a liquor store and bought a bottle of the single malt scotch he preferred. He poured himself three fingers’ worth.
“Want one?” he asked.
“The Emory you know doesn’t like scotch.”
He frowned at her drollness. “This qualifies as an emergency. Can I get you anything from the minibar?”
“No thank you.”
“Let me know when you get hungry. I’ll have to go out and bring something back. No one in this town has heard of room service.” He sat down in an easy chair and placed his feet on the matching ottoman. Pressing his thumb and middle finger into his eye sockets, he sighed. “Jesus, what a nightmare. But stay tuned. There’s more to come.”
Emory, semireclined on the sofa, hugging a throw pillow to her chest, watched him. It disturbed her to realize that she was looking for dishonesty or perfidy, which, under the circumstances, was unfair. And yet…
“Jeff?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you know that my sunglasses got broken when I fell?”
He lowered his hand from his face and looked over at her. “What?”
“Last night, you asked me who had fixed my sunglasses. How did you know they’d been broken?” He looked stumped. She repeated, “How did you know they’d been broken?”
“Because of the sloppy repair job. You were wearing them on Friday when you left the house. They were fine. Yesterday, when you were changing out of your clothes in the ER, an orderly, someone, handed your things over to me. I had to sign an inventory form. As I was putting everything into the plastic bag they provided, I noticed that one of the stems on your glasses had been glued together.”
“It’s hardly noticeable.”
“I noticed. You know I have an eye for detail.”
She nodded.
“Anything else?” he asked tightly.
“Actually, yes. Are you having an affair?”
He seethed for a moment, then turned to the end table at his elbow and decisively set his glass of whiskey on it. “Let me get this straight. You’re the one who went missing without explanation, and, as it turns out, went on a crime spree with a man of mystery under whose roof you spent four nights, and I’m the one being put on the defensive?”
“Are you having—?”
“Yes!”
She took a deep, stabilizing breath. “Since when?”
“Makes no difference now. It’s over.”
“Oh?”
“I called an end to it.”
“I repeat, since when?”
“Recently.”
“How recently? Since my disappearance?”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been seemly, would it, to be dallying with a lover when the fate of my wife was unknown.”
“Do the detectives know about it?”
“They discovered it, yes.”
“While investigating you?”
“That’s right. They were delighted to find you alive, but I think they, particularly Grange, were disappointed that they couldn’t charge me with murder.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”