Chapter Four #3
“My gut and my logic. I talked to Harrison. If you are hitting walls, and you are, and so am I, then the “obvious” answer isn’t the obvious. It’s someone after Alanna.”
“She disagrees.”
“Vehemently, but she hasn’t seen pictures of the man yet.”
“Harry has a call into her boss, but hasn’t connected.”
Quaid snorted. “I’m guessing she’ll want to tell him the situation herself.”
The curtain brushed open. Their conversation stopped.
Dr. Meeks was a short, robust man with a bushy black beard and intense brown eyes.
“She’s going to be fine, and I’m only telling you this because she gave me permission.
She has tympanic membrane damage in her middle ear and ear drum.
Definitive signs of conductive hearing loss, possibly tinnitus, but it’s too close to the event to draw conclusions.
The blood and debris along with the injury are compromising sound transmission.
Now we wait and give it time to heal. We’ll know in a few weeks if her eardrum and hearing return to normal.
If not, we’ll have a better framework for a course of treatment.
You can talk to her for the rest.” He trotted past them both.
Quaid grabbed the curtain and entered the room. Mackey stayed clear. Quaid and Alanna had a habit of spitting at each other no matter what the contact. Had from the first meeting. He was going to let them sort this out on their own.
“I’ll make arrangements for us to get back to QM.”
Quaid waved him off. He never took his eyes off Alanna.
Mackey shut the curtain again and grabbed his phone. Oh boy.
&&&&&&&&&&
Tired, frustrated, and irritated, Alanna glared at Quaid and wanted to blame him for the whole mess she was currently surviving. But, in her experience when she let out her frustration, the situation never worked out in her favor. Aside from the personal consequences, none of this was his fault.
The curtain separated and Mackey poked his head in. “Niles is here. He has clothes for Williams, and he’s our ride back to QM.”
She only got about four words, but guessed at the rest. Niles, clothes, ride, QM. “Thanks. Can we leave?”
Quaid glanced at Mac.
Mackey shrugged and pointed at the central station. “I’ll arrange it.”
Or what she assumed was agreement.
She blurted out her nagging concern. “I’m not going to be much of a wingman for a few weeks.”
Quaid grabbed her board and scribbled in a messy scrawl. “We’re going to QM. We’ll talk there.”
“Talk about what?”
Writing again, she watched words emerge on the page. “We have pictures of the man from cameras. I want you to check them. You might recognize him.”
“This isn’t about me.” She rubbed at the bandage on her arm.
Quaid lifted her chin. “You may have seen him.”
“How?”
He grabbed the marker again and erased the board. “You were outside before the wedding?”
“Yes, a couple different times. Trying to stay out of the way.”
Quaid stared at her, his deep frown off-putting.
“You think I saw him in the parking lot?”
He nodded at her, his lips pressed tightly together.
She glared at him. There was something else there, something he wasn’t telling her.
Well, she’d always been rudely honest with him. Why stop now?
“What are you not telling me?”
Quaid shook his head. “Not the time.”
If she waited until she got to QM and to safety, she’d fall asleep. She needed rest so badly. The pain meds they’d given her kept her eyes at half-mast, and she needed a comfortable bed.
She played the only card she had. “How long do you want to wait for this information?”
He tipped his head, irritation in his gaze and stubbornness in the set of his shoulder.
“I’ll be asleep within five minutes in the car. These drugs they gave me are going to knock me out. So unless you want to wait for twelve hours while I sleep, you best tell me.”
Quaid huffed. The man had a serious attachment to control.
She raised her brows and gave him her most exasperated stare.
He took her board back and slowly wiped away the words.
He wrote – “I think you know him. I think he knows you. I think this whole mess is about you, not me.”
“I told you it wasn’t.”
“You’re wrong.”
She put energy she didn’t have into controlling her angry response. “Why? How did you decide this?”
He erased the board again. “Absence of information on my side, and investigations never work well if you ignore half the equation.”
“Show me the picture.” She could be stubborn, too.
He erased the statements and put the board aside. Going to the curtain, he talked to Mackey. Back with his partner’s phone, Quaid searched a minute, then turned the phone to her. “Parking lot,” he mouthed to her.
She studied the image. Shadowed with no clear view of the man’s face, she still took the time to memorize the image. “This could be anyone.”
“Yes.” He took the phone back and scrolled again. “Hotel kitchen.”
“Where he planted the bomb?”
“Yes.”
She took the phone and saw the picture. Her chest balled into a tight wad of anxiety. Panic bloomed in an uncontrolled spin leaving her breathless. The eyes of her nightmare stared back at her.
Shit.