“The patient has no heartbeat. I think we have to take it out. Can you please give me the scalpel?”
Reed’s eyes flew open in alarm, on the off chance Tula had acquired a knife somewhere. “The scalpel’s just pretend, right?” He craned his head off the floor of his daughter’s bedroom, scanning the assembled medical team of stuffed animals for any signs of a sharp implement.
“It’s from the same kit as the stethoscope,” Tula explained, waving the plastic end at him. “See?” Then she frowned at him, her huge dark eyes rimmed with concern. “You’re supposed to be under anna-seethes-you.”
“Anesthesia.”
“That’s what I said.” She pushed his head down again. “Now lie back. This is only going to hurt a little.”
“Tula!” Sarit called out from the doorway, a dish towel in her hand. “I think it’s time to let your father off the floor, okay? He’s still recuperating.”
Reed reached over to squeeze Tula’s small hand. “You’re an excellent doctor, sweetheart. I’m feeling much better.” He grimaced as he tried to rise from the floor, and Tula stood to give him a hand. It had been more than a month since his discharge from the hospital, but his mobility remained somewhat limited. He’d awoken with no memory of the shooting and the details had yet to come back to him. Ellery had filled him in on what had happened, and when the DNA test came back as a match to Amy Owens he knew it had to be true. In his head, though, he still had trouble matching sweet, round, cookie-baking Amy to the face of a murderer.
“Imagine how David feels,” Ellery had replied. “He’s been sleeping next to the woman who murdered his girlfriend for forty years now—and he’s the reason she did it.”
Reed, who’d grown up in a house full of secrets, could imagine it too well. His parents had overseen the bulk of his care since he’d left the hospital, seeming to relish the opportunity to fuss over him. Reed tolerated it in small doses and feigned sleep whenever he needed them to go away. They had apologized, in their way, for keeping the truth from him, but their contrition only went so far. Reed suspected if they could rewind history they’d make the same choices again. They still saw themselves as protecting him, and his brush with the hereafter only cemented this belief.
Reed took the stairs gingerly, although his feet knew them by feel from all the years he had walked them, baby Tula in his arms. He still admired the stately Southern home, with its sturdy redbrick exterior and intricately carved wooden staircase. Generations had come of age in this place, and he was glad his daughter was safe within its walls. He no longer felt a pang of loss looking at the paint choices and picture hangings he had debated with Sarit. It was time for him to go home, and that was no longer here. He found Sarit wiping down the kitchen counters. “Thank you for letting me come over today,” he said. “It was really good to spend time with her.”
“Anytime, Reed. I mean it.”
They stood with the island between them. He noticed she had switched out the light fixture over the sink, the one they had disagreed about all those years ago. “I was wondering if I could borrow a book from the library,” he said at last.
“Of course, please help yourself. Half of them are still yours, anyway. I’ve got the new Tana French novel if you’re looking for something to read.”
Reed drifted down the hall to the room they’d called the library, the one lined from floor to ceiling with books. It also contained Tula’s playhouse, an old sofa, and a small television, but the books gave the room its presence. The hardwood floors creaked under his feet as he studied the shelves, unsure if he would even find the book he sought. He’d looked up the article online the night before and verified his memory was intact: ten years earlier, Sarit had written a series about the psychological impact of rape on the survivors, and Reed recalled she had done extensive research for the piece. It took him a fair amount of searching, but he located the book he’d remembered.
“Daddy!” Tula came bounding down the stairs and hurled herself at him. He winced as she made contact with his chest, but her enthusiastic embrace was worth the pain. He bent to kiss her head.
“My sweet.”
“Do you have to go?”
Sarit materialized in the hall with them. “You’re welcome to stay for supper. It’s just me and Tula.”
“That’s a lovely offer, thank you, but I’m afraid I must be going. I have dinner plans of my own tonight. Next week, okay?”
“Okay. Love you, Daddy.” She gripped his head with both hands, holding him still for a noisy kiss, and then went skipping back up the stairs to her menagerie.
Sarit eyed the book in his hand as he rose to his feet, and he tucked it against his side self-consciously. “Dinner plans,” she said. “Like a date?”
He allowed himself to smile. Ellery’s plane would be touching down in an hour. They were having dinner, and for once, it wasn’t to discuss any sort of case. He had been looking forward to it for a literal month, and he wasn’t about to let Sarit ruin his good mood. “Like a date,” he agreed.
Sarit nodded at the book, the one he’d turned to obscure the title: Living and Loving After Sexual Assault. “It’s Ellery, yes?”
Reed knew Sarit didn’t approve, but he no longer gave a damn. “It’s just dinner,” he said lightly.
“Not if you’re reading that it’s not.”
“I care about her, Sarit. I suggest you get used to the idea, since there is nothing you can actually do about it.”
“You care about her; that’s great. It’s just when the pair of you get together, one or both of you end up in a hospital. That’s not healthy, Reed. It’s dangerous.”
“She had nothing to do with what happened to me this time. She wasn’t even there when it happened.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better? Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life. You’re right: that’s not up to me. But it is my job to look after Tula.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Tula’s just fine.”
“Sure, now. What if she’s with you when you and Ellery decide to go on one of your ill-considered adventures?”
Reed’s jaw dropped. “Ill-considered? We arrested my mother’s murderer!”
“I’m aware of that. Congratulations all around, yes. You also almost got killed in the bargain. I’m sure she’s lovely, Reed. I’m not saying she’s not a nice person. But—”
“But what?”
“The two of you seem to bring out the worst in each other. Or at least the danger. So yes, I worry. I worry for you, and I worry for Tula.”
“You can be sure I’m not dragging Tula along on any investigation, ill-considered or otherwise. Give me a little credit, at least.”
“She loves you. Believe it or not, so do I. I just want what’s best for you.”
Reed drew himself up stiffly. Here was a lesson he had learned the hard way. “There’s a limit to what love can do,” he told her. He held up the book as he went for the door. “Thanks for the book. Tell Tula I’ll call her tomorrow.”
Reed took his dish of cut-up and seasoned potatoes and placed it in the oven underneath the pork. He had the vegetables ready for steaming, and a chocolate torte purchased from the bakery around the corner. Normally, he’d bake it himself, but his stamina wasn’t quite back to normal yet. He’d tidied the living room and made sure the downstairs bathroom was presentable. He didn’t have to worry about the closets this time, as Ellery had insisted on staying at a nearby hotel.
His cell phone buzzed on the counter, and he snatched it up, thinking it could be her, but the phone number was a familiar one from Nevada. Jackie Baldwin, the prosecutor charged with handling Amy Owens’s case, had called him multiple times over the past few weeks to talk about the upcoming trial. “Jackie,” he said, hoping it would be short and sweet this time. “How are you?”
“I’ll level with you. I’ve been better.”
“Why? What’s going on?” He went to peek out the blinds to see if Ellery’s taxi was on its way down the street.
“We’ve got trouble,” Jackie told him. “Amy Owens’s team wanted a thorough reanalysis of that bookend—you know, the one used to beat Camilla in the attack? Well, they got a solid index print from the base and it doesn’t match Amy Owens.”
Reed forced himself to pay attention. Amy was out on bail, he knew. Despite the DNA results, no one could seem to believe the charges were true. Amy was well liked and family oriented. She’d raised three daughters in the community, and so far her family, including David, was standing by her side.
“The print doesn’t match Camilla Flores, either. This, combined with that missing twenty-five thousand dollars, leaves the door wide open for the defense. You see what I’m saying?”
“I do, yes.” Reed returned to the kitchen and shook up his homemade salad dressing. “I’m just not sure what to tell you. It’s her DNA on the knife.”
“Maybe there was a second doer,” Jackie replied. “A coconspirator. We ran David’s prints, and they’re not a match, either. Amy’s lawyer is claiming it’s proof his client is innocent. Some other guy committed the murder.”
“Her blood was on the knife.”
“She’s now saying that she had dinner with David and Cammie at her apartment one time shortly before the murder, and that she helped to cook it. Maybe she cut herself on the knife then. Her husband is backing the story.”
Reed frowned, the bottle in his hand. “That’s a problem.”
“A big one. I can’t go to trial like this. She’s guaranteed a walk.”
“Ellery can testify. Amy practically confessed to her.”
“Did she? I’ve interviewed Ellery at length about that conversation. According to her, all Amy did was deny it.”
Reed’s doorbell rang. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “We can talk more later.”
“I’m not sure there will be a later,” Jackie replied darkly.
Reed hung up the phone without saying goodbye. He would worry about this latest complication later. He didn’t want to spend the evening talking shop with Ellery. He just wanted to see her. Flush with anticipation, he flung open the door and found her standing on his stoop with her roller bag in hand. She gave him a shy smile. “Hi,” she said. “You, uh, you look good.” Her face turned pink. “Healthy, I mean.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I have a doctor’s note and everything. Come on in.”
He welcomed her inside the small foyer and tried to kiss her cheek, only she moved one way as he moved the other and they bumped heads instead. “Oops,” she said, rubbing her temple. “Sorry.”
He was determined to get better about touching her. He just hadn’t had time to read the damn book yet. “How was your flight? Here, let me take your bag.”
She held fast when he tried to take it from her. “About that,” she said, laying her hand on his.
“I know; you’re staying at the hotel. I just meant I can put it out of the way while we eat dinner.”
“I can’t stay.”
He halted, confused. “What?”
“I did the HLA test,” she said. “The one that checks to see if I can be a bone marrow donor for—for Ashley. I just got the call when I landed.” She spread her hands in helpless fashion. “I’m a match.”
“Really? That’s amazing.”
She peeked behind him at the kitchen. “No, dinner smells amazing. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“It’s almost ready. Can you at least stay to eat?”
“Try to stop me.”
He set out the dishes while she washed up, and while they ate she explained about the next steps. “I have to go to Detroit. I’ve already booked a flight for the morning. They want me to donate some of my own blood ahead of the procedure, and then we wait a few days before the actual transplant. Depending on how it goes, they may keep me overnight, or I could go home even the same day.”
“Home? Back to Boston?”
“No, I think I’d have to wait a couple of days for that. I’ll have to find a hotel or something. At least I have an excuse to have room service wait on me hand and foot for a few days, right?”
“Right.” He searched her face. “Are you okay? You’re sure about this?”
“Sure, I guess. This kid, Ashley, it’s not her fault that her father is an asshole. Besides, what’s a couple more scars at this point?” She nodded to him. “What about you? How are you doing?”
He made a show of sitting up straighter. “I’m fine. Mostly healed now, although I’m not allowed back to work for another couple of weeks yet. Like you said, what’s a couple more scars?”
“Your family is something else,” she told him. “They laid siege to that waiting area like Grant took Richmond. I think they would’ve set up camp for months if they’d needed to.” She paused and pushed the food around on her plate. “They, uh, they love you a lot.”
He smiled at her tenderly, although she had ducked her head, hiding from him, so she couldn’t see it. He knew she’d been there, too, because his sisters told him so. “How would you feel about dessert?” he said as he rose to his feet.
“I feel passionately about dessert,” she said as she helped him clear the table. “You know that.”
“Great. We can eat and then I’ll go pack.”
She looked surprised. “Pack? Where are you going?”
“Apparently, I’m going to Detroit.”
She stopped with a dish in each hand and looked at him askance. “Reed, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’m going completely crazy sitting around here looking at these four walls, and you promised me a weekend. We’ll just have to switch up the venue is all.” The mess out in Nevada was not his problem anymore. Let Jackie worry about how to nail Amy. For once, Reed was going to spend more energy thinking about his future than his past. “What’s your ticket information?” he asked her, and he pulled out his phone. “I’ll see if I can get us booked into first class. I think we’ve damned well earned it, don’t you?”
Ellery searched him over for a moment and then smiled. “You know what?” she said. “I think maybe we have.”