29

“She’s my granddaughter. You can’t keep us away from her.” Nana’s angry voice carried down the hospital’s hall.

I offered an apologetic smile to the nurse checking my IV. “That sounds like my grandmother. Would it be okay for her to come in?”

“Yes, of course.” She made an adjustment on the IV, then left the room.

The bullet had gone clear through the fleshy part of my arm with minimal damage, but I’d apparently lost a lot of blood.

Mom and Dad piled into the room with Nana trailing. “Tanner called us.”

“Oh.” I mustered a smile.

Of course Tanner had called them. He was a decent guy. But he hadn’t responded to my texts apologizing—again—for not calling him to back me up.

Mom stroked the hair from my face and kissed my cheek. “How do you feel?”

She looked like she’d been crying, and from the way she was plying the tissue in her other hand, it was taking every ounce of her self-control not to lecture me.

“I’m fine, Mom. We got the bad guys.”

Trying to be unobtrusive, I reached for my phone on the nightstand and shifted it a little closer to me.

Dad came around to my other side and kissed my cheek. “From the sounds of it, you might’ve toppled a lot of bad guys.” He smiled down at me, pride beaming in his eyes.

Nana stood at the foot of my bed, her fingertips grazing the sheet.

“I’m sorry about Tasha,” I said. “I’m sure Pete will do all he can to get her a reduced sentence for her part in Capone’s murder.”

Nana dipped her chin in a single nod. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said, her words shaky, her eyes red rimmed.

“It goes with the . . .” I was about to say territory, but one glance at Mom had me rethinking the pat response. I shrugged. “Things happen. I’m sorry we were too late to recover the Dali, but it’s been logged into the Art Loss Register, so it might turn up yet.”

Mom shook her head. “I can’t believe Tasha knew that man was a murderer and didn’t come forward.”

“She was afraid.” Probably as much of Ted’s retaliation as of being socially humiliated if her theft came to light. I surreptitiously glanced at my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed an alert.

“Being afraid is no excuse,” Mom said, disgust coloring her voice.

I winced because the excuse was uncomfortably familiar.

Tell them, a still, small voice inside my head said.

I shrank at the idea. I can’t. They’d be more disappointed in me than Tanner is.

Dad chucked my chin. “What’s the matter?”

Tell them, the voice repeated, more forcefully this time.

I scrunched the bedsheets in my fists and gave my head a shake, as if that would silence it.

They won’t hate you.

I stilled, because the voice sounded an awful lot like Granddad’s. I blinked back tears. What had they put in my IV? Something that made me hallucinate? Hear voices?

“Serena?” Mom said gently. “Should we call the nurse?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago but was too afraid of what you would think of me.”

Warm fingers curled around mine.

My eyes popped open, and Dad was gazing down at me, his expression serene. “We love you, sweetheart. You can tell us anything.”

A lump lodged in my throat. They could say that now, but if I told them, it would always be there in the back of their minds—my failure, my selfishness, the what-ifs if I’d been brave enough to say something then, not eighteen years too late.

Mom looked worried. Dad didn’t. His expression was resolute. I couldn’t bring myself to glance Nana’s way.

I took a deep breath, and the confession spewed out. “I was there the night Granddad died. I was hiding in the secret passage behind his office wall.”

They gasped.

“We thought it was Nana coming home early,” I rushed on before I lost my nerve. “Granddad didn’t want me to get caught staying up past my bedtime, so he showed me the passage to sneak through to my bedroom. But as soon as I was inside, he must’ve realized it wasn’t Nana coming in, and he told me to stay in the passage, to not come out, no matter what I heard.”

Mom’s hand flew to her mouth.

I didn’t dare look at her, at any of them. I fixed my gaze on a spot on the wall and forged on. If they were going to be disappointed in me, they might as well hear the whole story. “I heard the person come into Granddad’s office. Heard the struggle. I couldn’t see anything. Didn’t think I knew anything that would help the police. Except earlier this year I remembered one thing I’d seen that I must’ve blocked out all those years ago.”

This time the sharp intake of breath came from Nana’s direction.

“I saw a hand return a book to the shelf on the wall I was huddled behind. I don’t know how long I sat behind the wall like Granddad told me, hugging my legs, gnawing on my sleeve to keep from screaming. I was sure he would get me when it was okay.” Tears welled in my throat. I swallowed hard and forced myself to continue. “But later, much later, I think I must’ve fallen asleep. I heard Nana say I was in the bedroom. That’s when I rushed out the other side of the passage and dove into bed and pretended I’d been there all along.”

Dad pulled me into his arms and hugged me hard against his chest. “You must’ve been so scared when you learned what happened. I’m sorry we didn’t know. We should’ve known. We could’ve helped you.”

Tears streamed down my cheeks and soaked his shirt.

Mom patted my back. “That’s why you’re so afraid of enclosed spaces,” she said as if it was the biggest revelation of what I’d said, not that I’d been a spineless wimp, too scared to come forward and help the police figure out who broke in and killed my grandfather.

I lifted my face from Dad’s shoulder, and my gaze collided with Nana’s.

“You saw? You heard?” she asked in halting sentences. “And you didn’t tell anyone?” She turned away, and any hope she might forgive me vanished at the sight of her stiff back.

My heart shattered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they suspected you. I could have spared you that.” My voice broke. “I miss him so much. And I was so ashamed.” I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t help myself. The sight of her rigid back undammed a lifetime of regret. “I know that if I hadn’t begged you to let me stay over so I could paint with Granddad, he would’ve been out with you when the burglar came. I know that’s why you hated me so. That’s why I joined the FBI. I thought one day I’d track down his murderer, bring him to justice.”

“It won’t bring your grandfather back,” she spat, her words as cold as ice. “Nothing can bring him back.”

The breath seeped from my lungs.

Dad hugged me tighter. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. My work is pointless. She’ll never be able to forgive me, and I don’t blame her.” For the first time, I admitted to myself what I’d really yearned for all these years. It wasn’t really to bring Granddad’s murderer to justice. It was absolution.

Absolution for my role in his death. Absolution for not somehow trying to stop the intruder. Absolution for not talking to the police.

Nana turned back toward my bed, and a tear splashed onto her cheek.

I froze. I’d never seen her cry.

Her lips quivered. She blinked rapidly, staving off the tears clinging to her lashes. “I never blamed you. Never. I just . . .” She looked away.

I shook my head. I wasn’t ten years old anymore. I didn’t need it sugarcoated. “You do. You can scarcely bear to look at me. It’s okay. I understand.”

“No, that’s not why.” She lifted her gaze back to mine, and the anguish in her eyes tore at my heart. “You remind me too much of your grandfather.” She looked away. Inhaled, straightened her waist jacket as if refortifying the walls that had let too much undignified emotion seep through. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Her voice had turned cool once more. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Mom stroked my hair. “You always reminded me so much of your grandfather.”

“You were the apple of his eye,” Dad added, his smile tinged with sadness.

Was that why they’d never wanted to talk about him? Were they afraid it would make me too sad? Or maybe make them too sad?

“Blaming you for his death never crossed my mind,” Nana added.

I squashed the cynical thought I’d just supplied her a reason and stole another glance at my mute phone.

“I was to blame.” Nana glanced at Dad and swiped a tissue across her nose. “We should’ve sold that house years before, but I was too proud to let him.”

My mind flashed to the photo at Capone’s apartment and puzzle pieces started falling into place. “And the stolen painting?”

Pain flickered across Nana’s face. “A copy. We paid Capone to copy our entire art collection, then quietly auctioned off the originals.”

Looking deep in her eyes, I could see the grief she valiantly strained to hide. And for the first time, I realized that in my egocentric childhood world, I hadn’t fathomed that it wasn’t all about me. Much like Tasha’s assumptions about her mother’s affections.

“Knock, knock,” Nate said from the doorway of my hospital room. He held a gigantic bouquet of at least a couple dozen red and yellow and peach roses.

My heart jumped at the sight of him. Them. Both him and the roses.

Mom’s eyes popped. “Here”—she cleared her purse from the table next to my bed—“you can set them here. Isn’t this lovely?”

Yes, it was. There was a man in my life who cared that I was lying in a hospital bed.

“A bunch of the residents chipped in when your aunt told us what happened.”

My chest deflated just a tad.

“Aunt Martha told you? How did she hear about it?” Mom asked.

I exchanged an uneasy glance with Nate. Mom and Dad clearly hadn’t heard about Aunt Martha’s involvement in today’s takedown. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to break it to them.

“Oh, uh . . .” Nate stalled. “I think maybe . . .”

It was on the tip of my tongue to blurt “She’s friends with Gladys’s neighbor,” but one glimpse at Nana squashed the notion. I’d already kept my family in the dark about one too many things. “Aunt Martha was there,” I said solemnly. “The bad guys used her as bait to lure me to the ambush.”

Nana let out a tiny chuckle.

Not Mom. Her face went white.

Dad moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But she’s fine, right? Everyone’s fine.”

“Not a scratch on her,” Nate piped up as if it was no big deal.

I gave him a grateful smile.

Dad jostled Mom’s arm. “Hear that, honey? Not a scratch.”

“She was pumped,” Nate went on. “You know how she likes an adventure.”

Mom looked at me pleadingly. “Why can’t you get a safe job? Settle down. Start a family”—she glanced at Nate—“with a nice young man.”

“Um . . .” I floundered, not really up for fending off my mom’s heavy-handed matchmaking.

Nate gave me a smile and a conspiratorial wink, then before I could come up with a suitably noncommittal response, a movement at the door caught my eye.

A stunning arrangement of purple roses and hydrangea, accented with hot pink roses and white freesia, hovered in the doorway, attached to a disembodied arm.

Then Tanner followed the spectacular bouquet into the room.

My heart skipped a beat.

He’d swapped out his SWAT gear for a handsome dress shirt and sports coat. Most importantly, he wore a smile.

“Hey, kiddo, brought something for you.”

“Tanner, you shouldn’t have,” I said, but I could feel a big, goofy smile spread across my face.

“I didn’t.” He paused briefly at the sight of Nate’s gorgeous roses, then edged them back to make room for his in front.

“Huh?” My smile slipped.

“All the agents chipped in.”

“Oh.” Right. A lot of that going around, I thought, then immediately felt ungrateful. I pasted my smile back on. “Tell everyone thanks.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Sore,” I admitted.

“Well, I have news that will cheer you up.”

“Yes?”

“Ty has been released. And you were right about”—he glanced at my family, clearly hesitant to discuss the case in any kind of detail in front of them—“the missing evidence. And it’s a goldmine.”

“Awesome!”

“What about Tasha?” Nana asked.

“The last I heard, the attorneys are hammering out a deal. In return for her full cooperation, she might avoid jail time.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” Mom said. “Isn’t that good?” She turned to Nana.

Nana nodded. “For Gladys’s sake.”

Tanner’s cell phone went off. He glanced at the screen. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” He squeezed my hand. “I’ll see you later.”

Mom shot me a gleeful glance at his friendly touch, while the muscle in Nate’s taut jaw twitched.

I mentally rolled my eyes, because hello? Translation: I’ll come back when we can discuss the case in private.

“We should be going too,” Nana said. “Serena needs her rest.”

Neither Nate nor Mom made any move to leave. Dad cupped Mom’s shoulders and prodded her away from the bed. “Mum’s right. Can we get you anything before we go?” he asked me.

“Yeah, I’d love something to eat. I think I must’ve missed dinner.”

Dad nodded and edged Mom toward the door. “We’ll stop by the cafeteria and bring you up something.”

Nana patted the blanket over my foot. “Take care.” She held my gaze only a moment, but it seemed to say so much more than she’d voiced.

“I will. Thank you for coming.”

With a quick nod, she trailed Mom and Dad from the room.

Nate tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes. “What just happened there?”

“Happened?”

“You’re grinning like you just cracked the city’s worst criminal organization.”

My smile widened. “I did, as I’m sure you heard from Aunt Martha.”

“Oh yeah, but I don’t sense it’s what has you skipping on clouds.”

I didn’t think I could grin any bigger, but I did. I had to give him credit for his perceptiveness. “Skipping on clouds, huh? Are you a closet poet on top of your many other interests?”

A smile lit his eyes. “I’ve been known to write a verse or two. What’s the deal with your grandmother?”

“Well, let’s just say I’m seeing her in a whole new light. And it has made my heart much lighter.”

“I’m glad. How long do you have to stay in here?”

“Just overnight.” I glanced at the bandage covering the wound. “The recovery won’t be nearly as trying as convincing my mother I don’t have a death wish if I don’t quit.”

He chuckled. “Your aunt would be disappointed if you did. She thrives on the chance to get in on your escapades.”

I groaned. “I thought today might’ve cured her of that. For a while there, it didn’t look like we’d make it out alive.”

Mom and Dad appeared at the door again, this time carrying a tray of food.

Nate offered me a wink. “I’d better get going. Don’t worry about Harold. I’ll see he gets fed and entertained.”

“Oh! Thank you.” I hadn’t even given a thought to my cat shut up in the apartment with no one to feed him. And Mom thought me having kids was a good idea?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nate whispered as if he’d read my thoughts.

“Nice seeing you again, Nate,” Mom said as he left. She moved the flower arrangements to the windowsill so Dad could set the dinner tray on the bedside table.

She spent a long time fussing with the blooms. “Which one do you think is nicer?” she asked, her back still facing me.

“They are both lovely,” I said, sipping the juice they’d brought.

Dad threw me a mischievous smirk.

Yeah, I was pretty sure she hadn’t been comparing the flowers either, but it was safer to play dumb. When Mom turned around, she was positively glowing. I could hardly blame her. I was feeling pretty warm and fuzzy inside, myself.

Two lovely bouquets from two handsome, thoughtful men—okay, and from my colleagues and neighbors, but I was sure Mom wasn’t remembering that part.

I was sure Mom never imagined I’d have days like this.