“Say good night, Gracie.” Jack grinned at her. “Hey, Moira . . . don’t I get a kiss?”
“Dam . . . I mean, darn right you do!” Moira rushed over to the bed, her red and purple caftan flapping, and bussed Jack on the cheek. “Ellen and Walker are on their way up. They had to stop at the kitchen because Grace forgot to pack the silverware.”
There was another knock at the door and Walker and Ellen came in. He was carrying a bucket of ice and she had a handful of spoons.
“Sorry about this, Jack.” Ellen plunked the spoons down on the table and kissed him. “They couldn’t spare any knives and forks.”
“They don’t give us sharp implements. I guess they’re afraid we’ll stab one of the doctors and make a break for freedom. Hey, Walker. I hear you picked up a couple of biggies this afternoon.”
Walker came over to shake Jack’s hand. “Still got your sources, huh?”
“You bet.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Moira looked puzzled. “We know that Marc is in jail, but who else got busted?”
Jack smiled. “Three kingpins in the drug-smuggling business. That’s the reason Walker couldn’t blow the whistle any sooner. I tumbled onto the fact that Johnny was running drugs in Ellen’s mannequins months ago, but the agency wanted to hold off until they could nail his source.”
“Then you’re a narc?” Jayne turned to Walker with surprise. “You sure don’t look like a narc.”
Paul shook his head. “No, Jayne. Walker was kind enough to explain it to me. He is not a narc. He is actually a spook.”
Jayne looked horrified. “Really, Paul! They might say that in Norway, but we certainly don’t say it here!”
“But it’s true.” Walker chuckled. “I’m a member of the Spook Squad. We’re the agents who go undercover on the big cases.”
Ellen reached out to take Walker’s hand. “You mean you were a member of the Spook Squad.”
“You’re finally retiring?” Jack began to smile as Walker nodded. “About time you let the young guys take over and started to lead a normal life. And you’re settling down to make mannequins, right?”
“That’s right.”
Jack raised himself on his elbows until he was sitting up slightly. “You need my testimony to tie up any loose ends? All you guys have to do is subpoena me, and the doctors’ll have to let me out of this thing.”
Walker shook his head. “Nice try, Jack. But if you’re not out in time, they can always do a deposition from your hospital bed.”
“Okay, okay. If I can’t get out of traction, how about opening that champagne? At least it’ll take my mind off my troubles.”
Ellen stood up. “Good idea. We’ve got two bottles and a surprise waiting out in the hall. I’ll go tell her to come in.”
Jack felt his heartbeat quicken. Her? But it couldn’t be Betty. She wasn’t well enough to wait alone in the hall. He was happy his friends were here and he was glad to see them, but it made him miss Betty even more than ever.
“Hi, Jack.”
Jack’s mouth dropped open as Betty walked in, unassisted. She looked so healthy and so beautiful that he could hardly believe his eyes. He swallowed hard, but his voice still came out in a strangled croak. “Betty?”
“It’s me, Jack.”
Betty handed the champagne to Moira to open and came over to the bed to kiss him. She smelled wonderful from some kind of expensive perfume, her hair was done in a soft, flattering style, and her dress was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Jack blinked and fought down the urge to pull her down for another kiss, the kind of a kiss that might just embarrass them both.
“I told them it might be too much of a shock to spring on you this way, but they just couldn’t resist. Should I sit on the edge of the bed? Or will that hurt your leg?”
“Oh, no. Please sit.” Jack’s voice was still hoarse. “What happened to you? You look . . . uh . . .”
“Normal?” Betty laughed. “I’m getting there, now that the drugs are almost out of my system.”
“Drugs?” Jack swallowed again, but it didn’t seem to help his voice.
“Her father had her drugged to keep her from talking,” Walker explained. “Betty’s responsible for the arrests we made this morning. And she made tapes of the murders on that close-circuit system you hooked up in her unit. She’s our star witness.”
Jack gazed at Betty in shock. “Then you don’t have Alzheimer’s?”
“No. The whole thing was Marc’s idea, and my father gave his approval. Walker says they’ve been trying to get the goods on our family for years.”
“But that means you’re in danger!”
“True, but it’s minimal.” Walker spoke up. “Marc told Betty’s father that she was dead and we haven’t said anything to the contrary. When the story breaks in the papers tomorrow, they’ll list Betty Matteo as one of the victims.”
“Come on, Walker.” Jack shook his head. “That might work for a while, but you know they’ll get wise sooner or later. Somebody’s got to protect Betty and I’m stuck in this damn hospital bed.”
Walker grinned at him. “Hospital beds can be moved. They can even be loaded onto a plane and taken to a nice safe tropical hideaway where you can recover with the aid of your private nurse.”
“My nurse?”
“Meet Margaret Woodard, RN. I’m assuming her identity.” Betty handed him a glass of champagne. “Drink up, Jack. We’re leaving in an hour.”
“An hour?” Jack’s head was spinning and he hadn’t even tasted his champagne.
“It’s all set. You took care of me for over four years and now it’s my turn. You won’t mind if I play nurse, will you?”
Jack began to smile. If playing nurse was anything like playing doctor, it was the best proposition he’d ever had. “I won’t mind. And you certainly look prettier than the last time I saw you, Miss Woodard.”
WHERE INNOCENCE DIES . . .
Expectant parents Karen and Mike Houston are
excited about restoring their old rambling Victorian
mansion to its former glory. With its endless maze of
rooms, hallways, and hiding places, it’s a wonderful
place for their nine-year-old daughter Leslie to play
and explore. Unfortunately, they didn’t listen to
the stories about the house’s dark history.
They didn’t believe the rumors about
the evil that lived there.
. . . THE NIGHTMARE BEGINS.
It begins with a whisper. A child’s voice beckoning
from the rose garden. Crying out in the night.
It lures little Leslie to a crumbling storm door.
Down a flight of broken stairs. It calls to their
unborn child. It wants something from each of
them. Something in their very hearts and souls.
Tonight, the house will reveal its secret.
Tonight, the other child will come out to play . . .
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Joanne Fluke’s
THE OTHER CHILD
coming in August 2014!