Her dark hair had been up, also, he realized. Coiled at the base of her neck, not loose and tangled as it was now. And she’d had a dark gray jacket to go with her matching trousers, buttoned up and looking every bit the poised, perfect government aide-nothing like the lioness who’d just saved at least a dozen lives with her show of bravery.
“They won’t let you see her until they check her out,” he responded. “You know the governor’s going to get the full package of tests. Better for us to get our statements to the police over with, don’t you think? We’ll probably get back to the hospital before she’s even done.”
He turned out to be right. It didn’t take long for the police to realize Harlan and Stacy didn’t have much to add to what Parker McKenna and Bart Bellows had already told the police about what happened that day. Harlan found he had several of the same questions the police did about the bombing. For starters, why had the first bomb been so low-impact? It had been large enough to take down the dais and blast deadly shrapnel through the surrounding crowd, but there had been minimal impact to the area beyond the platform where the governor had given her speech.
“If the first bomb was so small, why was the second one so much bigger?” Stacy asked another of his questions aloud later as they were on the way to the hospital in the back of a detective’s sedan.
Damned good question, Harlan thought. “Maybe they were supposed to go off at the same time and something blocked the signal to the second device. Bomb squad will tell us more.”
“Maybe.” Stacy didn’t sound as if the explanation appeased her curiosity. “Have you heard any news from the hospital?”
“Not a word.”
“I hope they’re still doing well,” she murmured, gazing out the window at the sprawling campus of the University of Texas. Her profile looked pale and fragile, though Harlan knew now that she was a lot tougher than she looked.
“Did you get to call Zachary?” he asked aloud, wondering if she’d spill the beans about who the mysterious Zachary was to her.
She slanted a quick look his way. “I did. He hadn’t heard anything about what happened, so he wasn’t worried.”
“Good,” Harlan said, although he wondered how anyone with access to a radio or television could have missed the news about what happened at the capitol.
At the hospital, Parker McKenna was waiting for them in the lobby. “We’re all upstairs waiting for more word,” Parker told Harlan. “They’ve done a few tests, but so far everything’s looking good. They think she has a mild concussion, so they’re going to want to keep her here overnight.”
“What about Bart?”
“Him, too. He doesn’t seem to have sustained any real injuries-pretty miraculous if you ask me.” Parker pushed the button for the fourth floor. “They’re going to move Lila into her own room on the fourth floor as soon as they finish the last tests, so we’re all gathering in the fourth floor waiting area until they’ve brought her up.”
In the waiting room, Bailey and her sister Chloe sat talking to each other. They both looked up as Harlan, Parker and Stacy entered. Bailey’s eyes went soft at the sight of her fiancé, while Chloe Lockhart’s baby blues hardened at the sight of Harlan. She wasn’t exactly his biggest fan after his stint as her bodyguard a few months back.
“Oh, look. It’s Dirty Harry.” She greeted him with a roll of her eyes.
“Nice seeing you again, Chloe. Like the hair.”
Chloe’s right hand went defensively to her spiky pink-streaked hair. “I needed a change.”
Bailey pulled away from Parker’s hug and reached out to touch Stacy’s arm. “Mom told us everything you did for her back there. I don’t even know how to start thanking you.”
“Thank the Austin bomb squad,” Stacy said, looking uncomfortable at the praise.
“I will, but I’m not through thanking you,” Bailey said with a smile. “Listen, is there anything I can do for you?”
“I should get busy booking rooms for everyone who’s staying overnight,” Stacy murmured, looking as if the last thing she was capable of doing was playing social secretary for the governor’s entourage. But Harlan supposed that was her job, and the explosion had certainly put a kink in the plans for everyone to hop aboard the governor’s private jet and fly back to her home base of Freedom, Texas.
“Why don’t you let me do that for you?” Chloe Lockhart suggested in a gentle tone that caught Harlan by surprise. He was used to sarcasm and petulance from the governor’s rebellious youngest child.
“No,” Stacy snapped, making Chloe flinch. Looking horrified by her own rudeness, Stacy immediately added, “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m still a little stressed.”
“Understandable,” Chloe answered, her voice sympathetic.
“I just have everything I’d need to get this done on my phone,” Stacy added. “Plus, I could really use the distraction.” She flashed Bailey and Chloe a faint smile and headed out the door to the courtyard outside the waiting room. Once the door closed behind her, she pulled out her phone and seemed to get right to work.
Harlan watched her, a little worried by the pallor of her face and the way her back bowed with sheer exhaustion.
What if she’d sustained an injury worse than just the scrape to her head? She could be bleeding internally, for all they knew. The EMTs had barely spared a minute to slap a bandage on her head.
“Did the police tell you anything new?” Parker McKenna’s question forced Harlan’s attention away from Stacy.
With an apologetic look at Bailey, Harlan drew Parker off to the side.
“I’ll tell her what we’re talking about later, you know,” Parker murmured.
Harlan barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Half the guys at Corps Security and Investigation were sappy in love these days. It was becoming an epidemic-one Harlan had no intention of getting sucked into. His ex-wife had done an excellent job of immunizing him against the love bug. He might thank her one of these days, if he ever decided to speak to her again.
“Regardless, the governor’s daughters don’t need to hear us analyzing who might want to blow up their mother and why,” he said aloud to Parker. “The situation’s scary enough.”
“Tell me about it,” Parker growled. “I thought when we caught Frank Dorian, this kind of thing was over.”
“What’s the chance that Dorian had an accomplice we don’t know about?”
“Believe me, I’ve been thinking about that myself,” Parker admitted. “But it just doesn’t make sense. Dorian’s motive was so personal. It’s not like he’s going to pass on his obsession to some random bomber he found in the phone book.”
Harlan knew Parker was right. Frank Dorian had blamed Lila Lockhart for her decision not to pardon his brother, who’d been on Texas’s death row. His brother’s execution had been too much for Dorian’s brokenhearted mother, and Dorian blamed Lila for her death, as well. His decision to go after the governor had been deeply personal rather than political, and his arrest had put an end to the threats against the governor and her family.
But at least it would have been a place to start looking.
Instead, they didn’t have a clue who’d planted the two bombs at the capitol today. People had been killed. Even more had been injured, some critically.
And for what? Just because Lila Lockhart had decided she wasn’t through serving her country?
The world was a crazy, crazy place.
Harlan’s gaze drifted toward the large plate glass window looking out on the concrete courtyard, where he’d last seen Stacy Giordano. She was no longer talking on the phone, nor had she reentered the hospital waiting room. Instead, she sat on one of the three concrete benches loosely circling a large potted evergreen tree, her back to the window. Her hunched shoulders and lowered head made her look small and fragile.