She knew he was a silent, intense lover, yet there was also the discovery that her voice murmuring his name had the power to affect him like an actual physical caress. And just when she was certain he couldn't possibly make her feel more than she already had, he did.
"It's obvious to me," she murmured a long time later, "that you didn't spend all your time building a business empire."
John chuckled and drew her a bit closer to his side. "A man has to have hobbies."
"Ah. And, naturally, you applied yourself to those hobbies with all the energy and dedication at your command."
"Naturally."
"Well, none of it was wasted."
"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself." He hesitated only a moment. "Maggie?"
"Don't say it, okay?" She kept her voice quiet.
He was silent, then murmured, "Because you already know."
"Because I don't need to hear it. Not now. Later… when it's all over. Tell me then, all right?"
John didn't answer aloud, just wrapped both his arms around her and held her, wide awake as he listened to the wind moan outside.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I should call John and Maggie," Andy said.
"No, let them sleep." Quentin glanced up at the big clock on the wall, then shifted restlessly on the uncomfortable couch in the hospital's waiting room. "It's nearly three. Besides, there's nothing they could do."
Andy watched him. "She'll be all right. You heard the doctor. Stable enough for surgery, and he didn't anticipate any complications."
"So why's it taking so long?" Quentin looked at the clock once again, frowning. His face was drawn, the anxiety in his eyes obvious.
"He said it could be hours, Quentin, you know that."
"Yeah. Yeah."
Jennifer came into the waiting room and immediately asked, "Any news?"
"Not yet," Andy told her. "Still in surgery. What about Robson?"
She sat down beside him on the couch across from the one Quentin occupied. "Under restraints and sedation. He won't be any help anytime soon, at least not verbally. But when we ran his prints, we did find out that about four years ago he was employed by one of the electronics companies in the city, a big one. They run three shifts, but I had to get the personnel manager out of bed so he could give me a list of employees working for the company at the same time. We're comparing it to the list Kendra had put together of every person even remotely connected to the victims or the investigation."
"So maybe this ghost he was so afraid of will turn up."
"Maybe." She shrugged, her gaze moving to Quentin. "He did specifically say the ghost had gotten him fired and mentioned being a programmer. And I do believe he saw somebody go into that building, somebody who was carrying something in a sack that was moving. So maybe it'll turn out to be a worthwhile lead after all."
Quentin stirred slightly and said, "It was a worthwhile lead. Stop blaming yourself."
"I should have at least checked to make sure he wasn't armed," she responded, her voice tight. "We knew he was paranoid, jumpy as hell, and the way he was clutching that duffel I should have at least taken it away from him."
"You couldn't have known."
Jennifer looked as if she wanted to continue protesting but just shook her head silently.
Quentin repeated, "You couldn't have known. No one can be on guard all the time against the unexpected. And there were two of you there, don't forget that. From what you told us, it was pure chance Kendra was the one who got hit."
"He's right," Andy told Jennifer.
She grimaced. "That doesn't make it easier."
"Yeah, I know." Andy looked back at Quentin. "Shouldn't you report in, call your boss? We tried to keep it quiet, but you know as well as I do that by morning the media will know an FBI agent was shot while questioning a witness."
"I'll call it in when we know something. Where the hell's that doctor?"
"He said he'd talk to us as soon as the surgery was finished," Andy answered patiently.
"Yeah. Right."
A silence fell that none of them was willing to break, and the clock quietly ticked away the minutes. It was just after three-thirty when the doctor finally came into the waiting room, tired but satisfied.
"We're not out of the woods yet, but everything looks good," he told them. "We were able to extract the bullet and repair the damage. She'll have to take it easy for a while, but there should be no complications. And we have an excellent trauma therapist on staff to help her through the emotional aftereffects of having been shot."
"Can I see her?" Quentin asked.
"Not until she comes out of recovery, and that'll be hours yet." He looked at all of them, adding, "My advice would be for you to get some sleep and come back later in the morning. Believe me, there's nothing you can do here, and we'll call if there's any change."
"Thank you, Doctor." When they were alone again, Andy said reluctantly, "We should all be back at the office. The search for that Caddie is narrowing, and the lead Jenn and Kendra were following could pay off at any time."
"I know." Quentin shifted his shoulders as if to ease tension that refused to leave him despite the good news. "And with every hour that passes, we're less and less likely to find Tara Jameson before he kills her. You two go on back to the station. I want to have another word with the doctor before I call Quantico and report in."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, go ahead. I'll be along in a few minutes."
After they left him, it took Quentin less than five minutes to find the surgical recovery area and Kendra. Between the lateness of the hour and his inborn ability to slip into places unnoticed, he was able to reach her bedside without being challenged.
She was either still sedated or sleeping deeply, and he didn't try to wake her. He just stood looking down at her for a long time, without moving, his face bleak.
"Sir? You shouldn't be in here." The nurse's voice was low but authoritative.
Quentin looked at her, saw her take a half step backward, and made a conscious effort to tone down the savagery he was afraid she had seen and smile reassuringly. "Yes, I know. It's all right. I'm leaving now."
Hesitant, the nurse said, "She'll be fine, sir."
"Yes. Thank you, Nurse." He sent a final look at Kendra, then left the room without another word.
He went directly to his rental car in the parking lot near the emergency room and started the engine but didn't move the car. It was a long time before he reached for his cell phone and punched in Bishop's familiar number.
Jennifer poured herself another cup of coffee, afraid to stop and try to figure out how much she'd consumed in the past couple of days. It was barely six A.M. on this cold, dreary Thursday in November, and she had enough caffeine in her system to stay awake until Christmas.
Not that she expected to sleep between now and then anyway.
Scott came into the room, looking as tired as the others but considerably more dusty. "If I never see another file again," he announced, "it'll be too soon."
Jennifer felt a stab of guilt. "I should have been helping you, Scott. Sorry."
"Don't worry about it." He grinned. "I'll get even later."
"The question is," Andy said, "did you find anything helpful?"
Triumphant, he said, "I found out what happened in 1894. Well, sort of."
Sitting at the conference table at Kendra's laptop, Quentin looked at him in respect. "How in hell did you do that? The computer databases haven't coughed up a damned thing."