Chapter Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Eight

It was sad, but at this point in my life, I knew better than to drop my dad's name on the two uniformed officers standing guard in front of the ICU. They were simply too young to have heard of him, their combined ages roughly adding up to the number of years it had been since Phil Randall made captain.

It was a better tack to bring them coffees from the little place I'd seen in the lobby, and so that was what I did. "Thought you guys might need these," I said. And I'd thought right. Up close, the two of them looked as though they were falling asleep on their feet. They took the coffees and thanked me, then dumped in the packets of cream and sugar I'd also generously provided. "You know, there's no such thing as free coffee from a PI, right?" I flashed my private investigator's license and gave them both a smile. The twelve-year-old on the left rolled his eyes. The one on the right sort of giggled and blushed. Maybe he thought I was a MILF? I had no idea. But at any rate, I decided to focus my attention on him.

"You have any idea how she's doing?"

"Were you hired to protect her?" the eye-roller asked.

"If I was, I wouldn't be very good at my job, would I?" I grinned.

Boy on the right giggled again.

"Actually, I've been hired to find her best friend," I said. "Do you guys know anything about how she's doing?"

"Pretty sure they've got her stabilized," Right Boy said. "There's a lot of them working on her now."

A few guys in scrubs hurried past us, pushing through the double doors. When they did, I caught a flash of the scene in intensive care. A curtained-off area, the men in scrubs barreling toward it. There were at least ten people in there, clustered around a patient—one of the few patients in the suite. From their urgency alone, I knew it was Sky.

One of the people working on her had said something. I couldn't make it out. But I thought I heard "blood loss." And also "transfusion."

"I mean, these types of situations are always touch-and-go," my friend on the right was saying. "But one of the docs said they're cautiously optimistic."

I wasn't listening anymore. Not really. Even now, long after the doors had swung shut, my head was still in the ICU suite. What would Dylan think if he knew about this? After all he's done and as awful as he is, would he come out of hiding to be by his best friend's side?

"I hope she pulls through," I said.

The two of them said nothing.

"Have you guys heard anything about the shooter?"

"Just that he acted alone," said Right Boy.

"Are we sure it was a he?" I asked.

"When they brought her in, she was saying he and him . ‘He shot me.' She was barely conscious, though."

"We don't know anything," Left Boy said.

"Where did the info about him acting alone come from?" I asked. "Were there any eyewitnesses?"

"I don't think so," said the boy on the right.

"We don't know anything," his eye-rolling partner said again.

"I wasn't talking to you," I said.

Right Boy started to speak, but the eye-roller gave him a nasty look. Then he turned to me, his face like granite. "We don't know anything," he said.

He's just saying what his higher-ups told him to say, I thought. Still, he didn't have to be such a bitch about it.

I glared at him. "I'm friends with Lee Farrell, you know."

"Well, maybe ask him, then."

I was this close to taking his coffee back.

"Thanks for your help." I said it to Right Boy alone. "Have a nice day."

—

I kept thinking about Sky as I walked back to the waiting room. Between Maurice's hopeful account and that chaotic scene in the ICU, I didn't know what to believe about her prognosis. At this point, I was leaning toward not good . It made me sad—especially for Lydia.

It also made me think about the shooter. He shot me, Sky had allegedly said in her delirium. So it was a man, who had gotten past lobby security and into Gonzo's locked-up offices with apparent ease. Could Dylan Welch have shot his best friend for knowing too much? Was he capable of something that craven?

When I returned to the waiting room, the Welches were still standing where I'd left them. "Long bathroom trip," Bill said curtly. Apparently, he'd missed me.

"Bill," Lydia said.

"Actually, I stopped by the ICU," I said. "I tried to get an update from the cops."

"And?" Lydia said.

I considered telling her what I'd seen, and what I'd been thinking. But not for long. "They know nothing," I said. "At least, that's what one of them told me."

I looked around the waiting room. There were three other visitors standing awkwardly in the corner: a woman and two men, all of them in their late twenties or early thirties, all fashionably but unimaginatively dressed, all gawking at us, as though we were the season finale of their favorite reality show. I wondered when they'd shown up, or if they'd been there the entire time and I just hadn't noticed them. When the trio saw me looking at them, they offered shy waves to Bill and Lydia.

Lydia waved back.

"Who are they?" I asked quietly.

"I have no idea," Bill said.

"That's Kaitlyn, Timothy, and Henry," Lydia whispered.

"Who?" Bill said.

Lydia let out an exasperated sigh. "Kaitlyn is head of Marketing. Timothy and Henry do focus groups and brainstorming and whatnot," she said.

The three of them walked up to us in a triangular formation, with Kaitlyn in front. She gave Lydia a quick, tight hug. "You remember Bill, of course," Lydia said.

"Of course," Kaitlyn said.

Bill nodded at the three of them.

Lydia introduced them to me. I shook their hands. "Sunny Randall is a private investigator," Lydia said. "I've hired her to find Dylan."

"He's missing?" Timothy asked. Lydia responded with a death glare. I could tell that he wished he could suck the words back into his mouth.

"Yes," Lydia said. "He is."

"I'm sorry," Timothy said. "I didn't mean any disrespect. I just…I assumed he was on vacation."

"Dylan goes on vacation a lot," Henry said helpfully.

"No offense taken," Bill said.

It was a lie. Plenty of offense had been taken, if only on Lydia's part.

Lydia put her back to the two young men and spoke directly to Kaitlyn. "Who on earth could have done something like this?" she asked. "A shooting in the Winthrop Center in broad daylight?"

"I know, Mrs. Welch. We were talking about it, and the only thing we can think is that maybe someone knew we'd all be gone and tried to rob the place?"

"Of what?" I said. "Office equipment?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Ours is top-of-the-line," Kaitlyn said. "But also Gonzo. Gonzo merch. You'd be amazed at how popular it is right now. It's got that early-Nike vibe."

That sounded like an exaggeration. But then I remembered Blake back at my office, guzzling the rest of that thug Charlie's can. "People do like the stuff," I said.

"And Sky tried to stop the robbers," Lydia said.

"Yes," Kaitlyn said. "That's what we were thinking."

"That sounds like her."

"First that lab tech and now Sky," Kaitlyn said. "You think maybe it's the same person?"

Lydia cringed. I knew what she was thinking because it was the same thing I'd been thinking "Not Sky," Lydia said. "He would never."

"Who would never?" Kaitlyn said.

Lydia's face flushed. "Nobody."

"I think the shock is getting to all of us," I said quickly. "You really think it was a failed robbery?"

Kaitlyn looked at me. "It makes the most sense."

As they spoke, a question popped into my mind. But I'd have to wait to ask it until the marketers were out of earshot.

"She was such a brave person," Kaitlyn said.

Lydia swayed on her feet. Bill caught her.

"Is," I said. "She's still in that ICU, fighting away." I put on a smile. It actually hurt.

"Of course," Kaitlyn said. "Is." She looked at Lydia and Bill. "You know, we wouldn't have half the success we've had without Sky…and, uh, Dylan, of course."

"Totally," Timothy said.

"Sales took a big hit in the first quarter after the whole thing with the girl," Henry said. "But Sky hopped in the driver's seat and brought us back on track." He coughed. "Dylan, too."

Bill rolled his eyes. "Typically," he said, "there is only one driver's seat."

I watched the three of them. Their eager, pained smiles. It took me several seconds to figure out that by "the whole thing with the girl," Henry was referring to the death of Rhonda Lewis's daughter, Daisy. For marketing people, these three weren't particularly good with words.

"Anyhoo," Henry said, "we should probably head out, right? We…um…don't want to take up space in the waiting room, and we should get back to the office. The police might have questions."

"Good thinking," Bill said.

"Thank you for being here," Lydia said.

"It's our pleasure," Timothy said.

"That's not what he means," Kaitlyn said. "He doesn't mean ‘pleasure.'?"

"Just a figure of speech," Henry said.

Jesus. I caught Bill rolling his eyes again. I couldn't say I blamed him.

"It was just terrific meeting you guys," I said and nodded.

It was the prompt they needed. That one last kick in the butt to send them out the door. They said their goodbyes and left.

Finally. I looked at Lydia. "Didn't you say that Sky was going to be late for lunch because there was something at work that she had to take care of?"

"Yes," Lydia said. "Yes, that's right. She called me after Bill and I seated ourselves. Balthazar had our phones, of course. So he spoke to her and relayed the message." She smiled a little. "Balthazar likes Sky very much."

"What's not to like?" I turned to Bill. "When Martin Jennings was at your house, did he mention telling anyone else about the missing payroll money?"

Bill said nothing. He stared at Lydia.

"Stop it," she said. "She's Dylan's best friend in the world. Stop it."

"Sky knew," Bill said.

"Stop it," said Lydia.

"She knew. Martin told us. He let her in on it first, but she didn't believe it. She said there had to be a mistake."

"Stop."

"He said she was very upset." Bill looked at me. "Martin told us that. And he said that Sky couldn't believe Dylan would betray his own employees. She was able to go into the system and change passwords, work with the coding. She cut off Dylan's access to the fund this morning. She did it to prove her point."

Lydia didn't say anything.

"Think about it," Bill said. "If our son contacted Sky, just like he contacted the receptionist…But nicer, Lydia. Because as you said, she's his best friend in the world. If Dylan told Sky he was alive and well and wanted to come by the office and discuss some things…"

He kept looking at her, as though he expected her to finish his sentence. But Lydia wouldn't move. She wouldn't speak.

"Mrs. Welch?" I said.

"Lydia!" she shrieked. "My name is Lydia!"

I stepped back. A group of nurses in the hallway stopped and stared at us through the open door. Bill asked his wife what had gotten into her. But I understood. We all knew that old adage, When someone shows you who they are, believe them. But that's easier said than done when it comes to one's child.

"I didn't mean to shout." Lydia's shoulders slumped, her arms crossed over her stomach, as though she'd just taken a blow.

"It's all right," I told her. "I get it." I looked at the nurses in the hallway. "Everything's fine!" I called out. They nodded. Mumbled a few things I couldn't quite hear. I watched them walk away. "We both get it, don't we, Mr. Welch?"

He ignored me. "Liddie," he said. "It breaks my heart, too. But at some point, we're going to have to face reality."

Lydia stared straight ahead, her expression unchanging. Her face looked as though it was made out of stone. "I just want to focus on Sky's recovery right now," she said.

"That's right. One crisis at a time," I said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Welch?"

"Let's sit down." He said it to Lydia. "My legs are getting tired."

My phone vibrated. I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen—a text from an unfamiliar number. And when I read it, I knew I couldn't tell the Welches who it was from.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave," I said. "Please let me know as soon as you hear anything about Sky."

"Of course," Lydia said. They moved toward the bank of chairs against the far wall, Bill holding Lydia's arm, helping her to get there.

I was out of the room before they sat down.

Once I was in the elevator, I looked at the text again, just to make sure I'd read it correctly.

This is Rhonda Lewis , it read. I'd like to meet .

I replied quickly: Tell me where and when .