It was Riley who answered her. “I know where it is.” He had the keys to his Mercedes in his hand, already taking charge, as seemed to be Riley’s way-something to do with being such a successful lawyer, Mirabella supposed; he was used to telling people what to do. “Pop, you and Ginger come with us. Jimmy Joe, you want to follow me, or shall I give you directions? Troy-okay if we leave the kids here with you and Charly?”

Troy said sure, and to go on ahead.

“Wait.” Summer, who’d been shaking her head and trying in vain to get someone’s attention, now succeeded in breaking into the bustle of departure without noticeably altering it. “Do you think we should go running over there now? She sounded really out of it. She said they were doing tests and things, getting her stitched up and cleaned up. They probably – aren‘ t even going to let us in to see her, and even if they do, she’ll probably be too groggy to notice. Maybe we should wait till morning.”

There was a slight break, a brief cessation of sound and motion while that option was considered, and then universally rejected. Ginger simply shook her head and began buttoning the coat Pop had settled on her shoulders; others resumed interrupted searches for jackets, purses, car and hotel room keys. “Don’t worry about the kids,” Troy sang out.

The exodus was well underway when it was again halted by a word. This time it was Ginger who said, “Wait!” and turned in the doorway to cast a concerned look upon her husband, her daughters and sons-in-law, all crushed in around her. “Shouldn’t we call Sonny?”

There was another silence, broken by Mirabella’s snort Summer elbowed her hard in the ribs, so it was Pop who answered, in his brusque way, “Hon, I imagine she’s already done that.”

“But,” his wife argued, “Summer said she was out of it, and they were running all those tests. What if she didn’t? It would be terrible, wouldn’t it? To let him go on thinking…”

Mirabella heaved an ungracious sigh. “All right-anybody have his number?” Everybody looked at everybody else.

“Evie’s probably got it in her purse,” said Summer. “It was with her things we brought from the church. It’s all still in the car. You don’t want us to look for it now, do you?”

Ginger gave in with a shrug as she moved on through the doorway. “We can call from the hospital, once we’ve seen Evie.”

In the hallway, Riley and Jimmy Joe took the lead, setting a brisk pace which Mirabella, short-legged and pregnant, didn’t even try to keep. Summer lagged behind with her, and as soon as they were out of hearing range of their parents and spouses, caught at her hand and hissed, “What’s the matter with you? I know you don’t like Sonny, but the man is practically a member of the family. You don’t have to love him just because Evie does, but you don’t have to act like he’s some kind of evil villain. What have you got against him anyway?”

“I don’t know,” moaned Mirabella, so dejectedly that Summer half turned, stopping her there in the middle of the hallway.

“Bella?”

Mirabella couldn’t look at her sister’s face. How could she explain to a face so full of compassion, love and finally, finally happiness, that whenever she looked at Sonny Cisneros she felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach? That when he spoke to her she got the shivers? That all she wanted for their sister was the same kind of love and joy they had each already been blessed with, dammit, and she knew-somehow she just knew-that this wasn’t going to be it! That in some vague, formless way, she was frightened. She could not explain, because it made no sense even to her.

And because Mirabella’s temper had a tendency to rise in direct proportion to her levels of fear and frustration, she lashed back at her sister with a furious “I don’t know! I’m worried for Evie. Something’s not right. It’s just not right.”

To her great surprise and even greater unease, Summer didn’t say a word as they walked on together toward the elevator, holding hands as they had when they were very small children, and afraid of the monsters in the dark.


“How do I look?” Eve asked in a low voice.

“Like hell,” Jake replied in his federal agent’s monotone.

She was incomprehensibly annoyed that he didn’t bother to look at her when he said it, his edgy frown trained instead on the hustle and bustle in the corridor outside the treatment room curtain, and the uniformed police officer pacing nearby. But she muttered a dry “Thanks-I think” as she shifted her eyes and their silent question first to the doctor standing with folded arms at the foot of her bed, then to the intern at her elbow.

Their answering smiles seemed tentative, for which Eve could hardly blame them. Supposedly this was a routine mugging, but there were undercurrents… A bride in her wedding dress? And the guy who’d brought her in-who was he? Definitely not the groom, supposedly just a Good Samaritan, but she’d asked-begged-for them to let him stay… Obviously they weren’t being let in on the whole story.

“You’ll do fine.” The doctor, prematurely balding, impossibly young and trying hard to hide his baby face behind a wispy goatee, came around the bed and leaned close to inspect the bandage wrapped around her head. “Linda does good work. Shouldn’t be any scarring, but you might have a little bit of a black eye, here. Hard to say. And,” he added in a warning tone, “once the Novocain wears off, that lip is going to be a little uncomfortable. Now-that bump on the head… Since you were unconscious for a pretty considerable amount of time, we’re gonna want to admit you for a day or two, okay? Just to be on the safe side. And we’re gonna want to get some X rays, probably a CAT scan.” He started to say something to the intern, then said, “Oops,” in response to something he’d evidently heard over the loudspeaker, and instead nodded abruptly to her and went out Beyond the curtain Eve could hear running footsteps, the swish of opening doors, voices calling incomprehensible instructions in tensely efficient tones.

The intern, a stocky woman-also impossibly young-with wiry, cinnamon-colored hair, freckles and a wicked glint in her green eyes, winked at Eve as she rolled back her stool and stood up, taking her tray of instruments with her. “Don’t worry, hon, you’re gonna be fine. Right now you look like you just went a couple rounds with Mike Tyson, but that’ll pass. Your poor mama might have a heart attack when she sees you, though.”

Eve’s eyes flicked to Jake’s somber face. “Is she here?” And suddenly, for reasons she couldn’t begin to fathom, she was dangerously close to tears.

“She sure is,” the intern answered cheerfully. “Your whole family, it looks like. They’re out there in the waiting room.”

“Can I… see them?”

“Don’t see why not-looks like it’s gonna be a little while before we can get those X rays. Just had an MVA come in-multiple victims. I’ll go tell ‘em they can come in for a few minutes.”

“Thanks…” Eve felt unnervingly trembly. She caught a breath and held it, trying to steady her voice. “Is Sonny-”

The intern’s eyes were bright and curious. “Sonny-is that your husband? Uh…fiancé? I don’t believe he’s here yet, but I’ll let you know the minute he gets here, okay?” Eve nodded; her throat had locked up tight. “I’ll send your family right on in,” the intern said, and was on her way out when Eve stopped her with a hoarse sound that was meant to be “Wait!” The intern paused and looked at her, eyebrows raised.

“Could I just have a few minutes?” Eve whispered. Her eyes slipped away, found Jake and then came back to the woman again. “I’d like to…you know, say goodbye to him. He’s been with me through all of this…” And inexplicably, now she was crying.

The intern’s freckled face held nothing but compassion. “Sure, hon,” she said gently. “He can just let the desk know when he leaves, and they can have somebody send your folks on in. How‘ll that be?”

Eve murmured, “Thank you,” and the woman went away.

Seconds ticked by. Then Jake came slowly toward her, hands in his pockets, brows lowered, darkening his somber gaze to a frown. “Helluva performance,” he said dryly. “And you were worried about being a good enough actor?”

Eve just looked at him. She felt as if something heavy had come and sat on her chest.

He gazed down at her, and she glared back at him, furious with herself for crying in front of him, indefinably hurt that he’d so cynically dismissed her tears, and completely bewildered by the contradiction.

“What about it? Ready to take a test drive?”

She made a swipe at her cheeks and looked away. He came closer, bracing his hands on the bed as he leaned down and looked into her eyes. His voice was soft and very near; she had to stop breathing in order to hear it. “You have to be ready for this. I know this is just your family, but it’s as important to convince them of what happened as it is Cisneros.”

“I know,” Eve muttered, “I know…”

“You’ve got to believe this. Live it.”

“I know.” One more tear surprised her by escaping over the barrier of her lower lashes and sneaking away like a thief down her unmarked cheek. She slapped at it furiously. “I know what I’m supposed to do. Don’t worry about me. I said I’m ready.”

Jake’s eyes had shifted dispassionately, first to watch the tear“s progress, then to travel over her face, touching briefly on each of her injuries. It struck Eve that there was something oddly intimate, almost proprietary about the scrutiny. As he straightened, he brushed the tear’s track with an index finger, and she felt a flash of something almost like disappointment. A sense of something glimpsed but not quite realized.

He paused to look down at her once more. “The tears-it’s a nice touch. You’ve been through a trauma. You’d be expected to show some emotion.”