“So, I do Mr. Dickenson’s post. I can find nothing wrong with his brain. Hey, where’s the stroke? So I keep going. He didn’t get hit with a stroke. I find a dissecting aortic aneurysm. See, I learned something. Again. Never jump to conclusions.

“About then, midnight or so, Edmund calls. Rosie is running a really high fever. I say, ‘Take her to the hospital. Go. Now,’ and before I hang up with him, here come new patients through the ambulance bay. Two cars in a head-on collision on Henry, both drivers are DOA.”

Claire’s phone buzzed on the table and spun like a june bug on its back. She looked at the faceplate, shut off the ringer.

“How’s Rosie?” I asked as the waitress brought our coffee.

“She’s fine. Temperature back to normal. Edmund said she’s sleeping now. Both of us panicked, and that’s what you do when you have a little one — as you are about to find out, girlfriend. After the check, I’m outta here, and I’m not going back to work anytime soon. Swear to God. Now, sweetie. Talk to me about Joe.”

I put down my coffee cup, said to my friend, “He’s called me a hundred times and apparently he’s sleeping in his car, sometimes right outside the apartment. I haven’t said a word to him since I found out about his girlfriend. Not one fucking word.”

Book Four: In From the Cold

Book Four

IN FROM THE COLD

Chapter 93

Chapter 93

I’D JUST HUNG Martha’s leash on the coatrack and kicked off my shoes when the intercom buzzed. I looked at the video screen showing the foyer and saw T. Lawrence Oliver downstairs in the entranceway looking into the camera’s eye.

I was expecting him, but he was early.

“Be right down,” I said into the speaker.

A shiny black BMW was at the curb, and Oliver was holding open the back door. Harry Chandler dipped his head so that he could see me, said, “Please get in, Lindsay.”

I got in and Harry told Tommy Oliver to step out and take a long walk around the block, give the two of us a chance to talk.

I leaned back in the leather seat and said, “Thanks for coming, Harry.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to tell you about Connie Kerr in person. I don’t know if I should put up bail for her or not,” he said.

“Bail isn’t an issue — yet. Connie isn’t under arrest. We’re holding her as a material witness and if we can’t file charges against her by tomorrow afternoon, she walks. Do you want to file any charges?”

“No. I can’t do that to her. I spent eighteen months in the clink while awaiting trial. Incarceration made a deep impression on me.”