Kate nodded. “I saw Mr. Mel Owen arrive at the hospital. I was concerned that he might try to approach my client, so I followed him inside. I ran up the stairs while he took the elevator. Once I reached the ICU, I saw him race down the hallway to my client’s room. Then he waved a gun, telling the sheriff to get out of the way.”

“Did he fire the gun?”

“No.”

“What happened to your hand?”

“I grabbed his wheelchair before he could get to the room.”

“Did you see anyone else with Mr. Owen?” The constable’s gaze darted around the nursing station.

Kate shook her head. “Mr. Owen appeared to be by himself.”

The other constable gave a signal that he had finished checking the rooms.

“Ms. Lange needs to have her hand looked at,” Randall said.

The police officer nodded. “Go ahead. If we have any further questions, we will call you.”

“Of course.” Kate cradled her hand. The pain now radiated in deep waves. She felt slightly nauseous.

“Come on.” Randall put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her toward the elevator. “I’ll take you to the ER.” The Emergency Room was located in the lower level of the building.

Kate shook her head. “You need to call Harry Owen. I’m okay.” She lengthened her stride so his hand—which felt too welcome—no longer rested on her.

Randall frowned. “You need someone to walk you there.”

“Really, I’m fine. It’s just a bit sore.” She needed to get this relationship back on a professional track, stat. Before she crumbled against him. “Now go. Your client needs you.”

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

3:53 p.m.

It was as if Harry had gotten off the plane on Thursday night and entered a nightmare. Every day—no every hour—something terrible seemed to happen.

What had he done to deserve this?

The buzzing of the phone had penetrated his nap.

Was it the blackmailer?

He had seen the tweet from @TruthAboutHarry. There was no doubt in his mind that the man behind the avatar was also his blackmailer—and was Leah’s accomplice in the break-in of his parents’ home.

The bastard had caused his mother to die. And now, to add insult to injury, he was blackmailing Harry.

And it was only a matter of time before the police connected the dots.

The phone rang again. “Harry Owen.” Even though he had just woken up, his voice was tense.

“It’s Randall. We’ve got a problem.”

Did the police somehow know that Harry had deleted his files?

Were there cameras in his hotel room?

Harry leapt to his feet and paced the small living area, his eyes searching out the nooks and crannies of the room.

He stopped, shaking his head. Good God. He was paranoid.

And that scared him, too.

“What’s the matter now?”