“There’s video footage of someone who looks an awful lot like you buying one. Coincidentally, whoever ordered the roses that were sent from Dr. English used a card from that same store.”

She wasn’t rattled; she’d been too careful. They would never be able to identify her on that video. “Well, that is a coincidence.”

“You have a very successful career as a writer, don’t you, Ms. Barrington?”

Blaire eyed him, her antennae up.

“You’ve sold millions of books.” He stopped, silent for a moment. “You and your husband,” he said at last.

Blaire continued to stare at him.

“You did a bit of writing on your own, isn’t that right? Before you began your collaboration with Mr. Barrington,” Anderson went on.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t? Your short story. Very interesting reading, I must say.”

She wanted to rip that mocking look off his face. She was tired of playing games. “Get to the point, Detective.”

“The point, Ms. Barrington, is that the taunting nursery rhymes that Dr. English was sent were very similar in tone to those in that story you wrote. A few of them nearly word for word. That doesn’t look very good for you, wouldn’t you say?”

“You really enjoy asking rhetorical questions, don’t you?”

He gave her a dry look.

“Anyone could have read that story and picked up the nursery rhymes to pin this on me. You know that as well as I do, don’t you?” She smiled widely at him. “How’s that for rhetorical?”

Anderson clicked his pen a few times and started to say something else. Then, seeming to think better of it, he stood up. “That’s all for now. We’ll probably have some follow-up questions.”

Yeah, right. This would be the last she saw of Detective Behemoth. “I’m being discharged soon, then heading back to New York.”

He moved to the curtain surrounding the emergency room cubicle and then stopped and turned around to look at her. “By the way, Dr. English is going to be fine. Just thought you might want to know.”

“I know she is. It was the first thing I asked the nurse.”

Once he’d gone, Blaire lay back against the pillow. Good riddance, smart-ass. He thought he was such an ace detective.

She got off the bed and sat in the cubicle’s plastic chair, waiting until, finally, twenty minutes later, she’d signed her papers and was ready to go. She pushed the curtain back and began walking toward the double doors that led out of emergency. None of this had transpired as she’d planned, but as soon as she was back in New York, she’d figure a way to get Daniel back.

31

Kate didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when someone gently shook her arm.

“Dr. English.” It was Detective Anderson.