Dark Pursuit

Such sensationalized publicity for the King of Suspense. All copies of Life After Death—an apropos title for a book now thirty-five years old—sold out almost overnight. The publisher had rushed a large reprinting.

But this kind of publicity Kaitlan’s grandfather did not enjoy. Beyond his closed hospital room door a private security employee posted himself in a straight-backed chair. No reporters allowed. Except for Ed.

Kaitlan stretched and blinked at the wall-mounted TV. It was on but muted. Commercials.

In his bed her grandfather was sleeping.

He was scheduled to go home tomorrow. It could have been sooner after the surgery to remove the bullet in his shoulder, but he’d lost a fair amount of blood and struggled with weakness. Except for his tongue. Kaitlan had seen her grandfather send more than one nurse scurrying.

The door cracked open. Ed stuck his head inside. Kaitlan smiled and motioned for him to come in.

Ed entered, closing the door quietly behind him. “He asleep?” he whispered. He soft-footed it over to sit in a wooden chair beside Kaitlan.

“I was until you bothered me,” Kaitlan’s grandfather crabbed. Beneath the covers his legs shifted. He opened one eye. “That you again, Wasinsky?”

“Yes, sir.”

The eye closed. “Don’t think you’re fooling me, coming here every day. It’s not me you’re wanting to see.”

Kaitlan’s face flushed. Which no doubt looked terrific on her mud-yellow cheek.

“Ah, don’t give me that.” Ed rose to stand by the bed. “I want to see you too.” His fingers grazed her grandfather’s hand. “How are you?”

“Spiffy.”

“Well, good.”

Her grandfather heaved a sigh. “Where’s Margaret?”

“Home,” Kaitlan said. “Cleaning the place up. Getting it ready for you. She’ll be in to see you soon.”

He grunted.

They fell silent. Her grandfather’s eyes slipped shut once more, and Ed wandered back to his chair. He regarded Kaitlan with raised eyebrows—how are you?

She tilted her head.

Kaitlan’s gaze pulled to her grandfather. His wizened jaw relaxed but his lips were closed, further hollowing his cheeks. His wild eyebrows needed trimming.

Guilt and gratitude panged her heart. Crazy old man. Willing to give his life for hers. She’d tried to express her overwhelming appreciation—more than once. “Thanks for what?” her grandfather retorted. “Coming up with a cockamamie plan that near got us killed?”

“No, for—”

“Couldn’t even remember one of my own stories. Not to mention misreading the entire crime. What a mind I got.”

“But you did it for me. You purposely pushed Craig—for me.”

He’d batted a hand at Kaitlan. “Girl, you’re talking nonsense.”

Ed rubbed his forehead. “I went to Sam’s funeral this afternoon.” He spoke in low tones.

Kaitlan’s eyes welled. Man, she was crying a lot lately. Yesterday she and Margaret had waded through reporters to attend Pete Lynch’s memorial service. The private investigator had left behind an adult daughter and two grandchildren. “I’m so sorry about Sam.”

“Yeah. Me too. We’d worked together for five years.” Ed’s gaze fixed beyond her. “Guy filmed to the end.”

Including Craig pulling the trigger on the first bullet that hit him.

Kaitlan caught a tear on her knuckle. She wiped it on her jeans.

Ed’s eyes lowered to hers and held. In them shone caring and kindness. His mouth curved in a sad smile.

Kaitlan looked away.

Ed was thirty, with a great job and TV looks. He was clearly interested in her, which was beyond belief—but he didn’t know. And she didn’t know how to tell him. She was pregnant with Craig Barlow’s baby. A baby she loved. When Ed found that out, he’d stop coming around.

He cleared his throat. “Hear about Chief Barlow?”

“Hear what?”

“He’s resigning. Well, taking early retirement.”

“Oh. Wow.” But Kaitlan wasn’t that surprised. Under his leadership, investigations of the murders had been badly handled. And his children …

He hadn’t known, Russ Barlow was insisting. He’d had not the slightest suspicion of his own daughter. Despite how hard-nosed he’d been to Kaitlan, she could believe that. Who would have suspected Hallie?

But how ironic—the chief’s worry that Kaitlan would be the one to ruin his son’s life.

What a broken man Russ Barlow must now be.

The door swished open and Margaret entered. She smiled at Ed, no hint of surprise at his presence. “Whoo, it’s warm in here.”

Kaitlan gestured toward the bed with her chin. “He likes it that way.”

Her grandfather kept his eyes closed. “When you getting me out of here, woman?”

“Tomorrow, D. You know that.”

He sniffed. “I think you like me stuck in here. You’re probably running around free as a breeze, painting the town red.”

“You’re right.” She laughed. “That’s what I do best.” Margaret patted his arm. “How you doing?”

“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”

“Probably because you’re lying in a hospital bed.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Okay.” She rolled her eyes at Kaitlan.

Her grandfather scratched his cheek. “I got to get home; I got work to do.”

“Oh? What work?”

“Writing, what else?”

“You been lying here thinking of a plot for Leland Hugh?”