The Final Victim(62)

Phyllida just hopes-for his sake, and her own-that time isn't upon him now.

"Royce? Royce… Are you awake?"

Drifting along through heavy fog on a delightful cushion of tranquility, he wonders, Royce? Who's Royce?

Then somebody shakes his arm, ever so gently, and the cloud of medication lifts enough for him to remember.

Me! I'm Royce.

And that's Charlotte's voice, calling me.

He opens his eyes to see his wife leaning over him, smiling tearfully. The light is so bright Why is it so bright?

"Where… Where am I?" he murmurs, and tries to roll over, his effort halted by a fierce stab of pain in his leg. He goes still, trying to find his way back to the calming fog…

"You're in the hospital."

The hospital?

Why-? Oh!

A fleeting memory slams into him like a bullet, and his eyelids fly open again.

"Shot" he manages to say, and Charlotte nods.

She's been crying, he realizes. Her eyes are black with mascara smudges that track faintly toward her jaw.

'You're going to be fine, Royce… Are you in pain?"

"My… leg." He tries to move it again and winces.

"Does it hurt?"

Like hell.

She must have read his mind, because she says, "They've got you on some heavy stuff to relieve it. The nurse said it might make you confused and that you might not remember things at first."

He's silent, searching his muddled brain for details.

"Do you remember what happened, Royce?" Charlotte asks gently.

"I don't know… not… everything."

"They just upped the dose. It'll probably knock you out again. But that's good. You should just sleep."

He nods, searching his muddled memory for details, coming up with the right question. "Who… shot me?"

"They don't know. Whoever it was got away." She leans over to kiss his forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay, Royce. And there's somebody else here to see you. Aimee flew in from New Orleans this morning."

Aimee? New Orleans?

"Aimee!" he exclaims, as the light dawns. "Yes. Where is she?" “I’ll send her in." Charlotte brushes his cheek with the back of her fingers. "I'm so thankful you're okay, Royce."

"Yeah." He tries to shift position slightly, and grunts in pain. "My leg."

"I know. But the damage was repaired in surgery, and you're going to have full use of it again after you recover. You'll be playing tennis again in no time."

Tennis. Good. That's really good. He likes tennis, doesn't he? It's all so fuzzy…

"I'll go tell Aimee it's her turn," Charlotte says.

"Yes. Aimee."

"She's wonderful, Royce."

He smiles, relieved that the two women in his life have met and everything is apparently fine between them.

"Wish I could have been there to introduce y'all," he tells Charlotte.

"We did just fine on our own. And I'm going to ask her to stay with me at Oakgate. She had said she'd get a hotel, but… She's family."

This is more than he ever could have hoped for.

Feeling the tide of weariness sweeping toward him, he closes his eyes contentedly to wait for Aimee.

CHAPTER 10
"Nydia!" Lianna shouts, plunking the telephone receiver back into its cradle in her grandfather's study. "Nydia! Where are you?"

She hears footsteps pounding up the stairs and decides the housekeeper sure can move pretty fast for an old person.

"What? What is it?" Nydia asks breathlessly, bursting into the room.

"Did you take this telephone off the hook? I came in here to make a call and I found the receiver dangling on the floor."

The woman averts her gaze, telling Lianna that she correctly guessed the culprit.

"Why did you do this? My father has probably been trying to reach me!"

Silence, although Nydia looks directly at her now, and seems to be weighing some kind of decision.

"How long has it been off the hook?" Lianna demands.

"Since this morning," the woman confesses, without the decency to look the least bit apologetic. "And I did it because your mother asked me to."

Fury churns in Lianna's gut How dare her mother go to such deliberate lengths to make it impossible for Dad to reach her?

That does it.

This is the last straw.

Lianna turns her back on the housekeeper and reaches for the phone again. She has to get ahold of her father. He must have been trying to call her all day to tell her why he hasn't shown up. Wait till he hears what Mom did. He's going to be livid.

Before she can pick up the receiver, the phone rings.

"Don't answer that!" Nydia says sharply.

'The hell I won't!" Lianna snatches it up with a breathless hello.

"Who is this?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

Disappointment courses through her as she answers, "It's Lianna."

"Lianna? Charlotte Maitland's daughter?"

"Yes."

"I'm calling from the Chatham Gazette for a comment on the shooting of your father last night, Miss Maitland."