The Wife Who Knew Too Much(92)

“Happy to help. You can pay for the windshield, though.”

“You got it.”

Eventually, someone came to the driver’s-side door of the truck. It was a cop, in uniform.

“You folks the ones that called this in?”

“She did,” Alex said. “Says the guy in the Suburban kidnapped her.”

“Yeah, we got him. Are you Tabitha Ford?” the officer asked.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Police down on Long Island had an APB out on that vehicle. We were specifically told to look for you.”

“What about my husband? Is he all right?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that.”

“Was there anyone in the Suburban other than the driver?”

“A woman.”

“Officer, please. My husband was shot. I’m so scared. He’d lost a lot of blood. If he wasn’t at the hospital—if he’s not in the Suburban—I know where he might be. Can you look for him?”

I gave the cop the address of the ski house.

“We’ll send someone right over there,” he said. “You all sit tight and wait for the paramedics.”

He strode away. Eventually, they took us from the truck and put us in an ambulance. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles hurt my eyes. I didn’t see that officer again. I asked everyone I encountered what had happened to Connor, but nobody could give me an answer.





42





The ambulance transported me to the nearest hospital, which happened to be the same one where I used to work years earlier. Being wheeled into the familiar lobby felt surreal, like my life as Mrs. Ford had been a dream. Or more accurately, a nightmare. Strange and wonderful things had happened, but terrible things also. And I waited, knowing that the most terrible of all was about to descend on me and change my life forever. I expected bad news about Connor. The delay did not bode well.

They bandaged my cuts and contusions, diagnosed me with a concussion, and held me for hours for observation. They did an ultrasound and told me the baby was fine. Seeing her on the screen, all I could think was Where is her father?

They told me to wait in the treatment room until the nurse came with my discharge papers. I was climbing the walls, cooped up there with no phone and no information, not knowing the fate of the man I loved. I asked every nurse who walked by about the police investigation, whether they knew if anyone else had been brought in. Nobody did.

As soon as my papers were signed, I got up and walked the halls until I found someone who remembered me from when I’d worked here. Kelsey was an administrative assistant in the emergency department. She searched admissions records and told me there was no indication that Connor had been brought in for treatment. The fact that he wasn’t yet hospitalized made me more afraid than ever. Given his condition, he’d been in urgent need of medical attention. Yet they hadn’t brought him here, to the nearest hospital. In the recesses of my brain, I’d already known that they hadn’t gotten him to a doctor. The Suburban had left and then returned to the ski house in less time than it would take to get here. I’d been blocking that knowledge, but it flooded in now, along with the consciousness of what it must mean—that Connor had died in the car on the way to the hospital. I sat very still and focused my heart and mind on praying for that not to be true. But reality seeped in. I knew it was hopeless, and knowing that, I felt numb with despair.

“Tabitha, you look awful. Can I call someone for you?” Kelsey asked.

I asked her to track down the phone number for the police department back in Southampton, then borrowed her phone, called, and explained who I was. The dispatcher told me that Hagerty and Pardo were on their way to New Hampshire now, because of my case. She connected me to Hagerty’s cell phone.

“I’m glad to hear you’re okay,” Hagerty said. “We were worried.”

“Forget about me. Where’s my husband? Tell me, I need to know.”

“He’s not with you?”

“With me? No. He got shot. He was in bad shape. I gave one of the local cops an address where he might be. Please, do you know if they found him?”

“I don’t understand. I was told you were brought in with an injured male who was treated and released.”

“But that wasn’t Connor. I ran from Kovacs and Juliet, and a guy named Alex picked me up—”

“Wait, you’re saying Connor Ford was shot and seriously wounded?”

“Yes. You don’t know that?”

“No. Last night, we received an alarm that your bracelet had been deactivated, and around the same time there was a call about shots fired at Windswept.”

“Yes, like I said, Connor was shot.”

“We responded immediately and found blood in your bedroom, but we assumed it was yours. The housekeeper said she witnessed you and Ford get pushed into that Suburban at gunpoint by Kovacs. We’ve been very worried about you, Tabitha.”

“How did you find me?”

“The housekeeper got the plate number, and we put out an APB. You’re saying the assistant was involved, too? I got the text you sent with the photo of her birth certificate, but I didn’t understand the relevance.”

“It’s complicated. Everything is explained on the recording from the ankle bracelet.”