Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(50)

His gaze moved over her, pausing on the gauze taped to her hands, knees, and chin.

She rubbed her temple with her fingertips.

“What happened?” Jackson’s voice was less hostile than it had been in the police station. Was his change of tone part of an attempt to gain her confidence, or was he sincere?

“I felt a hand push into my back, but I hoped someone knocked into me by accident. The sidewalk was very crowded.”

“Maybe.” Jackson shrugged. “But maybe not. There’s already one museum employee dead and another missing. I think you should be more careful.”

“I wasn’t expecting hailing a cab to be dangerous.”

Jackson changed his angle. “I know you went to talk to Heath Yeager the other day.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid for Zoe.” Louisa met his flat gaze. “Are you making any progress on her case?”

“Some.”

Which told her nothing.

Movement on the other side of the curtain interrupted the interview.

“Louisa!” A male voice sent a wave of sickening panic through Louisa. The curtain parted again, and Blaine stepped through. “Oh my God. I saw them load you into the ambulance, but no one would tell me where they took you.”

He moved closer.

Louisa recovered her voice. She’d also recovered from the shock of seeing him earlier. In fact, the impact with the street seemed to have knocked the self-pity right out of her. She was done with Blaine. She wouldn’t allow him to hold any more sway over her. He’d done enough damage. “Get out, Blaine.”

Resentment flickered in his eyes, and his lips compressed. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. Let me take you home. Let me take care of you.”

Louisa forgot the cop standing next to her. She forgot her injuries. The hospital cubicle faded around her. Anger and turmoil steamrolled over her physical pain. “Get out.”

Blaine smoothed out his irritation. “You aren’t well—”

Her voice rose. “Get. Out.”

“Look, buddy.” Jackson showed Blaine his badge. “The lady asked you to leave.”

Blaine gave the detective his best aristocratic glare. “I don’t think you know who you’re talking to.”

“Why don’t you educate me?” The detective was not intimidated. “Were you with Dr. Hancock this evening?”

“I was.”

The detective pulled a notebook out of his back pocket. “Your name?”

“Blaine Delancey.”

“And why were you with Dr. Hancock?”

“We were supposed to have dinner, but we had an argument. Louisa ran off. Apparently, right into traffic. She obviously needs someone to look after her.”

Argument? Ambush was a better description of the evening.

Jackson ignored Blaine’s attitude. “You didn’t see the accident?”

“No.”

“Where were you when the accident occurred?”

“On the steps outside the Ritz Carlton. I was looking for Louisa.”

Blaine had been coming after her? Had he pushed her? Louisa’s fingers tightened around her cell phone. Why would he do that? But then why would he send her a gift? Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Why wouldn’t he take no for an answer?

“You’re sure you didn’t see it happen?” Jackson’s pen hovered over the paper as he sized up both Blaine and his answers.

“Positive.” Blaine scowled at the cop.

“I’ll need your contact information,” Jackson said.

Blaine complied, crossing his arms over his chest and switching his attention to Louisa. She clutched her phone until her bruised fingers cramped, but she would not back down. Not this time. Moving to Philadelphia was her fresh start. She would not let Blaine ruin it for her.

The cop studied Blaine’s face. “The accident investigators will be checking the traffic cams on Broad Street. If we get lucky, we might have the whole thing on video.”

If Jackson was hoping that, if guilty, Blaine would flinch at this news, Louisa could have saved him the effort. Blaine was an accomplished liar.

“I’ll check in with you tomorrow, Louisa.” His nod at her was superior and arrogant. “Someday you’ll see that we were meant to be together.”

“Don’t.” Louisa clamped her molars together.

“I’m done with you now, Mr. Delancey, and it sounds like Dr. Hancock is also.” Jackson inclined his head. “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

Blaine gave her an it’s not over look as he exited.

“Your friend’s an *,” Jackson said.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Yeah. I got that. You want to tell me about the argument?”

“No.” Louisa’s stomach turned at the thought of sharing her conflict with Blaine. “It’s old news.” But Blaine’s visit wasn’t. Why tonight? And what did he really want? Come to think of it, what did Aunt Margaret really want? The stunt with Blaine didn’t make sense. It had to be about money, but Louisa couldn’t see the angle.

Jackson stared, clearly not buying Louisa’s story.

She sighed. “When you have a lot of money, there are always people trying to get some of it.”