There was nothing Sharp could do. Nothing. Helplessness flooded him.
Ted’s hand moved to touch Sharp’s wrist. His mouth moved, but no words came out, just a hiss of pink froth. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His lips moved. Sharp leaned close to hear the words over the gurgle of blood in Ted’s throat.
“Take care of Eliza and Haley,” Ted rasped.
Sharp wanted to protest, to tell his friend that he’d be caring for his own wife and baby. But that wasn’t what Ted needed. He wanted to know his family would be cared for.
They both knew Ted wasn’t going to make it. It just wasn’t possible. He might have a chance if there were an operating room and bags of blood right here, right now. But there weren’t.
So, instead of making empty promises, Sharp said the words that would ease his friend’s anxiety. “I will.”
Tears filled Ted’s eyes. His lips moved again. “Tell her I love her,” he mouthed.
Unable to speak, his throat clogged with shock and sorrow, Sharp nodded.
Ted’s grip on his wrist weakened and fell away. His breath rattled in his throat. Air bubbles welled in the blood coming from the bullet hole. His chest expanded in one more ragged, wet gasp, then settled, still and silent. His gaze left Sharp’s and stared blankly at the ceiling.
Footsteps sounded behind Sharp. Someone pulled him away. Medics rushed in. One compressed the wound. The other started CPR. But the silence in the small store told the truth.
Ted was gone. He hadn’t had a chance. The wound had been too grievous. The bullet had hit too many vital structures.
Hands gripped Sharp’s shoulders. “Are you hit?”
He shook his head, his gaze still on his friend.
Reality overwhelmed him. Ted was dead. His wife and baby were alone.
Who would tell Eliza?
Chapter Six
The ER was quiet when they arrived. Two hours later, Morgan was diagnosed with a mild concussion and released. Her head throbbed with its own pulse as she and Lance exited the building. He had pulled the Jeep up to the door. Holding an ice pack given to her in the ER, she climbed into the passenger seat, and he drove out of the parking lot.
Morgan rooted through her tote bag for the small bottle of pain relievers she’d purchased earlier. Her hands trembled hard enough to make the pills rattle inside the bottle.
Her own client had hit her.
Inside the courthouse in full view of the prosecutor, a half dozen deputies, and who knew how many surveillance cameras? She’d been threatened numerous times as a prosecutor but always by the opposing side. She hadn’t expected an attack from the very person she’d been trying to defend. Being a private defense attorney should be less dangerous than working for the DA’s office. As the mother of three children who had already lost one parent, Morgan had considered this aspect of her career change a benefit. Had she been wrong?
The event seemed surreal, except for the very real pain rocketing through her face and head. McFarland’s fist had connected with her temple, but she felt its impact in her jaw and the back of her skull. Even her teeth ached.
Lance reached behind her seat and produced a bottle of water. He set it in the console cupholder.
“Thank you.” She twisted the cap off the medicine bottle and tipped it into her hand. The pills spilled out over her lap.
“Damn.” She picked two tablets off the seat of the Jeep, put them in her mouth, and washed them down. Setting the water in the cupholder, she gathered up the spilled medication and returned it to the bottle.
“Let’s get you home.”
Morgan was going to spend the rest of the day snuggling with her girls on her couch in her pajamas. She returned the pill bottle to her tote. Inside the bag, her phone vibrated. She reached for it. She hadn’t checked her messages since they’d left the courthouse.
“You don’t have to answer that.” Lance frowned.
“It’s Sharp.” Morgan took the call. “We’re in the Jeep. You’re on speaker.”
“Are you finished with McFarland for the day?” Sharp asked. “I have an urgent case for you.”
“I’m definitely finished with McFarland,” Morgan said. “What’s going on?”
“A young woman named Haley Powell is being held at the sheriff’s station. They’ve had her since Saturday afternoon, So they’ve been holding her for almost two days.” Sharp detailed Haley’s medical condition and her case in a few sentences, then his voice thickened. “I’d consider this a personal favor. Her mother and I go way back.”
“I’m on my way to the sheriff’s station now,” Morgan said, even though all she really wanted to do was go home.
“We’ll be waiting for you.” Sharp disconnected.
Lance glanced over the console. “You didn’t tell him you just left the ER.”
“He didn’t ask.”
A long exhale from Lance conveyed his frustration. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“The X-ray and CAT scan were clear. The doctor said I would make a full recovery.”
“He also said you should rest.” Lance’s frown deepened.
She knew he wanted to protect her, but he also tried hard to respect her ability to handle her job. However, the emotion in Sharp’s voice concerned her. Something was wrong.
“Sharp never asks for anything,” she said. “And he’s helped with two of my cases without being paid. He sounded upset.”
“He did sound rough.” Lance’s brows dipped. “But you look like you’re going to throw up.”
“I look that bad?” Morgan lowered the sun visor and opened the mirror. “Ugh.”
A fist-size goose egg decorated her temple, her hair had been pulled from its neat twist, and by tomorrow, she was definitely going to have a black eye. She removed the remaining hairpins and stuffed them in her tote. She considered the tube of concealer in her makeup bag, but the thought of touching the tender area to apply makeup stopped her from attempting to cover up the damage. She finger-combed her hair and let it fall alongside her face like a curtain. That was the best she could do.
“Unbelievably, you still look gorgeous.” Lance stopped the car at a red light. He reached over and took her hand. “I love that you want to help Sharp, but you have to be honest about how you feel. You won’t be any good to his friend if you make yourself sick.” He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Plus, I love you, and I don’t like to see you hurting.”
“I love you too.” She squeezed his fingers. “I know you’re worried about me, but if Sharp needs me, I have to try to help him.”
“I know.”
The sheriff’s station parking lot was full of news vans, and reporters were broadcasting updates from the sidewalk in front of the station. Lance parked on the street. Skirting the media circus, Morgan and Lance went inside, where the scene was equally chaotic.
“Looks like every deputy in the department has been called in,” Lance said.
Morgan turned toward the corner of the crowded lobby and found Sharp waiting with a woman in her late forties.
At fifty-three, Sharp was fitter than most people half his age thanks to a strict exercise regimen and an organic, crunchy lifestyle. Clad in his usual jeans and T-shirt, he looked more tense than normal.
The woman’s eyes widened with a quick flash of surprise as she blinked at Morgan’s face, but she was too polite to say anything.
But Sharp had no such reservations. He strode across the tile. “What the hell happened to you?” He reached for Morgan’s hair, lifting a piece out of the way and leaning in to get a closer look at her goose egg.
Morgan leaned back and pushed Sharp’s hand away. “My client wasn’t happy with my advice.”
“McFarland hit you?” Sharp nearly snarled.
“I’m OK,” Morgan said.
Sharp didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want to jeopardize your health.”
“Sharp, I’m fully capable of doing my job.”