‘I know.’ Gwyn stroked his cheek. Feelings or no feelings, this man was one of her two best friends. ‘Jamie’s right. We’ll take care of you. Let us.’
He nodded, rubbing his palm over his eyes, then wiping it on the sheet. ‘I hate getting framed for murder.’
She placed a kiss on his forehead. ‘We’ll figure it all out. I promise.’
There was a knock on the door, and a few seconds later, Hyatt entered. ‘I have news,’ the lieutenant said. ‘We’ve identified the victim.’
A few beats of silence passed. ‘And?’ Jamie prodded.
Hyatt’s brows crunched. ‘Her name is Patricia Segal. Her husband is a judge.’
Gwyn and Jamie looked at Thorne, who was staring up at the ceiling in silence. ‘He’s not going to talk to you, Lieutenant,’ Gwyn said. ‘On the advice of his attorney.’
Hyatt moved further into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze intent on Thorne’s face. ‘Her maiden name was Linden.’
Thorne’s body went stiff. As did Jamie’s. But Thorne’s gaze remained locked on the ceiling. Gwyn desperately wanted to scream, Who is she? But she held her tongue. Kept her expression neutral.
Hyatt swore quietly. ‘Goddammit, Thorne. I can’t help you if you don’t help me.’
Thorne lowered his gaze at last. ‘With all due respect, Lieutenant, I’ve heard that before. I’ll be invoking my right to remain silent.’
Hyatt blew out a breath. ‘Fucking defense attorneys. But I figured you’d say that.’
‘Are you going to arrest my client?’ Jamie asked.
Hyatt shook his head. ‘Not at this time. Please don’t leave town, Mr Thorne.’ He took a step back, then hesitated. ‘I’m going to put surveillance outside your house and anywhere you go.’
Thorne frowned suspiciously. ‘Why are you telling me?’
Hyatt’s jaw muscles twitched as he visibly ground his molars. ‘Because the woman’s husband is a judge. I have to do this textbook. But also for your protection.’
Thorne scoffed. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Really.’ He lowered his voice to a bare whisper. ‘Because Judge Segal claims the two of you were having an affair. Says he can prove it. And because somebody ripped that woman open stem to stern. All while you lay unconscious in the bed beside her. Whoever did that is capable of ruthless violence, and they seem to have a hard-on for you, Mr Thorne. You’ve done me a solid or two in the past. Consider this a debt paid.’
Hyatt left the room, and for a long moment there was only silence.
Then Thorne’s lips drew back into a snarl. ‘Fuck this. Not again. I’m not doing this again, Jamie. Not with them. Not with the Lindens.’
Jamie dragged trembling palms down his face, but once he’d done so, he firmed his expression. ‘Yeah, you will. So will I. And we’ll beat this to hell, just like we did before.’ He lifted his brows. ‘Look on the bright side. I’m an even better lawyer now than I was then.’
Thorne stared at him, then, unbelievably, he chuckled. ‘Yes, you are. I learned from the best.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
Gwyn’s patience was at its end. ‘Will one of you tell me what the fuck just happened here?’
Thorne sighed. ‘Yes. But get Lucy in here too. I only want to tell this once.’
‘And Frederick,’ Jamie added. ‘He’s in the waiting room. As are Sam and Ruby and Clay and Stevie and Paige. They all want to help you.’
Because Thorne had touched all their lives for the better. Just like he’s touched mine.
Sam and Ruby had been a cop and an ME tech respectively. Now they were private investigators for Thorne’s practice. Sam sometimes provided personal security when clients needed it. Ruby was Thorne’s death investigator. Gwyn knew that the pair trusted Thorne with their lives, because Thorne had dropped everything to help them when they’d needed it most.
It was the same for Clay, Stevie and Paige, who ran their own PI agency. Clay and Stevie were former cops and knew that the law didn’t protect everyone as it should. Stevie would be especially helpful as she’d worked for Lieutenant Hyatt for years. She’d be able to predict his actions and behaviors. Paige managed personal security for Clay’s firm, kind of like Sam did for Thorne. Between Sam and Paige, Thorne would be protected.
Gwyn was suddenly, overwhelmingly, relieved. Thorne wasn’t alone in this. He had a . . . family. Maybe none of them related by blood, but they all cared about this man.
Not as much as I do. Well, maybe Jamie and Phil, who considered Thorne their adopted son. But it wasn’t the same. Gwyn wasn’t sure what she felt, but . . .
It was way too big to go back in the box where it had been hiding for so long. The realization came with an abruptness that stole her breath.
Thorne opened his mouth, then closed it on a snap. He nodded once. Then rubbed his hand over his eyes, drying it on the sheet once more.
Gwyn took that hand in her own and squeezed it gently. ‘I think we’re going to need a bigger room.’
Four
Baltimore, Maryland,
Sunday 12 June, 7.10 P.M.
‘Dammit, Gwyn, your house is made for Smurfs or something.’ Thorne’s grumble was not a new one. He said the same thing every time he came to Gwyn’s condo. But this time his voice was softer, his groan a little more authentic as he dropped his big body onto her low sofa. Built especially for short people. Because that was what she was.
‘It’s not forever,’ Gwyn snapped back, mostly because she was just so damn glad to see him out of that hospital bed. She pulled his feet from the floor to the sofa, putting a pillow behind his back. ‘Just until your house is released by the cops and we’re sure it’s clean.’
Because he was afraid it had been bugged or wired for cameras by someone other than himself, and it was not a paranoid fear.
Her front door opened and Lucy barged in, pocketing her key, and was followed by a . . . horde. A welcome horde, to be sure, but more people than Gwyn had ever had in her place all at the same time. The doctor had come into Thorne’s hospital room right after Hyatt’s departure and Thorne had signed himself out, against her orders. The doctor had wanted to admit him for observation, because even though the drugs had sufficiently worked their way out of his system, he’d had a very close call.
But Thorne had wanted out of there and Gwyn couldn’t blame him. She always hated hospitals too. More importantly, he wanted to be in a private place when he told them what Gwyn was anticipating to be a very painful story.
Lucy had a small duffel bag in one hand and Thorne’s bass in the other. She dropped the bag on the floor and put the bass in the corner. Of all Thorne’s things, the bass was the one possession he treasured, because it had belonged to his father. He kept it locked up in a special safe. Gwyn had only heard him play it once.
‘I packed you some clothes,’ Lucy told Thorne. ‘JD and that horrible little Detective Brickman were with me in your house the whole time, so don’t say any of those things you’re getting ready to say, because I was safe.’
Thorne scowled. ‘Thank you,’ he grunted. ‘And thank you for getting my bass.’ He lifted his cheek when Lucy bent to kiss it. ‘Do I have a swarm of media around my house?’
‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Part and parcel, Thorne. You knew to expect it.’
‘I know. But I don’t have to like it. At least getting in here was easier than getting away from the hospital.’
Because Gwyn’s new condo had excellent security. She paid for it through the nose, but along with a kick-ass security system and several handguns in her safe, it enabled her to sleep at night. Sometimes.
Lucy checked Thorne’s eyes and nodded at whatever she saw there. ‘You’re looking better. Did they tell you what they found in your system?’