"I wouldn't listen to you. Didn't want to." Curling her fingers into
his, she held on. "I was angry and hurt because you thought he only
wanted me to get to you."
"Don't." He pressed his lips to her fingers.
"You were right." The words came out on a long, weary sigh. "He never
wanted me, or loved me. Not me. And when having me wasn't enough to
get him what he wanted, he began to hate me."
"I don't want you to think about it now," Brian insisted. "All I want
you to do is rest, and concentrate on getting well."
He was right, Emma thought. She was much too tired to think. "I'm glad
you're here. Dad, I'm so sorry for pulling away from you all this time.
For shutting you out."
"We were both wrong, and it's done." He smiled at her then. "We've all
the time in the world now."
"We'd like you to come home when you're better." Bev reached across the
bed to touch Brian's cheek. "With us."
"Both of you?"
"Yes." Brian lifted a hand, linked it with Bev's. "We have a lot of
time to make up for. All of us."
"When I woke up this morning I didn't think I'd ever have a reason to
feel happy again," Emma said. "But I'm happy for you. I need to think
about the rest."
"There's no hurry." Bev leaned over to kiss her cheek. "We'll let you
get some sleep."
"KESSELRiNG." It was noon when McCarthy found Michael in the hospital
lounge. "Jesus, did you move in here?"
"Coffee?"
"Not if it'll make me look like you." He tossed Michael a bag. "Fresh
clothes and,shaving stuff. I fed your dog."
"Thanks."
McCarthy changed his mind about the coffee, grumbling about the packaged
cream. For the most part, he enjoyed giving his partner grief At the
moment, he thought old Mike had all he could handle. "How's she doing?"
"She's in a lot of pain."
"Dwery wants a statement." McCarthy referred to the acting captain with
a sneer in his voice.
"I'll take care of it."
"He knows you're ... friends with the victim. He wants me to get
it."
"I'll take care of it," Michael repeated, dumping sugar in the coffee
for energy more than taste. He'd stopped tasting it hours before. "Did
you bring a stenographer?"
"Yeah. He's waiting."
"I'll see if Emma's ready." He chugged the coffee like medicine, then
tossed the cup away. "How about the press?"
"They want something by two."
Michael checked his watch, then went to change. Fifteen minutes later,
he went into her room. P.M. was with her now. Like the rest of them
he looked a little worse for wear. Shocked, travel rumpled, and heavy
eyed. But he'd made Emma smile.