Keeper of the Bride / Whistleblower: Keeper of the Bride / Whistleblower. Tess Gerritsen

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СКАЧАТЬ Ocean View Drive, to Robert Bledsoe’s house. This time Bledsoe was damn well going to answer some questions, the first two being: Who was the other woman he’d been seeing, and was she jealous enough to sabotage her lover’s wedding—and kill off a dozen people in the process?

      Two blocks before he got there, he knew something was wrong. There were police lights flashing ahead and spectators gathered on the sidewalks.

      Sam parked the car and quickly pushed his way through the crowd. At the edge of Bledsoe’s driveway, a yellow police tape had been strung between wooden stakes. He flashed his badge to the patrolman standing guard and stepped across the line.

      Homicide Detective Dick Yeats greeted him in the driveway with his usual I’m-in-charge tone of superiority.

      “Hello again, Navarro. We have it all under control.”

      “You have what under control? What happened?”

      Yeats nodded toward the BMW in the driveway.

      Slowly Sam circled around the rear bumper. Only then did he see the blood. It was all over the steering wheel and the front seat. A small pool of it had congealed on the driveway pavement.

      “Robert Bledsoe,” said Yeats. “Shot once in the temple. The ambulance just left. He’s still alive, but I don’t expect he’ll make it. He’d just pulled into his driveway and was getting out of his car. There’s a sack of groceries in the trunk. Ice cream barely melted. The neighbor saw a green Jeep take off, just before she noticed Bledsoe’s body. She thinks it was a man behind the wheel, but she didn’t see his face.”

      “A man?” Sam’s head snapped up. “Dark hair?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Oh, God.” Sam turned and started toward his car. Nina, he thought, and suddenly he was running. A dark-haired man had forced Nina off the road. Now Bledsoe was dead. Was Nina next?

      Sam heard Yeats yell, “Navarro!” By then, he was already scrambling into his car. He made a screeching U-turn and headed away from Ocean View Drive.

      He drove with his emergency lights flashing all the way to George Cormier’s house.

      It seemed he was ringing the bell forever before anyone answered the door. Finally it swung open and Daniella appeared, her flawless face arranged in a smile. “Why, hello, Detective.”

      “Where’s Nina?” he demanded, pushing past her into the house.

      “She’s upstairs. Why?”

      “I need to talk to her. Now.” He started for the stairway, then halted when he heard footsteps creak on the landing above. Glancing up, he saw Nina standing on the steps, her hair a tumble of black silk.

      She’s okay, he thought with relief. She’s still okay.

      She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, and she had a purse slung over her shoulder, as if she were just about to leave the house.

      As she came down the stairs, she brought with her the elusive fragrance of soap and shampoo. Nina’s scent, he thought with a pleasurable thrill of recognition. Since when had he committed her fragrance to memory?

      By the time she reached the bottom step, she was frowning at him. “Has something happened?” she asked.

      “Then no one’s called you?”

      “About what?”

      “Robert.”

      She went very still, her dark eyes focused with sudden intensity on his face. He could see the questions in her eyes, and knew she was too afraid to ask them.

      He reached for her hand. It was cold. “You’d better come with me.”

      “Where?”

      “The hospital. That’s where they took him.” Gently he led her to the door.

      “Wait!” called Daniella.

      Sam glanced back. Daniella stood frozen, staring after them in panic. “What about Robert? What happened?”

      “He’s been shot. It happened a short while ago, just outside his house. I’m afraid it doesn’t look good.”

      Daniella took a step backward, as though slapped. It was her reaction, that expression of horror in her eyes, that told Sam what he needed to know. So she was the other woman, he thought. This blonde with her sculpted body and her perfect face.

      He could feel Nina’s arm trembling in his grasp. He turned her toward the door. “We’d better go,” he said. “There may not be much time.”

      Chapter Six

      THEY SPENT THE NEXT FOUR hours in a hospital waiting room.

      Though Nina wasn’t part of the medical team now battling to save Robert’s life, she could picture only too vividly what was going on at that moment in the trauma suite. The massive infusions of blood and saline. The scramble to control the patient’s bleeding, to keep his pressure up, his heart beating. She knew it all well because, at other times, on other patients, she had been part of the team. Now she was relegated to this useless task of waiting and worrying. Though her relationship with Robert was irrevocably broken, though she hadn’t forgiven him for the way he’d betrayed her, she certainly didn’t want him hurt.

      Or dead.

      It was only Sam’s presence that kept her calm and sane during that long evening. Other cops came and went. As the hours stretched on, only Sam stayed next to her on the couch, his hand clasping hers in a silent gesture of support. She could see that he was tired, but he didn’t leave her. He stayed right beside her as the night wore on toward ten o’clock.

      And he was there when the neurosurgeon came out to inform them that Robert had died on the operating table.

      Nina took the blow in numb silence. She was too stunned to shed any tears, to say much more than “Thank you for trying.” She scarcely realized Sam had his arm around her. Only when she sagged against him did she feel his support, steadying her.

      “I’m going to take you home,” he said softly. “There’s nothing more you can do here.”

      Mutely she nodded. He helped her to her feet and guided her toward the exit. They were halfway across the room when a voice called, “Miss Cormier? I need to ask you some more questions.”

      Nina turned and looked at the rodent-faced man who’d just spoken to her. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew he was a cop; he’d been in and out of the waiting room all evening. Now he was studying her closely, and she didn’t like the look in his eyes.

      “Not now, Yeats,” said Sam, nudging her to the exit. “It’s a bad time.”

      “It’s the best time to ask questions,” said the other cop. “Right after the event.”

      “She’s already told me she knew nothing about it.”

      “She СКАЧАТЬ