Cinderella For A Night. Susan Mallery

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      “But what does it mean?” Betsy asked the next morning.

      There weren’t any windows in the waiting room so it was impossible to tell what it was like outside. Jonathan glanced at his watch. Eleven-fifty. Sunday. Barely twelve hours since the ball last night, but he felt as if he’d already lived a lifetime since then.

      “Stabilized means just that,” Jonathan said, trying to keep Cynthia’s mother calm. If she stayed in control, the kids were fine. When she started to lose it, he had four sobbing messes on his hands.

      “Last night she was deteriorating,” he reminded her. “So stabilized is a step up. Next, she’ll start improving.” At least he hoped so. He had enough skin in the game now that he wanted to make sure that Cynthia made a full recovery.

      Betsy looked at him, then folded her arms over her chest and sighed. “You’re being very patient and kind and I really appreciate that. I’m trying to believe what you’re saying, but it’s so hard. I want her to wake up.”

      “I know. Me, too. At least they’ve been letting us in to see her.”

      Just after breakfast Noah Howell had arrived in the waiting area with the news that they could visit Cynthia for a few minutes every hour.

      Betsy tucked a strand of short blond hair behind her ears. She looked weary, with dark circles under her eyes. Last night she’d obviously dressed in haste. She wore a sweatshirt over jeans, and athletic shoes with no socks. Jonathan felt out of place in his tux. He knew that he would have to go home to shower and change at some point, but he wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

      The three kids were seated close to the television, watching a cartoon show. They all looked dazed from what was happening. Dazed and young and impossibly vulnerable. Their concern about their sister touched him, as did Betsy’s love for her child.

      “I can’t survive if something happens to her,” Betsy said in a low voice. “I won’t make it.”

      Jonathan leaned close. “First, she’s doing better and the doctors think she’s going to be fine.” Fine was a stretch, he admitted to himself. The fact that she was still unconscious wasn’t good, but he wasn’t about to remind Betsy of that. “Second, you’ll make it because you have three children depending on you and you’re not the kind of person who walks away from her responsibilities.”

      Tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know if I can be that strong.”

      “I know you’ll do what you have to.”

      She sniffed and looked at her three children. “I guess you’re right. It just feels so impossible.”

      Her pain slipped through his defenses and made his insides ache. She loved her children with a fierceness that startled him. He hadn’t known it was supposed to be like that between a mother and her offspring. His mother had walked out of his life when he was only five, leaving behind an angry husband and a confused and sobbing little boy. His stepmother had been kind, but ineffectual against his father’s tirades. Growing up, he hadn’t had much in the way of emotional security and comfort.

      Watching Betsy with her children made him wonder how life would have been different if his mother had stayed, or if his father had forgiven him for being the son of the woman who had left him.

      Jonathan straightened in his chair and forced himself to push away the maudlin thoughts. It was all the in-activity, he told himself. It gave a man too much time to think.

      Movement by the waiting room door caused Jonathan to look up. He saw Jack Stryker standing in the hallway, motioning to him. Jonathan excused himself and stepped out to speak with the detective.

      “You look like hell,” Stryker said by way of a greeting. “Have you had any sleep at all?”

      Jonathan dismissed the question. “I’ll get home later today for a quick shower. That’s all I need right now. What did you find out?”

      Stryker grinned. “I have good news for you, my man. We have recently taken into custody one Harold P. Millingsgate, better known as Harry the Hood. He has as many arrests as he has tattoos, which is saying something. He’s a career criminal, starting out with small stuff in high school and graduating to some impressive felonies. In the past couple of years, he’s moved into killing for hire. He’s wanted for murder in several states, including Texas and he’s willing to talk to avoid extradition to a place where they are more eager to enforce the death penalty.”

      “He’s СКАЧАТЬ