“Dang thing wouldn’t even turn over in the cold,” Ed admitted. Both he and his wife looked worn out and beleaguered.
Pescoli returned with Eli who was interested in poking at the fake marshmallows floating in his hot chocolate. She also brought several cups of steaming coffee. Kacey took one, more for the warmth than anything else.
She turned to Ed and Tilly, softly asking the question that was now haunting her, “So. . Eli is Cameron’s son?”
“Not according to her. She was very adamant on that,” Tilly said and Ed nodded his agreement.
“I’m my dad’s son,” Eli put in, blowing across his cocoa.
“Of course you are.” Kacey walked across the room and hugged him fiercely, sorry he’d overheard her; she’d thought he was out of earshot. She was so glad that he was safe. She would have to deal with his questions about his mother, she knew that, but she was willing to do it; to be with him and to be with Trace. Her feelings about Leanna were torn, but she couldn’t deny that the woman had sacrificed herself for the sake of her son.
Alvarez’s cell phone jangled and she looked at the screen. “I’ve got to take this,” she said, before walking into an adjoining room.
She was gone about ten minutes and when she returned, she said. “Looks like we can convict Cameron Johnson for more crimes than we know. The team who went to his house found a secret room down in the basement. There are pictures of the victims, information about each of them, many already dead, some who escaped.”
Kacey thought of Gloria Sanders-O’Malley, the fitness instructor.
“I’m going to have to call Jonas Hayes in L.A.,” Alvarez said to Pescoli. “I think we can tie Cam Johnson to Shelly Bonaventure’s supposed suicide.”
“He was the creep who attacked me in Seattle,” Kacey said. “He admitted as much.” She sighed and shook her head. “If we’re done here, can I get a ride to the hospital?”
Pescoli nodded. “I’ll drive.”
Turning to Eli, Kacey said with a smile, “Come on. Let’s go see your dad.”
As it turned out, Kacey wasn’t alone in wanting to go to the hospital. Pescoli and Alvarez planned to question Trace when he woke up and Ed and Tilly, though tired, drove to St. Bart’s as well.
But being back in the familiar hospital halls was a little surreal for Kacey. Though everything looked the way it had the last time she’d been here, after all she’d been through, it seemed different. Changed. She told herself that it was because of the fact she’d been hit in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle, but it was more, a deeper disconnect that all had to do with meeting a murderer face-to-face and killing him. Though she felt no regret for taking Cameron Johnson’s life as he’d intended to murder Trace, she still felt out of step. She’d dedicated her professional life to helping heal, to save lives, and now she’d purposefully taken one.
Shake it off, she told herself and after leaving a protesting Eli with Tilly and Ed, made her way to the Recovery Room as she was a doctor on staff. Alvarez and Pescoli were right behind her, but hung back to give her a second’s privacy when she headed to the bed where Trace lay.
He was just coming around and woozy, his leg bandaged, his hospital gown askew. His leg had been saved, the femoral artery nicked but repaired. He moaned, his head dark against the white sheets. He blinked slowly awake.
“Hey, there,” she said, leaning over his bed as the Recovery Room nurse stepped away to allow them some privacy.
With obvious effort, he tried to focus.
“It’s me.” She took his hand and her heart squeezed at the sight of him, his hair rumpled on the pillow, his jaw dark with beard shadow. God, she loved him and for a few harrowing minutes she’d thought she’d lost him forever. “Trace?”
One side of his mouth lifted in a dopey grin, but his eyes were far from clear. “Kacey?” he said, his voice rough.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Her throat nearly closed as his grip tightened over hers.
“Eli?” he whispered.
“He’s fine.” Tears burned the back of her eyes. “And he’s here, waiting to see you. He’s with the Zukovs, just down the hall.”
He seemed relieved, then goofy again. “Oh. Tilly. Ed.”
“Yes.” She knew he wouldn’t remember much about waking up, maybe nothing, but she couldn’t help herself from squeezing his hand. “Trace, I need to tell you something,” she said.
“Hmmmm. .” He was drifting again.
“First of all, Leanna turned out to be okay. More than okay. I think she saved your life.” He didn’t respond. Probably hadn’t heard. “And there’s something else,” she admitted, leaning close over the bed. “I love you.” She smiled, though she felt warm tears slide down her face. “It’s crazy and I know it, but damn it, I love you.”
“I know. .” His voice was far away. “You’re gonna marry me.”
He was still out of it; didn’t know what he was saying, but it filled her heart with joy. “We. . we’ll talk about it when you’re better. .”
His eyes opened suddenly and in that split second his gaze was clear. “I am better,” he said, and reached up quickly, his fingers sliding around her nape, as he lifted his head from the pillow and pulled her close so that their noses were nearly touching. “And you’re gonna marry me, Dr. Lambert.”
Before she could say a word, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was as crushing as it was desperate. “No arguments,” he said when he finally released her and fell back on the sheets, spent, his eyes closing again.
“Faker,” she accused.
He didn’t respond.
She felt a smile tug on her swollen lips and she didn’t say it, but thought. I am going to marry you, Trace O’Halleran. Count on it.
Epilogue
“ Come on, come on… we’re going to go caroling!”
Joelle, wearing ridiculous, red felt reindeer antlers was herding everyone into the lobby.
Pescoli looked up from her desk where she was studying the death certificates and newspaper reports on the two sisters of Cameron Johnson who had died young. . in accidents. “I am not caroling! I’ve got work to do.”
“Oh, don’t be a Scrooge!” Joelle admonished before clipping off in her clear high heels that looked like something Barbie would wear. . well, and Michelle. Yeah, Lucky’s young wife would love those heels.
It was only a week until Christmas and Joelle was really ramped up for the holiday. Christmas music and cookies and garlands and even the spinning tree with its fake presents stacked beneath it. What more could one woman do to a government office?
Not that Pescoli paid much attention. She’d had more than enough to deal with in her own life. For starters, Santana was pressuring her big-time. It turned out that Brady Long had left him part of his immense estate and Nate thought she and her children and the dog should move in with him.
As if it were just that easy.
Nope, she thought, clicking through the computer screens.
She wasn’t convinced, though a father figure for her kids certainly wouldn’t hurt. Jeremy, sick of her nagging and bored with his life, had finally agreed to go back to school come January and Pescoli was crossing her fingers that he wouldn’t change his mind again. As for his involvement with Heidi Brewster, it was still simmering, but the kids were somehow keeping it on the “down low,” which may or may not be a good thing, depending on how you looked at it.
Bianca, well enough to go back to school, had actually started talking to some other boy who’d stopped by a couple of times, some kid on the basketball team who actually called her Ms. Pescoli, rather than ignoring her. Chris was still hanging out, of course, but it definitely looked like that particular romance was dying on the vine.