At that moment, Melody noticed someone just beyond the doctor. The reporter who’d taken her photo. And he was taking notes as quickly as his pen could move across the tablet.
Oh, what did it matter?
Joe was alive.
“Are you a relative?” the doctor asked.
“Girlfriend,” the receptionist piped in from her station.
“You can see him as soon as he’s out of the recovery room. We’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.”
Melody looked at Lola, communicating her fear. What now? How did she go on from this point? With this relationship? She almost wished he’d been a drug dealer, because then it would have been easier to walk away. How would he understand that she couldn’t do this? That she couldn’t be with him?
Lola, who knew her sister inside and out, said, “This will probably never happen again. I mean, how many times does someone get shot? Not that I’m trying to talk you into or out of anything, but-”
“Logically I know the odds are against it ever happening again. But what were the odds against my being involved with not one, but two men who were shot?”
Chapter 13
He wasn’t dead.
That was Joe’s first thought when he came to in the recovery room, nurses hovering over him, making conversation, trying to figure out if he had all of his marbles. Apparently he did.
His second thought was of Melody, his third, Max. His fourth? What the hell had happened? Somehow his cover had been blown.
The recovery room was history, and he was now in a regular hospital room with a view of downtown Saint Paul. Well, he could see the tops of buildings, and he could see some stars. An officer had already talked to him, but Joe didn’t have much information to share. He hadn’t seen anything.
His cell phone, placed within reach by the nurse, beeped. He opened the message app to find a text from Jerry. Brief. Succinct. A warning. Be careful who you talk to and what you say. I suspect a mole.
Joe deleted the message and let his head drop back against the pillow. Mole. He was living a cop cliché. He thought about the cop he’d just talked to. A guy he’d seen around but didn’t know much about. He hadn’t given him any real information. He hadn’t had any information to give. But from now on he would have to be careful, and he’d have to keep a low profile. Hopefully it wasn’t a slow news night. Hopefully the story wouldn’t even merit a few sentences.
He heard a faint tap on the door, and Melody poked her head inside. “Can I come in?”
He should never have gotten involved with her. He’d known better. Not the thing for an undercover cop to do, moral implications and the fact that he could never be honest with her aside. He’d put her in danger.
She approached the bed. Her dark hair was disheveled, and her dress, her blue Alice-in-Wonderland dress, was stained with blood. His blood. Without thought, he reached for her with the hand that wasn’t tethered to the IV rack. Her fingers wrapped around his, and he gave her a firm, reassuring squeeze along with a crooked smile.
“The doctors are crediting Max with saving my life,” he said.
Some of the tenseness left her body, and she returned his smile. They were like two shy strangers, but he’d spent the night with her. He’d made love to her. He knew he should regret it. He tried to regret it.
“It’s not like he tied his leash around your leg and stopped the bleeding,” she said.
“But it’s a good story. And you like good stories.”
She thought about that and nodded. “Something the kids will like to hear when Max makes another appearance at the library.”
“And the shelter,” Joe said. “Don’t forget the shelter.” But he could sense her retreat. He could feel her pulling out of his life. Maybe he should help her.
“Lola called 9-1-1,” Melody said.
“Ah.” He’d forgotten Lola was there.
“So it was Lola and Max. I didn’t really do anything.”
But he remembered that she’d comforted him until the ambulance arrived. She’d hugged him to her and cried. That’s what he remembered.
“I have to go soon,” Melody said. “Max is in the car. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
This was goodbye, and he understood. One of them had to do it. No more waking up in her bed. No more lazy Sunday mornings with Max at the foot of the covers. No more Pippi Longstocking, or Alice, or cupcakes with pink frosting that he wished he’d tried. When he thought of her house, he thought of bright sunlight, of whimsy, of bravery.
“Did you see anything?” he asked. “Anything that might help us catch whoever did this?”
She shook her head. “A car with no headlights. That’s all. It was dark. I can’t even tell you the color or make. Max ran off, so I was thinking about him, looking for him. I wasn’t thinking about the car.”
“What were you doing there? How did you find out where I lived?” He thought about Jerry’s warning. No, not Melody. Couldn’t have been Melody. But what about how she’d come into his life? Her cat. Her cat had found him. Her cat had lured him to her house.
No. He was crazy for even entertaining the idea. That would mean everything about her was false. He would never believe that. She was real. And he was afraid he loved her. And whoever had tried to kill him was still out there. He released her hand.
“Tell Max hi for me,” Joe said.
“I will.”
Had she read him? Had she felt that he was closing the door too? Yes. She knew this was goodbye.
“And tell him thanks for saving my life,” Joe said.
“I’ll do that.”
She bit her lip, made a nervous gesture with one hand, and said, “I thought you were a drug dealer or something. So Lola and I decided to spy on you.”
“Ah.” That explained it. He would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so messed up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you what was going on. That day you told me you’d never date a cop, I almost said something. I’m sorry.”
And maybe if he hadn’t been working undercover… Would he have kept it a secret? When telling her would have meant losing her?
“Can I get you anything? Before I leave?”
“I’m fine. And Melody?” He wanted to drive home the seriousness of the situation. “Be careful who you talk to. Be careful what you say.”
He noticed her pallor and the circles under her eyes. “Go home.” He checked the clock on the wall. “It’s 2:00 a.m.”
He got the idea that she wanted to say something. Instead, she nodded, turned, and left.
In the waiting room, Melody found Lola curled up in a corner chair, asleep. She shook her awake, and then they were shuffling their way to the car where Max was waiting.
Melody was always surprised by the amount of traffic at 2:00 a.m. People leaving bars. Going home. She held Max to her chest and pressed her face in his fur, inhaling. Yes, she would go home and take a shower. She would wash the rest of Joe’s blood away, and she would crawl into bed.
“Joe and I just broke up,” Melody confessed.
Lola put on her blinker and shifted lanes, preparing to exit onto Lexington. “Is that such a bad thing? I mean, you didn’t want to date a cop.”
“I know, but that was before. I mean, I didn’t want to date a cop to begin with. I never wanted to go out with a cop. And what is it with me and cops? Look at me. I’m not a cop kind of person, but I seem to attract them. How is it I ended up with another cop?”
“I’m sorry, hon.”
“I like him. I really like him.” She thought a moment. “I wonder if he’ll go back undercover. I wonder if they’ll send him away, to another city.”
“We should have a party.”
“What?” Melody couldn’t shift gears from sorrow to party.
“A theme party. Where we dress in fifties clothes and drink martinis.”