For the first time since they'd arrived, Patrick seemed to really look at Cyndi. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. “Yeah. I'll get it for you."
As Patrick brushed by them, Cyndi put out her hand and touched his arm. Patrick pulled away and her hand dropped back down. “I'm sorry for causing so much trouble.” Patrick just shook his head and walked away. Cyndi bit her bottom lip, her big eyes luminous with tears.
"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart,” Shamus assured her as he carried her out of the house toward his truck. “This is not your fault."
"This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't come back to Jamesville.” She turned her face into his shirt. He could feel the fine tremors that shook her.
"But then you wouldn't have met me, and that would have been a tragedy.” He kept his tone light and teasing.
She snorted into his shirt, and he felt some of her tension ease. He managed to get the truck door open and Cyndi buckled in by the time Patrick returned with the blanket. “Thanks,” he tossed over his shoulder as he took it and tucked it around her. “I'll have the heat going in a second and we'll get you warm,” he promised her. She nodded, her attention focused on her hands clasped in her lap.
Patrick looked as if he might want to say something, but Shamus didn't give him any time. Closing the door, he went around the front of the truck and climbed into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition, cranked up the heat, and put the vehicle in reverse, maneuvering around the other vehicles as he backed out of the driveway. As he started up the street toward the hospital, he could see Patrick still standing in the driveway, hands on his hips, watching them until they were out of sight.
Shamus sat in the waiting room, his eyes closed, and his head resting against the back of the uncomfortable, vinyl seat. Cyndi had been whisked into the emergency room as soon as they arrived. She'd been in there over thirty minutes, and he was starting to lose patience.
He opened his eyes and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he rested his chin on his hands. Several of the nurses working the night shift were casting him covert glances as they whispered amongst themselves. By now, they'd know that Cyndi Marks was formerly Cynthia James. This was a small town and news carried fast. He ignored them. They could think whatever they wanted.
The door at the far end pushed open and Patrick stalked in. The nurses couldn't hold back their curiosity and openly stared. Shamus stood and waited for his brother to join him.
"Any news yet?” Patrick appeared tired but determined.
"No.” He scrubbed his hand over his chin and sighed. “The doctor is still checking her out."
"Look...” Patrick broke off and stared at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. He rolled his shoulders, absently rubbing his left one. Shamus wondered if his old injury was hurting tonight after him being out in the damp, cool air. “We checked things out, and the shooter was in the woods off to the side of the house. There were some cigarette butts there, so he'd been watching for a while. We dug a couple of slugs out of the walls in the study, so if we find a suspect, we can match them to the rifle that fired them. Right now, that's all we can do until I talk to her. I need to know who she's talked to, and who might want to harm her."
"Damn.” Shamus could feel impatience clawing to life inside him again. Intellectually, he knew that his brother was doing all he could. Emotionally, it didn't feel like near enough.
"Yeah. That about covers it.” He glanced over at the desk and the two nurses glanced away and busied themselves. “I'm going to see if they can tell me anything."
As Patrick reached the desk, the inner door was pushed open and Doctor David Ames stepped out. Ames had moved to Jamesville a little more than three years ago and thankfully showed no signs of tiring of small-town life.
Shamus strode toward him. “How is she?"
Doctor Ames waited until Patrick had joined them, giving both men a quick nod. “She's fine, but shaken. The cuts on her face and arms are superficial, and shouldn't scar. The one on her hand was the worst, but it didn't need stitches, although I did have to remove a couple of small pieces of glass. Best I can figure, she must have put her hand on the floor to push herself up and not realized she'd placed her hand on glass shards. She doesn't remember how it happened."
"Can I talk to her?” Patrick was all cop now, ready to find out the facts.
"Sure. Just take it easy, she's still very shaky.” He glanced from one man to the other. “I don't need to keep her here, so she can leave as soon as she wants, but she shouldn't be alone tonight. It's just a precautionary measure, but if she doesn't have someone to stay with her, I'll admit her for the night."
"I'll stay with her.” Shamus crossed his arms over his chest and dared his brother to object.
"Fine,” Patrick said, the muscles in his jaw working. “You can take her home after I talk with her.” He turned back to the doctor. “Where is she?"
"Second door to the left. Now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I've got another patient to attend to."
"Thanks, Doc.” Shamus extended his hand and the doctor took it.
"You're more than welcome.” Doctor Ames gave them both a nod and went to the desk to collect another chart.
Patrick turned to Shamus. “I don't suppose you'll stay out here, will you?"
"You suppose right.” He headed for the door, pushing it inward. Second door on the left, the doc had said. His brother was muttering behind him, but Shamus ignored him.
He went straight into the room without knocking. Cyndi was sitting on the side of the bed, wearing a hospital gown over her pants instead of her top. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was bent forward, huddled in on herself. When she heard footsteps, her head popped up. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. Shamus could tell she'd been crying.
Her eyes widened when she saw him and then turned fearful as she glanced behind him. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that his brother was hot on his heels.
Shamus went straight to her, not stopping until he reached her side. “How are you feeling?” Reaching out, he cupped her jaw with his hand, tilting her head to one side to look at her injuries. The couple of small cuts were barely noticeable.
"I'm okay.” She pulled back slightly, and he dropped his hand back to his side.
"Ms. Marks.” Patrick stepped forward. “I need to ask you a few questions."
"Certainly, sheriff.” She straightened her shoulders as she faced him. “Please call me, Cyndi."
"Can you tell me exactly what happened tonight?"
Shamus noted that his brother chose not to call her by name at all. Anger began to churn in his gut.
"I went to the study tonight. I hadn't been in there since I came back and decided that I'd have a quick look.” Shamus noted that Cyndi was cradling her left hand close to her body. A white bandage was wrapped around her palm.
"Why hadn't you been in there yet?” Patrick continued his questions.
"Too many memories.” Cyndi shook her head and glanced away, chewing on her bottom lip.
Shamus almost groaned as a bolt of lust shot through him. This was not the time or the place, but his body didn't seem to care. Thankfully, the other two weren't paying him any attention. A growing hard-on was hard to hide. Shamus shifted his stance to ease the pressure as he concentrated on the conversation.
"Go on,” Patrick prompted.
"The first thing I did was turn on all the lights and open the drapes. In retrospect, I probably should have left the drapes closed, but they made the room so gloomy.” She rubbed her hands over her arms and then winced and pulled her bandaged palm away.
Shamus picked up a blanket folded at the end of the bed, shook it out, and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?” he asked as he carefully tucked the ends around her.