Sherlock said in a matter-of-fact voice, still looking at her husband holding Emma, a besotted look on his face. "I've always liked Ramsey. Now that he's got you, everything will be just fine. What do you think, Molly? Does Dillon look like a natural holding Emma or what?"
THE orderly had brought two cots into Ramsey's room the night before. The whole family was together.
They were sound asleep when the door suddenly burst open and Lieutenant McPherson ran in.
Ramsey was out of bed in an instant, ready to fight, and he nearly passed out cold. He fell back against the bed, breathing hard. "What the hell's wrong?"
"No, it's all right, Judge Hunt," McPherson said, panting. "I was just worried that something could have happened to you as well. Here, let me help you back into bed."
"What are you talking about?" Molly said, helping Ramsey herself. Emma was halfway to Ramsey's bed, intent, he knew, on protecting him.
"It's Dickerson," McPherson said. "They think somebody put something, maybe potassium, into one of his FVs. He's dead."
"Bur there are staff all over the place in the ICU," Virginia Trolley said, shaking her head, still looking utterly incredulous even though McPherson had been talking about it for a good ten minutes. She'd thrown on clothes and rushed to his hospital room when Ramsey had called her. Ramsey had never seen her without makeup before and her hair uncombed and her red blazer wrinkled. She looked cute. He'd never tell her that, of course, because she'd knock him out.
"How could anybody get in there," she continued, "stick a needle into the IV tube, and get out again, all without being seen by anybody? There weren't any guards on him, why would there be? He wasn't going anywhere on his own and no one ever thought he'd need protection. We've spoken to security and they've sealed off the hospital, but good luck on that. They're checking videotape right now to see if there's anything suspicious."
"Lieutenant McPherson said a nurse saw someone dressed in hospital whites," Molly said. "But that's no big deal. It's a little like wearing a uniform at the Pentagon. Nobody gives you much of a second glance if you appear to be someone who's supposed to belong."
"She's right," Ramsey said. "It's the only reasonable answer. Actually I don't think it's all that reasonable, but hey, this is a hospital, not a top-security area. The hospital staff weren't alerted to keep an eye out."
He closed his eyes a minute. He was exhausted, his rib hurt, his shoulder ached like the devil, and he was ready to call in the cavalry for a pain pill.
He suddenly felt Emma's hand slip into his. He turned his head to see her studying him, knowing that he hurt, not knowing what to do about it. It was a lie, but he said cleanly, "I'm just fine, Emma. But I like you right here holding my hand."
He also felt incredible relief. Dickerson was dead, long gone, no more threat to anyone. Emma was safe.
Lieutenant McPherson cleared his throat. "I also ran in here, Judge Hunt, because, to tell you the truth, you're the best suspect."
"I'm not moving too quickly right now," Ramsey said. "I nearly hung it up when you burst through that door. I think stealing a white coat, finding some potassium, since I don't carry any around with me, and walking nonchalantly into the ICU just might have been beyond even my abilities, astounding though they be."
"That was a joke," Emma said to Lieutenant McPherson.
"I know. I'm glad all of you were here. It makes things easier."
Not an hour later, when the three of them were finally alone again, though they could see news vans below them in the street, they discovered they were all still too hyped to go back to sleep. The phone rang. Molly answered it, then, with a strange look on her face, she handed it to Ramsey. "I don't understand. It's my father. He wants to speak to you."
Ramsey thought briefly about pressing the speaker button. No, Emma was here. He picked up the phone and identified himself. It was indeed Mason Lord. He said, "I'm much better and I understand that you'll survive as well, Ramsey. Oh yes, I'm also given to understand that there will be no more problems with that animal who was after Emma, and shot you."
Ramsey said very quietly, though he could feel the blood pounding through him, "How did you know, sir?
Surely there hasn't been enough time for it to be on the news yet."
Mason laughed softly, then said, amusement lacing his voice, "I have friends everywhere, Ramsey. Of course I find things out very quickly. Actually, one could almost say that I find some things out almost before they happen."
Had it been Gunther who killed Dickerson? Or had Mason hired local talent for just this one assignment?
Now that he'd had a second or two to think about it, he wasn't at all surprised. He didn't say anything.
Why bother? What was there to say anyway?
"Now Emma doesn't have to be afraid, nor do you or Molly. I will expect the three of you here for Thanksgiving. That's my favorite holiday. No one expects extravagant gifts, just a great meal, which Miles always delivers."
"Yes," Ramsey said. "We'll be there." Slowly, he placed the phone back in the receiver. He looked at Molly and shook his head. She frowned a moment, then he knew she understood. She made a big deal out of yawning. "I'm ready to fold my tent. How about you, Em?"
"I'm sleepy too, Mama. What did Grandpa want, Ramsey?"
"He wanted to make sure we were all right. Nothing more."
"He was nice to call," Emma said, kissed Ramsey, and let her mother tuck her in.
Ramsey leaned back and closed his eyes. His shoulder was hurting like the devil. His fingertips tingled.
His head ached. Now this. Molly leaned down to kiss him. He whispered, "He had Dickerson killed.
What am I supposed to do?"
"Tell McPherson the truth. It won't matter, you know it won't. No one will ever take down my father. In fact I'll bet my father wants you to tell the cops. He's probably laughing right now, imagining it."
He suspected she was right. He called out, "Good night, Emma. Sleep well. You too, Molly."
It was all over, Ramsey thought, as he walked up the stairs of their San Francisco home, Emma at his side. All over. He was thinking about Dickerson's mother in Duluth. She had paid for his cremation.
Ramsey had actually gone, Savich with him, just to be sure, just to see the man before he was reduced to gray silt.
"Mama's asleep," Emma said. "She was really tired. I don't think she slept well last night."
That was true enough. He hadn't either. Emma had said she'd wanted to sleep in her own room, which was the reason neither of them had slept much. It was odd, but he'd missed her cuddling against them, at least in the morning he had.
"I hope she's not still asleep," Ramsey said. "I want to see her smile. She's done a lot of that since we got back home yesterday."
He stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Emma had left him, running down to her bedroom to fetch one of her toys. Molly was lying on her side, her back to him. She was wearing only a pair of white panties that were high cut on the sides. Her bottom leg was straight, the top leg was slightly bent. There wasn't a more seductive pose for a woman. He swallowed. Her hair was a glorious mess, tangled over a beautiful expanse of white flesh that made him want to walk right over there and begin kissing her back, starting at the base of her neck downward, until he could pull her panties away. They'd made love three times the previous night. He suspected there would have been a fourth time this morning, but Emma had had other plans.
"Mama kicked off the blanket," Emma said matter-of-factly beside him. She walked to the bed and gently raised the blanket to cover her mother. Molly stirred. She fell over onto her back and opened her eyes.
"Emma," she said, and raised her hand to cup her daughter's face. "Have you been taking care of Ramsey?"
"Yes, Mama. He's a lot better. He promised his shoulder only hurt a little bit. The best thing is he's not worried about me anymore."