As Hal Cooper left the waiting room, Dave turned to Ali. “Wait a minute,” he said in a performance worthy of an Academy Award. “Don’t I know you? Didn’t we have an art history class together at ASU a few years ago?”
This was nothing short of an outrageous lie, since Ali Reynolds had never set foot on the Arizona State University campus. Obviously Dave had known who Ali was all along, but he had been careful not to show it
“Yes,” she said, smiling back at him, holding out her hand and carrying her own part of the charade. “Cecelia McCann,” she said. “How nice to see you again.”
“Dave,” he answered. “Dave Holman. Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department. How about you?”
“I’m a consultant,” she said quickly. “Doing a project for the hospital.”
He gave her a quick wink, one that she hoped none of the other people in the room noticed.
Ali wondered how long she and Dave and Sister Anselm could keep up the fiction that they knew one another but didn’t have a close working relationship.
The elevator door opened and a woman stepped into the room. She was blond, mid-thirties, and definitely dressed for success. She stopped and surveyed the waiting room before going over to the nurses’ station. “My name is Donna Carson,” she said. “I’m looking for Hal Cooper.”
Ah-ha, Ali thought. The daughter’s personal assistant.
There was an attendant behind the desk, someone who hadn’t been privy to all the earlier discussions
“I’m sorry,” she said at once. “We don’t have anyone here by that name.”
“He’s a visitor, not a patient,” Donna said impatiently. “He came to see about his wife.”
One of the lolling teenagers spoke up. “That guy’s down the hall,” he explained. “Visiting in one of the rooms.”
“Which one? I need to talk to him.”
“Are you a relative?” the attendant asked.
“No, but-”
“Only authorized relatives are allowed access to the patients’ rooms. You’ll have to take a seat.”
“It is his wife, then?” Donna asked. “It is Mimi Cooper?”
The attendant didn’t budge. “I’m not at liberty to disclose any information whatsoever,” she said. “If you’ll be good enough to sit down-”
“But I spoke to Mimi’s daughter, Serenity Langley. She sent me here to find out what’s going on,” Donna argued. “If her mother has been injured, I need to let her know.”
“Please,” the attendant said. “I’m sure you’ll know in good time.”
That response evidently wasn’t good enough. Donna had already punched a button and was holding the phone to her ear.
“The people who work here won’t tell me anything, not a word,” she whined into the phone when someone answered.
A few of James’s relatives had decamped for the evening, leaving behind a couple of unoccupied chairs. Donna Carson chose one of those and dropped into it.
“One of the other visitors told me that Hal is here right now. He’s in one of the rooms, but they won’t tell me which one. I’m guessing that means it’s bad news. Yes,” she added after a pause. “You’d probably better head home. I’m at Saint Gregory’s. On the eighth floor, in the burn unit. Do you want me to call your brother? Okay. It’s probably better if you do that, and if I happen to see Cooper, I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”
Just then the door to room 814 opened and Sister Anselm emerged, leading a sobbing Hal Cooper. Dave left Ali behind and hurried to meet them. “It’s her?” he asked.
Hal nodded wordlessly.
“Perhaps you’d be so good as to come with me, Mr. Cooper,” Dave said, taking Hal by the arm and leading him toward the elevator. “We need to put you in touch with investigators from the ATF, and from the marshal’s office in Fountain Hills. We’re all going to need to ask you some questions.”
Donna jumped up and hurried over to them. “Is it Mimi?” she wanted to know. “Is she going to be all right?”
Hal shook his head numbly. “I don’t know,” he managed. “It’s too soon to tell.”
“Are you saying she’s going to die?” Donna sounded stunned.
Before Hal could say anything more, the elevator door closed.
Dave and Hal disappeared. Once the door shut, Donna again opened her phone and dialed.
“It is your mother,” she confirmed when someone answered. “She’s here in the burn unit at Saint Gregory’s in Phoenix. Yes, the one on Camelback. You’d better get here as soon as you can.” There was a pause. “How bad is it?” Donna Carson shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’d say it’s pretty bad.”
Across the room Ali opened her phone and sent a text message to Sheriff Maxwell.
Victim IDed. Mimi Cooper. Dave is taking the husband to meet with ATF and Fountain Hills marshals.
Sheriff Maxwell’s response came back in less than a minute.
Good work. Richard Donnelley’s gonna crap his britches over that one. I don’t think the agent in charge will like being showed up like that. They’ll need to do a crime scene investigation in Fountain Hills. Does that nun still need you?
Ali looked up. Down the hall, Sister Anselm was standing at her favorite window, looking out at the nighttime city. Without responding to the sheriff’s message, Ali sent a text message to her.
Can we talk?
Sister Anselm glanced at her phone. Then, smiling, she beckoned for Ali to join her at the window.
“Sheriff Maxwell was just asking me if I thought you still needed me.”
“Oh, yes,” Sister Anselm said. “I certainly need you here tomorrow.”
Ali nodded. “All right. I’ll be here. But did she recognize her husband?”
“Absolutely,” Sister Anselm said. “Her response to him was a wonder to behold. She’s resting more peacefully now than she has all day.”
“She still doesn’t know who’s responsible for setting her on fire?” Ali asked.
“No, and just because Mimi was glad to see Mr. Cooper doesn’t mean he had nothing to do with all this. I intend to keep a close eye on him.”
Which meant, Ali concluded, that Sister Anselm didn’t trust the man and was unprepared to leave Hal Cooper alone with his injured wife.
Ali was about to text a response to Sheriff Maxwell when her phone rang. A glance at caller ID told her that this wasn’t the sheriff calling back. It was Athena.
“My daughter-in-law,” Ali explained to Sister Anselm. “She’s in town and was hoping we could get together.”
“Of course,” Sister Anselm said. “I think things are under control for tonight.”
“You’ll call if you need me?”
“Absolutely.”
By then Ali’s phone had stopped ringing, so she punched Redial. “Sorry I couldn’t answer before. I’m leaving the hospital right now. Where are you?”
“At the apartment,” Athena said. “Just off Apache in Tempe.”
It sounded like Athena was sniffling. June in Phoenix was hardly the time to come down with a cold or sinus infection. Ali wondered if she had been crying.
“What about grabbing something to eat? I’m starving,” Ali said. “Do you want to meet me somewhere?”
“Not really,” Athena said. “I’d rather you came here.”
Ali’s gut gave an ominous twist. Athena Reynolds was boundlessly enthusiastic, and always ready for whatever. This didn’t sound like her.
“Tell you what,” Ali said. “I’ll pick up something on the way. Give me your address so I can program it into the GPS.”
On her way down to the hospital lobby, Ali called her hotel, spoke to room service, and asked them to box up some food-fries and two burgers-that she could take with her. At the hotel, she left the car in the driveway and hurried upstairs to shed the red wig.
Ali knew instinctively that whatever was going on between Athena and Chris needed to be handled by Ali Reynolds rather than Cecelia McCann.