Hide & Seek - James Patterson [44]
The guard had called from the front gate saying that Jennie had hurt herself and that a man from the neighborhood was bringing her up to the house. When I saw who it was, I was absolutely stunned.
This was insane.
I didn’t ask about Jennie—she looked too comfortable, dressed in a sweatsuit, her legs dangling from his arms.
“Put her down! Please put Jennie down,” I loudly told him.
“Where, ma’am?” Will Shepherd said in a soft, calm voice. Jennie was no more difficult for him to carry than a pillow.
“There. On the couch in the living room is great. Please, put her down!”
He looked at me with troubled eyes, which gave me pause. “Hey,” he said, “she was hurt. I nearly hit her with my car. Lucky thing she jumped aside and only twisted her ankle. It happened right in front of the Lawrences’. That’s where I’m staying. I was just going out. Didn’t see her.”
“It’s kind of you to have brought her. Thank you,” I managed. My voice was cold. “Now please leave. Thank you though. I mean that.”
Jennie sat up on the couch where he had placed her. “You could at least offer him some coffee,” she said. “Something?”
“I’m sure Mr. Shepherd’s done enough for us and wants to get on about his business.”
“You know who I am?” he asked. Now he looked even more puzzled. The bastard.
“We’ve met,” I said. Curt, just like that.
He seemed surprised. “Really? Where? I don’t go backstage, though I’ve heard you sing. It was at the Albert Hall. The Queen was there.”
“Not at a concert. At a party.” Curt.
“If so, I don’t remember, and I’d remember meeting you. I’m quite certain of that.”
He knelt to check Jennie’s ankle. “Doesn’t seem like there’s anything broken,” he said. “I’ve broken enough bones to be a decent judge of that. Still, you should probably call a doctor.”
“As soon as you go, that’s what I’m going to do. Thanks for the advice.”
He rose slowly. “Nice to meet you, Jennie. Hope you feel better soon.” He turned toward the door.
“Good-bye, Mr. Shepherd,” Jennie said. Suddenly, I suspected some shenanigans on her part in this. She and her friends occasionally “stalked” rock stars, so why not a sports celebrity?
“I don’t want you talking to him again,” I told her when the door had closed.
She stared at me, her face red. I’d never seen her this angry. “How could you act that way? Mother,” she cried. “God!”
She leapt from the couch, gave a small cry, and collapsed. She had been hurt. Maybe Will Shepherd had done the right thing in helping her home. Maybe I had been wrong about him this time.
CHAPTER 48
MY HOUSE WAS next door to one of the better Westchester country clubs, the Lake Club in Bedford. The members of the Lake Club paid astronomical dues and fees to ensure that the finest chefs and groundskeepers were employed there. Its carefully manicured lawns and private gardens reminded me of Gstaad, Lake Forest, Saint-Tropez, places I had visited on my concert tours of Europe.
I was at “the club” for a party in late September. It was one of my first forays back into the real world.
I had to stop to catch my breath at the top of the steep fieldstone steps that led from the driveway to the main clubhouse. The last big party I had been to was for the opening of The Cornelia, and a memory of Patrick came back so clearly that tears welled up in my eyes.
“Damn,” I whispered. Get a grip, Maggie.
The beautiful lawn was filled with people. Dimly, I became aware of a wet bar, and a jazz combo playing quietly beside it. I said hello to a few Bedford residents, smiled at others whose names I should have known but didn’t. A Broadway producer took me aside to insist that I name a price and the talent I wanted around me for a show. I told him that the offer was flattering, but really premature, and that I would call him when I was ready. I was pressured by his intensity though, and began to feel an all-too-familiar