In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [99]
Mel was stroking Ed’s arm. Her eyes had not wavered from his face, but she glanced up as Camelia entered.
She shot him that ear-to-ear smile and his heart seemed to drop even lower. “I need to speak to you.” He beckoned her out into the corridor.
She hurried after him. “Something’s wrong.” She searched his face anxiously. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“There’s been an incident.”
She stared at him, not understanding. “What does that mean?”
“Harriet was attacked at the house. We believe it was the hit man.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, she stared at him, horrified.
“She’s okay, and Riley’s okay. It’s a concussion with Harriet, and apart from bruises, Riley wasn’t hurt.”
Mel looked about to faint, and Camelia put his arm around her and lowered her into the chair outside the door, where the uniform usually sat. It occurred to him that the duty officer was not there, and he glanced impatiently up and down the corridor. He guessed the officer had gone to the bathroom, but he shouldn’t have left without getting the relief guy up from downstairs. He would remember to reprimand him about that.
Estevez emerged from Ed’s room. He stared, surprised, at them: He could see something was wrong.
“Where is she?” Mel clutched at Camelia’s hand. “Where’s Riley?”
“Don’t worry, she’s safe. She’s in protective custody.”
“You mean she’s in a police station?” Mel’s voice was a panicked squeak. “Harriet’s in the hospital and my daughter’s in jail. Oh my God . . . my poor baby. . . .”
Estevez’s eyes met Camelia’s. “What happened?”
Camelia told him, while Mel just sat there, staring blankly into space. She had put her child in danger. And her friend. She had almost lost them. What was she doing in this nightmare? What terrible thing had Ed done, that someone wanted him dead so badly they were willing to kill children? She felt her faith beginning to waver. Nothing was more important than Riley. The child of her body, her blood. Riley was her life. She was almost catatonic with shock, and Camelia was about to call the doctor when Estevez bent over her.
“Melba, you need to be with your child and your friend. You need to go now, right away. I will have the company jet ready and waiting for you at the airport. The limo will take you there. Are you ready to leave now?”
Mel’s blank eyes connected with his. She came to life again. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Good. I will arrange it immediately.” As Estevez strode off down the shiny corridor, Mel looked up at Camelia.
“Come with me,” she said.
56
The flight to California on the Gulfstream IV passed like a bad dream. Mel might have been on the worst commuter flight for all the notice she gave her luxurious surroundings. Strapped into a gray leather seat, she barely noted the passing of time, except to complain of its length. She needed to be there now. Five minutes ago. She should never have left.
Guilt lurked behind her eyes, clouding her vision. It was her the hit man had wanted. If she had been there, he would have shot her, left the others alone. This was somehow all her fault. How could she ever have exposed Riley to such danger?
Camelia knew what she was thinking, but he said nothing. What could he do? Tell a mother she was wrong, that no matter what, the gunman would have come after her? And that maybe he still would?
There was no doubt George Artenski was losing his touch, though. He had turned out to be the world’s most inept hit man. Camelia was still wondering why, when the phone rang, and he had his answer.
George Artenski had been traced. A.k.a. Gus Aramanov, he lived with his wife, Lila, in San Diego. And he was the father of two young children.
So it was the child who had stayed Aramanov’s hand, Camelia thought. Gus had broken the unbreakable rule by which men like him plied their trade. He had allowed emotion to interfere with the job. He thanked God for the corner of mercy that had been left in Aramanov’s black soul.
Camelia glanced at Mel. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping,