From the Heart

have been in pain. God, where was the doctor? If anything happened to her . . . His stomach convulsed again. Swallowing, Slade forced the muscles to relax, turned fear to anger. The headache spread to the back of his neck. If they didn’t let him see her soon, he was going to . . .
    “Sergeant?”
    Whirling, Slade caught the doctor by the lapel of his coat. “Jess? How is she? I want to see her now. Can I take her home?”
    Well versed in dealing with frantic spouses, parents, and lovers, the doctor spoke calmly without bothering to struggle out of the hold. “She’s awake,” he said simply. “Why don’t we sit down?”
    Slade’s fingers tightened. “Why?”
    “Because I’ve been on my feet since eight o’clock this morning.” With a sigh, he decided it was best to treat this one standing up. “Miss Winslow is as well as can be expected.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “Exactly what it says,” the doctor returned evenly. “You did a good job of emergency first aid. As to your second question, you can see her in a moment, and no, you can’t take her home. Does she have any family?”
    Slade felt the color drain from his face. “Family? What do you mean family? The wound wasn’t that bad, the bullet went clean through. I had her here inside a half hour.”
    “You did very well,” the doctor told him. “I simply want to keep her here for a few days under observation. I need to know who to notify.”
    “Observation?” Terrifying visions ran through his mind. “What’s wrong with her?”
    “To put it simply, exhaustion and shock. Would you like more complicated medical terms?”
    Shaking his head, Slade released him and turned away. “No.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “That’s all it is, then? She’s going to be all right?”
    “With rest and care. Now, her family?”
    “There isn’t anyone.” For lack of something to do with his hands, Slade stuck them in his pockets. A sensation of utter helplessness covered him, sapping the strength that tension and anger had given him. “I’ll take the responsibility.”
    “I know this is a police matter, Sergeant, but what exactly is your relationship to Miss Winslow?”
    Slade gave a short laugh. “Baby sitter,” he muttered. “I’ll take the responsibility,” he repeated with more force. “Call Commissioner Dodson, NYPD—he’ll verify it.” Turning back, he fixed the doctor with a steady look. “I want to see her. Now.”
     
    Jessica was watching the door when Slade opened it. Her lips curved. “I knew you’d find a way to get past the guards. Can you bust me out of this place?”
    Keeping his hands in his pockets, he crossed to her. She was as white as the sheets she lay on. Only her eyes gave a hint of color. He thought of the first day he had seen her—vibrant, rushing. A feeling of total inadequacy swept over him so that the hands in his pockets balled into fists.
    “How do you feel?”
    “I told the doctor I felt like I’d been shot.” Gingerly, she touched the bandaged arm. “Actually I feel like I’ve drunk a half dozen martinis and fallen off a cliff.” She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “You’re not going to get me out of here, are you?”
    “No.”
    “I didn’t think so.” Resigned, she opened her eyes again to stare at the blue plastic pitcher. “Slade, I lied about the diamonds. I tossed them under the seat in my car. It’s in the middle of the road on the way to the shop. I forgot to get gas.” She looked at him then. “It’s not even locked. And . . .” Jessica moistened her lips when he remained silent. “I gave Michael money to get away. That’s accessory after the fact or something, isn’t it? I suppose I’m in trouble.”
    “I’ll take care of it.”
    Even through her drugged haze, she felt surprise. “Aren’t you going to shout at me?”
    “No.”
    Fighting to keep her eyes open, Jessica laughed. “I’ll have to get shot more often.” She held out a hand, not noticing his hesitation to take it. “David wasn’t involved. Michael told me everything. David had no idea what was going on.”
    “I know.”
    “It seems I was half right,” she murmured.
    “Jess . . .” Her hand felt so fragile. “I’m sorry.”
    “What for?” Jessica found that it took much too much effort to keep her eyes open. The world was soft and gray when she closed them. She thought she felt his fingers lace with hers but couldn’t be sure. “You didn’t do