Public Secrets

She trailed off again. “You were upset when you got back. And then I more or less forgot about it. I didn’t like thinking I was going crazy. I would think someone had been in the house when I’d go out, that the phone was making noises. Like it was tapped.” She closed her eyes. “Typical paranoid behavior.”
“Don’t be stupid, Emma.”
She nearly smiled. He never let her feel sorry for herself for long. “I can’t prove it had anything to do with tonight, but I feel it.”
“Can you talk about it now?” He’d given her time. Now her hands were steadier and the glassy look had faded.
“Yeah.” Taking a deep breath, she related everything that she could remember about the incident on the road. “I just kept going,” she finished. “I don’t know if anyone was hurt. That other car. I didn’t even think about it until I was nearly here. I just kept going.”
“You did the right thing. Check out her car,” he asked McCarthy. “Emma, did you get a look at the driver?”
“No.”
“At the car?”
“Yes.” Calm again, she nodded. “I made a point of looking, of trying to pick out whatever details I could. It was dark—blue or black—I can’t be sure. I don’t know much about makes and models but it was good-sized. Not a small car like mine. It could have been a…Cadillac, I think, or a Lincoln. It had L.A. plates. MBE. I think those were the letters, but in the mist I couldn’t catch the last numbers.”
“You did great.” He kissed her. “I’m going to have someone drive you to the hospital.”
“I don’t need the hospital.”
He traced a fingertip over her temple. “You’ve got a major-league bump on your head.”

“I didn’t even feel it.” Though she could now, with more clarity than was comfortable, she stood firm. “I won’t go, Michael. I’ve had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime.”
“All right. We’ll get someone to take you home and stay with you.
“Can’t you?”
“I’ve got to check this out,” he began, then glanced up when McCarthy came back in.
“You must be a hell of a driver, Miss McAvoy.”
“Emma,” she said. “I was too scared to be a bad one.”
“Mike, I need you a minute.”
“Just sit. I won’t be long,” he told Emma as he rose. Recognizing the look on his partner’s face, he shut the door behind him. “Well?”
“I don’t know how the hell she managed to get through it in one piece. Car looks like she took third place in the Demolition Derby.” Casually, he laid a hand on Michael’s arm. He didn’t think his partner was quite ready to take a look at it himself. “I had one of the guys check the hospitals before I took a look at her car. They just got an admission, car wreck up in the hills. Cut the guy out of a brand-new Cadillac. Blackpool,” he said and watched Michael’s eyes narrow. “He’s in a coma.”

Chapter Forty-Four

A RE YOU SURE you’re up to this?” Johnno took a careful study of Emma as she came to the bottom of the stairs.
“Don’t I look up to it?” She did a slow model’s pivot. The deep blue dress left her shoulders bare and dipped low at the back before it slid down her body, sparkling with hundreds of bugle beads.
Her hair was scooped up in intricate tiny waves and clipped with two glittery combs. On the lapel of the silver jacket she carried was pinned the phoenix he had given her.
“I’d best not comment what you look up to.” Still, he crossed to her to stroke a thumb over the bruise on her temple which she’d camouflaged with makeup. “You had a rough time a couple days ago.”
“But it’s over.” She walked to the table to pour him a glass of wine. After a moment’s hesitation, she poured another for herself. “Blackpool can’t harm me from a hospital bed.” She offered Johnno a glass. “I know Michael believes he was involved with Darren’s murder, and I certainly won’t rule him out, but until he comes out of the coma—if he comes out—we won’t be sure. I’ve tried to picture him in Darren’s room that night, but I just can’t remember.”
“There was someone else there,” he reminded her.
“Isn’t that why I have the hottest escort in town for the awards tonight?”
He grinned over the rim of his glass. “I doubt if I make up for Michael.”

She set down the glass, barely touched, and picked up her evening bag. “You don’t have to make up for anyone. And he’ll get there if he can. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” He offered his arm, formally,