No Accounting for Murder

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

It seemed this night would never end. Mike couldn't believe his wife was in the hospital for the second time this week. She looked so peaceful. And yet she seemed to be in so much danger. He ran his fingers through his hair for about the hundredth time, smiling wryly at the shadow his disheveled locks cast on the wall next to the bed. Carly would be angry if she saw him out in public like this. He stifled a sob at the thought. What would he do if he lost her?

On the other side of the bed, Bert looked as sorrowful as Mike felt. Mike called him when he found Carly, even though Bert didn't officially have any jurisdiction in Bear Cove. Still, Carly had managed to infiltrate herself into the investigation.

Carly, why can't you leave well enough alone?

Mike reached over and took one of Carly's hands in his. Her skin looked so pale against the white sheet. He traced her fingers with his, marveling at the way her veins showed blue against her skin. Her fingers were cold to the touch and so he clasped both of his hands around hers and held tight.

Tiredness bowed his head. The last couple of days had been long. He didn't know how long before Carly woke up.

If she woke up.

Instantly he was transported back in time to another room in this very hospital. The hospice wing, where they sent people to die. He sat at Sophie's bedside, day after day, neglecting his children, his business, his own health. And day after day he watched her fade away before his eyes. And then one day, he brought the children in to say good-bye to their mother, and together they sat on her bed, talking to her, as she took her last breath.

Until now that had been the most difficult day of his life.

And now he sat watching Carly's chest rise and fall weakly, monitors beeping and flashing around her, an intravenous drip in one arm, a catheter running to a bag hung on the side of the bed. That day of many years ago was quickly replaced by this moment.

He shook his head. No, he wouldn't entertain those thoughts. He raised his head, weariness threatening to steal any hope he clung to. Bert watched him. Heat filled his face at being seen at such a vulnerable time.

Except right now he didn't have the energy to care much.

Bert nodded slowly and smiled. "It's okay to be worried."

Mike tilted his head to one side, lifting one eyebrow in silent question.

"I know what you're thinking. If you'd stayed home, she'd be safe." Bert leaned forward, his hands folded together. "You can't keep her safe. She's a woman with a mind of her own. If you stifle her, she'll wilt like a flower in the dark."

Mike nodded. "I know you're right. But my heart tells me to lock her away in a tower for her own good."

Across the bed, Bert shook his head. "Wouldn't be good for her." He shifted in his chair. "I knew there was a reason why you and me hit it off right from the start. We're both protectors."

"You make it sound like a noble calling, like a knight on a white horse."

"Law enforcement attracts two kinds of people. People who want to be in control, and people who want to protect. The best cops are the ones who protect."

"So if I'm a protector, what's Carly?" His voice caught in his throat like a rock sitting on his chest, blocking his breathing, his speaking. "She can be like a mother bear with her cubs. Is she a protector, too?"

Bert shook his head. "I think she'd be called a judger. She bases her decisions on how she feels about a person or a situation. She examines the evidence, pronounces the verdict, then wants to carry out the sentence."