Wait a second, she told herself. The worst is over. Matthew Alger was in custody and Rourke had been airlifted to the hospital. Rufus was at the vet’s. Two police officers had brought her back to town, and another two had taken Alger away. The snowstorm had subsided and the town was digging out. She had nothing to panic about. Well, except the fact that Rourke had undergone emergency surgery. The thought made her nearly double over, reminding her of the terrible risk of loving someone, loving him so much that losing him would destroy her.
It was a reality she couldn’t escape. Rourke McKnight owned her whole heart, and even the prospect of losing him couldn’t change it. And something else—it didn’t even make her want to change the way she felt. How different this was from the old Jenny, the one who had been so guarded with her feelings. There were not too many good things to say about having a gun pointed at you, but that might be one of them.
The officer escorting her—a nephew of Nina’s—seemed to notice her hesitation, and he stood to one side, waiting. She shut her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, then left the pills in the bottle and kept walking.
As they exited the elevator, she saw what appeared to be at least half the police department crammed into the waiting room. They stood around drinking coffee and talking in low voices, though everyone fell silent when they noticed her.
No, she thought, her heart congealing with cold. Don’t you dare get quiet on me. “Which room?” she demanded. “Where is he?”
“ICU,” someone said, indicating a glassed-in suite of rooms. “Just out of surgery. But it’s family only—”
“What are you going to do?” she demanded, heading for the glass door. “Arrest me?”
They didn’t have to. The door had a magnetic lock controlled by the duty nurse, and all Jenny could do was stand outside like everyone else, waiting in a state of abject dread. Through the double-paned glass, she could see busy hospital personnel and a bed surrounded by so much equipment it was almost impossible to see Rourke.
One of Rourke’s deputies approached her. “He came through like a champ. He’s stable. They’ll let us know the minute we can see him.”
Jenny nodded, feeling her throat swell as exhaustion seeped through her. All the terror of the previous hours had taken its toll. She didn’t know what time it was, only that it was dark now. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten or slept. Her hand ached and was swelling, even though someone had given her an ice pack to put on it. She swayed against the window, staggering a little.
“Hey, take it easy,” said a soft voice, and a gentle arm slid around her shoulders.
It was Olivia, a parka thrown on, her blond hair in a messy ponytail. Beside her was Philip Bellamy. Jenny recalled that he had come up earlier in the week. “We just heard,” Olivia said.
Philip paused, cleared his throat. “Daisy told us about… Mariska.”
Jenny found she couldn’t speak, so she nodded. She was overwhelmed—by the danger she’d survived, by worry about Rourke and the shock of learning the truth about her mother. Yet now she realized she wouldn’t have to face these things alone. Her sister and father flanked her with a solidarity she hadn’t expected.
Olivia handed her a cup of strong tea.
“Thank you,” Jenny said, finding her voice at last. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s been…this has been unbelievable.”
“I know.” Philip patted her on the shoulder. Unlike the other times, it didn’t feel awkward but comforting. He said, “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your mother. So very sorry.”
Jenny sipped her tea. She kept looking over at the nursing station. “Thank you. I…it wasn’t exactly a shock. I mean, for her to be gone so long, with no word, eventually, the conclusion that she was dead was inevitable. Still, without concrete proof, I could always imagine she was out there somewhere.”
“I thought so, as well,” Philip said, and his voice sounded rough with emotion, reminding Jenny that he had once loved Mariska, too. He raked a hand through his hair. “I just don’t get it, any of it.”
Olivia and Jenny exchanged a look. “It had nothing to do with you, Dad.”
“She…my mother saw an opportunity,” Jenny said. “I can’t defend what she did, but under the circumstances, I think I understand. She made a deal with Mr. and Mrs. Lightsey, and I suppose she never saw how complicated it could get, or that it might hurt someone besides herself.”
“Grandmother and Grandfather Lightsey should have known better,” Olivia said. “They took advantage of a girl when she was young and scared and pregnant—”
Philip held up a hand to stop her. “When you’re a parent, you’ll do anything to make sure your child gets everything you want her to have. I’m sure they truly believed Pamela and I would find happiness together, and that Mariska would be taken care of by the fortune they gave her.”
Ultimately, the Lightseys had discovered one of the oldest truths in the world—that some things could not be bought with money. They had managed to make Mariska go away; their daughter had married Philip, just the way they’d planned. But it had been a difficult, unhappy marriage. Ultimately, no one had gotten exactly what they wanted.
“What about the diamonds?” Olivia asked. “I was just curious.”
Jenny studied the pattern on the tiled floor. “Um, I doubt we’ll ever see a single one of them.” She explained about her confrontation with Matthew Alger, and the way she’d flung them out onto the lake moments before Rourke had staggered up behind him and disarmed him. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” Olivia insisted. “It’s for the best. I suppose, technically,
