"Or a different farmer."
"What's bothering you, Xavier?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "I don't know. It just doesn't fit the puzzle. The grave is too far from the other bodies and too precise. Someone took the time to dig that grave, put a wrapped body into it, and cover it up. None of the others was treated that way."
He sinks into thought again, and the room goes silent. A few moments later, he looks over at me, his eyes clearer, almost as if I'm looking at a different person. "The judge went on vacation."
I blink. "The judge? Sterling Jennings?"
He nods. "Dean and I were going to talk to him to see if we could catch him in another lie about Mason Goldman. I had everything ready. The script, the camera, the lights. But then when we got there, our star player was… gone. On vacation.”
I would have loved to have heard the types of questions that Xavier wanted to ask the judge. Even more than that, I would have liked to see how he would react to having to sit there and look at Xavier, knowing what he did. And knowing that Xavier knows.
Even someone as cold as Sterling Jennings would have to react to that.
“Do you know where he went?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “His secretary just mentioned that he’s gone.”
“I don't like that,” I say.
“Why?” he asks.
“I don't like not knowing where he is. Especially considering my father tried to order dinner last night and found out that Lorenzo Tarasco’s restaurant is temporarily closed for vacation.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dean comes in a few minutes later, and we explain the situation. With a promise to check in on the other men, Xavier and Dean leave. I call my nurse, and a bright, familiar smile shines at the doorway seconds later.
“Gloria,” I frown. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm a nurse,” she says. “I'm working. What are you doing here?”
“Apparently being a very bad patient,” I tell her. “According to the doctor, I need to rest and not be so stressed.”
“Why do I have a feeling you're going to ask me to go against those orders?” she asks, a hint of a smile in her voice.
“Because I'm going to ask you to go against those orders,” I admit. “But only briefly. I promise it won't be anything crazy.”
“What do you need?” she asks.
“I want to go up and see Millie. I just want to check in on her and see how she's doing. I promise I won't scream at anybody while I'm up there,” I say.
She thinks about it for a few seconds. “Okay. According to your chart, you're only getting fluids right now. You're not due for another dose of antibiotics for another few hours. If I can trust that you don't have a getaway car waiting for you on the ground floor and you're just going to disappear, I'll put you in a wheelchair and let you go over there.”
“The back half of my current outfit is missing, Gloria,” I comment. “I don't think I'm much of a flight risk.”
“Don't think I don't know that gorgeous man with the big muscles brought you clothes,” she whispers conspiratorially.
For a few seconds, I don't know who she's talking about. Then it hits me.
“You mean Dean?” I ask.
“I don't care who he is. He's spectacular,” she says. “Well done.”
I make a face at her. “He's also my cousin. That's just weird. But I'll forgive you if you get this thing out of my arm and get me my wheelchair.”
“So what you’re saying is, he’s available?”
“Can you please get me the wheelchair?”
“Oh, fine.”
I flash a wide grin to encourage her along, and she shakes her head. Minutes later, I'm wheeling my way down the hallway to Millie's room. Gloria was nice enough to bring me a blanket to wrap around me as well, but I have every intention of going back to the room and putting some actual clothes on as soon as I'm done talking to Millie.
She’s sitting up in her bed, looking perkier than the last time I saw her. Some of the pep drains out of her face when she sees me.
“Emma,” she gasps. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I'm surprised you didn't hear all the hospital gossip,” I start. “Is that a thing? That's a thing, right? Hospital gossip. People talking about each other and their ailments?”
“You would have to ask somebody else,” Millie shrugs. ”I'm not exactly the gossip type.”
“That's true,” I nod. “You're not. But, in the interest of talking about people, I hear your big brother went on vacation this morning. That must be nice. Does he travel a lot? Go to the same place every year?"
She looks at me strangely. "Which brother?"
"Sterling," I tell her. "I figured there might be somewhere he likes to go whenever he decides to take a break from all the stress in his career and everything. Maybe a beach house? A mountain lodge? Skiing?”
I'm trying to sound as casual and breezy as I can, but I'm afraid it's coming across as faintly maniacal. Millie looks worried as she shakes her head.
“No,” she says. “Not that I know of. He isn't exactly the vacationing type. He prefers to be buried in work all the time.”
An interesting turn of phrase there, I think to myself.
“So, you don't have a family vacation house or anything? When I was growing up, we used to go to Florida a lot. I really love it there. It's still probably my favorite place in the world other than Sherwood.”
I lean a little closer. “And sometimes I think I might actually like it more than Sherwood. But don't tell Sherwood that. It would upset it. Oh, no. I've been spending too much time with Xavier.”
“Emma, what's going on?” Millie asks, breaking me out of my brief existential spiral.
“I just wanted to come by and
