The Chain of Lies - By Debra Burroughs Page 0,71

media release.”

“You’re going to have to wrangle it away from the FBI first,” Emily pointed out.

“Special Agent Ellis promised I’d get a copy, so if he’s a man of his word, it shouldn’t be too long.”

“Can we put it on YouTube?” Molly asked. “Then everyone can watch it. I bet you’d get over a million hits on something like that.”

A chubby middle-aged nurse with frizzy blonde hair bustled into the room. “Sorry to break up the party folks, but this gal needs her rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“We’ll be back, sweetie.” Emily leaned over and kissed the top of Molly’s head. “You get some rest. And if you get bored, I brought some magazines for you.”

Maggie and Peter skirted around the bed and they all headed out to the hallway.

“We’ll be off then,” Peter said. “Shall we walk you out, Emily?”

“No, I’m not leaving yet. There’s someone on the fourth floor I want to pay a visit to.”

“Who would that be?” Maggie asked.

“No one you know. He’s involved in another case I’m working on,” Emily replied. “I’ll walk with you to the elevator.”

“One case after another. You’re a firecracker, Emily Parker,” Peter remarked as they began to walk. “I’ll bet that Colin Andrews has his hands full keeping up with you.”

“A firecracker?” Emily raised her eyebrows at him.

“Land sakes, Peter, I’d say they both have their hands full with each other.” Maggie giggled and winked at Emily. “Am I right?”

They reached the elevator and Emily quickly pushed both the up and down buttons, wishing she could worm out of the conversation. As luck would have it, the doors for the elevator going up slid open almost immediately and Emily stepped in and spun around. “You’re right, Maggie,” she said, waving good-bye as the doors glided shut.

Emily felt the lift as the elevator took her to the next floor up. The doors swept open and she went to the nurses’ station directly ahead. A young brunette in light blue scrubs sat behind the counter, typing something on the computer’s keyboard. She looked up as Emily approached.

“May I help you?”

“Can you tell me which room Jerry Banderas is in?”

“Banderas, let me see,” she replied, typing his name into the computer. “Room four twelve.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Emily spun on the spiky heels of her black-leather boots and headed toward his room. She remembered Isabel mentioning she would come and see him that morning, and when Emily asked if she could tag along, Isabel told her it would be better if she went alone. That didn’t mean Emily couldn’t pop in on her own, though.

Emily read the room numbers as she meandered down the corridor until she found room four twelve. She pushed the door open slowly, judging if anyone else was in the room. Not hearing any voices, she pushed it open all the way.

Jerry’s eyelids raised as she approached, likely hearing the click of her heels on the hard surface of the floor. His face remained expressionless.

“Hello, Jethro. Or should I say Jerry?” Emily forced a friendly smile onto her lips.

“How did you know?”

“I figured it out. It’s what I do.”

“I’d forgotten you were a private eye.”

She found that hard to believe.

“I hear you’re pretty sick, Jerry. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He raised his eyebrows in doubt. “Really?”

“Why would you think I wouldn’t be?” She knew exactly why, but she wanted to hear him admit it. She cast him a sad look. “I would never wish you any harm, Jerry. You were trying to help me to find out my husband’s true identity. I’m grateful for that.”

“Did you ever figure out what to do with that hypothetical gun you asked me about?”

“As a matter of fact, I gave it to Isabel and she turned it in to the FBI lab, like you suggested.”

She saw disappointment in his eyes—or was it fear? The gun was no longer within his reach.

“We should have results later today, then we’ll know who the gun belonged to, maybe even who killed my husband.”

“That couldn’t have been the gun that killed him,” he said with a slight shake of his head.

“How do you know that?” Emily toyed with him. She knew it wasn’t the gun, but she wanted to rattle him, get him wondering how close she and Isabel were to figuring things out.

“If that gun had been used to kill him, then how did your husband manage to hide it away? I remember you saying the gun was hidden away.”

“I was only speaking hypothetically,” Emily reminded him.

“Hypothetically my eye.

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