Under Suspicion

“I’m not wearing pink.” Fawn held up a swatch of hot pink satin. “Unless it’s this.”

Karah Lee tore her gaze from the window scene and studied the brilliant, shimmery material. “Looks good to me.”

Fawn rolled her eyes. “Do you realize how badly this color would clash with that red hair of yours?”

“So? You’d be the one wearing it, not me.”

“But you’ll be the bride. Everything should focus on you on your wedding day. You’re one of those people who should never be allowed out on the street before they check in with the fashion police.”

“And you, of course, would be my own personal fashion police, I suppose.”

“Well, sure, you can do that now, but what are you going to do when I’m in college this fall?” Fawn combed her fingers through her short blond hair, eyeing Karah Lee with a devious grin.

“I guess I’ll just have to live in my scrubs. You’ll be home in the evenings, so you can prevent disaster.”

“Only if you can get me a car before I start school. I can’t exactly walk there from here.”

“You can use my car or ride with Blaze.” Since Karah Lee merely had to walk across the street and up two blocks for work and groceries, she seldom needed to drive these days.

Fawn grumbled, but she did so with good nature. By the time she started college, Karah Lee and Taylor would be married. Fawn had made it clear that the wedding was going to be her priority from now until the final vows were spoken. Thanks to Fawn, heaven and everyone in Hideaway knew Karah Lee wasn’t capable of planning and executing a wedding of the caliber everyone expected without a great deal of help from friends.

Karah Lee was not a style maven, nor did she wish to become one at this stage of her life. At thirty-four, she was set in her ways and happy with that.

Fawn’s entry into her life still filled her with awe and gratitude. As a sixteen-year-old runaway last year, Fawn had witnessed a murder in Branson—one of the last places on earth one would expect a murder. When she had arrived here in Hideaway—a stow-away on a tour bus filled with senior citizens—she’d been sick, in the middle of a miscarriage.

Karah Lee had become her guardian with a great deal of trepidation, after discovering that the teenager’s home life was unbearable. Her mother didn’t want her back.

What a blessing Fawn Morrison had been in Karah Lee’s life since then.

The telephone rang before Fawn could launch into a long-winded explanation about why she needed her own car, and her plan about how to pay for it while working at the school for her tuition.

Karah Lee answered quickly. “This is Dr. Fletcher.”

“Karah Lee?” came a familiar male voice. It was her brother-in-law.

“Geoff?”

“I take it Shona hasn’t called you.”

At the sound of urgency in Geoff’s voice, and the mention of her sister’s name, Karah Lee braced herself. Typically, when a phone call concerned her family, things got tense in a hurry.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Your father is being taken to the hospital at this moment.”

“What happened? Where’s Shona?”

“She’s on her way there, as well. I’m not sure what’s wrong with him yet. Earlier, it was suggested he might have been shot.”

Karah Lee’s grip tightened on the receiver. “Shot? Like, with a gun?”

Fawn looked up, then got up from the table and walked to Karah Lee’s side. “What is it?” she whispered.

Karah Lee placed a hand on her arm, more for strength than to silence her.

“I’m sorry,” Geoff said. “I don’t know more than that. As I said, Shona is on her way to the hospital. She isn’t doing well. You know she doesn’t get rattled easily.” There was a pause. “She isn’t sure Kemper’s going to make it.”

Karah Lee caught her breath. Shona thought Dad’s life was in danger?

“Karah Lee, is there any way you could—”

“I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“It’s a little after seven now.” There was a pause. “You might want to be prepared for the worst.”

At that moment, Karah Lee realized that she never would be.

Shona rushed to the ER reception desk, breathless from her run from the parking lot. “I need to see my father, Kemper MacDonald. He was just brought in by ambulance.”

“Oh, ma’am, I’m sorry,” the secretary said gently. “Your father is in critical condition in the trauma room. They’re doing everything they—”

Shona saw the door to the ER swing open as someone stepped out. She rushed forward and grabbed it before it could close and lock her out.

An older nurse looked up from her work at the busy central desk and intercepted Shona. “May I help you?”

“I need to find the trauma—” Shona spotted a room where several medical personnel were gathered and headed in that direction.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, rushing forward to catch her by the arm. “You can’t go in there right now. We’ll call a chaplain and show you to the family waiting room.”

“Kemper MacDonald is my father. My name is Shona Tremaine.”

“I know who you are, ma’am. I’ve seen you on the news.”

Shona tried to pull free, but found the woman surprisingly strong. “Please, I need to get to him.”

“Not right now, you don’t,” the nurse assured her gently. “They’re attempting to resuscitate him.”

Shona gasped. The room threatened to fade around her. “Resuscitate! He’s dead?”

“I assure you, they’re doing everything they can. He’s unresponsive right now. We’ll do our best to keep you updated.”

“Please.” Shona took a deep breath to steady herself. “I need to be there. The doctor may have questions only I can answer. I live with my father, and I know more about him than anyone. I promise not to get in the way.”

The woman’s grip eased slightly, the lines around her brown eyes deepening as she focused on Shona, as if to measure her words. “It isn’t a pretty sight.”

“I’m the one who found him. I don’t expect it to be pleasant.”

The nurse nodded and released Shona’s arm, though with obvious reluctance. “You can stand by the window over there, but don’t get in the doorway. There’ll be people coming in and out.”

“The press may come looking for me here. Would you please not give out any information about my father?”

“It’s against federal regulations to do so, Mrs. Tremaine. Anyone who does will be fired.”

Shona nodded. “Thank you. My…husband may show up looking for me. His name is—”

“Geoff Tremaine? He won’t be hard to recognize. Do you want us to let him know where you are?”

She wanted her husband, Geoff, not the reporter. She sighed. “If he does show up, it’s okay, but no camera team, and no one except Geoff.”

“We wouldn’t do it any other way.”

Shona thanked her. She knew her switch wouldn’t deter him for long. He would figure out soon enough where she had taken Dad.

Steeling herself for what she might see, Shona rushed to the trauma room and tried to peer in the glass windows through small gaps between the slats in a blind.

She could see little except medical equipment, a monitor and people in multicolored scrubs and masks standing around the trauma bed. She strained to hear anything encouraging through the verbal cacophony that filtered through the door.

“Central line is in. Stop CPR. What’s the rhythm?”

“Still PEA.”

Shona caught her breath. She’d learned enough from her sister to know that meant pulseless electrical activity.

Very bad.

“Continue CPR.”

“Got it.”

“We need to push some volume back into his circulation. Get that O negative blood in now. How much longer on those four units of fresh frozen plasma?”

“Lab said just a few more minutes. They have to thaw them first.”

“Where’s the 20 milligrams of vitamin K? I wanted it stat.”

“Right here, Dr. Morris.”

“Give it IV push.”

“But doctor, what about the risk—”

“I’m not worried about the risk of anaphylactic shock at this point, Carrie.” There was tension in the doctor’s voice. “He’s bleeding to death, and we don’t know what’s causing it. He needs it IV. Now. And someone see if there’s a family member here who knows what’s going on.”

Shona caught her breath. “I’m his daughter!” she called, stepping to the door. She gasped, suddenly overwhelmed by what she saw.

Blood. There was blood everywhere, on the bed, on Dad’s body, on the hands of the staff, on the instruments they were using on Dad’s hideously battered flesh.

Without warning, a wave of nausea overwhelmed her. She turned away, doubling over, fighting to keep her gorge down.

Someone caught her from behind and placed a basin in front of her just in time.

“That’s why we don’t like people coming back at times like this,” came the gentle-sad voice of the older nurse as Shona gave up all pretense of dignity.

Past humiliation, Shona retched, miserable and terrified. No one could bleed as much as Dad was doing and live. She was losing him.

Geoff raced into the parking lot of the ER at Bradley-Cline Hospital and pulled into a nearby slot, scanning the area for Shona’s Escalade or Kemper’s Seville, which she often drove. He recognized none of the vehicles.

He frowned at the ambulance bay. There was no way he could have beat the ambulance here, but he couldn’t have been so far behind them that the ambulance was already gone, could he?

It was possible, if they had another hot call.

Still…something didn’t feel right. Shona’s car should be here. She had been following the ambulance when he spoke to her; he’d heard the siren over the line.

She might have parked elsewhere in an effort to avoid notice, as much as possible. Her car and Kemper’s had government plates.

While waiting for the camera crew, Geoff parked and went inside to check with the receptionist.

“I’m sorry,” she said when he asked about Kemper’s arrival. “We’re unaware of anyone here by that name.”

He didn’t argue, but returned to his car, backed out of the slot and cruised slowly around the parking lot. He saw nothing familiar. He dialed Shona’s number again, but she didn’t answer. He did recognize a film crew from Channel 32, and a newspaper reporter for the Jefferson City Herald. He was sure more reporters would be arriving soon.

His own camera crew had not yet made it here, and he had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn’t have anything to film once they arrived. He knew Shona too well. She didn’t want a media circus tonight.

Typically, she was gracious and outgoing to all members of the media, as was her father. This was different. He couldn’t blame her for wanting her privacy during this crisis.

Instead of calling Wendy, which he knew would be expected of him with this switch, he pulled from the parking lot and turned left, in the direction of St. Mary’s. Traditionally, Shona’s family had always used that hospital. He would follow his hunch without alerting others.

FOUR

After the nurse carried away the basin, Shona collapsed gratefully in a chair someone pushed over from the central desk.

Another member of medical staff in bloodstained blue scrubs knelt beside her, his eyes compassionate, but his tone brisk. “Ma’am, does your father have any history of hemophilia?”

“No.” Didn’t he think she would have told them immediately if that were the case?

“Does he take any kind of blood thinner like Coumadin? Or a lot of aspirin?”

“Nothing like that. He seldom even takes a painkiller.” Shona accepted some wet paper towels from an aide and dabbed at her face and mouth.

“Has he been ill recently, running a high fever?”

“No. He had a cold, but nothing serious. Please, do you know what’s happening?”

The man shook his head. “That’s what we’re still trying to find out.” He returned to the trauma room.

“Got something here, Dr. Morris,” someone said. “He could be coming back around. We’ve got a better rhythm.”

“Stop CPR. Is there a pulse?”

There was a waiting silence for a few seconds.

“No, Doctor.”

“Okay, continue CPR.”

Shona couldn’t take it. She had always thought she would be strong in a situation like this. She wasn’t. She had never felt so alone in her life.

Geoff pulled into St. Mary’s parking lot behind a police car. He saw another unmarked car at the curb, and an ambulance hovered in the bay, as if it had recently made a delivery. He was pretty sure he had found the right place, though Shona’s vehicle was not in sight.

As he pulled into an empty spot, his cell phone beeped. He checked the screen and saw Wendy’s number.

He pressed the talk button. “Wendy, I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now. Do you mind if I call you back—”

“Where are you?” Her words were clipped, impatient.

“I’m at the hospital.”

“No, you aren’t. The crew can’t find you.”

“I think the ambulance was diverted to another hospital.”

“Which one?”

“I’m at St. Mary’s right now, but I haven’t made it inside, and they have a sign at the entrance that requests we turn all cell phones off. I’ll call you as soon as—”

“We didn’t hear about it on the scanner.”

“They could have used a private line. I’m not sure yet. I’m checking it out now, but it’s obvious Shona doesn’t want media attention right now.”

“She doesn’t have the liberty to pick and choose when she receives coverage and when she doesn’t,” Wendy snapped.

Geoff gritted his teeth. Careful, Wendy, your antagonism is showing. “You know the hospital won’t allow a crew into the emergency department,” he said. “I’m sure Shona won’t leave her father’s side. On the other hand, there will be lights flashing and police cars lining the street around the MacDonald mansion. What’s going to give us better ratings?”

There was a buzzing silence, then a sharp sigh. “Fine. We already have a crew at the mansion, but I need you there to report. I don’t want to trust Sally with this.”

“Can’t Megan or Emily do it? I need to be with my family right now, Wendy.”

“You have a job to do, Tremaine. I suggest you follow orders if you want to keep your cushy position with all its perks.”

He swallowed a sharp retort. “Think about the ratings. If Megan comes on the screen live from the MacDonald mansion, filling in for Geoff Tremaine, who’s with his wife and father-in-law at the hospital, don’t you think that’s going to catch the attention of viewers?”

“Not as well as Geoff Tremaine himself.”

“But what if your man on the scene is able to get exclusive, timely updates from the source?”

There was another thoughtful pause. Wendy could ride roughshod over everyone when she wanted her way, but she did, on occasion, accept input. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”

He got out of the car, locked it, and started toward the ER entrance, dropping his keys into his right front pocket. “Is it working?”

Another sigh. “Call me when you find something out. Anything.”

“Thanks, Wendy, you’re all heart.”

“No, I just want that exclusive. Make time while you can. The others will catch on soon enough.”

He disconnected and slid the phone into his jacket pocket.

Shona looked up to see a man coming toward her. He wore a navy suit without a tie, and she recognized him as a police detective with whom she had spoken a couple of times in the past.

“Mrs. Tremaine? I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Detective Milt Davis. Are you okay?” He bent toward her, his eyes filled with concern.

She nodded and stood, reaching to shake his hand, allowing her public persona to settle into place even as the hospital crew battled for her father’s life. It felt like a physical weight.

“Of course, Milt. You’ve called me Shona in the past. I hope that hasn’t changed.”

The man was tall and slender, with graying hair around the temples and a lined face that emphasized his fiftysomething years of age combined with long hours on the force. He glanced toward the trauma room, where the staff continued to work over their patient. At least, they were still working.

“Thank you for calling to alert us to your change of location. I hate to interrupt you at a time like this,” he said, “but when you called for help initially, you suggested that this might have been a shooting. If that’s so, we need to follow any leads we can find as quickly as possible.”

“I’ll tell you everything I can,” she said. “Which is very little.”

Milt Davis spoke briefly with a nearby nurse, then led Shona to a conference room down the corridor.

“I’m afraid I’m not focusing very well,” Shona said, seating herself in a vinyl chair at the table.

“That’s understandable.” He took out his recorder and a notebook and asked her permission to tape their conversation. “Tell me what happened.”

“Dad wasn’t very coherent when I found him, and what he said didn’t make sense to me. If he was shot, no one has found a bullet wound. The blood was everywhere, coming from his nose, his teeth, bruising under his skin, but no wound, so that makes it clear to me that he must have been talking about something else.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through this. I know it’s been awful for you, but just because there is no evidence of a shooting doesn’t mean we’re willing to rule out foul play. When did you first notice something was wrong?”

Karah Lee pressed her foot on the imaginary brake on the passenger’s side, gripping the armrest with her right hand. “Fawn, it’s a good four hours to Jefferson City on a clear day. Don’t try to make it in an hour at night.”

“I can do it in less than four. You drive like my great-grandma.”

“She’s probably still alive, too. Which we won’t be if you don’t slow down.”

Instead of arguing as she normally did, Fawn allowed the car to slow enough that they took the next curve on all four wheels. Karah Lee loosened her death grip on the armrest and flexed the cramping muscles of her right foot.

“You doing okay?” Fawn asked.

“I’m trying not to think about things. It would help if I could drive.”

“You’re upset. You don’t need to be distracted with driving when you’re so upset. Older people don’t focus as well as—”

“Don’t start with me, young lady. Thirty-four isn’t old. You’re just looking for an excuse to drive, and I think using my anxiety as an excuse is reprehensible.”

“How can you say that when—”

“Slow down. Don’t forget four-legged creatures reign over this road at night.” Karah Lee felt herself relax in spite of Fawn’s aggressive driving. She suspected that had been Fawn’s purpose from the beginning—that and her natural urge, like every teenager’s, to sit behind the controls of a speeding vehicle.

“We should have packed more.” Fawn made a cursory show of braking and turned onto Highway 76. “What if your father’s in the hospital for a while? All we have is an overnight case.”

Karah Lee swallowed hard, staring ahead at the glow of headlights from a car coming over the next hill. “You should concentrate on driving right now.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Fawn look at her.

“Keep your eyes on the road.”

“I’m watching the road. Haven’t you been praying all these months that Kemper would see the error of his ways and change them?”

Karah Lee winced. That sounded so…fundamentally Christian. Of course, she was fundamentally Christian, but…

“I’ve been told often enough that if I pray for something in God’s will, He gives it to me. Don’t you think it’s God’s will for Kemper to get to know Him?” Fawn dimmed her headlights for the oncoming car, then when the oncoming lights didn’t dim, she muttered, “Jerk! You’re trying to blind me!”

Karah Lee reached for the seat belt and tightened it, once more pressing her imaginary brake. Why didn’t cars come equipped with optional brakes on the passenger’s side, too? They did that on driver’s-ed vehicles.

The car passed without mishap.

“So, where’s your faith?” Fawn asked.

Karah Lee sighed and sat back. It was hard to imagine that her father might have had a change of heart after all these years. She had noticed, however, that his attitude seemed to have undergone a change when he met his son for the first time.

Jerrod Houston, her newly discovered illegitimate brother, had been a shock to the great State Senator Kemper MacDonald. Karah Lee hoped it wasn’t her imagination that her father had encountered an authority more powerful than himself as he sought to make peace with his past.

She only wished she knew what to expect next.

FIVE

Geoff sat in the crowded waiting room, watching the inner door for Shona to come out and the outer door for the first news crews to arrive.

Shona was unreachable right now, in conference with the police. Ordinarily, the hospital personnel wouldn’t have told him even that much, except Shona had left word for him. At least she had relented somewhat.

He still wasn’t sure what his reception would be when he and Shona met. They had parted on a note of anger last year, and nothing that had passed between them in eleven months had given Geoff any reason to think she had had a change of heart. He, on the other hand, had endured plenty of second thoughts. Why had he been so demanding?

And yet, he still meant what he’d said. For several years, Shona had been evolving into her father’s puppet, scrambling to do whatever it took to keep Kemper MacDonald content. She had overlooked more and more of Kemper’s unethical behavior, even when he lied, manipulated and ingratiated himself to win votes to assure the completion of his own agenda. Until a couple of weeks ago, that agenda had been the advancement of his own career—and Shona’s.

It was at that time, during a private, late-night visit from his father-in-law, that Geoff had discovered a thread of hope that all was not lost.

Geoff checked again with the receptionist at the ER desk and was told that Kemper was still in critical condition. At least he was alive.

An older lady stood behind Geoff when he turned around. “Mr. Tremaine?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She held her checkbook out with one hand, an ink pen with the other. “Could I get your autograph? This is all I could find to write on.”

He hesitated. He had never been able to fathom why anyone would be interested in his autograph, but Wendy insisted it was good PR. With a smile, he relented and did as he was asked. He signed with a flourish he had practiced, the writing as much unlike his normal writing style as he could make it in order to protect himself from identity theft—good advice from an attorney who had visited the station.

“Do you have someone in the ER tonight?” he asked the lady as he handed her the signed book.

She nodded. “My mother. She has congestive heart failure. I just saw you over here and—”

“I’m sorry to hear about that.”

“Oh, she’ll recover as soon as they pull off the fluid. They’ve done it before.”

“I hope she’ll be okay.”

The lady gazed up at him. “Thank you, Mr. Tremaine,” she said on a sigh. “You know, I never miss the Channel 6 news now that you’re there.”

He smiled, refusing to take the woman’s admiration seriously.

As the lady returned to her seat, Geoff realized he and Shona had always been two of a kind. They lived in the public eye, and though they didn’t particularly enjoy the attention their jobs brought them, they had learned to cope with the fish-bowl syndrome years ago.

At least, most of the time.

To his relief, Shona stepped through the door from the ER. She spotted him immediately and started toward him, looking very tense. He knew that look well.

Though his wife had always been beautiful, the years had graced her, giving her a polish that didn’t fully emerge until her midthirties. She now had silver-blond highlights in her short, thick dark hair, and her eyes, which had always been large, no longer made her appear ingenuous but astute. Amazing what a few years of seasoning could do for a woman. She was more beautiful than ever.