The first thing Eve heard when she slipped into Ramsey’s cubicle was the sound of machines, some beeping, some humming. Then she saw all the lines running into and out of his body. She couldn’t imagine trying to rest like that. She saw Molly standing over Ramsey, her head lowered, speaking to him quietly. She looked up when Eve came in.
“Eve, it’s good to see you. Do come in. Ramsey, it’s Eve.”
Thank the good Lord he was awake. Eve nodded to Molly, leaned over Ramsey, and felt her throat clog. Not a single word could get through without risking tears. She stared down at him, taking everything in.
Ramsey saw her fear, and he wanted to reassure her, at least smile at her, but it was hard to make his mouth muscles work. He felt oddly detached from his own body. He thought it was all the drugs that were making it hard to focus his mind on anything. But there was no pain, and that was a profound blessing, thanks to the magic morphine pump. He felt her clasp his hand and squeeze, felt her warm breath, like lemons, he thought, when she leaned close. “You’re looking good, Ramsey. I gotta say I’m really happy about that.”
For a moment, he couldn’t find words. Where were the words? “So are you, Eve. Don’t worry, I’m going to pull through, Molly told me so. And don’t cry. I don’t want to walk into the men’s room and read ‘Barbieri’s a weeping wuss’ scratched on the wall. What would that do to your reputation?”
She started to say she never cried, but that lie would perch right on the end of her nose. His voice was thin, insubstantial, and that scared the bejesus out of her. The last thing he needed was for her to fall apart. “We got a regular hoedown outside, FBI everywhere. They’re all huddled together, so I slipped in to see you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“I can’t imagine why anyone would want to shoot you, of all people.”
Ramsey frowned. Eve squeezed his hand again. “I know, why shoot the judge?”
“Can you tell me what happened, Ramsey?”
Surely he could try to do that again for Eve before his lights went out. “It was late, nearly midnight. I was out back, staring up at the stars and over at the Marin Headlands, and I was remembering Cal asking if he could sink his fingers into those pits on the surface of the moon.”
Was it her imagination or did he sound stronger? Pits in the moon? This hard-as-nails federal judge was wondering about the pits on the moon?
“I didn’t hear a thing out of the ordinary, nor did I see anything or anyone. One shot and I was down and out.” He paused, and the pain suddenly surfaced. He jerked, gritted his teeth, but it didn’t lessen, it was pulling him down. He pressed the morphine button.
Molly said, “If I hadn’t called out to him, Eve, he wouldn’t have turned and moved, and the bullet would have hit him in his chest.” Saying the words broke the dam. Molly burst into tears.
Ramsey said, “No, sweetheart, I’ll be okay. No need to cry.” He hated to see her cry, but there was nothing he could do, only lie there helpless, wanting to howl. “Eve—I remember now. There was a boat. A Zodiac, pulled up near the beach. I saw it.”
Eve’s heart speeded up. A Zodiac—now they had a place to start. She saw his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his mouth in a thin seam. “Just a moment,” he said, and she watched him press the button again. But she couldn’t stand it. She went to get the nurse, but when she came back he was out again.
Molly was huddled over him, her shoulders shaking. It nearly broke Eve’s heart.
Sea Cliff
San Francisco
Late Friday afternoon
Emma Hunt pushed back her piano bench and rose. She couldn’t concentrate on Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, though she loved the sheer romantic exuberance of it, how the music built and built until its grandeur, its firecracker opulence, made her fingers tingle and her heart beat faster. But not today. Emma sighed. Ever since her dad was shot the night before, she’d felt deadening fear. She heard Cal and Gage squabbling in the next room, speaking their twin talk, taking pleasure in knowing their mother had no clue what they were saying. Neither did she, but the two of them understood each other perfectly. Did they realize no one else could understand them? Oh, yes, she’d bet a week’s allowance on it.
“Emma?”
She turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, holding Cal and Gage’s hands. Both of them looked grubby from playing underneath the big oak tree outside the music room door. Her mother looked frazzled, but she was trying to pretend she was fine.