busy trying to stanch that. It looked as if he had internal injuries as well.â
âDid he say anything?â
âNothing about family or wishes ⦠I donât think anyone really thinks they are going to die. He didnât even tell me his name. It was in the wallet he dropped in the ambulance.â
âHe was in pain?â
âSome. But shock is the best painkiller there is. I donât think he suffered much.â
âThe witnesses said it seemed as if the driver meant to hit him. He didnât say anything about that?â
She shook her head. âHe was weak. Could barely breathe.â
Tell him . But something stopped her just as it had stopped her earlier from telling the detective. What did she really know about him? Maybe he killed his brother for an inheritance, and the proof was in the letter.
She mentally admonished herself. She read way too many murder mysteries.
âHe didnât have any other possessions with him? Anything that would help me?â The question was asked quietly, but there was an intensity about it that startled her.
His dark gaze pierced her. He was too close, much too close. He radiated masculinity and, yes, something else that sent tingles of awareness through her. They werenât the kind sheâd felt moments before when she thought someone might be in her apartment. It was pure feminine reaction to an attractive male. Inexplicable. Undesired. And new. She couldnât remember when sheâd reacted so quickly to a man.
Empathy for someone whoâd just lost a brother? Or touched by the hint of quiet intensity that he tried to cover?
Didnât he deserve the letter? It was by rights his. Everything Mark Cable owned probably belonged to him.
Or did it?
She couldnât forget the way heâd disappeared from the hospital. But that was not her call to make. Still, she felt a disappointment in him and an odd feeling that not everything was right with his reactions.
She would check him out before conveying the letter. Now she had a name and address. Then if he was who he said he was, she would give it to him.
âWhere are you staying?â she asked.
He hesitated. âI have to return to New York tonight.â
âYouâre not going to stay to ⦠I mean â¦â
It was none of her business, she knew. But she knew from her grandfatherâs death the number of details that needed tending, not to mention, in Mark Cableâs case, his suspicious circumstance. Would he not want to know what happened?
âI have business I canât postpone,â he said. âBut Iâll be back.â
She nodded, but disappointment cascaded through her. Even if he wasnât close to his brother, shouldnât he be more concerned? Shouldnât he have spent a few more hours with him?
She stood. âI have to go inside.â
âGo inside,â approved Merlin from the other side of the door.
Sheâd almost forgotten about Merlin and Spade.
âYou donât approve,â he said as he rose as well.
âItâs not up to me to approve or not approve. I donât know you. I didnât know Mark Cable.â
âBut you have a connection to him.â
She stared at him. âWhy do you say that?â
âYour disapproval just then because I have to leave.â
She shrugged. âI care about all my patients.â
âThank you. For caring. I didnât think many people did.â
âDid that include you?â she asked softly.
He looked startled, as if he hadnât meant to say what he did.
âWe had differences. But yes, I care that he ⦠is dying.â
She did hear some emotion then, and it made her feel better. But she was exhausted, Merlin and Sam were hungry, and it was time to go in. She had some research to do.
âI have to go inside,â she said. âIâm sorry, but I really canât tell you any more than I have.â
He nodded,
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