shock. And do the doctors know how long it might be before the boy pulls out of this?”
Donahoe shook his head. “No idea when or if.”
“Well I just wanted to peek in on Sophie,” Mowat said. “She must be beside herself.”
The Sawatskis had returned to their son’s bedside by the time Mowat arrived.
“Minister!” said Sophie, and jumped to her feet.
“I’m sorry to barge in,” he said. “But I wanted to see how you were doing, Sophie.”
She rushed toward him and gave him a hug. He pulled her to him, and patted her back. Then she remembered herself and pulled herself away, flustered and crying. Mowat pulled a hanky from his pocket and gave it to her. Then he turned to the Sawatskis.
“I’m Greg Mowat,” he said, reaching out to shake Tom Sawatski’s hand.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. My daughter Clarissa was badly hurt in a fall from a horse a few years ago. She had a broken leg, a concussion, was unconscious when we got to the hospital. Maude and I were frightened out of our wits. There’s nothing worse than sitting by the hospital bed of your own child. We sure did some praying.”
Beverley Sawatski looked up from her chair, holding her son’s hand in her own.
“It’s just so frightening,” she said. “The doctors can’t tell us anything.”
“Well, Ed will be in my prayers,” said Mowat. “And Maude’s. She’s been praying for your boy ever since I called to tell her what happened.
He walked over to the bed and looked down at Ed, who was still staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. “Son, we know you’re a fighter. We’re pulling for you.”
He shook hands again with Ed’s father, and held Ed’s mother’s hands in his. “I just know your boy’s going to come through.”
He turned to his press secretary. “Sophie. Will you walk with me to the elevator?”
Bouchard was waiting for them in an empty waiting room by the elevators, his laptop open in front of him. He stood and gave Sophie a hug.
“I’m sorry to do this to you right now,” he said, “but I have to ask you a few questions. It’s a police investigation and we have to know what’s going on.”
Sophie nodded sat down, quickly gathered her thoughts and professionally told them what she knew about the night before.
“That poor boy sure has a wild side, going off to the French ballet with a reporter till all hours,”
said Mowat, shaking his head.
“Did he send you any messages?” asked Bouchard.
“Yes,” said Sophie.
“I need you to give me your BlackBerry for a minute or two,” he said.
Sophie handed it over. “They’re kind of personal.”
“We need to figure this out, Sophie,” he said. “We might be able to find something that helps the police.”
“I already gave them the messages Ed sent me last night,” she said.
“All the more reason we need to see them,” he said.
Bouchard plugged her cell phone into a USB cord and bent to the keyboard.
Sophie looked at Mowat. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me when you read all my messages.”
Mowat gave her a reassuring smile. “I can tell you right now that there’s nothing on that phone that can change the way we feel about you and your work. You have nothing to worry about.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Okay?”
She nodded.
“Now there’s one more thing,” he said. “Do you know where Ed’s BlackBerry got to?”
She shook her head. “No. I told the police and Jim Donahoe the same thing. He had it when he went to Pigale, because he messaged me from there, but I don’t know where it went. Maybe it’s in the water.”
“Any chance the reporter has it?”
“Maybe,” she said. She looked down at her hands.
“What is it?” he said.
“You’re going to read it anyway,” she said. “Ed went for a lap dance. He messaged me right before. Told me he was leaving his phone with Jack for safekeeping. I don’t know if he gave it back or not.”
Mowat looked at her for a long moment. “You
Donahoe shook his head. “No idea when or if.”
“Well I just wanted to peek in on Sophie,” Mowat said. “She must be beside herself.”
The Sawatskis had returned to their son’s bedside by the time Mowat arrived.
“Minister!” said Sophie, and jumped to her feet.
“I’m sorry to barge in,” he said. “But I wanted to see how you were doing, Sophie.”
She rushed toward him and gave him a hug. He pulled her to him, and patted her back. Then she remembered herself and pulled herself away, flustered and crying. Mowat pulled a hanky from his pocket and gave it to her. Then he turned to the Sawatskis.
“I’m Greg Mowat,” he said, reaching out to shake Tom Sawatski’s hand.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. My daughter Clarissa was badly hurt in a fall from a horse a few years ago. She had a broken leg, a concussion, was unconscious when we got to the hospital. Maude and I were frightened out of our wits. There’s nothing worse than sitting by the hospital bed of your own child. We sure did some praying.”
Beverley Sawatski looked up from her chair, holding her son’s hand in her own.
“It’s just so frightening,” she said. “The doctors can’t tell us anything.”
“Well, Ed will be in my prayers,” said Mowat. “And Maude’s. She’s been praying for your boy ever since I called to tell her what happened.
He walked over to the bed and looked down at Ed, who was still staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. “Son, we know you’re a fighter. We’re pulling for you.”
He shook hands again with Ed’s father, and held Ed’s mother’s hands in his. “I just know your boy’s going to come through.”
He turned to his press secretary. “Sophie. Will you walk with me to the elevator?”
Bouchard was waiting for them in an empty waiting room by the elevators, his laptop open in front of him. He stood and gave Sophie a hug.
“I’m sorry to do this to you right now,” he said, “but I have to ask you a few questions. It’s a police investigation and we have to know what’s going on.”
Sophie nodded sat down, quickly gathered her thoughts and professionally told them what she knew about the night before.
“That poor boy sure has a wild side, going off to the French ballet with a reporter till all hours,”
said Mowat, shaking his head.
“Did he send you any messages?” asked Bouchard.
“Yes,” said Sophie.
“I need you to give me your BlackBerry for a minute or two,” he said.
Sophie handed it over. “They’re kind of personal.”
“We need to figure this out, Sophie,” he said. “We might be able to find something that helps the police.”
“I already gave them the messages Ed sent me last night,” she said.
“All the more reason we need to see them,” he said.
Bouchard plugged her cell phone into a USB cord and bent to the keyboard.
Sophie looked at Mowat. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me when you read all my messages.”
Mowat gave her a reassuring smile. “I can tell you right now that there’s nothing on that phone that can change the way we feel about you and your work. You have nothing to worry about.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Okay?”
She nodded.
“Now there’s one more thing,” he said. “Do you know where Ed’s BlackBerry got to?”
She shook her head. “No. I told the police and Jim Donahoe the same thing. He had it when he went to Pigale, because he messaged me from there, but I don’t know where it went. Maybe it’s in the water.”
“Any chance the reporter has it?”
“Maybe,” she said. She looked down at her hands.
“What is it?” he said.
“You’re going to read it anyway,” she said. “Ed went for a lap dance. He messaged me right before. Told me he was leaving his phone with Jack for safekeeping. I don’t know if he gave it back or not.”
Mowat looked at her for a long moment. “You
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