In the Shadow of Evil (17 page)

Even Layla didn't miss the implication. Heat flamed in her cheeks.

"A case Houston and I are working."

"Ah. I see." But it was clear he'd have more questions later for Maddox.

She was glad she wouldn't have to undergo the man's interrogation. He'd give Maddox a run for his money, she'd bet, but she hoped he'd be gentle. Waiting to hear news about your father when he'd had a heart attack was unbearable.

Layla knew. She'd been there. Done that. And the hole in her heart would never heal.

A doctor turned off the hallway into the waiting room. "Ms. Page?"

Layla helped Ms. Betty to stand, her own nerves bunching. "If you'll excuse us."

Lord, please don't let Mr. James die. Not like Ms. Ethel.

MADDOX SAT DOWN. GEORGE did as well, then twisted to face him. "So, what's the story with Ms. Taylor?"

"She's a person of interest in Houston's and my case." The response rolled automatically off his tongue. But if he was honest, he'd have to admit Layla undid the places he'd worked hard to keep hidden. How could a woman he barely knew have that kind of effect on him?

"Right." George lifted that single brow again.

"And she's also a recent victim of breaking and entering. Her office was trashed. Computers stolen."

"You don't handle break-ins."

"I do when the vic is involved in my murder case."

"Murder case." George scratched at his thinning hair. "As a possible witness or a different kind of involvement?"

"Not sure yet." Maddox glanced over to where Layla kept her arm around Mrs. Page. "We're working on it."

"Working on something else as well?"

Maddox dragged his attention from Layla to George. "What do you mean?"

"I see the way she looks at you and the way you look at her. Something's there between you two. Under the surface but there."

Maddox shook his head. "It's your imagination, old man." He gave George a friendly nudge.

"I'm serious, son. Don't let the opportunity pass you by. Trust me, as one speaking from experience, I can tell you that regret is a hard pill to take every day for the rest of your life."

Maddox had never heard anything about George's love life. Funny thing—he'd loved George all his life but never wondered about aspects of George's private life outside of how they related to him. Even as a man, Maddox had never asked. He knew the basics of George's hobbies: hunting, fishing, and wood carving. He knew some of George's darkest secrets: He was a recovering alcoholic but had been dry for almost ten years, as well as once having a very hot temper. But he'd never heard George talk about a lady. Ever.

George's eyes filled with remorse. "Take it from me, son . . . you don't want to let the opportunity to find love pass you by because you're too stubborn or stupid."

"You let love pass you by?"

"I didn't tell someone I loved her. Until it was too late." Moisture pooled in George's eyes.

That really caused Maddox to start. He hadn't seen George cry since his mother's funeral. "I didn't know."

George pawed at his reddening face and dropped his head. "Well, I want you to learn from my mistake. I've regretted not telling her I loved her as soon as I felt it."

"If you don't mind my asking . . . what happened?"

Lifting his head, George stared at the stark white wall across the room. "She ended up falling in love with someone else. Got married. Had kids."

Man, that had to hurt. "That bites."

George nodded. "I accepted it and moved on." He slapped his leg. "Enough of my regrets. Just remember what I said. Life and love are precious and rarely do you get a second chance. Grab the opportunities when you can. At least you won't live the rest of your life with what-ifs."

The doctor left. Layla turned Mrs. Page around and helped her to the ladies' room.

"Don't forget," George whispered.

Layla returned to her seat and kept her gaze glued to the restroom door. "They're admitting him to ICU."

"ICU?"

Layla nodded and leaned forward, lowering her tone. "They don't know what's causing his breathing to be so labored or his nosebleeds. This is the second elderly friend who's come into the hospital in the past two days with these symptoms."

"Has your other friend been diagnosed? Maybe it's the same thing."

"I'm sure it is. But my other friend died." Layla shook her head.

Died? Same symptoms. Both elderly. The detective in Maddox jumped to full attention. Maybe he should talk to Margie about Mr. Page.

LAYLA CHECKED HER TEXT message and nodded to Ms. Betty. "Jade's here to run you home to get into some clothes while they're moving Mr. James. The doctor said it'd take them the better part of an hour, so you have plenty of time. I'll wait here." Layla couldn't stand to not do anything. While she couldn't do anything for Mr. James, she could make this as easy as possible on Ms. Betty.

Especially if Mr. James . . . No, she wouldn't even think it.
God, please. Not Mr. James too
. Losing him would kill Ms. Betty.

"Are you sure you don't mind staying, honey?"

"Of course. You take my coat. I'll be fine. I'll wait right here."

Ms. Betty stood and let Layla help her slip on the coat. She loosely wound the scarf around Ms. Betty's sagging neck.

"You're such a dear. I'll be back in a flash." Ms. Betty shuffled toward the exit.

"Where's she going?" Maddox moved to the seat next to her.

"Jade Laurent is here to drive Ms. Betty home to get some decent clothes." Layla's gaze followed Ms. Betty out the automatic doors. "Bless her heart, she didn't even bother to get dressed before she followed the ambulance here."

"So tell me more about these mysterious symptoms."

His tone caused her to jerk her gaze to Maddox's face. Why was he prying? Did he really care, or was he digging for something?

His face reflected genuine interest. His uncle's did as well.

Maybe they needed something to keep their minds off of Maddox's father. She could understand that—she had. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he could be facing heartbreak. If she could help, even in some small way . . .

"It's strange. Ms. Ethel came in with shortness of breath. Well, she could hardly breathe. And her nose wouldn't stop bleeding." Chills skittered down her spine, and she rubbed her arms. "From what Ms. Betty says, Mr. James's symptoms are the same."

"Was she younger?"

Layla didn't really know. Not for sure. But there couldn't be too much of a difference. "Maybe by a few years. Not more than five."

"Do they live at the same nursing home or apartment maybe?"

"No. Ms. Ethel lived at her apartment. Mr. James and Ms. Betty have their house."

"In Eternal Springs?"

"Yes."

"Guess they don't work at the same place?"

She chuckled. At least he was trying to make a connection. And his mind was off his father for the moment. "Nope. Mr. James drives a van and does light janitorial work. Ms. Ethel is retired."

He rubbed his chin covered with black stubble. "How do you know both of them?"

"We go to the same church."

He sat forward to the edge of his chair. "Both of them?"

She nodded, her pulse jumping. Was this the connection?

"What church?"

"Eternal Springs Christian Church."

George Vella gasped.

Maddox twisted and looked at his uncle. "What?"

"That's the church your father recently started attending."

Layla's heart hiccupped.

"Why would Pop go there?"

George shrugged. "Close enough to Westlake. He met a couple of people who attended that invited him. He likes it."

Maddox turned back to Layla. "Do you know my father?"

"Who is he?"

"Tyson. Tyson Bishop."

His image flitted across her memory. She locked stares with Maddox. How could she not have noticed the resemblance before? "I met him a month or so ago at a covered dinner. Very nice man."

The muscle in Maddox's jaw flinched.

As the realization hit, trembles shuddered through her. She leaned forward and grabbed Maddox's hand. "Are they sure it's his heart? Is he having breathing problems? A nosebleed?"

Maddox looked to his uncle.

"No nosebleed and he was breathing fine," George said.

So that wasn't the connection. Disappointment fanned but she pushed it down. Then she realized she was still holding Maddox's hand. She jerked hers back into her lap. Heat spread across her face.

George cleared his throat and stood. "I'm going to find something cold to drink." He threw Maddox a look she couldn't understand. Apparently Maddox did because he shifted and the tips of his ears turned red as George headed to the hospital's main entrance.

"It was a good thought. About the church connection." Maddox smiled, as if he'd read her mind. "Good detective instincts."

The heat moved all the way to her feet. "I just feel so helpless."

The smile slid off his face. "I know what you mean."

"You? Big, bad detective?" She grinned.

"Yeah, me." He spread his hands, then jabbed his fingers through his hair. "I can't do anything for Pop."

"You can pray."

He finally made eye contact again. "Well, that's not really my thing."

"Really?" Every nerve in her body tingled. "Why not?"

"I don't buy into the whole God-is-a-loving-God deal."

She struggled not to let the shock show on her face. "Why not?"

"Why not? What kind of question is that? Why not?" He ran his fingers through his hair again. "Why do you buy it?"

Oh, Lord, help me out with the right words. I don't want to offend, but I must share my faith.
"Because I believe what Scripture teaches."

"The Bible?"

"Yes."

"One hundred percent?"

"Yes." The certainty in her heart pounded.

"Even when your friend died?"

She clenched her sweating palms together in her lap.
Lord, guide my tongue.
"Yes. I might not understand why things—bad things—happen, but I believe that God loves us all and won't leave us alone during a tragedy."

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

Her heart ached for him more than Mr. James. To be so lost . . .

A nurse squeaked into the waiting room. Maddox was on his feet in an instant. "Margie?"

"He's fine. We've got him moved up to the cardiac ward. You can see him now. I'll take you up."

Maddox turned back to Layla. "I hope your friend's okay."

"Thanks. I'll be praying for your father."

He paused, as if wanting to say something but wasn't sure what. Then he gave a nod and followed the nurse.

Layla let out a long breath and then bent her head to pray. For Mr. James. For Ms. Betty.

And for Maddox Bishop's salvation.

SIXTEEN

"Our life is made by the death of others."

—LEONARDO DA VINCI

"MADDOX." HOUSTON WHISPERED AS he gave Maddox a slight nudge.

Bolting upright in the chair, Maddox automatically reached for his gun. "What?" Houston knew better than to sneak up on a sleeping cop wearing a firearm.

"Shh. Keep it down. You'll wake your dad."

Maddox glanced at the hospital bed. Pop snored softly while the machines attached to him continued their monotonous beeping. The oxygen tank gave off a slight hum. Pop had a little color back to his face. He looked . . . peaceful.

"Come on." Houston tiptoed to the door and stepped into the hallway. Maddox followed.

"Margie says your dad's doing good."

"Yeah. That's what the cardiologist says." Exhaustion tugged at Maddox, enticing him back to sleep. He yawned.

"You look beat. Why don't I take you home so you can sleep a bit?"

"I'm fine." Maddox glanced at his watch. Two in the afternoon already? He'd barely closed his eyes once Pop was settled. They'd given Pop something to relax him that had knocked him out. Maddox had just wanted to rest for a bit until George returned. "What's the latest on the case?"

"Unit finished at Taylor Construction. They don't think they recovered anything useful, but they'll still process it."

"No prints?" Man, he really needed a strong cup of coffee. Maybe the hospital cafeteria would have some.