The Curse of a Single Red Rose (Haunted Hearts Series Book 7) (9 page)

“This isn’t funny, Collin.”

She turned her attention to the other man, who was smirking behind his hand. The stranger seemed familiar in a vague sort of way.

“I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Detective Nick Moreau with the New Orleans Police Department. I’m investigating the accident.” His eyes darted toward Collin.

“You can tell her. I’ll stop you if you’re saying too much.”

The sour expression on the cop’s face suggested he didn’t like being censored and would have preferred that Elsa make a hasty exit. That wasn’t going to happen. The patient had requested her presence, so the cop could get over it.

Moreau sighed, and an expression of resignation crossed his features in a brief flash of exasperation. “Mr. McVey doesn’t believe it was an accident, and I think he’s right.”

That was a very brief synopsis of the reason for the cop’s presence. She inched closer to the side of Collin’s bed, dared to reach out and wrap his hand in hers. Her previous fear surged again.

She asked her question carefully, not certain how much Collin would have told the cop. “Why do you think it wasn’t an accident?”

Collin held her gaze. “The driver of the other car didn’t slow down when he hit me, and then after my truck stopped going around in a circle, he ran into me again, straight on.”

She slid her bag off her shoulder and let it drop to the floor. “Someone hit you on purpose?”

Collin nodded and then winced.

She released his hand and touched his cheek. The intensity of his gaze brightened through the pain that had dulled his eyes. Her heart did a little tap dance on her rib cage. It hadn’t been her imagination. In the restaurant, they had moved beyond mild flirtation. Attraction was turning into something more. What was she going to do about that?

She hadn’t planned on beginning a new relationship with anyone anytime soon. But here she was. It seemed it was happening to her anyway, and she wasn’t in the mood to stop it. Something about Collin tangled up her emotions in knots, and she wasn’t inclined to sort them out. That was a very heart dangerous place to be. Relationships changed a person’s plans for the future.

“You shouldn’t make sudden movements. It’s gonna hurt if you do. The headache with a concussion… I’m sorry.” She glanced toward the door to the room. “Are any of your family coming?”

The cop coughed as if to get their attention.

Collin shifted in the bed but didn’t turn the cop’s direction. His eyes remained locked with Elsa’s. “No. I asked the nurse to call you instead.”

“Your family will want to know you’ve been in a wreck, Collin.”

His eyes begged her for understanding. “I don’t want them to know.”

“Why not?”

“The car that hit me belongs to Dallas Thoreau.”

She placed her trembling hand over her mouth to keep from blurting her thoughts. She’d heard of Dallas Thoreau. The seriousness of the situation escalated one thousand percent. “You mean the man that…”

She didn’t know how to describe Thoreau. The man controlled the dark side of New Orleans. Gambling. Extortion. Prostitution. Drugs. Rumor was that Thoreau ran it all on the riverside. He’d moved in when others were forced out.

“The hostility between the McVey family and the Thoreau family… The feud goes back years. It’s been dormant for a couple of generations. But this? Accusing a Thoreau of deliberately running into me could start a war.” Collin’s eyes flashed with non-verbal entreaty. He was about to say something that only she would understand. “Besides I don’t think Thoreau was driving.”

He shifted his gaze toward Moreau for a split second, and she understood his silent message. A cold dread crept up her spine. Somehow, someway, his accident was connected to Les Wakefield and the work they were doing for him at the Royale Chateau. For some reason, Collin didn’t want to point Moreau in Les’s direction.

“Why would you think Thoreau wasn’t driving his own car? Did you see the driver’s face?” The cop wasn’t going to ignore Collin’s subtle implication.

“No.” Collin’s answer rang around the room.

“Then how do you know Thoreau wasn’t driving?”

Collin’s eyes shifted once again toward Elsa. “I just know.”

“I need to know who was driving the car, and I don’t think you’re cooperating, Mr. McVey. I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

A couple of memories surfaced for Elsa. “I thought I recognized you. They were always interviewing you about that serial killer on the news. Why is a homicide detective working a hit and run case? Clearly, Collin isn’t dead or anywhere near dying.”

“Because we found the body of a woman who’s been missing in the trunk of the car.”

Elsa’s mind went into overdrive. “Does Thoreau have a connection to the dead woman?”

Moreau’s eyes widened and seemed to explode with surprise. “Why would you ask that?”

She shrugged. “It seems obvious. She was found in Thoreau’s car.” She studied the cop’s face as panic set around the corners of his mouth and lit his eyes. “You have a delicate situation here, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. I think you can understand why I would have to be double damn sure that Thoreau was driving the car.”

Elsa glanced toward Collin whose face had turned pale. “I think Collin is getting tired. Maybe you should leave now.”

Moreau whipped a business card out of his wallet and hesitated before handing it to Elsa. He aimed his comments toward Collin. “I’ll have more questions for you later. Please stay in town. If you think of anything else that will help this investigation, please call me.”

Elsa watched the door as it swung closed. “Did it seem to you that the cop left in a huff?”

The plastic mattress cover crinkled and cracked as Collin shifted in the bed. She turned her gaze toward him. Pain etched the creases around his eyes.

“Moreau is always leaving in a huff.”

“You’ve known him a long time?”

Collin hesitated. “Awhile.”

He was not only keeping something from the cop, but he was also keeping something from her. If that were the case, Collin had just walked a very tight rope between Elsa and Moreau. Maybe it was time to leave him to his recuperation. After that performance, he had to be exhausted.

She lifted her bag from the floor where she’d dropped it. Then she lowered it again, suddenly remembering the nurse’s message for her. “The nurse said you were mumbling something about the gifter leaving you a rose.”

“The crash knocked me out for a little while. When I woke up, there was a red rose on the passenger seat of my truck.”

Elsa didn’t believe it was a coincidence. Les had to have been the driver of the car that hit Collin, but what was Les’s connection to the Thoreaus?

“This is very complicated.”

Collin nodded once. “You see why I didn’t tell him everything?”

She did. She got it. What she didn’t get was why Collin was holding back and keeping things from her.

“Please don’t leave, Elsa. I think we should stick together for a while.”

So much unspoken communication rolled around in his request that she didn’t know where to begin to interpret the meaning. She nodded and dropped into the guest chair near his bed. He was asleep before she could ask him any more questions, not that she would have gotten complete answers if she had.

****

After a long, miserable twenty-four hours in the hospital, Collin hadn’t wanted to go home, but he hadn’t had much choice. He could go home or he could go to a motel. Elsa had insisted on staying with him. Being alone with her in a motel room… He preferred the familiarity…and the space…of his own place. Besides, she would never understand his choice of a motel over his own bed.

It wouldn’t be long before his mother became aware of Elsa’s presence in his house. Curiosity would cause—no, compel—Mary Pat to use her key and enter his sanctuary without knocking. He flinched at the inevitability and considered warning Elsa. Mary Pat was like a class-five hurricane—devastatingly unpredictable.

Why did I ever give that woman a key to my house?

He closed his eyes and groaned. It always felt awful to think of his mother as
that woman
. He loved his momma, but sometimes she pushed him to the last ounce of his patience and trounced his adulthood like it didn’t exist. She’d been even clingier after his father died.

A soft touch caressed his cheek, and he blinked open his eyes. Elsa stood over him with a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you okay? You were groaning in your sleep.”

He pushed upright on his elbows and slid up against the headboard of his bed. “I wasn’t asleep, and I’ve felt worse.”

“Is your headache any better?”

“Not much.” He patted a spot next to him.

She hesitated for what seemed like an eternity before she sat on the edge of his bed.

He sighed. “I should have gone to a motel.”

Confusion spread across Elsa’s features.

He had to warn her about his mother. It was only fair. “The sun has come up. I’ll give my mother ten minutes, and she’ll be barging in here without knocking on the door.”

“Why would she do that?”

He nodded toward the street and then regretted the movement when his throbbing headache pounded harder. “Strange car parked in front of my house.” Did he manage to answer her without sounding like he was dying?

No sooner had the words exited his mouth than the front door swished open and banged shut. “Collin Patrick, are you home?” His mother’s voice raced down the hallway and slid under his closed bedroom door.

“Can you come back later when I’m awake?” He asked, even though he knew his simple request would not dissuade his mother when she was on a mission.

“It’s a quarter past seven. Why are you still in bed? Don’t you have a job to go to?”

Elsa jumped up from the bed and dropped into the chair across the room just as his mother pushed open his bedroom door. He appreciated Elsa’s presence of mind and the solidarity she showed him in his moment of distress. There would have been no explaining why Elsa had been perched on the edge of his bed.

Collin held out his hand to his mother. “Enough is enough. Give me the key.”

Mary Pat’s face flushed pink. “But—”

“You can’t barge into my house without knocking first. I’ve told you that a million times. Give me the key.”

Mary Pat tightened her fist and pressed it against her chest. “I can’t believe you’d treat your mother this way. I need this key. What if you fall down and hurt yourself? What if you’re sick?” Her eyes narrowed. “You
are
sick. I can see that.” She shook her head as if shaking off his demands like they were droplets of water. “I need to be able to check on you.”

For God’s sake, he was a grown man. He didn’t need his mother to check on him.

Elsa’s soft voice massaged his ears. “Ummm…I’m gonna go make some coffee.” She rose to her feet and pointed toward the open door.

That’s apparently when Mary Pat first noticed Elsa. His mother straightened to her full height. “Did I interrupt something?” Her crisp tone suggested she knew exactly what she’d interrupted and no other explanation would suffice.

Elsa slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her before Collin could respond, so he dared to freak his mother out. “Well no, you didn’t interrupt anything because you barged in here before anything could happen.” Did he insert enough indignation into his tone?

Mary Pat pressed her clenched fist harder against her chest. “Collin!”

“I’m a grown man, mother. It’s been a long time since I asked permission of you for anything.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “This…this…” He didn’t know what to call it. “This intrusion cannot happen again. Give me the key.”

How often had his mother claimed that she didn’t want to intrude? He’d laid it on a bit thick, but it had been necessary. The shock factor was the only thing that would make Mary Pat McVey back off anything.

She took her time stretching her arm out and dangling the key over his palm. With a heavy sigh, she dropped it into his hand. “Who is she?”

He closed his fingers around the precious key and released the breath he’d been holding. Dealing with his mother was never easy. When he was back on his feet again, he’d have to find a way to make it up to her. She would expect an apology for his rude behavior, which he’d give her, but he’d still have possession of the key.

“Her name is Elsa.” He paused for the right effect. “And she’s going to be around for a long time.”

He didn’t know that for sure, but he sensed it deep in his gut, right where his feelings had fallen out of his heart and dropped to the bottom of his stomach to collect and stew.

“Is she—”

“No, she’s not Irish.”

Mary Pat huffed with irritation. “Well, that’s plain enough, but that wasn’t what I was going to ask.”

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Elsa stuck her head around the jamb. “Mrs. McVey, would you like a cup of coffee?” Elsa smiled at his mother, and it seemed her warmth filled the room. The woman had a gift.