The Watcher
CHAPTER 57

I HAVE MY HAND ON THE DOORKNOB WHEN MAX stops me by placing his hand over mine.
"Does he know?" he asks.
It takes a beat or two for me to connect the dots. "Oh. Does David know about me?" I shake my head. "No. You are the only one who knows."
The only human who knows, that is. But I don't want to complicate things.
He doesn't look as if he believes me. "Look, Max, I know you have questions. I'm sorry. I'll try to answer them in time."
He's looking in at David now. He nods. "You're right. I'll wait. I think I deserve some answers, though."
"And you'll get them. I promise. Can we go in?"
He lets his hand drop. I take that as a "yes" and push at the door.
I make sure Max's chair clears the door before rushing around him to do something I've only done once before in our acquaintance. I hug David. A hug meant to convey relief, apology and remorse.
Not that David realizes any of that.
He merely accepts the hug as a gesture from a friend without comment before extricating himself gingerly from my clinging arms.
"Careful," he warns. He points in the direction of his left shoulder. "Stitches."
I jump back. "God. Sorry. What happened? What's with the cop outside?"
But David is looking at Max. "The better question is what happened to you two? Max, you look worse than I feel."
Max waves the comment off with the back of his hand. "Long story. Anna has been worried sick since we heard about you. Better fill her in."
I pull a chair up to David's bedside and sit my butt down. "Tell us."
David frowns down at me. "First, I owe you an apology"
"An apology?"
He nods. "I should have told you something days ago. I don't know why I didn't. It's not like you can't take care of yourself."
My brief flirtation with patience comes to a screeching halt. "Damn it-" I almost say his name. I have to bite it off at the last minute. "Get on with it. What happened?"
He smiles at the outburst. "Glad to see you aren't treating me with kid gloves just because I happen to be in the hospital with a gunshot wound."
I start to jump up and he waves me back down. "Okay, okay. I got shot. Two days ago. High-powered rifle. Another inch to the left and I'd be dead. But I must have a guardian angel because nothing vital was hit and I woke up to find myself here. The docs say I'll be fine."
"You're sure?"
He nods.
"Then why all the subterfuge?"
"Williams' idea," he says. "Before the shooting, I'd been getting calls. Somebody threatening to do me bodily harm. But after each call, the guy would say, 'tell your girlfriend.' "
My shoulders jump.
David sees it. Again, he misunderstands. "I know. I should have told you. But I thought he was referring to Gloria. So naturally, I assumed it was some kind of publicity stunt. Especially with the opening of the restaurant and all. I even made Gloria double the security for that night. But then I got shot before the opening." He lifts his good shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm no closer to figuring out what it's all about now than I was before. But I should have told you what was happening. You could have been with me when I was shot. Hell, you might have taken the bullet instead of me. I had no right to keep something so important from you."
Max is looking at me. I feel it. He's waiting for me to take that cue. When I don't right away, he makes a sound in his throat. "I'm going to leave you two," he says. "I think it's time I get this ankle tended to." He reaches out a hand and David takes it. "Glad it's not more serious," he says. His gaze fixes on me. "See you later, Anna?"
I avoid his eyes but nod. I'm not anxious to admit to David that I, too, have been keeping secrets. Lots of them.
Max wheels himself out of the room. When the door has swished to a close behind him, David says quietly, "I really am sorry, Anna. I jumped on you for the way things have been between us, and I'm the one who hasn't been honest."
Again, my cue to jump in. Again, I find myself holding back. Why?
I reach up and smooth a bit of the sheet. A delaying tactic.
To declare David dead is pretty dramatic. How is Williams going to explain when David miraculously reappears? I can't help but feel he did it not to protect David but to protect me. There's one way to find out.
"So Williams has you here because he thinks the guy might take another shot at you?"
"Or you."
I hate being right about this.
"Must have made a big splash in the papers, though. Local jock killed. How was it handled? Was there a funeral?"
He shakes his head. "Small private service. I'm not the headliner you seem to think."
"No, but Gloria sure is. I assume she knows you're alive."
I expect a big smile and some lame explanation that she's spent the last two days fretting and crying at his bedside.
Instead, he frowns and his shoulders bunch.
"She knows. But she hasn't been here since the shooting."
That reply is so unexpected, my hand freezes on the sheet. I'm ready to yell, good riddance, but the expression on his face is too full of pain for me to actually say it out loud.
Doesn't mean I'm about to let the opportunity slip by without some comment, though.
I resume my sheet fluffing. "That's a surprise. Is she in protective custody? I can't imagine she'd pass off a photo op as juicy as mourning at your graveside."
David grabs my hand. "You can stop now. For whatever reason, Gloria isn't here. I don't expect her to show up anytime soon. Can we get back to the important topic? Someone was out to get me and if Gloria isn't the 'girlfriend' this guy is referring to, there's only one other woman I spend any time with."
"Me."
He nods. "You."
This is like an echo of the conversation I had with Max. But it also triggers a memory, a bad memory. The incident that landed me in Palm Canyon to begin with. I blow out a breath. "Is that why you said what you did after the Guzman thing?"
He looks glum.
"You wanted me out of the way in case that guy came after you." I let a beat go by before asking, "You weren't really planning a move to L.A., were you?"
He doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to. Jesus. I hitch my chair closer to the bed. It's time I replaced some of his guilt with a much healthier emotion-anger. "You are probably going to want to shoot me when you hear what I have to say."
He gives me an inquisitive half smile and gestures for me to go on.
"I've been getting calls, too."
The smile morphs into an incredulous frown.
"I know. I know. I should have told you. But I thought it was someone trying to trick me into leading him to Max. It wasn't until-" I stop myself. Do I want to get into the witch thing and Foley and Martinez and all that happened in Mexico?
No. I backtrack with a sharp intake of breath. "Anyway, I realized that wasn't the case. And when Max and I were talking about it, the same thing dawned on us that dawned on you. Whoever is doing this thought you were my boyfriend. It wasn't about Max at all."
He leans his head back against the headboard. "Anyone take a shot at you?"
I think back to what happened in the desert. Another subject best kept for later. "No."
David drums his fingers on the bedclothes. "What about that incident in Palm Canyon?"
So much for that. "You saw the paper." Not a question.
He nods and adds sharply, "Right before you disappeared. Called you a hero for going to the aid of that woman when her maniac husband attacked her. The big mystery, though, was who shot that maniac husband."
He pauses, waits for me to say something. When I don't, he continues, sounding peeved. "I must have called Williams a dozen times when I heard what you'd been involved in. All he would say was you were all right and needed a little time away. He made it sound like it was my fault."
He stops suddenly, inhales deeply, as if struck by a sharp pain.
I touch his arm. "Are you okay?"
He lets the breath out through his nose, inhales again. His right hand reaches for his shoulder.
"David?" I whisper it, realize my mistake, flinch. I glance around the room like an idiot. Who the hell could be eavesdropping on us here?
He shakes his head. "I'm all right. Chest gets tight when I get..."
He doesn't complete the thought. I can fill in any number of words: exasperated, angry, frustrated, confused. I know because I can see it all on his face.
I start to stand up. "Maybe I should go."
He grabs my hand. "Sit down."
I don't want to upset him any more than I already have so I do.
When his face clears of the pain, I ask, "Did forensics compare the bullets?"
He nods. And his next words confirm what I already suspect.
"The bullet that killed that guy in Palm Canyon is a match to the one they took out of me."