Page 74 of The Senator's Wife

“We have no intention of tiring her out. We just want to see her for a few minutes,” Camille said.

Rosemary inched her chair closer to the open door. “No one has spoken to her. Her own daughter hasn’t been able to talk to her. If Sloane is too sick to even speak to any of us, then she shouldn’t be lying in a bed upstairs. She should be in a hospital being seen to.”

Whit stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “I appreciate your concern, but I assure you she’s receiving the best possible care. She doesn’t need to be in a hospital full of germs. As soon as she’s up to having visitors, you’ll be the first to know. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back inside.” Turning away from them, he went back into the house, shutting the door in their faces.

Rosemary’s heart was beating so fast she thought she might have a heart attack. “That son of a bitch,” she said through clenched teeth. “He’s going to hurt her, I know it.”

“Come on. He’s never going to let us in. We’ve got to get Emmy back here. He can’t refuse to letherin,” Camille said, gripping the handles of Rosemary’s chair and wheeling her to the car.

“Just stay in the driveway for a few minutes while I make a call,” Rosemary directed Anthony. She tried Sloane’s number, although she knew it would go to voicemail the same way it hadall the other times. It rang once. Voicemail. Just like Emmy’s and Camille’s calls. Had Whit taken her phone away?

“Mom, we have to call Emmy.”

Rosemary had already tapped her contact. “I’m calling her right…Emmy,” she said when she heard her granddaughter’s voice. “We’re at your mother’s. Whit won’t let us in to see her. I know she’s in trouble, Emmy. You’ve got to get here as soon as you can.”

“I knew it. I knew something was wrong. Can you try calling her doctor, Dr. Porter? Maybe he can tell us something. I’ll book a flight and call you right back with the details.” The line went dead.

“She’s getting a flight. Suggested we call Porter. What do you think?” Rosemary said to Camille.

“You could try, but HIPAA laws are going to prevent him from telling you anything. I thought about calling the police, but what would I say? That a respected senator was refusing to let us in his house? They’d laugh at us,” Camille said.

Rosemary’s phone rang. “Emmy?”

“I have a one o’clock flight out of LAX that gets into Dulles a little before nine tonight. I’ll text you the flight number.”

“We’ll pick you up and go straight to your mom’s,” Rosemary told her, and hung up. “She’ll be in at nine tonight.”

“Okay. I’ll come to your house after work, and we can leave together from there,” Camille said.

Rosemary nodded. “Good. We can go in a minute, Anthony. I want to wait a few minutes to see if Whit leaves. We can pretend to leave and then circle back. Just ten minutes or so.”

A loud clap of thunder made the two women jump. Then the rain started. “Here it comes again,” Camille said. “The torrential rain and thunderstorms that were forecast.”

How fitting, thought Rosemary.

- 60 -

SLOANE

Sloane’s head was pounding and every nerve on fire when she woke up. She discovered that she was lying on the floor. She must have passed out. Momentarily disoriented, she tried to remember how she got there when the events of last night all came rushing back to her. Whit and Athena. Plotting to kill her. The last thing she remembered was pushing the wing chair against the door. The exertion must have been what caused her to lose consciousness. She sat up and rubbed her legs, trying to massage the pins and needles away. She moved on all fours to the nightstand and braced herself against it as she stood on shaky legs. Everything she’d discovered came flooding back. That’s right: She was going to call 911, but then she couldn’t find her phone. It must be in the drawer, she realized, pulling it open. Pushing aside books and papers, she leaned in closer, but it wasn’t there. Frantic, she scanned the room, trying to remember the last time she’d used it.Think. Think!The chair started to move, and she jumped.

“What do you have against this door?”

Whit.

She heard him groan as he pushed further until the door opened. “Sloane, what the hell?”

She feigned innocence. “I don’t know. I must have had another hallucination.”

She was light-headed, her pulse racing. She couldn’t let him know what she’d found. She had to pretend everything was okay until she got her phone back.Breathe,she told herself. The door opened and he entered.

Whit stared at her, his face stony. It took every ounce of self-control to keep her expression impassive. His brow creased.

“You don’t look so good,” he said. “Let me help you to bed.”

She resisted the urge to shrink away from him. “Just tired,” she murmured.

He put his arm around her waist and half carried her to the bed.

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