Before they could continue talking, a doctor and a nurse filtered inside the room and began asking Mackenzie a million questions and performing routine examinations.
“You have a fracture in your skull, but it will heal,” the doctor informed her. “Your vitals look good. You’re very lucky. The bullet grazed the back of your head.”
“How long do I have to be here for?”
“I’m ready to discharge you in a few hours. I just want to monitor you for delayed symptoms. Your blood work came back normal. We did a CT scan when you were brought in, but I want to do an MRI too to check for any hemorrhage. You’ll need to rest at home for the next few days.”
“Thanks, Doctor.” Mackenzie had no intention of resting once she was out of here.
Before the doctor left, she glanced at Nick, who was sitting in a corner, scrolling through his phone. “He’s a keeper, that one. Hasn’t left for a moment since you came in.”
Mackenzie gave her a tight smile.
“That had to be a sniper, right?” she said once the doctor and nurse had left the room. “This was a hit man.”
“Yeah, we’re still investigating.” He sighed. “Guess Fletcher was right. We are getting too close, and look what happened.”
Mackenzie clutched the blanket tightly. “Do you think Hamilton was in on it? Or was it one of his friends?”
“He panicked. Either he’s a great actor, or he didn’t know that was going to happen.”
“Heisa great actor,” she muttered petulantly. “Who would have thought that saintly Judge Hamilton would be involved in this shit?”
“Or maybe Hamilton was the target.” Nick frowned like the thought had just come to him. “Maybe someone else involved in this prostitution ring got spooked that he might spill the beans to us. So he tried to take him out.”
“Hamilton was sitting across from us,” Mackenzie recalled. The memories were hazier than the strange dream she’d had. “A sniper’s aim can’t be that bad. But you were sitting right next to me…” Perhaps Nick was the target.
“Why would anyone hire a hit man to kill me?” Nick asked.
“Why would anyone hire a hit man to killme?” she countered. “The killer doesn’t want to hurt me. If it’s someone from the ring we’re investigating, I guess they wanted to hurt either one of us.”
“Somehow I doubt our killer is a sniper. Fletcher was right. We’re way out of our depth with this, Mack.” He shook his head.
There was a knock on the door and Andrew poked his head in. “Am I disturbing you?”
“No, no.” Mackenzie sat up, her head still a bit woozy. “Thank you for visiting.”
“Robbie was here earlier, but you were asleep. He left those flowers for you.”
She noticed the fresh sunflowers in a vase. “Thank you. These are my favorites. How did he know?”
“I told him. I’ll bring him over later.”
When Nick’s phone started to ring, he excused himself and slipped out of the room.
“Is there chatter at work? That I should be off the case because someone tried to kill me?”
“Not that I know of.” Andrew hesitated. “But I think there should be.”
“What are you talking about?”
He stepped forward, tilting his head and watching her closely. “I’m worried for you, Detective Price.”
“I’m not the only one working this case. Maybe Nick was the target. Maybe others are in danger too.” The back of her head began to throb, and she winced.
“May I?” Andrew asked, his hand hovering over the PCA pump. When she nodded, he pressed a button that pushed morphine into her system. “I’ve been thinking more about the killer.” His voice lowered as he leaned closer. “About what their endgame is.”
“Their endgame?” Her head was starting to swim.