Page 9 of No Promises
Destry had foundher.
Chapter Five
Six monthslater…
The physiotherapist gaveher a long stare. “Noosh, you’re pushing yourself too hard. I told you this would taketime.”
Noosh, balancing herself between the bars, shook her head. “Doc, it’s beentoolong. I’m going stir-crazy in this hospital. I want to go back towork.”
The doctor, a tired-looking woman in her thirties named Beth, rolled her eyes. “And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been working from your room. Rest is anathema to you, isn’tit?”
“I had plenty of rest when I was brought in.” Noosh propelled herself painfully along the treadmill. One good thing about having a bullet in the spine, it sure helped your upper body strength when you tried to learn to walk again, she thought, as she puffed her way along thewalkway.
“For the record, a coma isn’t rest, Noosh. Come on, that’s it for today.” Beth helped Noosh back into her chair. Noosh gave a frustratedsigh.
“Come on, Beth, do a girl a solid and let me out ofhere.”
Beth couldn’t help but grin. “Just so you know, that expression coming from your English mouth sounds weird. And, okaythen.”
Noosh was already geared up for an argument, so Beth’s agreement took her by surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” Beth nevertheless insisted on wheeling Noosh back to her room. “Tomorrow, and I mean it. Get some sleep tonight, and if your stats are good in the morning, you can go home. I’m not happy about you being alone,though.”
“I won’t be alone, for the mostpart.”
Noosh’s parents had been flown over by the radio station after Noosh had been shot, but when it had been clear their daughter would survive, they’d had to return to their lives in London, albeit Skyping Noosh every day. Allison, shaken to her core by the attempted murder, had sworn to them that she would take care of Noosh, and had insisted Noosh move in with her in her Upper East Sideapartment.
“Withsecurity,” she’d emphasized when Noosh protested, and Noosh couldn’t argue. The man – she presumed it was a man – who had shot her was still out there, and the police had no leads. Noosh hadn’t told them of her suspicions – that Senator Destry Papps, candidate for the office of the President of the United States, was the one who had shot her mercilessly. Who the hell would believe that? Her mother and father had looked at her with pain in their eyes, and she knew they guessed the same. Would Destry tryagain?
Noosh hoped against hope that by not revealing him now, he would understand she wouldn’t go the press about him at all, but she knew that was a naïve hope. So the promise of being secure, at least at home, wasappealing.
Allison had been to see her every day, and Noosh knew from the topics of conversation on her radio show that the shooting had affected her usually unflappable boss to the core. Allison had persuaded the station to run an anti-firearms campaign, and by sharing Noosh’s – or rather, ‘Sarah’s’ – story with her listeners, Allison had managed to both bring awareness to the subject and, Noosh hoped, to broadcast to the assailant that she was now going to beprotected.
Noosh knew Destry had heard the program because the day after, a huge bouquet of red roses had arrived for her with the card just saying “Sarah…” on it. Funny how threatening just that one word could be, she mused as she’d dumped the flowers into the trashcan.
Allison insistedon coming personally to pick her up from the hospital after Noosh was discharged, and she settled Noosh into the back seat of the limousine, fussing around her, making Noosh grin. “You really have gone full-on Momma-Bear, haven’tyou?”
“Quiet, child,” Allison said, hiding her grin. “Now, your mom and dad packed all your things and sent them to me, so I took the liberty of unpacking some non-personal stuff, just to make your room feel likehome.”
Noosh sighed. It had taken her months to find the apartment in Queens, and having to let it go was annoying.But you’re alive, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and buck up.Noosh smiled her thanks at Allison and changed thesubject.
“How are the interviews going?” Noosh had missed the preparation and setting up of the Mobster Heirs series, and was sorry to have been out of action for it. From what Allison told her, it had been an eye-openingexperience.
“Good so far, but we have one hold-out…at least, we did. Christofalo Montecito called the day after our firearms campaign - and your story - got coverage on the national news. Said he wanted to help out with that, and if he could, he would give us the interview wewant.”
“That’s good news. What’s hisstory?”
“Hard to say. We know he’s broken away from his family’s business, but what he’s been doing, what he plans to do, is a mystery. Try researching someone who doesn’t want to be found. There are no photos, no gossip about the man at all. Unheard of these days, but the man’s aghost.”
Noosh was surprised. “That is unheardof.”
Allison grinned at her. “I know what you’re thinking – that you can find something on the internet even if an old coot like me can’t, but…there’s nothing. The man’s a private guy. So, him coming in to seeus…”
Noosh groaned. “Tell me I can be there! I’ve missed out oneverything,Ally.”
Allison sighed. “Alright, you can be there, but – and I mean this – you are not to doanythingbut watch and say hello to theman.”
Noosh grumbled but agreed. “When is he comingin?”
