Page 42 of These White Lies
When she returns an hour later she says, “The doctor says you’re all set. I just want to give you a fresh bandage before you go.”
She pulls back the hospital gown, exposing the smooth skin of Elizabeth’s abdomen. I frown at the blood that has seeped through the dressing.
“This might sting a little.” She looks at me over her shoulder. “You can hold her hand if you want.”
Elizabeth shoots me a don’t-you-fucking-dare look.
“If you think it’ll help.” I grin and fold my hand over hers.
The glare she gives me is scorching, but she doesn’t rip her hand away the way I expect. Whether it’s because she doesn’t want to argue in front of the nurse or because she actually wants comfort, I don’t know.
I see it then, the tiniest tremble on her lip before she presses her mouth into a thin, furious line as her bandages are pulled back and her stitches are exposed.
The pit in my stomach that opens at the sight of her wound is instant, and unexpected. I squeeze her hand.
Elizabeth’s fingers spasm in mine as the nurse swabs the neat line of stitches, and I tighten my hold. For the briefest moment, her eyes meet mine before returning to determinedly study the ceiling tiles.
“I can’t help it,” she mutters in between shallow breaths. “Makes me sick.”
“You’ll be sore for the next couple of days and be sure to keep the stitches dry.” The nurse smiles again. “All the care instructions will be with your discharge paperwork. I’ll go see if the doctor has signed them yet.”
Before she can leave, the door opens again and two men enter, the clipped badges on their belts flashing under their jackets.
I recognize one of them and grind my teeth.
“Miss Gowan?” The man I don’t know speaks. “I’m Detective Ross, and this is my partner, Detective Simpson. We need to askyou a few questions about the incident last night. Your doctor thought you’d be up to talking now.”
Simpson is staring hard at me. Sensing the tension, Elizabeth attempts to sit up straighter, but winces when the movement pulls at her skin.
“Take it easy.” I push the button to raise the back of her bed and then rearrange the pillow behind her back, ignoring the odd look she’s giving me.
Thankfully, she doesn’t make an issue of it in front of the detectives. When her hand shoots out to catch mine again, I hide my reaction and interlace my fingers with hers, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The unsettling part is… That’s exactly what it feels like.
“You can wait outside, Worthington.” Simpson glares at me.
“No, thanks.” I smile, keeping my tone light, knowing it will aggravate the prick. I’m still furious that I couldn’t get enough evidence while I was undercover to prove he was just as dirty as his captain.
Ross looks at me speculatively. “We were told her husband was back here with her.”
“You must’ve misunderstood. I’m Ms. Gowan’s security.”
His eyes narrow, and there’s a flash of recognition before his gaze darts to his partner and his jaw hardens.
Simpson’s lip curls. “Heard you were doing a rent-a-cop thing now. Figures.”
I ignore him.
Elizabeth shifts beside me. “If you’re done with the dick measuring, can we get to the questions? I’d like to go home.”
“We met last night.” Ross glances at the clock on the wall. “Well, I guess technically, two nights ago.”
“I’m hardly likely to forget,” Elizabeth deadpans.
There’s my girl.
A muscle ticks in the detective’s jaw. “I’ve got some follow-ups about that.”
“My lawyer will be here soon.” She does her best to sit straight against the pillow.
