Caitlin’s heart fluttered. She thought of trying to hide her excitement, but Jordan was far too sensitive to be deceived.
“Everything okay?” Jordan asked in a leading tone.
“Yes.” Caitlin typed a quick response to Jamie, then texted her press operator that he should pick her up out front. “But I think I’ve got to skip saying good-bye to Henry.”
Glass gave her a sisterly smile. “Do what you need to do.”
Caitlin stood and slung her purse over her shoulder. “If you find yourself at loose ends tomorrow morning, come by the Examiner. I might have some work for you.”
“I might do that.” Jordan stood and offered Caitlin her hand.
Instead of shaking it, Caitlin hugged the older woman tight, then stepped back blushing. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“I know. Get going.”
Caitlin hurried to the exit, gave the guard a familiar wave, then darted through the door and ran for her ride.
CHAPTER 85
WHEN THE HOSPITAL security guard recognizes me as the mayor—and Dr. Cage’s son—he not only allows Kirk and me to pass unchallenged into the main building, but also answers my questions about “poor Mr. Royal and his family.” I’m actually a little surprised to find Brody Royal at the hospital after 11 P.M., but given that the administrator has cleared three patient rooms near the ICU for the use of his family (Brody is on the hospital board), the old man is exempt from the usual discomforts of late-night visitors.
I’ve known the way to the ICU ever since I accompanied my father on emergency calls as a kid. Walking up the deserted corridor, I remind Kirk that I want him to stay cool and quiet, and only intervene if any of Royal’s people try to get physical. If they do, he should use the minimum force required to restrain them. I’ve brought Pithy Nolan’s straight razor in my back pocket, but only as a prop to intimidate the old man into thinking I know everything there is to know about him.
Brody’s oldest son, Andy, sees me first, glancing to his left as he passes between the big ICU double doors and a regular room. Andy looks away, then turns angrily back as he makes the connection between Caitlin and me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he challenges.
“I’m here to speak to your father.”
President of his father’s bank, Andy Royal is a big man of thirty-five with more gut than muscle. He takes a couple of steps toward me, his face turning scarlet. “You’ve got some damn nerve, Cage.”
“You don’t understand the situation. Where’s your dad?”
Andy Royal grinds his jaws with fury. “My sister’s lying in there in a coma, thanks to your goddamn girlfriend. And you—”
“I’m sorry about your sister, Andy. More than you know. But your dad is going to want to talk to me. If he doesn’t, he’s not going to like what he reads in tomorrow’s paper.”
His eyes bulge. “What? Man, we’ve already talked to our lawyers about what happened this afternoon, and they think we’ve got a hell of a case against your girlfriend and her father’s media group.”
“Then you didn’t tell your lawyers the whole story. But of course you don’t know it. So how about you take me to the man who does?”
Andy points at Kirk, who decided to wear a sock cap in the hope of concealing his identity. “Who’s this guy?”
“A Good Samaritan. Come on, Andy.”
“Dad’s in 119,” he says, still eyeing Kirk, whose powerful physique is a little too obvious to ignore.
Three doors down from the ICU, the patriarch of the Royal clan is holding court from a padded chair beside a buffet of sandwiches, doughnuts, fruit, and cheese. A half-empty fifth of Maker’s Mark stands on a table beside him. Compared to his son, who looks like a high school tackle who never matured into a man, Brody Royal looks like a weather-beaten falcon. His slim face and aquiline nose contribute to this impression, but it’s the deep-set, predatory eyes beneath sleek gray brows that first mark me in the doorway. They flit to Kirk for a second, then lock back on me as though gauging the distance for a killing dive. My peripheral vision registers five other people in the room, three of them women. I glance away from Brody long enough to recognize two red-faced Royal nephews in their fifties—both employees of Royal Oil.
“Everybody out,” Brody says with the casual authority of a monarch.
Nobody questions his order. They don’t even hesitate. Brody glares at Andy, who has lingered in the doorway, and says, “Shut the door.”
Andy steps inside to obey, but his father says, “From the other side.”