Where the Forest Meets the Stars(44)

“She was persuasive,” Gabe said. “The nurse at the desk was nearly teary.”

“I’m experienced with hospital ogres,” Tabby said, “because Jo comes to these places often. She must like the food.”

“How did you find out I was here?”

“Gabe.”

“I knew you would want her here,” he said, “and she was listed in the university’s directory service.”

“I’m always listed,” Tabby said. “You never know when some hot guy needs your number.” She winked at Gabe.

“No one could find your brother’s number,” Gabe said.

“Good,” Jo said. “Better if he doesn’t know.”

“You have to call him,” Tabby said.

“You know he just started his residency up in Washington. My health issues have caused enough disruption in his life.”

“Jo . . . ,” Gabe said.

“Okay, I’ll call him. Have they told you anything about Ursa?”

“They won’t tell me anything,” Gabe said. “And the local news didn’t help either. It was reported as an attempted burglary. All they said was two men were shot dead and a child and woman were airlifted to a hospital for gunshot wounds.”

“That does say something,” Jo said. “Ursa must have survived the surgery! If a little girl died in a robbery, that news would travel fast.”

“You’re right,” Tabby said. “The media never misses an opportunity to exploit a kid tragedy. That news probably would make it up to Chicago.”

“Gabe . . . ,” Jo said.

“What?”

“I just realized . . . you killed two people. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Why the grim phizogs?” Tabby said. Patting Gabe’s back, she said, “This guy is a hero. He saved your life and Ursa’s.”

“She’s wrong, isn’t she?” he said. “I nearly got both of you killed. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, Ursa wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

“You can’t feel guilty about that. There’s no way you could have known,” Jo said.

“I do. I feel like shit. Ursa came out of hiding to warn me. I didn’t even know where you were when she screamed and ran out of the woods. I tried to cover for her, but I was taking fire from the guy by the front door when the other one came out the back door. I couldn’t cover them both.”

“It was an impossible situation,” Jo said.

“Not for you,” he said. “When I went in the house with the police, we pieced together what you did. You waited until they broke in before you sent Ursa out the window. She for sure would have been safe, and you probably would have been, too. They hadn’t broken in the door to the room you were hiding in. We found your phone in there. It was still connected to 911 and they’d heard all the gunfire. That was when they dispatched the helicopters.”

“When I think of you locked in that room with Ursa . . . ,” Tabby said. She hugged Jo and kissed her again. “Will your leg be okay? The bone must not be broken or you’d have a cast.”

“It was mostly vascular. The nurses say I’ll be fine, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to the doctor. I’ve hardly been able to keep my eyes open.”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Gabe said. “Last night when you passed out . . . I was afraid both you and Ursa were going to die.”

“I wish we could visit her,” Jo said. “Imagine how upset she is.”

“Check this out,” Tabby said. She pulled her phone from her purse, moved her finger over it, and held the screen up for Jo to see. It was a school photo of Ursa smiling, and over the picture were the words MISSING, URSA ANN DUPREE.

“I checked that website almost every day!” Jo said.

“She must have been reported recently,” Gabe said.

“I shouldn’t have stopped looking,” Jo said.

“I stopped, too,” he said.

Jo took the phone out of Tabby’s hand and read the information below Ursa’s photo. She went missing on June 6 from Effingham, Illinois. She was eight years old. Her ninth birthday would be on August 30.

“I can’t believe she’s only eight!” Jo said.

“I know,” Tabby said, taking the phone back. “That’s only third grade.”

“It doesn’t seem possible,” Gabe said.

“The first night I talked to her, she used the word salutation,” Jo said.

“Maybe she really is a smart alien in a kid’s body,” Tabby said.

A nurse came in to record Jo’s vitals. “When can I get out of bed?” Jo asked him.

“Tomorrow morning you’ll have physical therapy,” he said.

After the nurse left, Gabe sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand. “They said we can only stay for a few minutes, and I need to tell you something.”

“This can’t be good.”

“It’s not. We’re in trouble. But it’s worse for you because Ursa slept at your rental house and went to work with you.”

“Did the cops tell you that?”

“They’ve implied it, even though I told them I was as responsible as you were for letting Ursa stay.” He squeezed her hand. “I hate to say this when you’ve barely recovered, but I have to. Call your lawyer if you have one. I think you’re going to be charged with a child endangerment felony.”

Child endangerment. Not possible. Not when all she’d done was give food, shelter, and love to an abandoned little girl.

But then she saw Ursa running under the stars. A gun fired again and again, and Ursa stumbled and slumped to the ground. All because Jo hadn’t turned her over to the sheriff.

She dropped her arm over her eyes and cried.





31



The next morning someone knocked on her door. “Come in,” she said, pulling her hospital gown over her bandaged leg. She was expecting Gabe and Tabby. They’d spent the night at a nearby hotel. Instead, her research advisor walked in. “So . . . when were you going to tell me you were shot and nearly died?” Shaw asked.

“Never, if possible. I figured you were tired of my endless doom and gloom.”

“I’m not, and if I’d known, I’d have been here in a heartbeat.” He folded his long body into the chair in front of hers. “Is your brother here?”

“I talked to him last night. He wanted to come, but I told him I was perfectly fine and I’d be pissed if he came.”

“Perfectly fine?” Shaw said, looking at her propped leg.

“I am. How did you find out?”

“From George Kinney. The police had to contact him because it happened on his property.”

“That must have been surprising news—a shoot-out and two guys dead on his property.”

“The timing was bad. His wife died earlier the same night.”

“Lynne died?”

Shaw’s white brows arched in confusion. “You knew Lynne?”

“No . . . not really.”

He studied her for a few seconds. “George told me you brought someone he knows to campus that same day—Gabriel Nash?”

Jo nodded. “He helped me move my stuff into the new house.”

“George said he lives on the property next to his. His family and George’s go way back.” He waited for Jo to explain how she knew Gabe, but she stayed silent. “George told me Gabe may have saved your life.”

“I had a gun pointing straight at me, and he took out the guy before he fired.”

“My god!” Shaw said, thrusting his fingers into his silky white hair. “I have to meet this guy and thank him.”

“You may get your wish. He’s supposed to be here any minute.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, visitors are all that make a hospital bearable.”

“I thought good drugs did that?”

“I’ve had it with the drugs. I’m already weaning off.”

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” He relaxed against the back of his chair. “I hear the little girl is doing well.”

“Is she?”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“No. They won’t tell me anything.”

“She’s in intensive care, but she’s out of danger. They expect her to make it.”

If her advisor weren’t sitting in front of her, she’d have blubbered in relief. “Did the police tell Dr. Kinney why those men were after her?”

Shaw sat erect. “She didn’t get hit by accident?”

“I’m pretty sure they came there to kill her.”

“Have you told the police?”

“I’ve told them everything.”

“They told George it was probably a robbery.”

“I think they’re saying that because it’s a criminal investigation and they can’t leak anything. It’s all linked to something that happened in Effingham. A detective from there asked me a lot of questions.”

Shaw’s blue gaze was penetrating. “George said the police asked him if he’d been aware that the little girl was living on his property.”

Jo couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Was she?”

“Yes.”

He rumpled his hair again.

“I think I’m in pretty big trouble.”

“What the hell were you doing?”