Page 11 of Crosshairs

That shouldn’t have been a surprise. There was a knock at the door, and a man entered dressed in scrubs. “Ms. Cora Chamberlain?”

“Yes?”

He checked her bracelet. “I’ve come to take you for your CTscan.” Then he turned to Ainsley and her dad. “Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

“Would you like me to go with you?” Ainsley asked.

“No, dear, you have work to do. I’ll be fine.” She turned to her nephew. “And Johnny, there’s no need for you to hang around either. I’m sure you have campaign things to attend to.”

Her aunt didn’t see him flinch when she called him Johnny, a name he detested. Most people knew him by his initials—J.R., although the campaign flyers she’d seen at Gran’s had John Ross Beaumont on them.

“I have a campaign appearance in Jackson this afternoon, but I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll drop by to see you, hopefully at home.”

“If I have any say-so, that’s where I’ll be.”

Cora had grit, and it was gratifying to see how alert she was. Ainsley leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “If I don’t see you at the ten o’clock visiting time, I’ll see you at one.”

When Ainsley moved back, her father stepped beside the bed. “Don’t give these nurses any trouble,” he said, winking at his aunt.

They both stepped outside the room and waited until Cora was rolled out and down the hallway. “She’ll be fine,” her dad said.

“Yes, Cora’s feisty.” Ainsley managed to keep her voice from breaking as a lump formed in her throat.

“Walk out with me?” he asked. He was actually asking instead of ordering.

“Sure.”

Her dad held the ICU door open for her. “So, you’re here on National Park Service business?”

“Yes.”

They crossed the waiting room to the hallway. “Are you going to make me pry the information out of you?” Then his eyes widened. “Oh, wait. Are you here about that girl who was murdered?”

She nodded. “I’ll be leaving for the crime scene as soon as I stop for some real coffee and then check on Gran.”

He chuckled. “I had almost forgotten she only drinks decaf.”

They walked outside into the sunshine, and Ainsley inhaled the humid air scented with the light fragrance from the row of crape myrtles in front of Merit Health. She’d hoped it would be cooler after last night’s storm, but as the sun climbed above the trees, the rain had only made it more humid, if that was possible. Humidity and all, she’d missed this, not that she could tell anyone what “this” was, only that it was June in Natchez and no other place smelled or felt like it.

“I’m over here,” her dad said, pointing in the same direction she’d parked the truck, and they walked toward the east side of the lot. “Oh, I saw your write-up.”

She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m trying here, Ainsley.” He faced her. “I know we haven’t had the best relationship, but I’d like to bury the hatchet.”

In her back, maybe? Ainsley didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t trust her father any more than the gators in the swamps.

“I could use a little help from you.”

When she stared blankly at him, he huffed. “I saw where you won an award for solving a murder up in the Smokies.”

“You saw that?” Ainsley couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. The report of her award had only been on the National Park Service website.

“Of course. Google alerts me anytime your name appears on the web.”

The toe of her shoe caught on a crack in the pavement, and she stumbled. Her dad caught her arm, steadying her.

“You’re one of the few people who can fall up a set of stairs,” he said.

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