Page 55 of Final Cost

He manages to raise his heavy lids. “Yeah?”

“The answer isyes. And don’t give me any bullshit about withdrawing the question.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, and we share a fleeting smile before his eyes roll closed again. “Pocket.”

“What?”I say.

“The ring. In my pocket.”

“You’re still carrying that around?”

“Put it on. My mother’s diamond studs are in there, too,” he says, as commanding as ever as he passes out.

21

Lucien

I submitwith rising impatience as the nurse bustles around me, checking my bandages, my IV line and my pulse to make sure I still have one. I’m still feeling a little groggy after my surgery, plus the police debriefing did nothing to put the wind back in my sails. I’m eager to spend some time alone with Tamsyn, but she’s across the room in my private suite here at the hospital, talking to Mrs. Hooper on the phone and the nurse is now checking — for fuck’s sake — my blood oxygen level.

Then the worst possible thing happens. There’s a knock on the door and Detective Smith pokes her head inside. “Can I get a quick word, Mr. Winter?”

“In addition to the quick word you and your team already had?” I say, my voice still sounding craggy after the anesthesia.

“It won’t take long,” she says.

Sighing, I wave her inside.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” the nurse says cheerily, grabbing her little cart and heading for the door. “Give a shout if you need anything.”

“Thanks. Will do,” I say.

“Detective Smith,” Tamsyn says, hanging up and coming over to join us.

“Ms. Scott. I’m glad you’re here, too,” Detective Smith says. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve been on the phone with the prosecutor’s office. They’ll contact your lawyer directly, but they’re dropping all charges against you and issuing a statement that due to the receipt of additional information, they now believe you had nothing to do with your wife’s death. Daniel will be charged as soon as he’s released. We’ve got a guard on him until then.”

“Oh, thank God,” Tamsyn says. “That means your company will bounce back, right, Lucien?”

“Yeah,” I say. Good news all around. But I feel strangely hollow. “How’s Winwood? The nurses won’t tell us anything because of privacy issues.”

“He’s good,” Detective Smith says. “I was down in his room a little while ago. “He’s got a concussion, but they’ll probably let him go tomorrow.”

I give her a pointed look. “I hope no one in your department is thinking about charginghimwith anything.”

There’s a pause.

“While we don’t love it when witnesses take off with crucial evidence, we don’t see any benefit to pursuing charges against Winwood at this time.”

Tamsyn and I exchange a swift look of relief.

“Good,” Tamsyn says.

“Mr. Winter,” Detective Smith says, picking her words with the care of a soldier tiptoeing through a minefield on stilts, “I just want to issue my personal regrets for —”

I wave one of my sore and badly bruised hands to stop her, wincing against the pain. I wouldn’t have been so merciless with Daniel’s face if I’d known how much it would hurtme. To my surprise, I don’t want or need to hear her apology. “Forget it. You were doing your job. I know I looked guilty.”

Detective Smith seems startled. “That’s very gracious of you.”

I take Tamsyn’s hand and hold it. “I’m feeling very gracious right now. You know what would make me feel even better?”

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