Page 9 of Crashed

The man in the chairacross from her had faded, tired-looking gray eyes. His shoulders bowed forward somewhat, as if he carried a heavy weight.

“I want to assure you that absolutely nobody will know you’re talking to me, Ms. Steele.”

Isabel studied him a long moment before shrugging and looking back out the window. The sky was impossibly blue and the leaves already started to turn golden.

She usually loved this time of year.

Fall was her favorite season and the colors in Richmond were stunningly beautiful.

But all the color had washed out of her world over the past two weeks. No. Longer. More than a month since color, life, joy ...hopehad disappeared.

“My father has people everywhere, Mr. Hawkins,” she said.

He said nothing for a long time. And when he did speak, he sounded puzzled.

“You don’t sound very concerned about that.”

“It’s not a matter of concern.” She lifted one shoulder. “I just don’t care.”

She knew she should. The hospital had a shrink come in to talk to her every other day. That shrink, and the dogged determination of Dr. Vivian Atwell, were the two main reasons why Isabel was still in the hospital after two weeks.

The first week would have been understandable.

She’d started bleeding the day after the baby had been delivered—still-born, just as the doctors had known it would be. It had taken surgery to stop the bleeding.

Her father had strode in on the third day and hauled her out of bed, which tore stitches, both inside and out. She hadn’t attempted to fight as he led her out of the room, even though she’d felt the blood on her thighs in a hot, thick flow.

Doctors and nurses swarmed him, security staff facing down with Wilson’s bodyguards in a stalemate that ended when Isabel collapsed.

She hadn’t woken up for two more days following the surgery needed to repair the damage he’d caused.

The story was leaked to the press and her father, normally so protected and unaffected, was faced with a firestorm of negative publicity from all fronts.

One of his bodyguards was found dead in his home—the reports were suicide but nobody knew what to believe.

His second bodyguard was arrested for trespassing on hospital grounds after being thrown out twice and the judge, a very vocal opponent of Wilson Steele, had denied bail after the second arrest.

All this time, she’d seen her father as the boogeyman and now the public had a glimpse of the monster, too.

It had been Dr. Viv who had come to Isabel about an FBI agent wanting to speak with her. If she was up to it, the doctor would make it happen. If she wasn’t, then the doctor would make sure he stayed away.

Isabel had nothing left to hold onto, so she’d agreed.

She hadn’t been surprised to find out that when he entered, he’d looked familiar. Special Agent in Charge Miles Hawkins had tailed her several times—she’d seen him. Chances are, he’d wanted her to. And now, he wanted her help to put her father away.

But he just sat there.

So she did the same.

A suppressed sigh from Hawkins caught her attention and she looked at him, puzzled by the way he watched her. “What do you want, Agent Hawkins?”

“I’ve already told you that I’d like your help in locking away your father.”

“Yes. So ... why aren’t you asking questions?”

“Frankly because I’m concerned.”

She waited.

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