Eleven
Paul Watts entered the hospital elevator and jabbed the button for the fourth floor with more force than necessary. In two hours he was leaving Charleston to attend a week-long cybersecurity conference. His gut told him this was a mistake. His eighty-five-year-old grandfather’s medical situation wasn’t improving. Grady had been hospitalized six days earlier with cerebral edema, a complication arising from the massive stroke he’d suffered three months earlier that had affected his speech and left one side of his body paralyzed. In the midst of this latest medical crisis, the family worried that Grady wouldn’t last much longer. Which was why Paul was rethinking his trip.
Despite the excellent care he was receiving from the doctors, the Watts family patriarch was failing to rally. At first the doctors and physical therapists had agreed that the likelihood of Grady making a full recovery was better than average given his excellent health before the stroke and his impossibly strong will. But he hadn’t mended. And he hadn’t fought. The stroke had stolen more than his voice and muscle control. It had broken Grady Watts.
Although he’d stepped down as CEO of the family shipping empire a decade earlier and turned over the day-to-day running of the corporation to Paul’s father, Grady had remained as chairman of the board. Not one to slow down, he’d kept busy in “retirement” by sitting on the boards of several organizations and maintained an active social life.
Accustomed to his grandfather’s tireless vigor, stubbornness and unapologetic outspokenness, Paul couldn’t understand why Grady wouldn’t strive to get well, and thanks to the strained relationship between them, Paul was unlikely to get answers. Their estrangement was an ache that never went away. Still, Paul refused to regret his decision to pursue a career in cybersecurity rather than join the family business. Stopping bad guys satisfied his need for justice in a way that running the family shipping company never would.
The elevator doors opened and Paul stepped into the bright, sterile corridor that ran past the nurses’ station. He offered brief nods to the caregivers behind the desk as he strode the far-too-familiar hallways that led to his grandfather’s private room.
His steps slowed as he neared where Grady lay so still and beaten. No one would ever accuse Paul of being fainthearted, but he dreaded what he’d find when he entered the room. Every aspect of his life had been influenced by his grandfather’s robust personality and Grady’s current frailty caused Paul no small amount of dismay. Just as his grandfather had lost the will to go on, Paul’s confidence had turned into desperation. He would do or support anything that would inspire Grady to fight his way back to them.
Reaching his grandfather’s room, Paul gathered a deep breath. As he braced himself to enter, a thread of music drifted through the small gap between the door and frame. A woman was singing something sweet and uplifting. Paul didn’t recognize the pure, clear voice and perfect pitch as belonging to anyone in his family. Perhaps it was one of the nurses. Had one of them discovered that his grandfather loved all kinds of music?
Paul pushed open the door and stepped into his grandfather’s dimly lit room. The sight that greeted him stopped him dead in his tracks. Grady lay perfectly still, his skin gray and waxy. If not for the reassuring beep of the heart monitor, Paul might’ve guessed his grandfather had already passed.
On the far side of the bed, her back to the darkened window, a stranger held Grady’s hand. Despite her fond and gentle expression, Paul went on instant alert. She wasn’t the nurse he’d expected. In fact, she wasn’t any sort of ordinary visitor. More like someone who’d wandered away from an amusement park. Or the sixth-floor psychiatric ward.
Pretty, slender and in her midtwenties, she wore some sort of costume composed of a lavender peasant dress and a blond wig fastened into a thick braid and adorned with fake flowers. Enormous hazel eyes dominated a narrow face with high cheekbones and a pointed chin. She looked like a doll come to life.
Paul was so startled that he forgot to moderate his voice. “Who are you?”
The question reverberated in the small space, causing the woman to break off midsong. Her eyes went wide and she froze like a deer caught in headlights. Her rosy lips parted on a startled breath and her chest rose on an inhalation, but Paul fired off another question before she answered the first.
“What are you doing in my grandfather’s room?”
“I’m...” Her gaze darted past him toward the open door.
“Geez, Paul, calm the hell down,” said a voice from behind him. It was his younger brother, Ethan. His softer tone suited the hospital room far better than Paul’s sharp bluster. “I heard you all the way down the hall. You’re going to upset Grady.”
Now Paul noticed that his grandfather’s eyes were open and his mouth was working as if he had an opinion he wanted to share. The stroke had left him unable to form the words that let him communicate, but there was no question Grady was agitated. His right hand fluttered. The woman’s bright gaze flicked from Paul to Grady and back.
“Sorry, Grady.” Paul advanced to his grandfather’s bedside and lightly squeezed the old man’s cool, dry fingers, noting the tremble in his knobby knuckles. “I came by to check on you. I was surprised to see this stranger in your room.” He glanced toward the oddly dressed woman and spoke in a low growl. “I don’t know who you are, but you shouldn’t be here.”
“Yes, she should.” Ethan came to stand beside Paul, behaving as if introducing his brother to a woman dressed in costume was perfectly ordinary.
This lack of concern made Paul’s blood pressure rise. “You know her?”
“Yes, this is Lia Marsh.”
“Hello,” she said, her bright sweet voice like tinkling crystal.
As soon as Ethan had entered the room her manner had begun to relax. Obviously she viewed Paul’s brother as an ally. Now she offered Paul a winsome smile. If she thought her charm would blunt the keen edge of his suspicion, she had no idea who she was dealing with. Still, he found the anxiety that had plagued him in recent days easing. A confusing and unexpected sense of peace trickled through him as Grady’s faded green eyes focused on Lia Marsh. He seemed happy to have her by his side, weird costume and all.
“I don’t understand what she’s doing here,” Paul complained, grappling to comprehend this out-of-control situation.
“She came to cheer up our grandfather.” Ethan set a comforting hand on their grandfather’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he told the older man. “I’ll explain everything to Paul.”
What was there to explain?
During the brothers’ exchange, the woman squeezed Grady’s hand. “I’ve really enjoyed our time together today,” she said, her musical voice a soothing oasis in the tense room. “I’ll come back and visit more with you later.”
Grady made an unhappy noise, but she was already moving toward the foot of the bed. Paul ignored his grandfather’s protest and shifted to intercept her.
“No, you won’t,” he declared.
“I understand,” she said, but her expression reflected dismay and a trace of disapproval. Her gaze flicked to Ethan. A warm smile curved her lips. “I’ll see you later.”
Embroidered skirt swishing, she moved toward the exit, leaving a ribbon of floral perfume trailing in her wake. Paul caught himself breathing her in and expelled the tantalizing scent from his lungs in a vigorous huff. The energy in the room plummeted as she disappeared through the doorway and, to his profound dismay, Paul was struck by