Through The Eyes Of A Child by Laura Kenner

Author:Laura Kenner [Laura Kenner]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459261587
Publisher: Harlequin

TEN MINUTES AND two false starts later, Matthew stood outside of room 827. Another policeman guarded the door, this time, not as big or as apt to jump to conclusions. He checked Matthew’s driver’s license, paid only mild attention to his press credentials and then allowed him to enter.

Matthew raised his hand to knock on the door then hesitated. If the guard hadn’t been standing there, ready to witness Matthew’s cowardness, he might have left. But after a moment, he drew the deepest breath he could manage, expelled it in a big whoosh and pushed the door open without knocking.

The room was dark with the exception of a small pool of light in the corner from which a soft clicking noise originated. He panicked for a second or two; machines usually meant some form of artificial sup-port Heart? Lungs? Both? Was Carol in worse shape than he’d been told?

“Hello, stranger.” The clicking stopped and some-one shifted into the circle of light

He felt himself relax. “Whatcha knitting, Mrs. F.?”

Miranda Flynn held but her work for inspection. “Slippers for Carol. She’ll need them when she’s up and around.”

He moved closer to his housekeeper/surrogate mother/caretaker. “When will that be?” His voice clogged uncharacteristically.

“Why don’t you ask me, you clod?” Carol’s voice was stronger than he expected, sarcastic as ever.

Matthew’s gut twisted. “Hey, sis.” He moved closer to the head of the bed.

“Turn on the lights. I want to see how old you look.”

It was just like Carol, hiding concern beneath a caustic layer. Mrs. Flynn harrumpted as she found a switch to bring up the room lights slowly.

Carol didn’t look as good as she sounded. A large bandage covered her neck and the side of her head. It was true; she was a peroxided blonde. It looked terrible on her. Both arms were swathed, including her palms. Matthew had reported on too many crime scenes, seen too many victims not to recognize defensive wounds. Carol had fought for her life and lucky for her, had won.

She eyed him critically. “You don’t look too bad. This sabbatical stuff must be agreeing with you.”

He started to agree, then stopped. “How did you know about my sabbatical?”

Carol winced as she nodded toward Mrs. Flynn. “We’ve been talking.”

“About me?”

“‘Me, me, me,”“ she quipped, “Why does every-thing have to be about you?”

“Now, Carol…” Mrs. Flynn tsk-tsked in a patently motherlike way.

Carol looked elsewhere, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “We’ve talked about you. Among other things.”

Mrs. Flynn’s quiet voice filled the sudden void. “Carolyn has also been talking all about Danny. He sounds like a very nice little boy. She’s been quite concerned about him. I told her you might know more.”

A warm flush crept up his neck. “He’s here, you know.”

Carol shifted in bed, growing visibly stiff. “Here? In the hospital?” She glared at Mrs. Flynn. “I thought you said Danny didn’t get hurt.” She turned her agi-tated face toward Matthew. “She said he was—”

Matthew raised a hand to stop her from working herself into a tirade. “Don’t panic.

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