But then, as she stared at it, she realized what it was.
Chapter 15
"Finally! My God, Clay, are you all right?"
At the sound of his youngest sister's voice, Clay shifted the phone to his other ear, shoved a kitchen chair out from the table with his foot, and slouched into it. He'd been lifting weights again, concentrating on building up the strength in his legs while giving his arm a chance to heal. Lately he always seemed to be prowling around the house, looking for something rigorous enough to occupy his mind and his body, and lifting seemed to be his most effective diversion. Especially during the past five days, while he'd been trying so hard to keep his promise to Chief McCormick.
He didn't see any point in phoning Allie to say they couldn't see each other again. It was better to leave the situation exactly as it was. Hearing her voice would only weaken his resolve.
"I'm fine," he told Molly, balling up the T-shirt he'd removed just before she called and using it to mop his forehead.
"I heard someone shot you!"
Clay had taken off the bandages he'd worn the first two days, and could see that the wound had already scabbed over. "It's only a scratch."
"That's not what Grace told me."
"Are you going to take Henny-penny's word for it, or mine?" he asked with a lazy smile.
"Henny-penny's, I guess, because Mom's been just as worried as Grace."
In the middle of her suffering over the loss of her married boyfriend, maybe. Clay didn't know who was feeling more deprived these days--he or his mother.
"And Madeline's been more upset than both of them," Molly added.
"I'm fine. You'll see for yourself when you get here. You're still coming, right?"
"I fly in next week. Has the sheriff's department figured out who shot at you?"
"No. They're relying on our local department for help, and I don't get the impression the Stillwater P.D. is too interested in solving the case."
"Why not?"
"This may come as a surprise, but I'm not as popular as our beloved stepfather was."
"Shows you what they know. There's no comparison between the kind of man you are and the monster Barker was."
"Yeah, well, that's the best-kept secret in town, remember?"
"I remember. What's the latest word on Grace's baby? Any labor pains?"
His chair squeaked against the hardwood floor as he shifted. "Not yet. But she's only two days overdue."
" Only? Doesn't that mean she's done?"
"Jeez, you know less about having babies than I do," he said with a laugh. "What, there are no newborns in the Big Apple?"
"All my friends are single. Besides, I make it a point not to worry about that sort of thing.
There'll be plenty of time for that later."
For her, maybe. He propped his legs on the opposite chair. "Don't want those maternal instincts kicking in just yet, eh?"
"Not until I find the right man."
"From what I hear, you're not looking very hard."
"You're older than I am," she said.
Exactly. But when he saw where the conversation was going, he made an effort to guide it back to safer ground. "The doctor said he'll let Grace go for two weeks before he induces."
"Induces? Wow, I think you're the first man I've ever heard use that term--about having a baby, I mean."
He chuckled. "You know me. I'm up on all things feminine, thanks to my softer side."
"You mean the one most people don't know about?"
"Crying isn't good for my image."
"I don't think anything could harm your image," she said wryly.
"How's New York?"
"It's the place to be. I'm still waiting for you to visit me here, by the way."
"Maybe I'll do that someday," he said, although they both knew chances were better that he wouldn't.
The phone clicked, telling Clay he had another call, but he didn't bother to check who it was. Probably Beth Ann. Again. He'd contacted her earlier to determine whether or not she'd had anything to do with the shooting. She'd adamantly denied it, and provided him with an alibi that had been easy to verify--she'd been at the pool hall the night of the shooting. Then she'd called him several times to make sure he believed her. She'd even offered to bring him some homemade soup.
When he'd insisted he didn't need soup, she'd launched into a big spiel about how they should at least be friends.
They hadn't been friends when they were sleeping together. He didn't see why that would change now that they weren't. But he'd told her he might call her later, just so he could get off the phone.
"You could bring Allie McCormick to the city with you," Molly said.
Clay tossed his sweat-dampened T-shirt across the room. Evidently Grace, Irene and Madeline had been doing some talking. "Why would I want to do that?"
"Because you like her."
"Who says?"
"You'd have to like her, to sleep with a cop. Not to mention that she's the daughter of the man our mother's having an affair with."
"Mom broke off that relationship."
"I know, but do you think that's going to make any difference to Allie if she finds out?"
"I'm hoping it'll mean she won't find out."
"I don't blame you." She spoke to someone in the background, then came back on the line.
"So does she know how you feel?"
"Molly, I don't even know how I feel," he said, growing exasperated. "Anyway, it doesn't matter."
"Why?"
"Why do you think?"
"Clay--" Molly started. Fortunately, Clay's call waiting beeped again. And this time, he was eager for the interruption.
"Hang on a sec."
He was pretty sure she muttered something about how he was a stubborn son of a bitch who didn't know what was good for him, but he didn't hear the rest of it because he switched to his other call in the middle of her diatribe. "Hello?"
"It's me." Grace.
"What's up?"
"The baby's coming."
He jumped to his feet. "Now?"
She laughed. "Yes, but don't freak out, okay? It's going to take some time. I just wanted to tell you we're on our way to the hospital. Would you like to come along or wait for word at home?"
"What about the boys? Do you need me to watch them?"
"No. We've got a sitter lined up."
"Then I'll grab a shower and head over to the hospital," he said. "Molly's on the other line.
I'll let her know it's time."