A sharp rap on the door has both of us turning our faces that way. It swings open, and Dee Switzer is strolling into my room. She's wearing a pair of jeans, a button-down plaid blouse, and matronly loafers. Her hair is, as ever, styled into the puffed-up, helmet-looking thing.
"Jesus, Carson," she says as she leans over my bed to peer at me. "You look like shit."
"What in the hell are you doing here?" I ask... bewildered by her presence.
"Fellow by the name of Matt Connover called me... said you'd pissed off the wrong white-collar criminal and got shanked."
Fucking Matt.
I had most definitely not wanted the feds to know what I had been up to at this point, because the manner in which I was digging into Carrington's life was illegal.
"I got mugged," I tell her firmly, pleased that the lie sounds natural.
"You got warned," she corrects me, and then pulls the other chair up to the side of my bed. She looks across at Mac, and then back at me pointedly.
"Sorry," I mutter. "Dee Switzer, this is my law partner, Mac Connover."
The ladies actually stand out of their respective chairs and shake hands across me.
Fucking ridiculous.
When Dee sits back down, she reaches in to her purse and pulls out a little mini recorder. "Now, you have obviously found something about Luke Carrington, so I'm going to get your statement and we're going to get the local police to investigate your attack."
"Absolutely not," I say, rising up out of the bed into a sitting position. I fight the nausea by taking a deep breath. "You're not taking my statement, and you're not setting the police on him for my attack."
"Why not?" she asks as she lowers the recorder down to her lap.
"Because I'm on to something and don't want to waste time. If you want to take the Carringtons down, forget about trying to pin my attack on him. Let me work on the good stuff."
"What exactly did you find so far?" Dee asks with a sigh, going ahead and dropping the recorder back in her purse. It's her silent acceptance to heed my wishes at this point.
"I've confirmed that Luke Carrington and Emiel Coppens know each other."
"That's not much," she grumbles.
"It's enough that he sent someone after me."
"Fair point. But you know I can't spare any resources to help you. I only approached Macy because that would have been an easy way to get some more criminal evidence on her father. But I'm not authorized to pursue him in this manner."
"I got it," I assure her. "This is on my dime, my time."
"You need to get me dirt in a legal manner," she warns as she stands from her chair.
"Understood."
"Okay then... get some rest," she says before turning to look at Mac. "Nice meeting you."
"Same here," Mac says with a smile.
After Dee leaves, Mac turns to me. "Just exactly how are you funding this investigation into Luke's ties with Coppens? I happen to know exactly how much money you make, partner, and it's not enough to pay for something like this."
"I pulled some money out of my 401K," I tell her distractedly, my mind already spinning on how I'm going to approach Macy once I get out of this hospital. Because I'm not just accepting her last words that we're over.
"Cal," Mac chides. "You can't dip into your retirement for something that may never turn up anything. It's a fool's quest."
"It's already done," I tell her. "Now, when can I get out of here?"
"The doctor said probably tomorrow. He'll examine you on morning rounds."
"And what do you think my chances are of Macy talking to me when I get out?"
"Slim to none," she says sadly.
I definitely have my work cut out for me.
Chapter 19
Macy proves to be one stubborn woman.
For three solid days, I've pelted her with phone calls and texts, asking--no begging--her to talk to me. She doesn't even have the courtesy to send a response that says, Fuck off.
Even Mac is frustrated with her. Apparently, as soon as Macy left my hospital room, she enlisted Mac's help to go to my apartment, get her luggage filled with clothes, and haul it straight over to Mac and Matt's apartment. It's my understanding that Macy is currently camped out in Gabe's room, and Gabe is sleeping on the couch when he comes to visit.
Mac's not frustrated with Macy because she's staying there. On the contrary, Mac told Macy she could stay as long as she wanted, although Mac secretly confessed to me on my first day back at work that she's banking on me winning Macy's heart sooner rather than later so she'll move back in with me.
The frustration Mac has with Macy stems from her refusal to talk to me. She thinks Macy is being immature and disrespectful to me. Apparently, it's caused quite a rift between the two best friends, and it warms my heart that Mac isn't backing down and has effectively taken my side.
Bet Macy didn't see that one coming.
So while I continue to assault her from one angle, and Mac continues from another, the only other thing I can do to occupy my time is practice law and check frequently with Keith Marlow for updates. So far, he's not found any other information that could incriminate Luke Carrington. This frustrates me greatly because I know the sooner I end him, the sooner Macy will be free to come back to me.
I get up from my desk to stretch my back. My muscles are sore around the wound area and the stitches itch like a motherfucker, but overall, I'm doing quite well. I'm even sort of thankful to the thug who stabbed me, as he's apparently a true artist at delivering the perfect warning.
Grabbing my coffee cup from my desk, I head to the break room for a refill. I'm expecting an update from Keith this afternoon, and my hopes are riding high that he's found something. I'm trying not to get frustrated and keep a measure of patience, but it's fucking killing me not being with Macy.
If she'd just talk to me.
If I could just get her alone for a few minutes, I'm sure I could reason with her.
At the very least, I could probably fuck some sense in to her.
I can't help the smile as I see Matt when I walk into the break room. He's sitting at one of the tables, flipping through a newspaper and picking at a donut that sits beside him. He glances up and gives me a smile in return. "What's up?"
It's so fucking weird how our relationship has changed so drastically in the last few months. I never thought I'd ever see the day where I'd be able to call Matt Connover my friend again, and yet, here we are... two morons smiling stupidly at each other.
"Not much," I tell him. "Just getting my second dose of caffeine for the day."
"Any word from the investigator?" he asks.
Since the stabbing, I've filled Mac and Matt in on everything I've done up to this point. While Mac is still very concerned about me continuing to pursue Luke Carrington, she's grudgingly accepted it. Matt, on the other hand, thinks what I'm doing is "cool as fucking shit".
His words, not mine.
Both of them, however, touched me deeply when they offered up their own money to help finance the investigation. This, of course, I declined.
This was my battle.
I was Macy's knight.
I alone would slay her dragons.
"I'm supposed to talk to Keith this afternoon to get an update. I wish he'd hurry the hell up and find something."
"Dude... it's only been four days since he confronted Coppens. Give the man a break."
I sigh inwardly, because Matt's right... of course.
"Listen," Matt says as he stands up from the table. He grabs the donut, tosses it in the trash can, and then walks over to the sink to wash his hands. "I personally think you and Mac are handling this thing with Macy all wrong. You're doing nothing more than sending pitiful texts, and Mac's trying to browbeat her into talking to you. Macy's never going to fall for that shit. Plus, she's still pissed at you for even sticking your neck out like you did."
He's preaching to the choir at this point.
"So, what do you suggest I do? It's not like I can ba
rge into your apartment and demand she talk to me."
"That's true," Matt says as he dries his hands on some paper towels before discarding them. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his keys. He works a single one off the ring and tosses it at me. "But doesn't mean you can't let yourself in and wait for her. She gets home from The Faith Mission at five-thirty."
I stare down at the key as if it's the Holy Grail. "Are you serious?"