Problem is... I do like it. Too much.
When they reached the coffee shop, Leigh was already helping one of the baristas to fix a poster onto the bare brick wall. She repeated the pattern all along the length of one side of Mustang Boulevard.
“The AAG now has free advertising space in every store she’d been in,” Spencer commented. “Leigh sure is persuasive.”
“She’s also tireless,” Katrina said. “We’ve been following her for two hours and, while she hasn’t paused to even take a sip of water, I’m feeling exhausted and thirsty.”
“Me, too.” Spencer changed direction, turning back toward Java Jane’s. “Let’s take a break. We can catch up with her again later.”
* * *
Spencer observed Katrina’s face as she sipped her fruit smoothie. There was no particular reason; he just enjoyed watching her. It was partly to do with her beauty, but also because she had such expressive features. As she looked around the coffee house at the other customers, he couldn’t quite tell what she was thinking. But he could judge her mood.
It was clear she was still hurting, and he couldn’t blame her for feeling that way. But she was talking to him. Sometimes amicably. Now and then, she’d even smiled. It wasn’t enough for him to expect that she’d ever forgive him. The best he could hope for was that she’d come through this as emotionally unscathed as possible.
He glanced at the clock over the serving counter. “Before we check back with Leigh, how about we go to the hospital to talk to Aidan Hannant?”
Katrina’s eyes widened. “You want me to come with you?”
“If I’m not letting you out of my sight, you’ll have to.” He drained his soda. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Mustang General was located at the far end of downtown Mustang Boulevard, just a short distance away. As he drove through the perfectly manicured grounds, Spencer recalled the last time he’d been here and the failed sting operation. Since then, there had been no change in Payne Colton’s condition.
Aidan Hannant was being treated in the same unit as Payne. The hospital had state-of-the-art facilities, thanks to the support of Colton Oil.
The young cop who was seated outside Aidan’s room got to his feet when Spencer approached.
“How are things here?” Spencer asked.
“All quiet. The medical staff have said the patient is responding well to treatment.”
Spencer thanked him and entered the room with Katrina. Hannant looked smaller than he remembered and, if possible, his face looked even worse. The bruises had developed and become more colorful and the swelling made his eyes appear almost closed. The only reason Spencer could tell he was awake was by the way Hannant muttered something when he saw them.
“I didn’t catch that, Aidan.” He pulled two chairs close to the bed and indicated for Katrina to sit on one while he took the other. “What did you say?”
“Not fit for visitors,” Aidan repeated.
“I won’t keep you long. I just have a few follow-up questions for you.” Although he didn’t respond, Hannant twisted his scratched and swollen fingers in the sheet that had been pulled up to his chest.
“Already told you everything I know.”
“Good to see you talking a little clearer,” Spencer said. “That should make this easier. I want to ask you about the first email you got offering you money to give Katrina a warning.”
“Like I said. I don’t know who sent it.” Even with features like raw hamburger, Hannant managed to look sulky. The guy had also developed an attitude since their last meeting.
“But you accepted the offer. How could the person who sent that email have been sure that you would?”
Hannant’s hands stilled. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Let me put it another way. Most regular guys, if they’d gotten an email like that, would have gone straight to the police with it. I could be wrong, but I’m guessing that the anonymous writer didn’t just fire off dozens or hundreds of copies, then sit back and see who replied.” Spencer leaned forward, his gaze probing Hannant’s face. “I think he, or she, only sent one message, Aidan.”
“I don’t know who sent it, so I can’t say.”
Resting his elbows on the bed, Spencer invaded Hannant’s space a little more. “I’m going to take my speculation one step further. I figure whoever sent that email knew they were on to a safe thing with you. Why? Because they already knew what your answer would be. I’m guessing it was well known that you had money worries.” Now there was a sheen of sweat on Hannant’s brow, and Spencer decided to push him harder. “And you’d already spread the word around that you were available for a little dirty work.”
“You can’t prove that,” Hannant muttered.
Spencer sat back. “You ever drink in Joe’s Bar?”