He hesitated. “Now?”
Footsteps approached in the hallway outside.
Kara froze and waited, her pulse skyrocketing as Tate stepped farther into the room, closer to the window. The footsteps slowed.
Oh. Jesus.
She exchanged a frantic gaze with Tate before the footsteps passed by, moving out of earshot.
“Right now,” she said, letting out her breath. There was no time to lose before someone actually did enter her room. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she slid off the bed, her bare feet hitting the floor. “And if you’re wondering what’s in it for you?” she asked, anticipating what he was probably wondering. “You help me get out of here, and then maybe I’ll talk to you. Answer some of your damned questions.”
“Maybe?”
“It hasn’t happened yet, right? But once you have, then okay, for sure.” He might not be the best option to help her, but right now, he was about the only one. She decided to run with it. For now. “Look, the interview you want so badly? You’ve got it.” She saw the skepticism in his expression, as if he were trying to figure her out, see if she was for real.
“Don’t look at me that way. There’s something more than a ride in it for me, too.”
“The proverbial catch.”
“Think of it that way if you have to, but I expect you’ll share.”
“Share?”
“I want to know everything else you find out about Margrove and about the past, the night my family was killed, all about the trial, all of the suspects and what happened to my sister.” She shot him a glance as she slipped from the bed, thought about telling him about the anonymous text, then changed her mind. She wasn’t ready to trust him with everything. Not yet. “This isn’t a one-way street. Right?”
“Right.” But he didn’t seem convinced. Nonetheless, she was running out of options and decided to take a leap of faith and trust him. If only for the moment. “Okay, then. Let’s go.” She was holding the back of her gown closed with her good hand.
“The doctor is on board with this?”
“Of course not. But I don’t care.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll bet the doctor and the staff and security here aren’t on board with you impersonating a hospital worker either.” When he didn’t respond, she threw out, “Am I wrong?”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Asked instead, “You can walk?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Twisted a muscle in my neck, got a couple of bruises, compliments of the airbag, a bruised shoulder, but I’m good.”
“And your head?” He pointed to the bandage on her head.
“Just a bump. They only had me up here, in my own room, to run some tests and make sure I was okay.”
He hesitated, eyes narrowing as if he didn’t believe her.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” she reminded him.
“Fine. I’ll get my car.”
“No. Wait,” she added. “One more thing.”
He paused.
“I want to see my brother first. Before we leave. I need to talk to Jonas.”
“I can’t make that happen.” He was shaking his head. “I told you: he’s under guard.”
“I figured as much, but . . .” She thought for a moment. “All we need is a distraction.”
“A distraction?” He wasn’t buying it and pointed out, “This isn’t a spy movie.”
“Funny you should say that,” she remarked, remembering her own nearly identical thought in the car when Jonas had appeared in her back seat. “You know, seeing as you’re the one in a disguise.”
His lips tightened.
She expected him to argue further, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave a curt nod. “Okay, fine. But hurry. I’m pretty sure I’ve already been seen.”
“Great.” This was actually working out. “You go make the distraction and I’ll meet you. Where are you parked? Not in the lot, I hope.”
“Five or six blocks over. Washington Street between . . . Pine and Larch. Near the old Catholic church, the one they use for meetings and receptions. Not the new one on the next block.”
“What is it with you and church parking lots?”
“They’re empty,” he said. Then winked. “And it’s Christmas.”
“Very funny.” Not. At least not how she felt about this time of year. “Shouldn’t they be full. You know, because it’s Christmas?”