“Don’t you tell them lies, girl.” Delilah’s dark eyes flashed as she craned her neck to see Jamica past Victoria. “And you be polite now. We got company.”
“She ain’t company. She a therapist. And why you need her anyway? I thought the surgery supposed to fix you. Ain’t you supposed to go to therapy like everybody else? You don’t gotta bring a bunch of strangers in here.”
Victoria straightened and stepped to the side so Delilah could see her daughter. Better not to try to check the incision in the middle of an argument.
“Why you so edgy?” Delilah’s eyes narrowed at Jamica.
The girl tried for a shrug, but the obvious tension in her shoulders wouldn’t cooperate enough to convince anyone of nonchalance.
The notes of Chopin’s Nocturne No. 9 broke through the tension. Victoria’s ringtone. “Excuse me.” She peeled off her glove and grabbed her phone from another pocket in her bag. She’d have to thank the caller who had such perfect timing.
Relief slid through her as she stepped out of the line of fire and glanced at the caller ID.
CareFull Home Health.
She pressed the phone to her ear. “Victoria Weston.”
Delilah and Jamica restarted their verbal sparring before Victoria could clearly hear the voice on the other end of the line.
She covered her left ear with her fingers. “Ginny?”
“Hey, yeah. What’s with all the noise?”
“I’m at the Trents’.”
“Oh, gotcha. At it again. At least you know I wasn’t making it up.”
“I was aware of that from my first visit.” Victoria chose her words carefully, though with the shouting match going on, it was doubtful Jamica or Delilah would hear a word she said.
“Yeah. They sound pretty heated this time. You good alone there?”
“I believe so.” Though Victoria wouldn’t mind wrapping up the visit as soon as possible. “What did you need?”
“Oh, Dr. Tennison’s office called with a question about?—”
A slam cracked through the house.
Victoria jerked to see the front door bounce back from where it must have been smacked into the wall.
A tall man in a dark jacket stood in the doorway, a red bandana layered under a black winter hat on his head and fury twisting his features.
Light glinted off something in his hand.
Was that?—
The long, silver blade left no doubt. He was holding a knife.
Chapter
Two
“And this is the office area where we all…” Racquelle Leath, the CareFull Home Health clinical manager, let the sentence stall as she led Cillian Doherty around the corner. Probably listening to the high-pitched, female voice infused with what sounded like fright.
“Are you there? Victoria?”
The name pierced Cillian’s chest. Victoria. The woman who had brought him here.
“She just hung up. What should we do?” A young redhead standing by a long desk aimed her panic at a seated brunette, her eyes bugging out of her head.
