“How long will surgery take?”
“I don't know.”
“Prognosis?”
“They haven't said.”
“Has his family been notified?”
“No, but Shannon has put in a request for his next-of-kin details. She should receive phone numbers soon.”
“I can try to reach his mother.” She did not want to be the one to relay this devastating news to Fiona. But someone needed to do it. Immediately. “What went wrong that resulted in this?”
“Cedric took Jude to a remote location. We had trouble receiving immediate information.”
“Did you arrest Cedric and Vincent?”
“We did. They're in custody.”
“I'm on my way to New York.” She wished she hadn't overruled her intuition. Now she needed to do her best to fix that bad decision. She’d ask her Mom to pick up Mabel. Then she’d catch a car, plane, train—whatever would get her to New York soonest.
They ended the call. Her hands were shaking as she ran a search for the phone number of Lavish in Groomsport.
Gemma dialed.
Answer,she urged the employees. It was 4:56 now. They would likely quit for the day in minutes if they hadn't already.
A receptionist answered cheerfully. “Lavish.”
“This is Gemma Clare. I'm Jude Camden's girlfriend and I need to be connected to Fiona Camden immediately. Her son has been injured in New York and is in surgery.”
The woman on the other end made a sound of dismay. “Fiona isn't here at the moment.”
“Please do whatever you have to do to get through to her and give her my number.”
“You said your name was?”
“Gemma Clare.” She rattled off her cell phone number.
* * *
When Fiona received the worst phone call a mother can receive, the one that informs you your child has been injured, her heart stalled, then set off at a panicked pace. She clutched Burke's arm for support.
“What is it?” Burke asked, his own face turning white. He'd been privy to her half of the brief conversation with her receptionist.
They'd been walking through town on their way to enjoy a glass of wine together. She'd been obliviously happy, trusting that her sons, wherever they were in the world this evening, were thriving and fine. The news that Judewasn'tthriving or fine had frozen Earth on its axis. “It's Jude. He's been hurt. In New York. I need to call Gemma.”
He led her to a window seat on the exterior of a shop.
Fiona’s phone pinged with a text from her receptionist containing Gemma's number. She dialed it.
Her imagination was flying to the very darkest places.
Her Jude. Her Jude.
Gemma answered and began explaining and Fiona could hear Gemma's own worry in her voice, but she was speaking with so much compassion for Fiona.
Burke held her hand, his warm steadiness flowing into her.
