“Just … say it,” I said, my heart thudding. I hadn’t anticipated it. Hadn’t really let the idea of it truly enter my mind.
“Mara,” Sam started. “I love you. We were friends for a long time before this. I’ve known you for what, ten years?”
“Something like that.”
“I’m not good at grand gestures. But if you …”
Sam’s phone rang. A second later, mine started to ring. Both of them sat on the coffee table next to us. We froze. I could see the caller ID on Sam’s. It was Gus. The caller ID on mine was Hojo.
“The jury?” Sam said.
I shook my head. “It wouldn’t be Hojo.”
We both reached for our phones, fueled by the same concern. We answered in unison.
“Hello?” I said. I kept my gaze locked with Sam’s as Gus told him the same news I was getting from Hojo.
“Mara,” he said. “I’ve just gotten a call from Deputy Jaffee. He’s over at County Hospital. Claudia Luke called 9-1-1. She found Erin Simmons unresponsive on her living room floor. It looks like she tried to take her own life. They’re treating her now. But it doesn’t look good.”
“Dammit,” Sam said as he nodded then hung up his call with Gus.
“We’re on our way,” I said. “Has anyone gotten a hold of Hayden or George Luke?”
“Working on it now,” Hojo answered. I thanked him and clicked off the call.
“Come on,” Sam said. “I’ll drive. Will? Just keep the chili warm.”
36
“He can’t make decisions for her.”
When Sam and I walked up to bed 8 in the ICU, George Luke was standing outside talking to a hospital employee.
“George?” I said. He turned to me, eyes red.
“Mara,” he said, relief flooding through him. “Maybe you can explain.”
“Anything I can do to help,” I said. I read the employee’s name badge. Emily Lansing. She was a social worker.
“I’m just trying to clear up who Ms. Luke’s patient advocate is,” she says. “Her husband is listed as next of kin.”
“Her husband is in prison for killing my other daughter,” George said, exasperated. “There’s me. I’m her father. Anything you need me to sign, I’ll sign.”
“I’m Mara Brent,” I said. “I’m an assistant prosecutor.”
“Sheriff Cruz,” Sam said.
“Oh dear,” poor Emily Lansing said. “You didn’t happen to bring the probate judge with you, did you?”
“No,” I said. “But if you need some sort of court order, I can help Mr. Luke get that going.”
“No,” Emily said. “Of course not. We’ll go with what we have. I’m sorry. Please let me know if you need anything.”
Emily left to deal with another patient. George looked ready to fall over. I grabbed his elbow and led him to a row of chairs further down the hallway. Sam and I flanked him in the adjoining chairs.
“What happened?” I asked. “How is she?”
George shook his head. “She swallowed pills. Antidepressants, we think. A whole mess of them. She won’t wake up. My God. I’m going to lose her. I’m going to lose my other baby.”
