"What?"

She'd whispered the news and it sounded like a scolding. He was looking at Noah, wondering what the white streaks were on his face when she'd interrupted. He finally looked at her face. And when he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, he was astonished. She wasn't so tough after all. Not with him, anyway.

"I didn't do it on purpose, sweetheart."

He tried to wipe a tear from her cheek. She pushed his hand away. "I'm going to have to sew you back together again." She was trembling now like an alcoholic who'd gone too long without a drink. "Look at my hands. They're shaking."

"Then we're gonna wait before you pick up a needle and go to work on me."

"You threw yourself in front of me so he'd shoot you. That was very heroic, you big jerk. You could have been killed."

He wouldn't let her push him away this time. Cupping her face with his hands, he whispered, "I love you too."

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Always have a contingency plan. When two police cars came zooming down the drive to the hospital with their lights flashing and their sirens blaring, John knew it was time to leave. He ducked down in his seat-an unnecessary precaution, but instinctive all the same-and turned the ignition, on. He waited a couple of seconds, until he saw the policemen running into the hospital. Then he slowly backed the car out of the parking spot, turned, and eased out of the lot.

He didn't really care if his friends were dead or alive. Why would he? His plans weren't going to be affected, no matter what the outcome.

Even if the police took them alive and they told them everything they knew, it would be too late. And if by some miracle one or two of them escaped, well, that just didn't matter either. John had enough time to get the money from the Sowing Club account transferred to the account in Switzerland he'd set up years ago. He had his laptop with him-he found it curious that Dallas

hadn't questioned him as to why he'd brought it along-and all he had to do was to get to a phone line, type a few commands

on his computer, and he would be set for life.

Getting away quickly was all he cared about now. Within the next few minutes, one of those policemen might come running outside and try to block the main entrance leading into the hospital drive.

"Hmmm," he whispered. There might already be a police car there now. Too risky to chance being stopped, John decided. He backed the car into the lot again, turned around, and then drove at a snail's pace down the tarred service road behind the hospital.

And that was when he spotted Monk hobbling up the hill toward the street. One hand was clutching his side. Had he been shot?

It looked as though he had.

John chuckled. The opportunity was simply too good to pass up. No one was around. No one would see. He owed Monk a considerable amount of money. "Hmmm," he whispered again. Do it, his mind screamed. Do it now.

He seized the moment. Turning the car sharply, he drove over the curb, then pressed his foot down on the accelerator. Monk heard him coming and turned. When he saw John, he stopped and waited.

He thinks I'm going to pick him up. He increased his speed as he got closer. The expression on Monk's face when he realized what was going to happen was hilarious. He looked positively shocked.

John miscalculated, though. He thought Monk would dive to the left and turned the wheel ever so slightly so he could hit him straight on, but Monk leapt the other way, and the car only brushed him as it sped past.

He didn't dare risk backing up and trying again. "Oh, well, you do what you can," he said as he hit the curb and bounced into

the street. Cutting through run-down neighborhood, he reached the main street six blocks away from the hospital and

knew then he was safe.

He picked up his cell phone, dialed the pilot he'd hired months ago, and told him he would arrive at the municipal airport in forty-five minutes. He turned left at the stoplight and headed in the opposite direction from New Orleans. He'd never be able to go back, of course. Even though he had a new identity-the passport was in the case with his computer-he knew he would never return to the United States.

No great loss, he thought. After all, he had millions of dollars to keep him happy. John wasn't one to gloat, but he did just that now. He had, after all, gotten away with murder.

Michelle finished writing orders and then went into recovery to look in on John Patrick. The nurse had led his parents in, and

Daryl and Cherry stood holding hands by their son's bedside. Elliott was outside the door, too upset to do more than peek in at his brother^

"The worst is over," Daryl said. Then he looked at Michelle. "You've been through the wringer tonight too, haven't you? The

police blocked off the steps and the elevators, and we knew something terrible was going on, but we didn't know how bad it was."

"I'm glad we didn't know," Cherry said as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue,

"We could hear the gunshots. Everyone in the hospital could hear them, but we knew you wouldn't let anything happen to John Patrick."

"Dr. Landusky will be here through the night," she said. "But if you'd rather I stay-"

Daryl wouldn't let her finish. "You did your part, and we don't know how we're ever going to repay you. You go on home."

Michelle took the steps down to the emergency room to get Theo. The notion of sleeping for a week sounded glorious. She wondered if he was as tired as she was. She had already stitched his arm again, but he was waiting in the ER, sitting on an exam table with an ice pack on his knee while he talked on the phone.

He hung up as she walked in. "Detectives Underwood and Basham picked up Cameron Lynch. He was in the mood to talk," he added. "First thing he said after they read him his rights was that he wasn't going to take the fall for murdering John's wife. He called it a mercy killing."

"And that made it okay?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I don't know what kind of spin he's putting on it," Theo said. "The bottom line is that he was motivated by money."

He reached out and pulled her into his side and held her around her waist. He needed to have her close, to touch her. There

was a moment upstairs when he had thought he was going to lose her, and he knew he would never ever forget that terror.

He kissed her on the side of her neck. A nurse was standing at the counter watching. He didn't care, and from the way

Michelle leaned into him, he knew she didn't care either.

Noah walked into the ER then.

"What have you got all over your face?" Michelle asked.

He went to the mirror above the sink to look. "Plaster chips and dust I guess," he said as he turned the water on and grabbed a towel.

Theo told him about Cameron while Noah washed his face. "John's already moved the money out of the Cayman account. He

did it with his computer."

"Where'd he transfer it?" Noah asked.

"Don't know yet, but Underwood has people working on it. It's an interesting group," he commented.

"The Sowing Club? What's interesting about four deviants?" Noah asked. He wiped his face dry with the towel and dropped it

into the sink. Then he turned around, folded his arms across his chest, and waited for Theo to explain.

"When John first set the account up, he told his friends that all four of them would have to go to the bank to get any money out.

It was a safeguard, he'd explained, but that obviously wasn't the truth. He played them from the beginning, and Dallas and Preston and Cameron were fools to keep on trusting him after he manipulated them into helping hire the hit on his wife."