Chapter 196

 word count 1165

Trudy yelled until her voice was hoarse, but Buzz was long gone. She stood on the empty street feeling defeated. There was nothing left to do but go in the house and put up with Mrs. Dunn. Just thinking of the snobbish Brit made the petite woman's blood boil. Turning, she made her way to the door only to met by a man coming out. As he slammed the portal, he spotted Trudy and stumbled, blushing a vibrant scarlet which brought out the blue of his startled sapphire eyes.

“Excuse me,” he stammered, running a hand through soft gray hair. “Just leaving.”

Trudy studied him. His shirt was half buttoned and his cheeks flushed. Not a bad looking fellow, but she knew the signs, that breathless glow that only a good roll in the hay could bring. And what was he doing here? The guy spotted her calculating expression and took off running, finally to jump in a car two doors down. It was as though he had something to hide. The reality hit. It can't be, Trudy thought. Mrs. Dunn! She stormed into the quiet house.

She found Winnie in the kitchen making a pot of tea. Upon seeing Trudy, she wobbled a cup she was holding in its saucer, frantically placing it on the table.

“Mrs. Hunt!”

“Oh, don't 'Mrs. Hunt' me! Ya had a man in here. And look at ya!” Trudy scrutinized the older woman. “There's whisker burns on your cheek, hun! And your dress is half unbuttoned...” Trudy stopped short, biting her lip while she added up the facts. Recognition washed over her face. She made a dash for the Mrs. Dunn's bedroom.

“Stop miss, please!” Winnie ran after her. The two fumbled and stumbled up the stairs with Mrs. Dunn's arms outstretched trying to grab Trudy, and the younger woman eluding her grasp. They made it to the second floor with Trudy arriving first. She threw the door to Winnie's room open.

The bed was unmade, pillows on the floor, and the sheets twisted and pulled helter skelter. Trudy stood, hands on hips, glaring at Mrs. Dunn.

“It's just that I was so sad, after hearing about Priscilla. They found her remains, you know. I fought with her frequently, but she was like a daughter to me. I called him. He's an old friend. He came to cheer me up...” Mrs. Dunn looked away and back again.

At first, Trudy was surprised that people Winnie's age still did the deed. But as she studied the woman, she detected a glint in her eye, and the vestiges of long lost beauty lingered in her smile and flushed cheeks. Yes, it was possible.

“It looks like he did a mighty fine job of cheering you up at that!” Trudy looked again at the older woman, beginning to see her in a whole new light.

* * *
Dr. Bigelow fidgeted in bed. He was feeling better, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the doctors declared him well and the police took him back to the precinct for further questioning. If they had to, they'd trump up charges just to put him behind bars. There was no sugar coating it. He was in big trouble.

Well, he'd have none of that. With tremendous effort he scooted his sizable butt inch by inch to the edge of the bed. Luckily the nurse left the metal bars down providing the perfect opportunity to swing his legs over and drop to the ground. When he landed, it was with a colossal grunt. The balls of his feet felt the pressure of his weight bearing down with a vengeance. They hurt like hell. Ambling forward, he peeked toward the door, and the tiny window up top showed no activity outside. The guards were apparently standing to the side out of view, and decidedly lax in their duties. Making his way to the closet, he helped himself to his clothes and with grunts and wheezes squeezed up his pants pulling them on over his hospital gown. Slipping on the shirt, he left it unbuttoned. Then he did his shoes, slipping them on without socks. He looked disheveled, but ready to go. Reaching into his pant pocket, he dug out his cell and moved into the bathroom. He punched in for the operator and asked to be connected to the hospital's front desk.

When the clerk answered, he covered the speaker with his hand to muffle his voice. “There's a bomb in the east wing,” he murmured. "It goes off in 20 minutes.” He flipped the cell shut and waited. If they checked caller ID, it wouldn't show a number for the prepaid phone.

He waited a short time before inching his way to the door and peeked out the window. There was pandemonium in the halls. The hospital intercom blared out a Code Yellow as nurses and doctors scrambled to evacuate patients. His guards were gone. No one was looking. It was a perfect time to escape.

* * *
In the moments before the alarm, Hank sat with Stephanie, next to her hospital bed, quietly holding her hand. It was one of the things he liked about a mature relationship, that ability to sit quietly and not feel the need to fill up the space between them with empty conversation. But then, Stephanie broke the silence.

“Hank, what's been bothering you lately? You've been so short-tempered. Is it me? Is it the stress of the wedding?”

He looked at her, crestfallen. She was blaming herself for his mood. “No, honey, no! I love that we're getting married.” He paused, studying his finger nail. “I think it's just Gil. The guy isn't speaking to me. We were partners for over fifteen years and so easily he cast me aside. I understand why he's mad, but I guess I didn't think he could wipe a friendship like ours off the books with no regrets and no looking back. I guess I thought for sure that by now he'd find a way to get over what I did. I doubted him. It hurt him, I get that. I just wish he could forgive me.”

“Oh Hank,” Stephanie murmured. She hoped and prayed her plan along with Tory's help could fix this.

At that moment, the Code Yellow sounded.

* * *
Buzz and Marisa had just got their second cups of coffee, settled at a small table in the hospital coffee shop when the alarm sounded. He had just finished extending his long leg after kicking off his shoe under the table and “accidentally” rubbing his stockinged foot up the calf of her shapely leg. The expression of both surprise and titillation that washed over the lady cop's face was worth a million bucks. The poor girl almost tipped her steaming cup of Java onto her lap.

But then, the Code Yellow sounded, and Buzz's expression and demeanor switched to all business.