24 Hours

Good God, Karen thought. Junior League politics. Could anything in the world be less important? She kept moving Stephanie toward the door. “I’ll take care of the cows. You take Josh home and get him some supper. Where’s Caroline?”

The second she asked, she wished she hadn’t. Because Stephanie would now ask where Abby was.

“With my mother,” Stephanie replied. “Which is another reason I’m so stressed. Mom was all set to get her highlights done this afternoon, and then she had to cancel to keep Caroline. Guilt trip from hell, of course. Where’s Abby?”

“With Will’s mother, in the Delta.” They had reached the laundry room. Karen looked back and saw Hickey silhouetted in the kitchen door. Her eyes searched for the outline of the gun.

“Nice meeting you, Joe!” Stephanie called.

“Yeah,” he said.

Karen pushed her into the garage. Sure enough, Stephanie’s white Lexus was parked just behind the Expedition.

“Your cousin looks interesting,” Stephanie said, her eyes twinkling. “A little rough, maybe, but interesting. You sure I didn’t just stumble onto tryst?”

Karen forced a laugh. “Positive. Joe can’t stand me. He’s just here to settle the estate.”

“Well, I hope you get some money out of it.” She pointed at the Avalon parked beside the Expedition. “You need to upgrade your transportation, girl.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Steph. I may be a little late.”

Stephanie had leaned down to strap Josh into his car seat. “Don’t you dare. I cannot handle cow shit, okay? This is not in my contract.”

Karen forced another laugh. Stephanie got into the Lexus, started it, and back around to go down the hill.

Something brushed Karen’s shoulder. Hickey was standing beside her, and she hadn’t even realized it. He waved at the Lexus. Stephanie honked her horn in reply, then disappeared over the lip of the drive.

“Not bad, Mom,” Hickey said. “That skinny bitch owes you her life, and she doesn’t even know it.”

Karen realized she was shaking.

Hickey slapped her lightly on the behind, exactly the way Will would have. “Let’s get back inside. My muffaletta’s getting cold.”

Will’s lecture was nearly done. The first susurrant sounds of dresses shifting on seats had reached his ears from the floor of the darkened ballroom. He had timed the program just right. Behind him, the Hitachi showed a maternal-fetal medicine specialist injecting Restorase into a fetus still in the womb. The fetus had been paralyzed before undergoing a blood transfusion to save its life. Restorase would bring it out of paralysis in a tenth of the time it would normally take.

“And while this particular injection required a good deal of comment,” Will said, “I think this last shot is pretty self-explanatory.”

The pregnant woman’s belly was replaced by a wide-screen sequence of Will teeing off at the Annandale golf course, one recognized by most doctors in the audience. With creative editing, he had made his perfect drive appear to conclude with a stunning hole-in-one. When the ball hit the pin and dropped into the cup—to the accompaniment of Tex-Mex music from Kevin Costner’s Tin Cup—a wild whoop went up from the dark (probably from the throat of Jackson Everett) and enthusiastic applause followed. The lights came up and revealed a laughing, exhilarated audience.

“I’ll be at the Searle booth for two hours tomorrow afternoon,” Will said. “I’ve brought samples of Restorase with me, as well as some of the gas-injection systems I’ve discussed tonight. I look forward to speaking with all of you.”

This time the applause was more sedate, but also more sustained. Saul Stein stood and patted him on the back. Will shook Stein’s hand, then began disconnecting his computer while the MMA president waited for the applause to die. Stein gushed over the presentation, then moved on to announcements regarding the next day’s seminars. Will zipped up his computer case and stepped down from the podium.

He was immediately swallowed by a congratulatory mob that swept him out of the Magnolia Ballroom and into the atrium area. A visual echo of the woman in black remained in his mind, but he saw no sign of her among the smiling faces. For fifteen minutes he shook hands and accepted compliments, but before the real gabbers could trap him, he made for the escalators.

Like all casino hotels, the Beau Rivage made sure its guests had to pass through a carnival of slot machines and gaming tables on their way to and from the meeting rooms. Will’s joints were giving him trouble, but he walked briskly. He wanted to get up to the room and take some more Advil.

He had planned to use the VIP elevators, but as he passed the main elevators, Jackson Everett reached out and pulled him into the waiting area. Everett had another drink in his hand, and the smell of rum came off him like Caribbean perfume. He opened his mouth to say something to Will, but just then an elevator opened and disgorged an elderly woman holding a cigar box full of quarters.

“Take ’em to the cleaners, Grandma!” he yelled. “Break the bank!”

The woman grinned and hurried toward the lobby. Everett pushed Will into the elevator, then followed him. Two more doctors wearing name tags stepped in after them, and the door began to close.

“Hold the door!” cried a female voice.

Will’s right arm shot out to stop the sliding door, despite the pain the sudden move caused him. As the door retracted, the blonde woman in the black dress stepped into the elevator.

“Thanks,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed as though she had been running.

“You’re welcome,” Will replied.

The woman immediately turned and faced the closing doors, leaving him to study the wave of Lauren Bacall hair. The elevator was lined with mirrors and burled wood. Will looked to his right and studied her reflection in profile. The first thing he noticed was Everett and the other two doctors staring at her behind. She clutched her small handbag and looked at the floor, seemingly oblivious to the men behind her. Everett’s gaze was openly lascivious.

“Did you set up that video display, Jennings?” asked one of the docs, whom Will vaguely recognized. “Or did you get some talented secretary to do it?”

“Karen probably did it,” interjected Everett.

“No, I did it. It’s easier than you think.”

“Maybe,” said the first man. “But where do you get the time?”

“I don’t have Jack’s bad habits.”

“Ha,” said Everett. “That from the guy who just developed the ultimate date-rape drug.”

The men fell uncomfortably silent, and the elevator stopped on the eighth floor. The doctors waited, giving the woman time to exit first, but she didn’t move. The one who’d spoken to Will excused himself and brushed past her. Everett reached down and made as if to squeeze her exquisitely round derriere, then laughed and followed the other man out. Instead of walking to his room, he turned back to the elevator and pointed at Will.

“Come on to the casino with us! You’ll love it. And even if you don’t, we’re going to take in a little dancing, later. Know what I mean?”

The woman stiffened.

“I’ve got to call Karen,” Will said, before Everett could get more explicit. “And I’m getting up early for golf. You guys knock the walls out.”

“We always do.” Everett smirked and flicked his eyebrows up and down like Groucho Marx.

Will leaned forward and hit the CLOSE DOOR button.

“Thanks,” the woman said as the doors slid shut.

“He’s okay, really. Just a little drunk.”

She nodded and gave Will a look that told him she was used to such things. The elevator began to ascend. Between floors, Will caught himself staring at her trim figure again. When he looked up, her reflected face was watching him. He blushed and looked at the floor.

Someone behind Will cleared his throat. He’d forgotten the other doctor was still aboard. The elevator stopped again, this time on the thirteenth floor. The stranger got out, but the woman stayed put.

“What’s your floor?” she asked.

“I’m sorry?”