Ricardo licks his lips. “What if the killer tried to poison her tonight because they think she knows who they are. Like she saw them driving the car?”
His words reverberate through the car, and as soon as they hit my brain I know he’s right. Whoever the culprit is, they’re afraid Gul saw them when she was outside that night. That’s why they attacked her tonight. I still don’t know why she was outside in the first place, but that doesn’t matter now.
The chemical smell of industrial cleaning supplies nearly makes my eyes water as I argue with the nurse at the station closest to the ER. She crosses her arms and turns away from me, unwilling to tell me anything about Gul, wouldn’t even admit she was being cared for in the ER, even though I literally followed the ambulance here and know she’s somewhere behind the heavy metal door. No matter how much I turn on the charm, use my politician’s smile, the woman isn’t budging.
Pursing my lips, I pace over the shiny linoleum floor to where Ricardo is sitting in a chair in the waiting area, chin in his palms. Running one hand over the nape of his neck, I coil my fingers in his curls.
The sounds of nurses making announcements over the intercom blurs as I tune it out, along with the beeping of hospital machines, and the ding of the nearby elevator.
Reaching up, he grabs my free hand and brings it to his lips. “You okay, mon coeur? We’re going to figure this out and catch whoever is responsible.”
I sit down beside him, and he slings his arm around me, drawing me closer so he can rest his head against mine.
A sigh takes shape between us. “You’re a lot sweeter than you pretend to be. Why the front, playboy?”
I can feel him smiling against my temple. “Because if anyone knew I was a big softie, I wouldn’t get nearly as many girls.”
I snort. “Please. Girls love big softies. Even me. My parents too.”
He looks down at me, one eyebrow quirked. “You asking me to meet your parents? I accept. I’ll charm them so well they’ll vote to keep me instead of you.”
“You’re not so far off,” I whisper, shoulders slumping.
“Hey, hey,” Ricardo breathes, lifting my chin until I meet his eyes. “I wasn’t serious. Your parents love you dearly. Even if they’re terrible at showing it.”
Swiping at my eyes to combat the prickling sensation behind my lids, I nod. “You’re right.” But I’m not so sure. Ricardo is handsome, charming, intelligent. I’m pretty sure my parents would love him. Which is why I have to win that internship and prove myself. I’ll be the best political intern ever, and then Daddy will have to take me seriously.
“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Ricardo whispers, his breath hot on my face. “I talked to my mom the other day.”
I rear back, surprised. “You what? I thought you were stonewalling her. What happened?”
He shrugs. “She’s been so persistent. I got tired of ignoring her. It’s exhausting, so I let her talk, and heard her out.”
My eyebrows rise in a prompt to bid him to continue.
It’s Ricardo’s time to duck his gaze away from mine. “She wants me to go back to Haiti with her. Finish my schooling there. Work with her at the community center she started. They need teachers, apparently.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re not going, are you? That would be insane.”
He gives a forced laugh. “And leave my best girl? Of course not. She hasn’t been in my life for ten years, and I’m fine. I don’t need her now.”
But I can tell by his furtive glance that he doesn’t mean it. Despite the fact that she abandoned him over a decade ago, he wants his mother back in his life.
I can’t blame him. But a larger part of me—the selfish part—doesn’t want him to go. “First of all, I’m your only girl. Second of all, you cannot drop everything to go back to Haiti. You’ll have all summer to see her, right?”
He gives an assenting jerk of his chin. It’s not very reassuring.
A commotion down the hall pulls my attention away from Ricardo.
A nurse is walking backward, trying to console a woman in a bejeweled salwar kameez and head scarf. Her pristine English is sharp with pain. Next to her is a portly man in an impeccably tailored suit.
Gul’s parents are here.
I’m out of my chair even before I can formulate what I’m going to say. “Minister Abidi. Mrs. Abidi, on behalf of myself and everyone at Embassy Academy, we are so sorry for what happened to Gul.”
Gul’s father barely glances at me before dismissing me. He’s always been that way, preferring to speak to my father and Cal. It’s a common ailment among men in politics, which is one of the reasons I’m determined to succeed. Make the arrogant men take note of a pretty, intelligent, powerful woman.
Mrs. Abidi, on the other hand, sobs and pulls me in for a hug. She murmurs as she holds me tight against her chest. “Thank you, thank you. They tell us she’s going to be fine. We’re going in to see her now. Would you like to come?”
Success! I bite back the smile that bids for placement on my face, knowing now isn’t the time. “No, please. I wouldn’t intrude on your time with your daughter, but later, once everything has settled down, I’d like to see her. Would that be all right?”
Mrs. Abidi nods, grateful, and then the two of them follow the nurse behind the double doors into the ER.
I retreat to where Ricardo is sitting and plop down in the chair beside him. Now all we can do is wait.
29
Angry, red patches mar Gul’s face and neck, congregating around her swollen, red lips, which cut like a malicious slash across her puffy face. Her hair streams over the pillow in snarls and knots, like a den of snakes startled by a rock thrown into their midst. She purses her cracked and dry lips together as I step behind the curtain into her little cubicle, her eyes never leaving me.
“I don’t have long. Your mom said I could come back to say hi.”
Gul crosses her arms, careful not to knock the IV embedded in the back of her hand. “What do you want?” The words grate over my ears as they claw their way out of her throat. Her eyes skim past me to where Ricardo is standing just inside the curtain that separates this cubicle from the main floor of the ER.
Somewhere nearby, a machine begins beeping loudly, followed by a hospital worker calling out a code over the intercom system.
I tune out the noise and sit boldly down on the edge of Gul’s bed. “I’m sorry about tonight. I can assure you that I took every precaution to make sure this wouldn’t happen.”
Gul’s dark eyes are wide and luminous when I meet them. The accusation there is unmistakable.
I glance over my shoulder at Ricardo, who nods. “I found something I need to show you.”
Gul shifts under the scratchy blue hospital blanket. She takes a slow sip from the large tan plastic tumbler on the rolling stand beside her bed, as if the water burns as it slides down her throat. “Okay.”
I tell her everything. My suspicions about her involvement in Professor Rook’s death. The vial of peanuts in my bag. The gut instinct that’s screaming at me that someone at my party tried to kill Gul to get her out of the picture.