Chapter Seventeen

Trudeau's eyes narrowed into a squint. "What was the purpose of your trip to Maryland?" he demanded.

"I wanted to see Michael Marchetti," Rudy said simply.

"What was the purpose of your visit?" Hansen queried. "Did you plan to kill him?"

"Of course not! I wanted to make sure he understood the magnitude of what he'd done to Jaime – the physical and emotional torture he put her through – but I never made it that far. My car got a flat tire and I got stuck just over the border into Maryland."

"And you walked the rest of the way?" Hansen theorized.

"No. I waited with my car until help arrived. By then, it was getting late. I'd never intended to leave the hospital – and Jaime – for that long."

"Her condition is stable now," Trudeau put in. "Is it not?"

"It is, but as her doctor it is my job to stay on top of every nuance of her physical and emotional state. As her friend, I do so willingly."

"And as her friend," Trudeau interjected, "did you take revenge for the wrongs that were inflicted on her? Did you kill Michael Marchetti?"

"No. I did not. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to return to my patient – who has just been told she's a widow."

"We'll need to question her first," Hansen snapped.

"She's under MY care – and I need to make sure your questions don't set her back. She's been through enough trauma as it is. She is still very fragile."

Oscar nodded. "I think we can let him observe," he suggested. "As long as he doesn't try to influence the proceeding."

"Fair enough," Trudeau grumbled. "Let's go."

- - -

Jaime's emotions had run from A to Z and back again while she was waiting for her 'turn'. She'd gone from stunned (when she first heard the news) to utterly bereft. Soon, her anger flared up, fiery and white-hot. Michael had caused so much misery in such a short time! Jaime was furious with herself, too, for not picking up any signs that things were headed down such a drastically wrong path. As she puzzled over whether there had been anything she possibly could've done to prevent all of this...she grew numb. At least Michael couldn't hurt her – or anyone else – ever again. She no longer had to fear him...or fear what she might be capable of if face-to-face with his insanity.

Idly, she wondered if Hansen and the FBI man realized she could listen to every word they were saying, without even trying very hard. Really, it was more difficult to tune them out, but Jaime genuinely did try. The word widow hit her ear – and slammed directly into her soul. When the four men joined her several minutes later, she was staring at the ceiling and sobbing with her entire heart. She heard their footsteps coming into the room before she actually saw them, and turned her head to the far wall, furiously wiping the tears away before turning back around to face them.

"Guess it's my turn, huh?" she whispered, suddenly terrified of what the next few minutes might bring.

"Can I check my patient first?" Rudy pleaded quietly. The other three men nodded their assent. The doctor stood between Jaime and her interrogators and solemnly took her vital signs, casually tucking her left hand under the cover and out of their sight. His eyes met Jaime's, he saw the fear there...and his heart broke for her.

"I think that's enough," Trudeau said abruptly, signaling with a nod of his head for Rudy to take a seat on the other side of the room. "Now then, Miss Sommers -"

"Mrs. Marchetti," she reminded him.

"I wouldn't think you'd want any part of the man – or his name – after what he did to you," Trudeau said with a slight sneer. He leaned a little closer to the bed. "Maybe that's why you wanted him dead...?"

Jaime glared, no longer really caring what they might think of her. "Go to Hell," she suggested succinctly.

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