Chapter Twenty-Six

"You can threaten me," Rudy thundered, "and anywhere else, you would outrank me – but this is my hospital and Jaime is my patient! And unless you're prepared to handcuff me and drag me bodily off the premises, I'm telling you that you'll have to wait until tomorrow!" Rudy didn't know exactly how Jaime had been injured – and wasn't sure he wanted to know – but he was certain she hadn't 'fallen off a bench'. Even if she had nothing to hide from the investigators, Rudy thought to himself, Steve was with her. From what Rudy had seen (and if what he suspected was true)...Steve had plenty to hide.

- - -

"He was....already hurt," Jaime countered, trying to temper Steve's guilt with some of her own. "I could've....I mean....maybe...I killed him."

"I struck the last blow," Steve reminded her gently. "And that's what I'll tell the Suits – when you're ready."

"I guess we have to...don't we?"

"It's better if we come forward now instead of waiting 'til they come to us. I think we ought to -" Steve stopped abruptly as Jaime held a finger to her lips, frowning in concentration.

Alerted by Rudy's raised voice, she was tuning in to the conversation down the hall. Suddenly, she slumped back against her pillows, her eyes closed in defeat. "We're too late," she told Steve. "They're already here..."

As if on cue, Hansen and Trudeau burst through the door without knocking, followed by an extremely reluctant Oscar – and by Rudy, his face reddened with fury. Oscar, even though he'd trailed his two cohorts, was the first to reach Jaime's bed. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly. She seemed quite pale and had obviously been crying.

Trudeau brusquely pushed Oscar away. "Goldman, if you can't remain impartial, I suggest you wait in the hallway. Take Colonel Austin and the good doctor with you."

"Nope," Steve said, crossing his arms and stubbornly refusing to budge from his seat at Jaime's side. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I could have you arrested – hold you without even charging you for as long as I damn well -"

"Go for it," Steve said, looking Trudeau straight in the eyes. "Just see how much cooperation you get from me after that."

Trudeau looked from one insubordinate male to the next, and his eyes finally rested on a still-puffed-up Rudy. "Not a chance," Rudy insisted, taking the seat across the room. "You're questioning my patient – against my medical advice. I'm staying."

Trudeau sighed, then turned to glare at Jaime. "Alright, Mrs. Marchetti," he began in a voice dripping with venom. "Tell me why you didn't disclose the fact that your husband called you on the day he died!"

"I didn't remember...I didn't think....that it was relevant..."

"You didn't think it was relevant?" Trudeau thundered. "You speak to the man and a few hours later, he ends up dead!" He leaned over the bed, inches from Jaime's face. "You'd better have a better explanation for your activities than 'I sat by the river'!"

Steve reached up with one arm and carefully but firmly lifted Jaime's interrogator away from her, placing him a safe, decent distance from the bed. "I won't let you treat her like that," he said firmly. "She wants to talk to you, but she doesn't need your threats. If you bully her like that again, I'll -"

"You'll what, Colonel? Just how far would you go to defend her? Hmm? Maybe we should be talking to you, instead."

"Maybe you should," Steve agreed, matching the FBI man in hostility.

"Steve – no!" Jaime sat up in bed and grabbed Steve's arm. "I'm not gonna let you take the blame!"

Rudy stood up and strode over to place himself smack in the middle of the melee. "Neither one of you are taking any blame," he stated calmly. He turned to Trudeau and Hansen. "Gentlemen, I killed Michael Marchetti."

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