The Mccaffertys: Matt

“I don’t like this.”

“Of course you don’t. You can’t stand not being in charge.” Matt tugged on his socks and started with his cowboy boots.

“I’d feel better if—”

“For God’s sake, just give it up, okay? I’ll feel better if you’d just shut the hell up and stay here with the kids. Coordinate. Take calls. Be Communications Central. Someone will relieve you soon and you can drive yourself to the hospital and take charge of things there again, okay? Until then, you’re on, ‘Uncle Thorne.’ Now, get out of my way.” Matt shouldered past his older brother, collected Slade and hurried down the stairs. He didn’t have time for any of Thorne’s bogus authority trips. Not now. He grabbed his jacket and hat.

His jaw tightened when he thought of Randi lying vulnerable in the hospital. God, you’d think she’d be safe there!

Outside, the snow had started again and it was cold as hell. Not bothering to button his jacket, he slid behind the wheel of his pickup and, with the flick of a wrist, twisted on the ignition. Slade climbed into the passenger side. “Let’s go.”

Matt threw his truck into gear before Slade had a chance to shut the door.

Who tried to kill his sister?

Why would someone go to such lengths to see that she was dead?

Did someone want to shut her up?

Was it revenge?

Did it have anything to do with her baby and J.R.’s mystery father?

“What the devil’s going on?” he growled, his breath fogging in the frigid air. Worry and fear took turns clawing at his gut, and his fingers clamped around the steering wheel until his knuckles showed white. He squinted through the foggy windshield as the wipers slapped haphazardly over the glass.

What if Randi didn’t make it? What if whoever was trying to kill her was successful?

“I don’t know,” Slade admitted, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes as Matt cranked the wheel at the highway, then gunned the engine. “But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.”

Amen. If nothing else, Matt intended to find out who’d done this to his sister and then he’d beat the living hell out of the bastard.

* * *

St. James Hospital was a madhouse. Word had leaked out to the press that someone had tried to murder a patient, and a television van, camera crew and reporters from two stations were already staked out in front of the front doors. Kelly managed to dodge a microphone thrust toward her by muttering a quick “No comment” as she walked outside. Another reporter was camped out in the lobby, and Kelly shoved her way through doors marked Staff Only to avoid him. She flew up the staircase to the third floor, her boots ringing on the steps, her heart pounding as if it were a drum. Outside the doors of the ICU unit, she nearly ran into Detective Espinoza, two deputies from the sheriff’s department and a policewoman with the Grand Hope force.