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"He could very well be."
"We know my mother is not orchestrating anything from her hospital room."
"No, she's not doing that."
"My head is starting to hurt again," she said with a sigh.
He gave her a compassionate smile. "Don't worry too much about your mom."
"But you just said—"
"I know. I made a good case for her to still be a person of interest, mostly because I was thinking it through as I was talking, but I could also make a good case for her being innocent. The timing and location of the other murders would make it doubtful, if not outright impossible, that your mother is the serial killer."
"Well, I'm glad you believe that much. My mom cannot be a serial killer. And I don't believe she knows anything about this painting or is involved in Arthur's murder in any way."
"We'll get to the truth, Callie."
"I know. I want to go home, Flynn. The doctor said he would check me out one more time, and if I had someone willing to stay with me tonight, I could be released. I was thinking I could call Melissa or one of my other friends to come over."
"I'll stay with you tonight. We'll go to my place. I have a good security system. You'll be safe there. I'll make sure of it. You might not believe that after what happened today, but—"
"I do believe it," she interrupted. "I trust you, Flynn, and I promise not to play any more games with information. If I know something, I'll tell you."
"Good."
"I just realized I never finished my conversation with Dr. Clarke. I wonder what he thought when I just disappeared on the call."
"He probably thought you didn't have a signal. Did he say anything about your mom before you got hit?"
"He said she was doing better, that she understands Arthur is dead and that she needs to rest and regroup before she goes home. She's not fighting the hospital stay anymore, and he'd like to keep her at least another day or two. He said she'd like to see me tomorrow morning. That's the last thing I heard."
"That's good news."
"It is. I hope she really does want to see me and not because she wants to tell me what a lousy daughter I am for lying to her and putting her in the hospital."
"She probably doesn't even remember how she got there. But the important thing is she's getting better, and you'll be able to see her tomorrow."
"I'm not going to tell her about this. At least my bump is hidden in my hair, and I don't have a big bruise on my face like you."
"You don't think it's sexy?"
"Oh, I do," she admitted, as his blue gaze darkened. "I kind of think everything about you is sexy." She paused. "I shouldn't have said that; I'm going to blame the painkillers, even though I don't think they're that strong."
He smiled. "I feel the same way about you, and I have no painkillers to blame my truth on."
"This is a terrible time—there couldn't be a worse time, I don't think—to, you know, be attracted to each other."
He smiled. "Don't overthink it."
"I'm really good at overthinking. I like to forecast what's going to happen in advance, then I can be ready. I just don't know that any amount of planning would make me ready for you."
His gaze clung to hers. "You are not like any woman I know."
"I hope that's a compliment, and I hope I'm going to remember it tomorrow."
"I'll tell you again if you don't." He got to his feet as the door opened, his wary expression easing as Savannah walked into the room, accompanied by a handsome man with brown hair and dark eyes.
"Is it okay to come in?" Savannah asked, as they paused inside the doorway.