Nikki slipped into a chair, wearing a pair of jeans, navy jacket, and white blouse she’d picked up on the way, replacing the bloodstained outfit she’d been wearing when Ford had been shot. The latest word from the hospital was that he was still in surgery but was expected to make it. She hoped so. Both for Ford and his family’s sake and for Loretta. “We’d like to talk with you for a few minutes about Bridget,” Nikki said. “Did you find her yet?” “I’m sorry, but no.” “And the man I shot. They haven’t told me if he’s still alive.” “The last update we received, he’s in surgery. The doctors are expecting him to pull through.” Loretta pressed her fingers against her temples. “I’ve disappointed my son again. I need to see him again. To try and explain.” Nikki studied the woman’s face, aged, she was sure, beyond her years.
