Ghostwalker 07 - Murder Game

whitened and she covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry. Your wife was killed as well. I'm so sorry."

    Jake shook his head. "We weren't married, but we were having a child."

    "He's going to be fine. He's a little early, but he's very healthy," Chelsey hastened to assure him.

    "How long will he have to stay here?"

    Meaning how much time did he have to set things in motion. He had a vague idea what he wanted to do, but no real plan. It was obvious the staff felt sorry for him. His pregnant girlfriend had run off with another man. Shaina was in the news all the time. The paparazzi loved her and of course Jake wasn't unknown to them, but Shaina's exploits were always food for the gossip magazines and she loved the spotlight.

    The world believed that she'd left Jake broken hearted. In truth, they had despised one another. Her father had filled her with conviction that theTrents were so far above the Bannaconnis—Jake in particular—that she felt she had lowered herself to sleep with him.
    Not that she hadn't enjoyed it and kept coming back for more, but the tabloids only knew what Shaina wanted to feed them. Now that she was dead and sympathy surrounded him, Jake knew he could use that to his advantage.

    "You'll have to talk to the doctor, but for a preemie, he's healthy. Maybe a week, but I honestly couldn't tell you." Chelsey let out a soft sigh. "Emma really wanted a family. It was so important to her and to Andy, because they didn't have anyone at all, so they kept saying they would have a big family."

    Jake raked a hand through his hair. He should have his son immediately transported back to a hospital inTexas and return home. This wasn't his mess to clean up. But he knew he wouldn't. He had looked into Emma Reynold's blue-green eyes and something had opened up in him, something nameless he didn't understand. But regardless, he couldn't walk away.

    A man approached and Jake was instantly aware of

    Chelsey straightening, immediately changing her demeanor to a very professional face.
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    So this was a hospital administrator. Someone had recognized Jake and they were sending the big guns to make certain he was comfortable with his son's treatment.

    "You're burned, Mr. Bannaconni, on your hands and arms. You need to have that taken care of."

    "I didn't even notice," Jake said truthfully.

    He sized the man up as his burns were treated. Dignified. Sincere. This was a man who had too much work, too little time off, and who believed in what he did. And he was fiercely proud of his hospital—Jake could tell that the moment the doctor began showing him around—yet apparently had little money to bring in modern equipment.

    Jake seized the moment, striking where he knew it would do the most good, murmuring about a sizable donation for the care his son had received, asking questions about his child, how long he'd have to stay, what the repercussions of an early birth were and what he could do to better help the hospital care for him. Finally he managed to turn the conversation to Emma Reynolds and how terrible he felt for her situation. What were her injuries? Did she need special doctors? He would be more than happy to fly in who or what they needed to help.

    Dr. John Grogan, head of the hospital, tried to convince Jake that Emma Reynolds wasn't his responsibility.

    Jake looked very grave. "I'm well aware the rest of the world might think that, but it was my girlfriend and her lover who are responsible for the death of Emma's husband and for her injuries. She has no one else. Taking care of bills or making certain she has anything she needs is the least that I can do for her." He glanced around and lowered his voice another octave. "I'd prefer if no reporters know I'm here or that my son is still here."

    Grogan nodded. "We're a small hospital, Mr. Bannaconni, but we're very discreet with our patients."

    Jake let out a relieved sigh and slumped a little to show how tired and upset he was.
    "Please let Emma's doctors know

    I'm willing to help out. I need to see my son now, if that's possible."

    The first step toward becoming involved in Emma's life was accomplished. He let himself be led to the nursery where he was forced to wear a gown, mask, and gloves to stare down at the wrinkled little boy who lay naked in small pan with lights everywhere.

    "How is she today, Chelsey?"