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Homicide?
Her wealthy, charismatic husband accused of such an abominable deed was not possible. Only it was possible, or she wouldn’t be sitting in an obscure corner of this godforsaken place.
“You just stay put while I get this mattered straightened out,” Keefe said without further ado. “Then we’ll all be on our way home.”
“Thanks, Keefe,” Maci said, fighting back tears. How could this be happening to her well-ordered world?
Hopefully Keefe could indeed make this nightmare go away.
Moments later Keefe returned, his face as grim as hers. Her heart faltered. Perhaps gaining her husband’s immediate release wasn’t going to be as easy as Keefe had thought.
“The chief wants to see us both.”
Maci stood on unsteady legs, yet when she walked into the rather austere room, she held her head high and her shoulders back. She intended to conduct herself with dignity, and she expected the same from the tall, thin-faced man who was looking at her through narrowed eyes.
Chief Ted Satterwhite introduced himself, then beckoned for both of them to sit in the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked in a deep, hoarse voice indicative of bad sinus drainage.
Both Maci and Keefe politely declined, then Maci asked, “Where is my husband?”
Satterwhite pulled out a big handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped it across his nose before answering, “Waiting to be questioned by the detectives. He’s been read his rights, and has requested that his lawyer be present.”
“Is that necessary?” Maci asked, thankful he didn’t outright blow his nose. She tried to keep her disgust from showing.
“That’s procedure, ma’am.” He pushed back from his desk and crossed a leg over his knee. “That’s how we do things in this department. By the book.”
“I’d like him to go before the judge this afternoon,” Keefe said in a huffy tone as though he resented being talked down to.
“All in good time, Mr. Ryan.”
“Chief—”
“The judge will hear the doctor’s case in the morning.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Keefe declared with a flare of his hand.
Maci groaned, especially when she saw the chief’s features tighten.
“Acceptable or not, that’s the way it is.” Satterwhite’s tone had gone from cool to cold.
His face suffused with unnatural color, Keefe opened his mouth as if to argue, but ultimately ground his jaws together. Maci felt him look at her.
Ignoring Keefe, she faced the chief. “May I please see my husband?”
Satterwhite took his time unfurling his gangly frame to full height. Bastard, Maci thought. He was in his element, lording his control over them. Maci fought the urge to lash out at him, to ask him if he knew who he was toying with.
After all, everyone knew the Ramsey name carried weight in this town. While that hadn’t always been the case, it was now. Her husband was no longer thought of as the downtrodden boy who had defied the odds and made good, but rather as a renowned surgeon. He’d built a stellar reputation in the medical community throughout the entire state of Louisiana. And here in his hometown of Dayton he’d used his wealth and power to the greater good.
Seymour wouldn’t tolerate this method of treatment. But that was before he’d been accused of causing his patient’s death, Maci reminded herself. A negligent homicide charge could relegate him to the bottom of the scum barrel in a heartbeat.
“That can be arranged,” Satterwhite said at last, coming from behind his desk. “Follow me.”
When they walked into the room where Seymour was held, Detective Johnson acknowledged their presence, then left. The chief followed shortly, leaving Maci and Keefe alone with Seymour.
For a moment, a thick, heavy silence prevailed.
“Are you all right?” Maci asked in an unsteady voice.
“I will be, when I get the hell out of here.” Seymour’s eyes darted to Keefe. “I’m assuming you can do that.”
Keefe blew out a long breath. “I can’t until morning.”
Seymour swore.
“Keefe’s doing all he can, Seymour,” Maci pointed out in a calm, soothing tone, hoping to defuse the volatile situation.
“Then it’s not good enough,” Seymour shot back.
Another awkward silence fell over the room. Maci bit down on her lower lip and looked at Seymour. He appeared tired and drawn, yet restless and hyper. Control was what fed him, what made him the man he was, and now that he wasn’t in control, Maci knew he’d be jittery.
Or was he simply acting like a common street junkie who was in the throes of coming off a drug high?
Maci’s stomach hated the path her mind had taken, but she couldn’t avoid the hard cold facts, not when they were being rubbed in her face.
Her husband was a drug addict, and according to the law he was accused of homicide.
“Satterwhite is not someone we…you want to tangle with right now,” Keefe said. “You have to know that.”
“I refuse to stay in this stinking hole overnight.”
Maci crossed to her husband and touched him on the arm. “Don’t do this to yourself. Spending one night—”
He shook off her hand. “I’m not some common criminal, and I resent the hell out of being treated like one.”
“They are accusing you of homicide, Seymour,” Keefe said in a low, even tone. “What do you have to say about that?”
“Dodson’s death was not my fault.”
Maci eyes widened.
Seymour’s smile was humorless. “See, my own wife doesn’t believe me.”
“That’s not true,” Maci snapped, feeling her face flush. “If you tell me you’re not responsible—” Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat.
Seymour stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he focused on Keefe. “What are the exact charges against me?”
“I haven’t had time to read the report,” the attorney responded. “I only know what Maci told me.”
Seymour hit the palm of his hand on the tabletop. “Go talk to that prick Satterwhite then read the report. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. That redneck’s got it in for me, and he doesn’t care who knows it.”
“I sensed the same thing, Keefe,” Maci said, easing down into a straight-backed chair at the table.
“I’ll be right back.” Keefe’s tone was clipped.
Once he had left the room, Maci stared at her husband, noticing the strain weighing heavily on him. “I’m so sorry about this.” Her thoughts jumped to Jonah and she ached to hold him tightly right now.
“Tell me you believe me.”
“I want to, Seymour,” she said, feeling her eyes mist with tears, “but remember I’ve seen you high and it’s not a pretty sight.”
“Okay, so I was using when I operated on Grant, but I had full control of my faculties, for god’s sake. I would never do anything that asinine. You have to know that.”
“I do, but—”
Keefe interrupted her when he