Okay, maybe Geoff had tried to share her burdens, but he always insisted on doing things his way. That had been one of the problems between them. They handled situations so differently.
Moments later, he stepped back into the room with two mugs of coffee. “The nurse took pity on us.”
“Thanks.” Shona took one and inhaled the steam that rose from the hot liquid.
“Cream, no sugar,” he said. “I tried to get you decaf, but that pot was empty. You have enough to worry about without more stress. Are you still trying to cut back on caffeine?”
She knew he was trying to distract her. He’d always been good at that. And she had often resented the tactic. “Trying, but I haven’t—”
The door opened, and in stepped the doctor who had led her father’s medical team. Shona froze.
“Mrs. Tremaine? I’m Dr. Morris.” He wore a fresh, white coat, but his green scrubs were still bloodstained.
“Yes, Doctor,” Shona said. “How is my father?”
Dr. Morris gestured for Shona and Geoff to sit on the love seat. He sat across from them on the recliner. “I’ve asked our hospital chaplain to join us. He’s on his way.”
Shona felt her strength drain away at his words. “You can just tell us, Doctor. I don’t need a preacher to translate for me.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Tremaine, we did all we could to resuscitate your father. He responded for a few minutes, and then succumbed. Kemper MacDonald is dead.”
Shona felt herself go numb. She knew medical personnel had to speak that way. Euphemisms for death could lead to misunderstandings. Still, it sounded so harsh.
Geoff placed an arm around her shoulders, and she stiffened, resistant. He’d tried to destroy her relationship with her father. He would not intrude into her grief.
He removed his arm. “Dr. Morris, was there any evidence of a gunshot wound?”
“None.”
“When can I see him?” Shona asked.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry, that wouldn’t be—”
“I won’t fall apart on you this time, Dr. Morris. I need to see my father.”
There was a long hesitation. “Give us time to clean him up, Mrs. Tremaine. We don’t want to cause you any more grief than necessary.”
“Do you have any idea yet what might have killed him?” Geoff asked.
The doctor shook his head. “There will be an autopsy, of course. That should give us some answers.” He gently touched Shona’s shoulder. “The chaplain will help you with the final arrangements. Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
She nodded and leaned her head against the sofa. Dad was dead. There was no going back. He was gone.
SIX
Karah Lee received the call as Fawn exited I-44 and headed north toward Lake of the Ozarks. It was Geoff.
“How far out are you?” he asked.
“Couple of hours, maybe less the way Fawn’s breaking every speed limit.” She cast a glare in Fawn’s direction, to no avail. Fawn was resolute. She either wanted to get them to Jefferson City in record time, or she wanted to be mangled in a tragic accident.
“You can slow down now,” Geoff said quietly.
Her hand tightened on the tiny phone. “Tell me he’s better.”
“I’m sorry, Karah Lee, I can’t do that.”
She didn’t want to hear this. Denial would be welcome for a while longer.
“The medical personnel did all they could, but your father couldn’t be resuscitated. He’s gone.”
For a moment, she didn’t respond, watching the traffic in front of her. The glare of headlights merged into a string of brilliant pearls as sudden, warm tears tickled her cheeks. No, Dad. Don’t leave this way, not with this thing still between us.
“Karah Lee?” Geoff said.
“Should we turn around and go back home, then?” She knew that sounded callous, and she didn’t mean for it to. She suddenly just felt so…cut off. Adrift. How was Shona feeling?
“No. Come to Jefferson City. You’re needed now, more than ever.”
“I’m not. It’ll be awkward with me there.”
“And you don’t think it’s awkward between Shona and me? Your father is gone, Karah Lee. Your presence is needed here now.”
She heard the impatience in his voice. This was hard on him, too. “Sorry, but really, Geoff, my presence there will be stressful for Shona right now, and she doesn’t need that.”
“You don’t have any idea what Shona needs, do you?” Again, the impatience, barely there, and restrained by a strong dose of Geoff Tremaine manners.
“What do you mean?”
“She and I are still legally separated, and there’s still tension between us. She just lost her father. There’s a murder investigation going on, and—”
Karah Lee gasped. “There really is a murder investigation?”
Fawn gasped, and the car slowed momentarily.
“Yes, and Shona’s already been questioned. She doesn’t have anyone close to her here. She needs you, even though she probably doesn’t realize it herself.”
Again, the headlights seemed to become a stream of attack against Karah Lee’s eyes. She didn’t know what to say. What would she do when she arrived in Jefferson City?
“You need to be watchful when you arrive, though,” he continued. “As I’ve said, the police suspect your father was murdered.”
“Then Fawn shouldn’t even be with me.”
“Please don’t return to Hideaway now, Karah Lee. My home will be secure for you.”
“The mansion wasn’t safe for Dad, even with all the security measures he took.” Karah Lee closed her eyes. Murder was such a horrible word. Who would want to kill Dad? Oh, sure, he was controversial, and politics could be messy, ugly, dirty. Dad had always known how to play the game.
Had he offended someone too many times? Had his political platform threatened someone? In the past few months, Dad had become very outspoken against the illegal methamphetamine situation and had called for more police intervention, stiffer sentences.
Last summer, when Karah Lee called Dad for help against the insidious Beaufont Corporation that was attempting to take over Hideaway, he had ridden into town with the feds like a knight in shining armor and cleaned house. It turned out Beaufont had connections with organized crime. Those people held grudges.
Why hadn’t she told him more often that she appreciated his heroics last year? Why had she allowed this gulf to remain between them until it was too late? Yes, they had always clashed. Dad tended to ride roughshod over everyone to get what he wanted, even when it involved meddling in her professional life. She’d resented it. Being her father’s daughter, she didn’t take his manipulations in silence.
“Karah Lee?” Geoff said, his voice gentle. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.” Could her run-in with the Beaufont Corporation last summer have something to do with this? What if she had been the indirect cause of her father’s death?
“The police are questioning everyone right now,” Geoff said. “Please just come up here. They’ve taken blood and urine samples for screening. The FBI may take control of this investigation.”
She