TESS STRODE through the entry of Cove Community Medical Center shortly after her lunch meeting on Monday afternoon. This was the first chance she’d had to break away and check on things-on Ned-for herself. Anger and worry were doing unpleasant things to the Greek salad with extra feta cheese she’d ordered at Café Capri, where a potential client had begun the business discussion by asking about the latest trouble at Tidewaters.

Which had been about five minutes before Geneva had reached her on her cell phone, wanting the same information. Obviously, the news about Ned’s accident had already spread through town. And just as obviously, Quinn hadn’t been able to reach Geneva before she’d heard the rumors. Tess rubbed a hand over her stomach and wondered if she’d ever order extra feta again.

She rounded a corner and nearly collided with Quinn, who was standing near the elevator, a large bouquet of yellow daisy mums in one hand. Their slightly sweet scent mingled with the odor of disinfectant in a typical hospital smell, making her slightly queasy.

“Flowers again?” she asked as she nervously punched a button that was already lit. “For Ned?”

“For Sylvie.” The plastic wrap crackled as he tightened his grip on the bouquet. “For having to put up with Ned at home for a while.”

Quinn’s lips were pressed flat, his grim face deeply lined. He looked as though he’d aged ten years since she’d last seen him.

“How did he fall through the scaffolding?” she asked.

“He didn’t fall clear through.” The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped aside as an attendant exited, wheeling a supply cart past them.

“So,” she said, “he only fell far enough to end up here.”

Quinn slapped a hand against the side of the opening and waited for her to step into the elevator ahead of him. “You can ask him exactly how far he fell and exactly how bad he’s hurt when you see him.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but a snappy, snotty comeback didn’t materialize as quickly as she’d hoped. Just as well-this wasn’t the time or the place for that kind of remark. She adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, fixed her gaze on the control panel and focused on resenting the way the stiff and silent man beside her could scramble her normal reactions and put her on the defensive.

They stepped off the elevator and headed toward the nurses’ station in the outpatient wing. A petite, doe-eyed blonde in a blue waitress uniform and rubbery white shoes rose from a nearby chair and walked into the arms Quinn had spread wide. He wrapped her tight, resting his chin on her wavy hair. “Sorry about all this,” he murmured.

“Couldn’t be helped.” She eased back, her smile wavering. “He’s always been a clumsy oaf.”

“Clumsy had nothing to do with it.” Quinn shot Tess a dark look over the woman’s head.

“Bad luck, then.” She stepped out of his arms and looked questioningly at Tess.

“Sylvie Landreau, this is Tess Roussel. The architect who designed the Tidewaters project.”

Tess extended her hand. “Sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances, Sylvie. I hope your husband will recover quickly and be back to work soon.”

“Me, too. Especially the back-to-work part.” Sylvie accepted the flowers Quinn handed her and wiped a finger beneath one of her eyes. “He’s already grouchy as a bear. I came out here for some peace.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Quinn asked. “Pick up something at the drugstore? Get a takeout dinner for you and the kids?”

Sylvie shook her head. “Thanks, but Mom is coming to help out tonight. I’m thinking of asking her to move in for a while. That ought to cut Ned’s recovery time in half.”

She shifted to the side as an orderly wheeled a chair past them and into a nearby room. “That must be for Ned. I’d better go.”

“Geneva called,” Tess said when Sylvie had disappeared into a room down the hall. “She wants us to meet with her at Chandler House. This afternoon, if possible.”

“No.”

“Tonight, then.”

“I’ll give her a call when I have something new to report.”

“You’ve got plenty to report right now,” Tess said. “You can start by filling me in on all those details you didn’t have time to discuss with me when you called this morning.”

He glanced down the hall toward Ned’s room. “Later. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Fine. I’ll follow you to the site, and we can have our meeting in your trailer. In about…” She made a show of checking her watch. “Fifteen minutes. Is that ‘later’ enough for you?”

He leveled a stony gaze at her while a little muscle in his jaw popped. Then he took her by the arm and led her down the hall, away from the small crowd of hospital employees hovering near the nurses’ station.

“Someone cut through that plank,” he said in a tight, low voice. “The one that gave way when Ned stepped on it.”

“On the scaffolding?” Her fingers trembled as she fussed with her purse strap. “How can you be sure?”

He shifted aside as a nurse passed, and then he waited until she disappeared into one of the rooms. “I saw the cut. Fresh, and made with a saw. Nearly clean through, on one side, and underneath, where you wouldn’t see it.”

“Wasn’t the planking checked when the scaffolding was erected?”

Quinn’s eyes iced over, and she could nearly see the anger pumping off him to vibrate in the air around them. “I checked it.”

Before Tess could ask another question, the orderly wheeled Ned into the hall. Sylvie trailed behind, carrying the flowers and a messy handful of medical paperwork. Quinn moved off to join them on their trip toward the elevator doors, leaving Tess frozen in place, trying to process what Quinn had just told her.

Sabotage. Deliberate, and intended to cause someone a serious injury. Or worse.

Chilled through and shaking, she drew in a deep breath, donned a bright smile and walked toward the Landreaus, preparing to offer her sincere sympathies. She’d grown fond of Quinn’s crew, and this morning’s accident had upset her a great deal, far more than Quinn would ever suspect. And now that she knew the reason for Ned’s injury, her anxiety increased. What might happen next?

“Hey, Tess,” Ned said as she approached. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a bakery bag in your hand.”

She kept her eyes on his face, avoiding the ungainly, pale cast on his leg. “Tell me what you like, and I’ll make a special trip to Bern’s Bakery just for you.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” Sylvie said. “Although we appreciate the thought.”

“It’s not just a thought.” Ned smiled up at Tess. “It’s a bright spot in the day when Tess here shows up with something sweet.”

“In that case,” Sylvie said with a shy smile of her own, “Marie-Claudette’s molasses cookies are a favorite at our house.”

“Molasses cookies, then. It’s a deal.” Tess stepped into the open elevator with the others and then rested her hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Sorry you had to go through all this to get a home delivery.”

“I’d have preferred to skip it, myself.” He gave Quinn a long, level look. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’m counting on it.”

When they left the elevator on the ground floor, Quinn pulled Sylvie into another quick, tight hug while the orderly wheeled Ned toward the hospital entrance. “Call me if you need anything,” he said. “Anything at all.”

Sylvie nodded. “Thanks, Quinn.” She waved goodbye to Tess and jogged through the lobby to join her husband.

“Why would someone do that?” Tess asked as the Landreaus moved through the big glass doors and out into the afternoon sunshine. Ned said something to Sylvie and reached for her hand, and she laughed as she slid her fingers through his. “Why would someone want to hurt-maybe even kill-a total stranger like that?”

Quinn shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe the target wasn’t a stranger.”