4 Arch Enemy of Murder (26 page)

“What are you doing here?” the woman said.

“I’m here to see Jason Cantor.”

“He can’t have visitors, and even if he could, visiting hours are over.”

“I really, really need to see him,” Lacy said.

“I really, really don’t care,” the nurse replied. “You can come back tomorrow during regular visiting hours and see if his family has cleared you for admittance.”

“He doesn’t have any family,” Lacy said.

“Yes, he does. We spoke to his mother just a few minutes ago.”

“You called his mother?” Lacy asked. Jason hadn’t spoken more than a half dozen words with his mother in three years.

“Of course we did. Now run along home. Tomorrow I would suggest calling first so you don’t waste your time.”

“I don’t think you understand. I’m not leaving until I see him.”

“That’s a violation of hospital policy,” the nurse said.

Lacy pointed to battered visage. “Does this look like the face of someone who cares? I’m going in there with or without your permission, lady. I would suggest you run along back to work and forget you ever saw me.”

“I’m going to call security.”

“You do what you have to, and so will I, and what I have to do is see Jason to make sure he’s all right. Once I do that, I’ll go, but not until or before.”

They stared at each other. Lacy sensed that the woman was one of those intractable people who enjoyed her own sense of power. It was just her luck that she couldn’t have run into one of the more soft-hearted nurses who would have looked the other way. It wasn’t as if she wanted to sneak him contraband food or challenge him to a foot race; she simply needed to see him, to assure herself that he was alive and well.

“I won’t disturb him,” she tried. “I’ll slip in quietly. I won’t make a noise. Please, I just need to see him.”

“It’s not about what you need—it’s about what he needs, and that’s rest and quiet,” the nurse argued.

“If he were awake, he would tell you that he wants to see me, too,” Lacy said.

“But he’s not awake, is he? I get to make those decisions, and I say no.”

Lacy wasn’t sure if she was going to burst into tears or physically move the woman out of her way. Maybe both. “What seems to be the problem?” her grandfather asked. Lacy knew Travis must have sneaked him in, too. She had never been more relieved to see anyone.

“She won’t let me in to see Jason,” Lacy tattled.

“Jenny Morrow, is that true?” Mr. Middleton asked.

The nurse, Jenny, clasped her hands behind her back looking significantly smaller and less fierce. “It’s policy, Mr. Middleton. I’m sorry.”

“Surely you could make an exception for the boy’s girlfriend. My granddaughter and he are terribly close, and she just wants to reassure herself that he’s okay.”

Jenny seemed to be wavering. “I didn’t know you had any grandchildren,” she said.

“I have two lovely and stubborn granddaughters who never stop trying to get what they want. Believe me when I tell you that I’m the diplomatic envoy in this situation. Either deal with me pleasantly, or I’ll back away and let her handle things her way.”

Jenny eyed Lacy’s black eye and swollen lip. “Don’t disturb him,” she warned and flailed her finger in Lacy’s face.

“I promise,” Lacy said. “I want him to get his rest and get better more than anyone. I just need to see him. I’ll be good and quiet. Please.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin and tried to look pathetic; it wasn’t hard to do.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Jenny said. She moved aside.

“I knew making you hall monitor your sophomore year wasn’t a mistake,” Mr. Middleton said. He patted Lacy’s back and stood aside while she slipped into the room. She paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Jason wasn’t on any sort of breathing machine, but he also wasn’t conscious. His right arm was heavily bandaged. She edged closer. He was pale beneath his dark beard stubble. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him, and she didn’t make a noise as she hovered beside his bed, drinking in the sight of the reassuringly rhythmic movement of his chest. So intently was she watching him breathe that she didn’t notice him open his eyes. She jumped when he spoke.

“Lacy,” he croaked. “That you?”

“It’s me,” she said. She felt a mixture of guilt and relief—guilt for having disturbed him, and relief at hearing his voice.

“Am I’m dreamsing?” he slurred.

She laughed and smoothed his hair away from his face. “If you are, is it a good one?”

“The best,” he said. His eyes closed, and she thought he was asleep. But they popped open again a minute later. He seemed to be trying very hard to focus on her. His mouth worked to try and form a word. “L-l-l,” he stuttered. Lacy leaned closer to his mouth, suddenly desperate to hear what he was trying to say.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He pursed his lips and put all his effort into speaking. “Elephants and ponies,” he murmured.

Lacy sputtered a laugh, but he was still staring at her intently like he expected her to respond. “Elephants and ponies to you too, Jason,” she whispered. His eyes crossed and he slipped back into unconsciousness. Lacy didn’t care. She leaned close and pressed a kiss to his open lips, lingering even though he was unresponsive.

She woke sometime the next day. Somehow she had slept sitting up in the uncomfortable chair beside the bed. She was stiff, not just for the uncomfortable makeshift bed, but from the fistfight with Riley. Jason was still out and probably would be for some time. Another nurse—a kinder, more understanding one than Jenny—had entered the room shortly after Lacy’s arrival. She told Lacy that the loss of so much blood combined with the heavy-duty pain killers used in the surgery to repair his artery would make him sleep for quite some time. She was amazed when Lacy told her he had been awake.

“He must have been waiting for you on some subconscious level,” the nurse said. She had also told Lacy to stay as long as she wanted. Lacy made a mental note to send her a large candy bouquet for her kindness.

Outside the room, she heard voices. She had been at the hospital long enough to realize these voices were different from those of the nurses and doctors. She stood and poked her head out the door. A woman she dimly recognized as Jason’s mother stood in the hall talking to a nurse. The nurse must have been updating her on Jason’s progress because his mother nodded several times and asked a couple of questions.

Lacy felt more than a little anxious about coming face to face with Jason’s estranged mother. What should she do? Should she stay, or should she go? Jason, she knew, would want her to stay. Then again, he also probably wouldn’t want his mother to be there. He still struggled with loads of resentment toward the parents who had all but abandoned him after the death of his brother. The question of whether or not to stay or go was answered by the arrival of another person. Cindy arrived on the scene and gave Jason’s mother a long and heartfelt hug, ending in a few tears from both women. Even though Jason wasn’t close with his mom, Lacy felt no small measure of jealousy that Cindy was. With one last longing look at Jason’s unconscious form, she eased from the room and slipped down the opposite side of the hallway while no one was looking. Cindy and Jason’s mother had the rightful position of being the next-of-kin. Lacy had no desire to try and explain her presence or appearance, and she didn’t exactly want her first meeting with Jason’s mother to be while she was sporting a shiner and fat lip.

She went home fully intending to catch up on some much-needed sleep. After reassuring her grandparents that she and Jason were both all right, she closeted herself in her room. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, but they refused to stay that way. Soon she was staring at the ceiling and thinking.

At first she had been so focused on Jason’s wellbeing that she hadn’t questioned why he was shot or by whom. Now the questions came full force and wouldn’t go away. Who had shot Jason? Why? Was this shooting connected to Jonah’s? If so, how?

She sat up, pulled out a piece of paper, and began writing down every fact she could think of that related either to Pearl’s case or Jason’s. Something was missing, and when she finally figured out what it was, everything came together. She picked up the phone and called Tosh. He didn’t answer. She didn’t leave a message because he was probably sleeping after the harrowing experience of the night before. Instead she fished through her records until she found another number.

“Michael, I need a favor,” were her greeting words to her tenant and supposedly new friend.

“Name it, love.”

“I need a pair of night-vision goggles and a can of pepper spray.”

“And you’re calling me because…”

“Because I figure someone who owns a motorcycle that looks and sounds like yours would also know where to get such things.”

“You figured correctly. Give me a few hours to get things squared away. I’ll drop them by your house once I have them in my possession.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“No need for thanks. If I may be so bold, what are you using these items for?”

“Very simple,” Lacy said “I’m going hunting.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Lacy said.

“When a woman calls me and tells me she needs night-vision goggles and a can of pepper spray, I don’t let her go into the wild by herself. It’s the old English chivalry in me.”

“I thought you were Irish.”

“I was born in Ireland. My English roots are just as deep. Are you ready to tell me why we’re tramping through the forest and what this has to do with the man in the hospital?”

“Not yet,” Lacy said.

“I didn’t expect your visit to end so soon. I barely got started on my book before you were back out again,” he commented. He had dropped Lacy at the hospital to visit Jason, insisting he didn’t mind waiting in the car she had borrowed from her grandmother. But Jason’s mom had been in the room, and Lacy lacked the courage to go inside.

They walked in the woods until they reached what Lacy estimated to be the middle. She wasn’t good with directions or spatial relationships, so she double-checked her theory with Michael. “Do you think this is the middle?”

“The middle of what?”

“The middle of the woods.”

“How would I know if I’ve never been here before?” he asked.

“How far do you think we’ve walked?” she asked.

“I’d say we’ve walked well over a kilometer,” he said.

“Could you translate that to the non-metric system for the American?”

“I don’t know the conversion,” he said.

“How could you not know the conversion if you went to school in Minnesota?”

He shrugged. “My teachers thought it was charming, and I wasn’t one much for paying attention in math class.”

“Wow,” she said.

“Why is the burden on me? The rest of the world uses the metric system. You should have learned the conversion to fit in with the remainder of earth’s population.” He took off his rucksack and tossed it to the ground.

“Hiking makes you cranky.”

“Not really,” he said. “I simply enjoy a good debate.” He sat and crossed his legs. Lacy followed suit, mimicking his position.

“Now are you going to tell me why we’re here?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m wrong and this turns out to be nothing, then I’ll look like the world’s biggest idiot."

“And if you’re right?”

“If I’m right, then I have no idea what will happen next. Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the container of ground beef she had brought. She jogged a couple dozen feet away and set the container on the ground. There was still enough fading light that she didn’t have to use the night-vision equipment yet, but she set it out and laid it in her lap anyway.