The Long Sleep (15 page)

Carefully I opened the door. Nothing
exploded. It might, when I turned on the engine. I put that off for
another minute while I called Rick.

Voicemail again. I was tired of people’s
voicemail. Maybe they got tired of mine.

I started the car, with no explosion, and
headed for Southbridge.

What had I done? I had kissed Hank and told
him I loved him. What if he was aware? I almost hoped he
wasn’t.

But I did want to talk to him. Maybe he would
think it was his mother. Aware and confused.

My phone rang. I pulled in front of a
plumbing supply store to answer it.

It was Rick. I told him about Hank’s move to
a regular room. “I didn’t know if you knew that or whether you
still need him for anything.”

“Haven’t got much out of him so far.”

“It bothers me,” I said. “He’s in a regular
room now without all those nurses keeping guard. What if—whoever
shot him—”

“I know what you’re saying. They needed the
bed for a more acute case. Dalbeck is, well, static.”

“But he needs so much care!”

“He’ll get it. That’s a pretty good
hospital.”

I wanted the best for Hank, not just pretty
good. “What about the shooter?”

“Working on it. Hey, I gotta run. Thanks for
the update. I’ll be in touch.”

Didn’t he care that Hank was in danger? Maybe
it wasn’t Rick’s responsibility. The hospital was in a different
town, out of his jurisdiction.

A few minutes later I passed a sign welcoming
me to Southbridge. I had seen it a billion times but never paid
much attention. Southbridge was home. In the past I would have met
Glyn at the music store, or Burger King, or Perrino’s.

The thought of Glyn gave me a sick feeling.
What was up with her? Could she really be in cahoots with Evan when
she knew what he was like? Would Glyn actually betray me? How could
I be more betrayed than I already was?

On Grand Street I had to stop for a light. I
eased my foot onto the brake, half expecting the pedal to keep
going down.

The brakes held. “Damn you, Evan Steffers,
for making me paranoid.” I couldn’t go through life this way. Rick
said Evan would do something stupid and then they’d get him. When
was that going to happen?

Maybe I could trick him into something
stupid. I would think about it as soon as I got home. For now, I
had to keep alert.

* * * *

Ben’s truck was gone. I couldn’t ask him for
any ideas. I was sure he’d have some.

I certainly couldn’t ask Glynis.
It’s
over,
I told myself.
It’s over with Glyn.
Until she
could start acting normal again, about Evan.

Things have a way of changing, especially
when you don’t want them to. I wanted my safe world back, where
Glyn was my friend, where I was still at Lakeside and had nothing
to do with Evan. Where Hank was alive and unhurt and I had never
heard of him because I hadn’t had to leave Lakeside.

Did I really want Hank out of my life? If
he’d never been in it, I wouldn’t know the difference, right?

And Rick. If not for Evan, I never would have
met Rick. Evan would be happily playing football, while Rick
happily patrolled Southbridge. As for me, I could barely remember
what it was like back then.

I stayed in my car, thinking. I had forgotten
to ask Daddy about a motion sensor light.

Why ask? I could do it myself. Where would I
put it?

A light would only scare off Evan. It
wouldn’t catch him in the act. How about a surveillance camera?

That would be expensive. I could never afford
it.

A blue truck turned in at the driveway. Ben
was back. He kept his truck clean and shiny, the way I didn’t keep
my car. The Chevy was so old and beat up, and I took no pride in
it. That was good. If it were clean and shiny, it might attract
Evan to see what more damage he could do.

It was me he wanted to damage more than the
car. Damage, not kill, in spite of the brake line. He wanted to
show his power.

Ben got out of the truck, locking it
carefully, and came over to me. “What are you doing out here?
Keeping guard?”

“I’m thinking. Rick Falco said Evan would
eventually do something stupid and we’d catch him. I’m trying to
think of ways to hurry it up.”

“You shouldn’t have to try very hard,” Ben
said. “He
is
stupid.”

“Yes, but not stupid enough. So far he’s been
lucky. If you get any ideas, will you let me know?”

“Maybe.” He went into the house. On weekends
we were on our own with lunch. I’d forgotten about lunch in my
hurry to get to the hospital.

That reminded me of kissing Hank and telling
him I loved him. I cringed. I didn’t know if he had a girlfriend. I
hadn’t seen evidence of one and nobody said anything. If they had,
I’d have tried to interview her.

I followed Ben into the kitchen. He was
putting a dish of ravioli into the microwave. He didn’t ask if I
wanted any.

I decided on a cream cheese sandwich.
Probably not very wholesome, but sometimes a girl needs cheering
up. Glyn used to eat cottage cheese sandwiches. I didn’t want to
think about Glyn.

“How about something like a nanny cam?” I
said. “You know, like what people set up to catch the nanny if they
think she’s abusing their kid.”

“I know what a nanny cam is.” Ben knew
everything. “You’d put all that money in it and then he’d never
come back. Keep trying.”

“I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

“Why would I?” The microwave beeped. He took
out his dish and leaned against the counter while it cooled. “Maybe
you should stop with the confrontation. Try being nice to him and
see what he does.”

“Ugh.”

“You might catch him by surprise.”

“It sure would.” I ran it through my mind
like a high-speed film. Actually try to heal the rift? Tell him I
wanted to get back together? That would throw Glyn off balance, as
well as Evan. It might even be fun. Except I would choke on it,
trying to pretend I wanted him back.

“How can I do that when I don’t even know
where he is?”

Ben shrugged. “Put an ad in the personals.
Spread it around to your friends.”

To Glyn. Pretend I didn’t suspect her of
having any real interest. That would be a howl.

“How do I make him act up if he thinks we’re
getting back together?”

“It didn’t take much the first time, did it?
When you actually were together.”

He was right. It was Evan’s obsessive
behavior that led to the split.

How did Ben figure all that out? He was
hardly what you’d call a people person.

I took the sandwich to my room and texted
Glyn with a lie.
Thot of u 2day in music store. Miss u. Miss
Evan 2. Old times.

I would leave it at that for now. It was
subtle enough that he might not get suspicious. He was such an
egotist he might actually believe I wanted him back.

Would Glyn try to help? Or would she want him
all to herself? The only thing to do was wait and see.

On Sunday I went back to the hospital. Hank’s
door was ajar. I could see people inside. It looked like his mother
and somebody else. Not Arianne. I should interview Arianne. I still
had their number someplace, in a binder dedicated to
The Tiger’s
Roar.

His visitors showed no sign of leaving. I
found a small lounge with one couple in it, and sat down to watch
the wall-mounted TV. It was tuned to CNN, all news and ads. The
woman stared at it with nothing better to do. The man kept looking
at his watch.

I felt out of place. I had no legitimate
reason to be there. No real connection to Hank. I checked his room
once more. The visitors were still there. They had more right than
I had. I gave it up and went home.

All day I fidgeted but heard nothing from
Glyn. I should have taken Ben’s advice even before he gave it.
Should have thought of it myself and not been so confrontational
with Evan. A gentler approach might have defused him just a little.
Instead I had butted heads, had made fun of him, and belittled him.
It gave me plenty of satisfaction, but with an ego like his it
could backfire, and did. I would have to swallow my own ego and try
to undo the damage.

Monday still brought no response from Glyn.
While I waited for my first class to begin, I texted again.

I miss Lksd. Miss u. Want 2 trn bk clock

That sounded desperate. Well, I was. And I
did miss the way things used to be.

After the last bell rang Mr. Geyer’s room
emptied quickly, except for Mr. Geyer. He sat at his desk grading a
quiz when I walked in.

“Hi,” I said.

He wasn’t a “hi” sort of person. I should
have tried
Good afternoon, Mr. Geyer.

He looked up. He scowled so often it was
making a permanent furrow in his forehead. Maybe he needed
glasses.

“Did you know that Hank’s been moved to a
regular room?” I said.

“No, really?” He spun his swivel chair to
face me. “How did you find that out?”

I felt a blush coming, and thought fast. “I
happened to be there visiting somebody, so I decided to look
in.”

It was true. I’d been visiting Hank. “I
couldn’t
go
in, because I’m not family, but I could see his
bed was empty, so I asked.”

I waited for him to inquire how I knew which
bed was Hank’s. Instead the question was, “So he’s conscious now?
Does he talk?”

“No, he’s still out of it. That’s the thing.
I thought he needed all that intensive care but they told me there
was somebody who needed it worse and Hank’s getting good care in
the new place. They said he’s stable.”

“Meaning he’s still in a coma.”

“Yes, I saw him. I looked in.” Another blush.
“He’s off the ventilator, but that’s about it. He’s hooked up to a
heart monitor. All those wires.”

“Stable, eh?”

“Well, he’s not getting worse, if that’s what
you mean.”

“But not better,” he guessed, with a faint
smile.

“No, it doesn’t seem so, except for the
ventilator. I understand Paula Welbourne lived for five years after
they took her off it.”

A faint shadow crossed his face. He said, “I
thought we were skipping that story.”

“I don’t know how we can skip it entirely.
Everybody knows about it.” I shifted my weight to the other
foot.

His scowl came back. I said, “But we can
soft-pedal it. I mean, not go into a lot of detail. If we know the
details ourselves, that should give it some depth, but we don’t
have to spell it all out. Not for a thing like
The Tiger’s
Roar,
no offence intended.”

“None taken.” He smiled. “By ‘we’ I presume
you mean you? You’re doing this by yourself?”

“I mean ‘we’ collectively, as in the paper. I
guess I’m writing it myself. I don’t think anybody else is. I know
I’m new here, but I feel just a tiny bit responsible for carrying
on where Hank left off. Maybe that’s silly, but he was in my car
when it happened.” I shifted again. People say it’s healthier to
stand than sit, but it does get tiresome.

“Did you see anything?” he asked. “When it
happened?”

“Not a thing. It took me completely by
surprise, and it was dark.”

“I suppose we’ll never know.”

“I think they’re still working on it, but
they haven’t found anything.” I didn’t mention the piece of fuzz.
It wasn’t important if it didn’t lead anywhere.

Going downstairs, I remembered that I’d
forgotten to tell him about the Evan connection. Next time I would,
after I’d given it more thought. It would be for Mr. Geyer’s
entertainment only, not for the article.

In the car, I checked my phone again. Still
nothing from Glyn.

I felt like going home, but my car turned
toward the hospital. I wouldn’t stay long. I didn’t want to wear
him out. But a little bit of one-way conversation might be
therapeutic.

He was lying on his left side that time. On
Saturday it had been the right. They had to turn him every few
hours or he would stiffen and get bedsores. I pulled over the
recliner chair and took his hand.

“It’s me again, Maddie Canfield. I don’t know
how well you remember me, if at all. We only just met that day. I
stopped by Geyer’s room this afternoon to let him know you got
moved out of ICU.”

A spasm went through him. It wasn’t strong,
but it made me jump back. I almost dropped his hand.

“Hank, is something wrong? Are you in pain?
Do you want me to call a nurse?”

I didn’t know what I expected. He certainly
couldn’t answer me. I pressed the call button.

After a few minutes, a nurse came in.

“I was talking to him,” I said, “and all of a
sudden he sort of twitched. I thought he might be in pain. Can he
feel pain?”

The nurse touched his face, took his pulse,
and said she would be right back. She came wheeling a stand with a
blood pressure machine and other instruments for checking vital
signs.

“It’s probably just an involuntary muscle
spasm,” she said as she wrapped the cuff around his arm. “He
shouldn’t be in pain, not from his wound. It’s healing nicely.” Her
fingers stroked where the wound had been. She blew up the cuff and
pronounced his pressure normal.

I asked, “Do you know if they left the bullet
in?”

“No, they took it out. You see? It’s
healing.” She showed me where his hair was starting to grow
back.

I remembered that he’d had a shadow of
stubble when he was shot. “Do they shave him every day?”

The nurse smiled. “We try to keep our
patients clean and comfortable.”

I supposed any hospital would do that. “He
looks...good.”

He didn’t look that good. His face was thin
and tight, not quite alive. I had noticed it the other time when I
got close.

Was this the way he would always be? I didn’t
think I could stand it.

As I left his room, I saw a familiar figure
in the hall.