Charlaine Harris (76 page)

WHEN
I was a little more aware of what was around me, things were better all around. I was being strapped to a gurney and I was willing to bet I was about to get a ride in an ambulance to the Doraville hospital.

“Doraville's not lucky for me,” I said, or at least I thought I was saying that, but I guess I was just mumbling, because the EMT at my head, a plump young woman with an aggressive jaw, said, “You're gonna be okay, honey, don't you worry.”

“Mr. Hamilton?”

“That's nice, your asking about him. We got the bleeding stopped. I think he's gonna be okay, too.”

“Barney?”

“He ain't dead, but I bet he's gonna wish he was.”

“Where's my—where's Tolliver?”
Had
to get out of the habit of calling him my brother.

“Tall, dark, skinny?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Waiting for us to wheel you out.”

And I smiled.

“That's sweet, she's happy to see him,” the young woman said. Her partner, a man in his fifties, said, “Grace, let's just get her out of here,” and she pouted as they got me down the deck steps.

Tolliver was by me, and he was beside himself. “He took you right out of the car,” he said, as if I didn't know that. “I couldn't believe it when I came out and you were gone!”

“Well, you-all can talk all night if you want. Let us get this gal to the hospital,” the older man said.

The ride back to the hospital took a while, and the young woman sat in back with me and chattered the whole time. She took my pulse and checked my temperature and did all kinds of things, including looking at the stitches in my scalp. From the slight face she made, I knew they weren't in good shape.

“Now, I understand you had a cracked ulna a few days ago?” she asked. “I think you've graduated to a broken arm, but we'll take us an X-ray to be sure.”

“Okay,” I said. We'd have to go into our savings to pay for my Doraville medical bills. That'd be that much longer until we could buy our house. But it was hard for me to worry about that right now, or much of anything else, being in this ambulance felt so blissful compared to my previous three hours of experience.

I felt so safe I actually fell asleep and had to blink my eyes open when we reached the hospital.

The whole hospital experience was déjà vu. I wasn't in the same room—I think Ted Hamilton was in that one. I was down the hall and on the other side.

Sandra Rockwell was my most surprising visitor. After we'd done the “How are you” s and so forth, she said, “I want to apologize for something.”

I waited.

“I knew whoever attacked you, I knew it had to be the killer. And there wasn't a trace of him. Or his vehicle. Turns out, Tom Almand says he parked over behind Hair Affair and cut across the back parking lots. Then he hid behind the Dumpster behind the motel. He was going to slash your tires, but then you came out, and he'd brought the shovel just on the off chance.”

I tried to remember where Hair Affair was—two doors down from the motel, I thought. It hardly mattered now.

“How's he doing?” I asked.

“Tom?” She sounded surprised. “Talking his damn head off. But won't mention his son.”

“Maybe Barney will,” I said. Again, I felt as if I hardly cared. Chuck Almand was gone now, and no amount of confession or explanation would bring him back.

Tolliver came in just then. He'd been in the cafeteria getting coffee and breakfast. He'd gotten me some coffee, and though I wasn't sure if I was supposed to have it or not, I planned on drinking it. He bent over to kiss me, and I didn't care, either, what Sandra Rockwell thought about that.

Klavin and Stuart came in then. They both looked exhausted, but they were smiling.

“There's enough pathology between those two to keep the serial-killer writers busy for years,” Klavin said. “As long as they're behind bars while they're being studied, that's fine with me.”

“The writers are welcome to 'em,” said Stuart. He smoothed his already smooth hair. “Those two are talking, and that's how we're filling in the cracks.”

Tolliver took my hand.

I sighed.

They began asking me exactly what had happened the afternoon before, and I wasn't really ready to talk about it. But I'd had to do a lot of things I didn't want to do during my stay in Doraville, and this was simply another one of them.

“Did you suspect he was the one?” Stuart asked.

“Yes,” I said, and they all seemed surprised…especially Tolliver. “Because when I was sitting there in the car, I was thinking about the hole under the barn, and I was thinking how strange it was that Barney Simpson knew there was a hole there. He said something about it when I was visiting Manfred here at the hospital. I might not even have thought about it, but when Doak Garland asked me a question about it, it was clear that Doak had no idea there was a pit under the stall. So it was not common knowledge. Yet Barney had known about it. And then I thought about the way so many of the boys had had a trip to the hospital. That would have been a good place for Barney to spot them and mark them for future attention. And he said something to me about that.”

That was what they were anxious to hear, so I tried to remember the way Barney had talked about their methods, and explain about the pit and why it had been built, when the old house out of town was really more isolated.

“They would take turns,” Stuart said. “Because it was hard to park two cars behind the old house. But sometimes, on weekends, they'd go together. Like double dating.”

I felt sick, and put the coffee down on the rolling table. Tolliver patted me.

“Sometimes the boys would last four or five days, if they gave them food and water,” Klavin said.

“Okay, enough,” Tolliver said, and it was clear he was angry. “We know as much about this as we want to know.”

“So, we're charging him with attempted homicide on you and Ted Hamilton,” Klavin said, when he'd absorbed the rebuke. “But with the murders, we got enough to put him away forever. We'll just throw in other charges if there's any way at all he might get off. I mean, you can only give him life so many times.”

“Some of the forensic evidence will tie both of them in, I hope. So it's not just their confessions.”

“There was so much there, some of it's definitely going to come through. For one thing, there are hair matches already. And I'm sure we'll get some DNA matches.”

I nodded. Though these men would eat, breathe, and sleep the case until it came to trial, to me it was at a close.

“How are you doing, by the way?” the sheriff asked. She just wanted to point out that Klavin and Stuart hadn't inquired. They both looked only a tad sheepish.

Tolliver said, “Her arm is broken all the way through. Her scalp stitches had to be redone and there are more of them now. The scalp wound is infected. She has multiple severe bruises and two loose teeth. You can see the black eye. And now she's got an upper respiratory infection, too.”

Also, a torn fingernail, but he left that out.

Tolliver was glaring at them so indignantly that I expected they would break down and weep, but they just shuffled around uncomfortably until they thought of a good reason to leave. It didn't sound as though I'd have to come back to Doraville, maybe. At least, not anytime soon. That suited me just fine.

Manfred called, but I didn't talk to him. Tolliver did. I was too tired—too emotionally tired—to want to talk to him again.

The only guest I was glad to see was Twyla Cotton. She came in moving even more heavily, it seemed to me. Her face was so serious that it didn't seem she would ever smile again.

“Well,” she said. She was standing right by my bed, and she couldn't meet my eyes. “They're caught, and my grandson's gone for good.”

I nodded.

“I did the right thing bringing you here, and I'm glad I did. They had to stop what they were doing, even if it was too late for Jeff.”

It had been too late for Jeff by months.

“They'll rot in hell,” Twyla said with absolute conviction. “And I know Jeff is in heaven. But it's hard for us left here.”

“Yes,” I said, because that was something I knew about. “It's hard for those left behind.”

“You're thinking of your sister who's missing?”

“Yes, Cameron.”

“Kind of ironic, huh?”

“That I can find everyone else but her? Yes, you could put it that way.”

“Then that's what I'll pray about for you. That you find your sister.”

Looking at Twyla's stricken face, for the first time I wondered if I really wanted to find Cameron. If it would really give me peace. I switched my gaze over to Tolliver. He was looking at Twyla with an unpleasant face. He thought she was making me unhappy, and he didn't think I needed any more unhappiness.

“Thank you, Twyla,” I said. “I hope…I hope your remaining grandson brings you joy.”

She almost smiled. “He will. Ain't nothing can replace Jeff, but Carson is a good steady boy.”

She left soon after, because we didn't have anything left to say.

Tolliver said, “Tomorrow, if you don't have a fever, we're leaving this place.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Maybe by the time I get to Philadelphia I will have healed enough that I won't scare the clients.”

“We can cancel and go to our apartment and just relax for a couple of weeks.”

“No,” I said. “Back in the saddle again.” And then I made an effort to smile. “And when I'm a little better than that, we'll see about
really
getting back in the saddle.” I tried to leer, but the result was so ludicrous that Tolliver had to choke back a laugh.

But I poked him in the ribs, and he let it out.

Back in the saddle again.