In The Absence Of Light (41 page)

“I’m sorry.” I swallowed back the bile inching up my throat. “I’ll get something to clean that up with.”  I stumbled in the direction of the men’s room.

“You should have been a magician, Grant.”
I would have recognized Jeff’s voice and whoever called hadn’t been him. It had to be coincidence, just a stupid wrong number and some asshole looking to hurt someone. Two different events. Nowhere near related. I pulled a wad of paper towels from the dispenser. But Aunt Jenny was right, people didn’t magically disappear from the prison system.

Everything spun, and I leaned against the sink.

Behind me, the door opened. Sheriff Parks’s concerned gaze reflected in the mirror in front of me.

“You all right?”

I turned on the tap. “Yeah, just… I didn’t eat any dinner… shouldn’t have drank the coffee…”

He walked over. Could he see the fear and lies? “Is it true you and Morgan are getting married?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“Even heard you already have a date set.”

“Really? When?”

He leaned against the wall. “Oh, sometime in June.”

“According to who?”

“Kelly Chapworth. She’s head of the Red Hat Society.”

“Don’t know her.” As if it mattered. I splashed more water on my face.

“But it’s true?”

“I bought a ring.”

“Did he say yes?”

I did meet his gaze then. “I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

His smile fell a little as sadness filled his eyes. “You will.”

“Doesn’t mean he’ll say yes.”

“Would you like me to start a gambling pool? Might make enough to pay for the wedding.”

I pressed my thumb and finger against my eye. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” I made a sad attempt to cover up an escaped tear with another handful of water from the sink.

Sheriff Parks took off his hat and examined the inside as if it had a secret to tell. “I know I’m just a hick cop to you. But I’m also Morgan’s friend, Jenny’s friend, and I hope yours.”

“I appreciate that.” And I did.

“But I’m also good at my job. Pretty good at reading people. What I saw back there wasn’t a man who accidentally dropped his coffee cup, it was a man who heard something that scared him.”

“Well, finding out a person can walk out of prison undetected is pretty scary.” I pulled out more paper towels until I had way too many. “Now if you excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.”

Parks put a hand on my shoulder.

“Grant, if you know something, now’s the time to say it.”

“And what would I know?”

“You tell me.”

I couldn’t. He was a cop, and they were on the same team as the FBI.

Parks nodded as if he read my mind. “For the next five minutes, I’m not the sheriff, I’m not even a cop.”

“Cops are cops even when they aren’t in uniform.”

“For the next five minutes, I’m not. Now I’m some good ol' boy and family friend. If you know something, or think you know something, I need you to tell me.”

I crushed the paper towels in my fist. Did I trust him? And if I didn’t, then what?

“While I was on my way home from the grocery store, I got a phone call.  It was a man I didn’t know, and he only said one thing.”

“What?”

“Abracadabra. A certain FBI agent used to tell me I should have been a magician.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Dillon disappeared, magically, as Aunt Jenny put it. And she’s right, people don’t vanish out of a high security prison without help.”

“And you think the FBI might be involved?”

“Do you know anyone else who could access prison records and erase them?”

He put his hat back on. “Why would they do that?”

“The shipping business I ran didn’t always attract nice people. But as long as they played by my rules, no guns, no drugs, no people, I helped them move things.” He nodded for me to go on. “They seemed to think my client list would help them arrest some people. I disagreed, and I wouldn’t cooperate and give them the information they wanted.”

“But why would they let Dillon out?” He crossed his arms and gave me a doubtful look.

“Because his psychological profile almost guaranteed he would go after Morgan.”

Sheriff Parks shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s a really far-fetched idea.”

“Is it? You know of any other way Dillon could have walked out?”

“A computer error isn’t impossible. I hate to think that, but it’s happened.”

“What about his records?”

“That I don’t have an answer for.”

“But it’s awfully convenient, don’t you think? And from what I’ve seen, the FBI pulling off something like this wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibilities.”

He smiled a little. “They’d still have to go through channels to get someone out of prison. Especially someone like Dillon. The circumstances would have to be extenuating. There would be documentation. It would take time. And the reason would have to be astronomical. Other than a bad drug habit, he didn’t even have anything to offer the police when questioned. What reason could the FBI come up with to get the channels open to pull him out?”

“Like someone told me once, Homeland Security.”

Sheriff Parks stood straighter. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to. They’re two words that give the FBI a lot of power to go around a lot of things. And trust me, if they thought it would get them what they wanted, then they’d use it.”

“I don’t understand, Grant. If you ran your business like you claim, then why would they exert so many resources? Even the FBI can be held accountable. If it was found out they let a guy go because they knew he’d go after an innocent citizen, the agents involved would wind up in prison.”

It was my turn to smile, and it wasn’t a happy one. “Feds don’t go to prison; they go to country clubs. With fences. But more than likely they’d just lose their jobs and probably get to keep their pension.”  The rules had always been different for people like them.  I didn’t expect Sheriff Parks to understand. He might have been a good man, but he was still a cop.

You know that old saying about how you shouldn’t talk about the devil? My phone rang.

The number was unknown. I answered it.

“You should have cooperated, Grant.”

“Who is this?” I knew the voice. I’d heard it at least once before.

“There’s a flight leaving for Chicago at eight a.m. Be on it.” The hard edge to his voice clipped his words. It was practically a speech impediment. Special Agent Hines had talked to me the same way the day I sank my barge.

“Be on the plane. Next time, I won’t set loose some punk kid.”

“You son of a bitch…” The line went dead, and I strangled my phone.

“You know who it was.” Parks got in front of me. “Tell me, Grant. Tell me, and I’ll do whatever I can to stop this guy.”

“You don’t have that kind of power.” Because, like he said, he was nothing but a hick cop, a good one maybe, but he followed the rules. Hines wasn’t fucking Goliath to David he was Godzilla.

“And you do?”

I could. I had the money, the resources, and I was a criminal. Maybe it was time I played the part. No wonder people like Lorado left a body count. Seemed like blood was the only thing that got anyone’s attention. Sure as hell got mine.

“Do me a favor. Keep a couple of your boys here at the hospital to keep an eye on Morgan.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“I have a business meeting I need to attend.”

Parks searched my face. “Grant, what are you going to do?”

Something I should have done a long time ago. Something a good cop like Parks couldn’t let happen because it was his job to serve and protect no matter who the asshole was. “I’m pretty sure my five minutes is up.”

*******

I’d just finished cleaning up the mess I’d made in the waiting room when a nurse came through the back door wearing blue scrubs. Her hair was pulled into a bun and almost the same shade of silver as her eyes.

A wrinkle in her smock hid her name tag, but Jenny said, “How’s he doing, Anne?”

“He’s resting.” She offered me her hand. “I’m Anne Lindle. We’ve never met, but I’ve seen you around town.”

I rarely forgot a face, but right then I doubted I could’ve recognized my own.  We shook.

Anne glanced past us to the small group of cops gathered in the corner. Parks was on the phone, probably trying his damnedest to find some grain of evidence the FBI had let Dillon out. Going by the look on his face, he was failing.

“Can we see Morgan now?” I needed to hold him because there was a chance I might not get to again.

“Sure.” Anne led us into the back where nurses and assistances roamed in scrubs and bits of equipment sat against the wall. We passed the beds separated by curtains down a hallway. She stopped at door 42.

Her gaze went to Aunt Jenny then me. “Before we go in, you need to realize we sedated him for the examination.”

I’d almost forgotten.

Anne patted my arm. “Don’t worry, everything came back clean. He’s just bruised up and has a cut on his arm.”

Jenny’s exhale was almost a sob, and tension I didn’t know existed bled out of me.

“But there are some concerns.” Ann put her hand on the door.

“Like what?”

“Morgan’s not responding to questions.”

Jenny said, “But you sedated him.”

“Not enough to make him incoherent.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Anne let go of the door. “I’m not qualified to—”

Jenny gathered up both the other woman’s hands and held them. “Honey, we went to school together. You sat behind Lori in Mr. Seigle’s math class. You tutored me in English Lit. You were there when Lori brought Morgan home as a baby, and you were there when those plastic surgeons in Maysville put him back together.” Jenny held the woman’s gaze. “You know Morgan. Now I need you to tell me what you think. Not as a nurse, but as my friend. As Lori’s friend and Morgan’s.”

A tear escaped down Anne’s cheek, and she whisked away with a sweep of her thumb. “Morgan’s suffered a trauma, but his situation is complicated because of the autism. I think he has a good chance of coming back, but it could be days or weeks or…”

Never.

The unspoken word hung in the air between us.

I had to swallow several times before I could get my voice to work. “Please open the door.”

She hesitated again.

“Please.”

“Just keep in mind a lot could change over the next twenty-four hours.”

The shift from fluorescents to near darkness left me blind. Then slowly the soft light over the hospital bed revealed Morgan, lying on his side.  There was an IV in the back of one hand. The other lay on his pillow near his face, flexing as if dreaming about the tics it liked to display.

His eyes weren’t closed, but he didn’t look at me when I walked up. Round bruises marked his throat and a bandage covered the cut on his arm. The fight he’d put up had left marks across the back of his knuckles.

“Hey.” Morgan’s empty gaze wandered upward. I touched his cheek, his shoulder, his arm. A high-pitched whimper ticked out of his throat, and he stared into the light.

All I could do was stand there. I understood then what Anne had been trying to say. “He’ll get better right?”

Her eyes conveyed a million I’m sorrys. “There’s no set rule when it comes to regression. Or autism in general. Morgan is very unique in his ability to adapt and manage himself. Most people with as severe a diagnosis aren’t as lucky. They might be able to acquire basic skills, but they don’t excel like he did.”

“But he came back before.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Then it’s possible.” My vision blurred.

“The specialist will be able to give you a better idea.”

Tears burned a path down my cheeks.

She put her hand on my arm. “But if anyone can do it, it’s him.”

It was just a grain of hope, but it was something.  “Um.” I wiped my eyes. “Would you two mind if…”

“You take all the time you need.” Aunt Jenny tossed a thumb over her shoulder. “Anne and I will go get some coffee. I’ll be in the cafeteria if you need me.”

The door shut, and we were alone. Morgan arched his neck as if he was trying to follow something I couldn’t see. I pulled a chair over.  The bed rail didn’t want to cooperate, and it wound up cockeyed, but low enough for me to sit and put my elbows on the edge of the mattress.

Morgan’s wayward hand reached upward toward the light. I took it. There was only a second or two where he resisted, then his grip tightened and untightened over and over again.

“You probably already know this, but I bought you a ring. I should have given it to you weeks ago but…”

He blinked several times in a row and his gaze slid away.