but still friendly. As Ben well knew, her name was Beatrice.
“Get any sleep last night, Senator?”
Was it morning? Ben instinctively clutched his jaw and felt a wealth of stubble. He must look a wreck.
“Not much,” Ben mumbled.
“Still having those dreams?”
Had he told her about the dreams? Why? Must’ve been so brain-dead he didn’t realize what he was saying.
“I…don’t remember.”
“You know,” she said, as she wrapped the blood pressure monitor around Mike’s upper arm, “you might consider talking to someone about that. Not that it’s any of my business. But if I’d been through what you’ve been through…” She shook her head. “I’d want to talk to someone. I’d need to get something off my chest.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno.” She finished with the blood pressure and started the tricky task of trying to take an unconscious man’s temperature. Ben knew wires hooked up all over Mike’s body were monitoring his heartbeat and brain activity and other vital signs, but apparently Beatrice preferred to do some things the old-fashioned way. “The lingering fear that accompanies being in a horrific event. Anxiety. Grief.” She paused ever so slightly. “Guilt.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Ben said with more than a little crust. “I don’t like…talking. Especially not about myself.”
“Suit yourself.” She finished her work and gave Mike’s sheets a little tuck. “Sir, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. But you know-we’ll call you if there’s any change.”
“I know.”
“So…”
“I’ll stay. As long as I can.”
“As you wish.” She started out the door, then stopped. “Oh. Major Morelli has a visitor. I asked her to wait until I finished my business. Do you mind if I send her in now?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Very good, sir. Umm…could I bring you something to eat?”
“I’m fine.”
Beatrice nodded, then left the room.
When was the last time he had eaten? Ben wondered. He couldn’t recall. Perhaps that was why he felt so… feeble. Perhaps that was part of it, anyway.
He stared into Mike’s expressionless face. Come back, he thought, as if his mental urging might somehow make the difference. Come back to us.
“Ben?”
Ben looked up, startled. It took him a moment to focus and make the proper mental connections. “Sergeant Baxter?”
“Would you call me Kate already?” The woman was tall and almost wiry thin. She had dark hair and eyes and, Ben knew from experience, was just as tough as she looked. She had been Mike’s partner.
He mentally corrected himself. She still was Mike’s partner, damn it.
“Kate,” Ben said, rubbing his hands against his face, trying to bring himself back into the world of the living. “How are you?”
“How am I?”
“Right. Stupid question.”
They both stared down at Mike, lying quiet and still on his bed.
“You know,” Kate said, “I’ve been telling him he needed to get more rest. But this is ridiculous.”
Ben tried to laugh, but it just wasn’t in him.
“Sorry I haven’t been here more often. But you know, it’s such a long drive from Tulsa. The Turner Turnpike is so boring.”
Ben didn’t say anything.
“Okay, I’m lying through my teeth. I just…I don’t know.” She pressed her wrist against her mouth, obviously trying to stop her emotions from spilling out. “I guess I don’t like seeing him like this.”
Ben nodded slowly. “It just isn’t him, is it?”
“No! Mike is always so full of life and energy and-” She caught herself. “I mean, he’s a sexist pig and I hate working with him and I only do so under protest but…” She let out a long sigh that said more than any number of words might have done.
After a long silent moment, she changed the subject. “Any word from the ex?”
“No.” Hell of a thing, wasn’t it? When you couldn’t track down your own sister. “I don’t know where Julia is. I don’t know if she knows Mike has been wounded. And I don’t really even know if she would care.”
“That’s harsh, surely.”
Ben said nothing. He was much too tired to argue. But he’d been dealing with his younger sister all his life. She had reclaimed her infant son-the one Ben had been raising for her-in a sudden frenzy several years ago, run off with some doctor, and he hadn’t heard from her since. Neither had his mother.
“So is that how you met Mike?” Kate asked. “When he married your sister?”
“Oh, no. I knew him first. We were college roommates at OU. Even played in a band together. I played piano and keyboards and sang badly. He played guitar and sang slightly less badly. Wrote some of our songs himself.”
“Really! Good stuff?”
Ben shrugged. “Very poetic.”
They shared a small smile.
“We were distant for a while, after the divorce. Very messy. But we managed to reclaim our friendship after I moved to Tulsa and started practicing law. We’ve been close ever since. My best friend, really.” He paused. “Best male friend, for sure. He’s saved me a hundred times over.”
“From bad guys?”
Ben stared at the floor. “From myself, mostly.”
Kate was carrying a paper bag. She set it on a table and withdrew a thermos. “I think you need a pick-me- up.” She began unscrewing the lid.
“Thanks, but I don’t really drink coffee. Upsets my stomach.”
By the time she had the lid off, Ben recognized his mistake.
“Chocolate milk?”
Kate grinned broadly. “My favorite.”
He gave her a long look. “I don’t believe you’ve ever drunk chocolate milk. Even when you were five, I’ll bet you were too tough to drink chocolate milk.”
“Well…”
“You’ve been talking to Christina, haven’t you?”
Kate started to protest.
“Don’t bother denying it. I know.”
She passed him a cup. “You can hardly blame a woman for looking after her husband. Especially a newlywed.”
Ben held up his hands. “I don’t care for any. I-”
Kate looked at him harshly. “Drink it!”
Ben took the cup obediently and drank.
“I brought you some coneys, too.”
Ben didn’t argue this time; he just took the food as she offered it. “Bet they aren’t as good as Carl’s in Tulsa.”
“They’ll be much better. My own secret recipe.”
Ben blinked. “They’re hot dogs. You stuck a wiener inside a bun.”
“Hey, I’m a working girl. What do you expect? For me, that’s a secret recipe.”
“I’m not sure I can eat anything.”
“You have to. You look pathetic.”
