“You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” Eddie murmured, turning to leave. “I've got to go.”
Vin cleared his throat. “About Jim…I'm not sure if you were planning on claiming his body, but I'd love to give him a proper burial. Nothing but the best. Straight up.”
Eddie looked over his shoulder, his odd red-brown eyes grave. “That would be cool—I'll leave you in charge of him. And I'm sure he'd appreciate it.”
Vin nodded once, the deal struck. “You want to know when and where? Can you give me your number?”
The guy recited some numerals, which Gretchen wrote down on a piece of paper. “Text me with the details,” Eddie said. “I'm not sure where I'll be. I'm taking off.”
“You don't want to be seen by a doc?”
“No need to. I'm fine.”
“Ah…okay. Take care. And thank you…” Vin let the words drift because he didn't know how to say what was in his heart.
Eddie smiled in an ancient way and held his hand up. “You don't have to say anything else. I feel you.”
And then he was gone.
As the curtain flapped shut, Vin watched under its hem as those shitkickers turned to the right, took one step…and disappeared into thin air. Like they'd never been there in the first place.
Bringing his right palm to his face, Vin rubbed his eyes. “I think I'm hallucinating.”
“Do you want me to get the doctor?” Gretchen came over, all worried. “I can use the nurse's button—”
“No, I'm okay…Sorry, I think I'm just really overtired.” For all he knew, the guy had simply moved over to the left and was now, at this very moment, striding out of the ER and into the night. Vin tugged Gretchen down next to him. “I feel like it's over now. This whole thing.”
Well, over except for the fact that his visions were back to stay—at least according to Eddie. But maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Maybe he could find some way of channeling them or using them for good.
With a frown, he realized he'd found a new purpose. Only this one would serve others, not himself.
Not a shabby outcome, all things considered.
Gretchen opened her hand and the jewelry, especially the diamond, gleamed. “If you don't mind, though, I'm going to put these in a safety-deposit box.”
As she shoved them down deep into the pocket of her jeans, Vin nodded. “Yeah, let's not lose those again, shall we?”
“Nope. Never again.”
Chapter 42
When the taxi pulled up in front of Gretchen's rental house, the light of dawn was breaking over Caldwell in a lovely wash of peach and golden yellow. The trip away from St. Francis had been a hell of a lot better than the one to the ER in the back of that ambulance, but it was clear to Gretchen that Vin was far from well. With his pale green, rigid face, he was obviously in pain, and mobility was going to be a problem with that arm of his in a sling. Plus he looked like a homeless man in the floppy shirt the hospital had given him, its wide-open collar showing off the super-white bandage that ran from the base of his neck all the way across one side of his chest.
“Next stop the Commodore, right?” the driver said over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” Vin replied in an exhausted voice.
Gretchen stared out the window at her little house. The babysitter's car was parked in front on the street and there was a light on in the kitchen. Upstairs, Robbie's room was dark. She didn't want Vin to go back to the duplex by himself. She wasn't sure how Robbie would take to meeting him. And she felt trapped between the two.
Turning to Vin, she searched his familiar, handsome features. He was talking to her…patting her hand… probably telling her to get some rest, take care of herself, call him when she was up…
“Please come in,” she blurted. “Stay with me. You've just been shot and you need someone to look after you.”
Vin stopped in midsentence and just stared at her. Which was precisely what the cabbie did in the rearview mirror. Then again, both the invitation and the gunshot part were no doubt equally surprising to each of the men, respectively.
“What about Robbie?” Vin asked.
Gretchen glanced up and met the driver's eyes. God, she wished there were some way of putting up a partition so the guy behind the wheel didn't hear all this.
“I'll introduce you to him and him to you. And we'll just go from there.”
Vin's mouth tightened and she braced herself for a no. “Thank you…I'd like to meet your son.”
“Good,” she whispered with a combination of relief and fear. “Let's go.”
She paid the fare and got out of the cab first so she could help Vin—but he shook his head and grabbed the side of the taxi to pull himself up. Which was a good thing, considering the way the muscles in his forearm clenched. Given how much he weighed, she was more likely to fall on him than actually get him to his feet.
Once he was upright, she hitched herself under his good side, shut the door, and helped him up the front walk.
Instead of trying to find her keys, she knocked quietly and Quinesha opened the way immediately. “My lord, will you look at you two.”
The woman stepped back and Gretchen got Vin over to the couch, where he didn't so much sit down as fall on the cushions—which led her to believe his knees gave out.
For long moments, everyone waited to see if he was going to need to be rushed to the bathroom.
When it seemed like he had himself under nominal control, Quinesha didn't ask a lot of questions. She just gave Gretchen one of her quick, hard hugs, asked if there was anything she could do, and hit the road when she was thank-you-but-no'd from the heart.
Gretchen locked the door up and put her purse down on the ratty wing chair by the TV. As Vin let his head fall back and his lids crash down, she was not surprised when he took a series of long, deep recovery breaths and held otherwise completely still.
“You want the bathroom?” she asked, hoping he didn't have to throw up again.
When he shook his head, she went into the kitchen, got a glass out of the cupboard, and filled it full of ice. Courtesy of her son, there were two things she always had in the house: ginger ale and saltines, also known as mother's cure-all. Even though Robbie was homeschooled, he played with other kids at the Y, and the sitters all had children who came down with flus and colds and stomach bugs. A mom never knew when she might need the magic combo.
Cracking open a fresh can of Canada Dry, she poured the soda over the ice and watched the fizz go crazy and foam up right to the top of the glass. As she waited for things to settle, she got out a sleeve of the crackers and put a two-inch stack on a folded paper towel.
Just as she was topping off the glass again, she heard Vin's gravelly voice from the living room:
“Hi.”
Her first instinct was to rush in to reassure Robbie—but she knew if she made it look like there was a problem, she'd only make things more dramatic than they already were going to be. Picking up what she'd gotten for Vin, she forced herself to walk calmly into the living room.
Robbie's hair was sticking up in the back as it always did when he got out of bed, and his Spider-Man pj's made him look smaller than he really was because she'd purposely bought them two sizes bigger than he needed.
Standing just inside the room, he was focused on their guest, his eyes wary, but curious.
God…her heart was pounding and her throat was tight and the ice in the ginger ale was rattling from the way her hand shook.
“This is my friend Vin,” she offered quietly.
Robbie glanced back at her and then refocused on the couch. “That's a big Band-Aid. You gots a cut?”
Vin nodded slowly. “I do.”
“From what?”
