I was right, I knew I was. The part about Lena Sanderson was theory, but it fit too well to be wrong. I thought about Mark Sanderson, what it would be like for him when
Brinkman faced him with the two bodies in the quarry, the one he knew about and the one he didn't.
I was grateful for the emptiness of the room after Brinkman was gone. I'd worked hard to give him what he'd needed to know, but to hold back the one part I'd told no one. I hadn't been sure I could do it. In the end I had, but the exhaustion I felt now, alone in the curtained alcove, was in my nerves, my muscles, and bones, a tiredness so deep I was, finally, unable to move.
I lay back, my eyes closed, prepared to surrender whenever Dr. Mazzeo busted back in. I slept for a while; then I heard the metallic slide of the curtain rings. I opened my eyes to see Eve Colgate pulling the curtain shut.
I reached out my hand. She took it, smiling slightly. 'Well,' she said, 'you don't look as bad as A1 Mazzeo said you did.'
'I don't feel as bad as he says I do.'
'How do you feel?'
'Battered.' A thought hit me. 'Jesus, you've been here all day, haven't you?'
She nodded. 'I was stranded. Lydia was supposed to call me. I waited until afternoon. When I hadn't heard from her, I called the state troopers. Was it they who found you?
'Sort of,' I said. That must have been why MacGregor had reached the quarry so fast after Jimmy's call came over the CB. He'd been on his way to Franklinton, to the green house. He'd known right where to head for when Eve told him Lydia and I had gone off radar.
'How's Tony?' I asked Eve.
'Improving. He was awake for a while. He asked for you. He's anxious to talk to you. But he doesn't know who shot him.'
'Arnold Shea,' I said. 'He's dead.'
'Bill, what's going on? What happened to Lydia? The sheriff's men won't tell me anything.'
'Lydia'll be okay. A concussion, not serious. And it's all over, Eve.'
'What do you mean, over? What happened? What's happening?'
'You're safe. You always were; you weren't the target. I'll tell you about it. And I think I know where your paintings are.'
She was speechless for a moment, her clear eyes widening. 'Do you?' she asked. 'Do you?'
'I think so. If I'm right, I'll get them in the morning.'
'Where? Who has them?'
'I don't want to tell you, in case I'm wrong.' I wasn't wrong, but the whole story was something I hoped she would never know. 'But Eve, I need a favor.'
'What do you need?'
'A ride. The doctor wants me to stay here. I want to leave. But he says I can't drive yet and I know that's right.'
She hesitated. 'Are you sure that's a good idea?'
'Yes.'
Another hesitation, then an ironic smile. 'All right. But what am I supposed to use for a car?'
'Oh,' I said. 'A car.' I thought. 'Mine's at the Appleseed plant. Lydia's is at Grice's condo.'
'Yours is closer. I'll call a cab.'
'Is the cab company still open?'
'They're open until eight. It's only four-thirty.'
'Four-thirty? Jesus.'
I'd thought midnight, at least.
When Eve was gone I got gingerly out of bed. I dressed, moving very carefully. At first I was light-headed, clutching the door frame for support until a wave of dizziness passed, but I was feeling more solid by the time I got to the admissions desk to check out. After I did that I asked for Lydia's room number, bought myself a cup of coffee, and rode the elevator to the second floor.
In Lydia's room the lights were out, leaving the room to settle softly into the purple dusk. I stood silently by the bed, sipped my coffee, watched the bedclothes rise and fall with the gentle rhythm of Lydia's breathing. The white bandage around her head made her features look delicate, her face small and vulnerable. She'd hate to know I was even thinking that.
When my coffee was almost gone Lydia's eyelids fluttered, opened, closed again.
'Bill?' Her voice was faint.
'I'm here.'
'Are you all right?'
'I'm fine.'
'Thank God,' she breathed. 'Now go to hell.'
