'Lydia—'
'Passwords, for God's sake.' I leaned to hear her better. ''It's only a game.' I almost broke my neck climbing down that cliff. You smell like a brewery.'
'Distillery.'
'Go to hell,' she whispered again.
'I'm sorry,' I said.
'No, you're not. You're standing there thinking how very clever you are, how you managed to save everybody after all.'
Not everybody, I thought. In the twilight I saw MacGregor's ashen face.
I stood silent, not knowing what to say. She was silent too, and for a while I thought she was asleep. Then, her eyes still closed, she slipped her hand from beneath the blanket, found mine. I closed my tingling fingers around her small, soft ones. 'Bill?'
'It's okay. You'll be okay.'
The sky outside the window faded slowly to black. I stood holding Lydia's hand until the soft rhythm of her breathing told me she was asleep again, and for a long time after that.
When I left Lydia I took the elevator again, this time to the third floor, to Tony's room. In here the lights were on, but Tony was asleep, his face pale and, even in sleep, reflecting pain.
Suddenly deeply weary, I pulled a chair next to the bed, leaned forward in it. I spoke Tony's name once, twice. His lips moved, without sound; then his eyelids rose slowly. He looked blankly around. 'Tony,' I said again. With an effort, his eyes found mine.
'Smith.' His whisper was almost inaudible.
'Don't talk,' I said. 'Just listen. I came to tell you it's over. Jimmy didn't kill anyone, Tony. Ginny Sanderson— the little blond girl—Ginny Sanderson killed Wally Gould and Frank Grice killed Ginny Sanderson. Tony, do you understand what I'm saying?'
He moved his head minutely, a nod. 'Blood,' he whispered. Pain shadowed his face. 'All over everything.'
'Uh-huh. But Jimmy wasn't involved in any of it. Any of it, Tony. He ran because he was scared. He didn't have the keys and he didn't have the truck. Do you understand?'
'The truck,' he whispered. 'I was followin' the truck.'
'I know, Tony. Don't talk, don't tell me. All right? What Frank told you about Jimmy—he told you about Eve's burglary, right? That night at the bar? He said Jimmy did that, that he could prove it, he could get Jimmy sent away for a long time? It wasn't true.
'Jimmy told you he was going straight. That was true. He's clean, Tony. He had nothing to do with the burglary, he had nothing to do with the murders. Tony, don't talk,' I said again, as he tried to speak. His mouth closed; he watched me.
'Grice is dead. Jimmy messed things up a little trying to protect Ginny Sanderson, but it probably would've come out the same anyway. He saved my life, Tony, just like you did.
'Those bullets you took, they were meant for me. From one of Grice's boys.' I stood. 'That's what I came to say, Tony.'
'Smith—'
'No,' I said. 'I don't want to hear it. Rest. You need to rest, Tony. You'll be all right, but it'll take time.' We looked at each other in silence for a few moments. Then I said, 'I'll see you, Tony,' and I left.
Eve Colgate was waiting in the lobby when I got downstairs, but so was Brinkman.
'I got to talk to you, city boy.'
'Jesus, Brinkman, can it wait until tomorrow? I'm a wreck.'
'No. Now.'
Eve put her hand on my arm. 'I'll wait outside. I'm tired of this place.' She turned to Brinkman. 'I'd appreciate it if you kept it short, Sheriff.' She walked out the smoky glass doors.
Brinkman watched her go. ''I'd appreciate it . . .' Shit.'
'What the hell do you want, Brinkman?' I sat, exhausted.
'I've been talking to Otis Huttner. He's going to live. He's not even hurt bad.'
'Great. Can I go now?'
'He says everything you said is true, except he claims he didn't know a goddamn thing about Lena until after it was over.'
'Uh-huh, sure. And?'
'And he says the cop Sanderson bought Grice was Ron MacGregor.'
I rubbed my eyes. Flashes of red and yellow played behind my lids.
'Why the hell didn't you tell me that, Smith?'
I thought of saying I didn't know, but I had nothing left for that kind of show. And there was something more important, so I said that instead. 'Brinkman, does it have to come out?'
'What the hell are you talking about? I'd've had Grice years ago, except for that bastard! I don't—'
