Jolene pointed to the phone on the desk. “Find out.”
Amy looked to Broker, who shrugged-
They all took a few beats to absorb Amy’s phone conversation. Then Jolene gauged their eyes and said, “So, let’s take a drive and test your theory.”
“What do you mean?” Broker asked.
“I mean, I’ll put off calling Milt and give you one chance to prove it. Twenty-four hours. We take Hank on a car trip.” She walked to the phone on the bed stand and placed her hand on the receiver. “Take it or leave it.”
“Up north, in his condition?” Amy asked.
“To Ely,” Jolene nodded.
“I don’t think so, unless he’s in an ambulance,” Amy said.
“You know what an ambulance
Amy looked to Broker who said, “Jolene, it’s pretty risky.”
Jolene picked up the phone. “They said I couldn’t bring him home from the hospital. But I did. So how’s it more risky than her-” she pointed the phone at Amy-“coming over here and inviting all kinds of legal hell? Look, Hank’s beat, he’ll sleep for eight hours. It’s cold but the roads are dry. The only thing is, Earl took the Ford. His van’s here but I don’t have the keys. And my Accord isn’t big enough. How reliable is the Jeep.”
“The Jeep’s okay,” Broker said.
Jolene returned the phone to the cradle. “So? We have a cell phone, we have a nurse. What do you say?”
“Four hours, maybe we could do it,” Amy said.
“He’d just be asleep?” Broker said.
Jolene nodded. “We’ll be on main roads. Hell, with you guys along, he’ll be in better company than alone here with me. So c’mon, let’s load him in your car, drive up to Ely to your lodge. Rest up, and first thing in the morning, let’s confront this nurse. If you’re right, Amy’s off the hook, you get to be a hero, and I’ve got a stronger case.”
Jolene’s straight-ahead energy was infectious. Broker looked at Amy who held up the paper with the alphabet blocks. “It would really be something,” she said.
“C’mon,” Jolene encouraged, “a little adventure, for Christ’s sake.”
Broker studied Hank, asleep in a blue gown. “He can’t travel like that.”
“No problem,” Jolene said. “I’ll put him in a fleece sweat suit. We’ll build up the back of the Jeep with blankets and pillows so he can recline, like in his bed. One of us will have to ride in back with him and move him from side to side.”
“We’ll trade off,” Amy said and her eyes swung hopefully to Broker.
“See,” Jolene said. “We can pull it off.”
Broker thought about it. He thought about how guys like J.T. were always telling him all he could do was entrap people; how he never
“We’ll bring the blankets, and pack a diaper bag, with some Ensure for his tube; you go out through the garage, open the door, and back the Jeep in.” Jolene bristled with efficiency.
Broker went to move the Jeep. Amy helped Jolene pack a travel bag from the bed table. Hank was fast asleep.
“So, how’s an upright lady like you wind up with a rough-trade guy like Broker?” Jolene asked casually when they were alone.
“Oh, he’s not really like that, that’s just an act,” Amy said.
“Convinced me,” Jolene said dryly. “So, you suspected this other nurse or what? Is that why you came down?”
“No, no. That was Broker, he was suspicious about the timing of your accountant’s death so close after Hank’s accident. But he checked it out with the Washington County sheriff’s department. .”
Jolene stiffened up. “He did?”
“Actually, J.T. did. He’s the guy we’re staying with. He’s a retired homicide detective. They were all rookies together in St. Paul; J.T., Broker, and John Eisenhower, the Washington County sheriff. And Wash-Co said there was no foul play involved with Stovall. Just that he had some pretty weird hang-ups and they got out of control. Broker is having trouble accepting that. He hates being wrong.”
“Rookies?” Jolene wondered. “You mean, like cops?”
“Well, Broker was never a proper cop. He worked lots of undercover for the state Bureau of Criminal Apprehension.”
Jolene smiled, big and easy. Slowly, she reached out and raised a wave of Amy’s hair on her palm. “This is really thick. Have you ever thought of wearing it up?”
“Usually I just put it in a ponytail,” Amy said.
“Sure, I can see that.” Jolene smiled again. “Look, will you excuse me for a minute. I need a quick cigarette to take the edge off and collect myself.” As she turned to leave the room, she switched off the baby monitor on the bed table because, as Earl had pointed out, baby monitors pick up and broadcast cell phone conversations.
Chapter Forty-one
Allen had been kneed in the stomach once, coming down from a rebound in high school ball. He’d sprawled on the gym floor for five minutes, gasping, convinced he’d never catch his breath again.
Right now Allen was having trouble catching his emotional breath. Seeing Broker and the nurse, he briefly lost his bearings and contracted a sudden fatigue. His thoughts turned a tired yellow, the color of nicotine stains on the fingers of a smoker.
The color of Hank’s fingers.
He’d looked out the window of an examining room and watched Broker and the nurse as they left the hospital and got into a dilapidated red Jeep. It was about Hank, of course. Why else would they be together, here?
On automatic pilot, he had changed into his street clothes, gotten in his car, and driven home. He flirted with denial and resolved to shake it off. So he pulled on his wind suit and shoes and went outside and tried to run. He got no farther than the row of box elders that lined the common area of his town house. He stood in place and watched the trees lose their leaves- showers of rounded, yellow, fat triangles, whipping back and forth across his shoes. The trees were going dormant, parts of them dying.
Coming apart.
It was all coming apart.
Should he call Milt? And what? Gossip? Milt didn’t know anything.
He went back inside, and instead of showering and shaving he paced back and forth in his living room. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and encountered his reflection in a hall mirror. What had been a liberating gesture this morning now made him look seedy. He saw the movie box on the coffee table and remembered the clown’s sad, watchful eyes.
He had to know. He had to go to Hank’s and ask Jolene if Broker had brought a nurse around.
Back in his car, he drove through revolving doors of icy wind and leaves. It was dark when he arrived at Hank’s. Halfway down the driveway his low beams picked up a dirty glare of orange on red and he put on the brakes. He slowed and crept forward. It was the rusty Jeep he’d seen Broker and Amy get into.
His fatigue vanished as sudden excitement flushed his veins.
Fight or flight had always been a concept. Now it was a primitive tug-of-war clawing inside his chest.
Allen parked, got out, and saw that the front door was ajar. Crouching, eyes and ears pitched to high alert, he slipped into the house and made his way through the familiar rooms to the kitchen, where a disembodied voice stopped him cold.
