come up with a few more weird ideas.
It was a morale booster if nothing else. By the time Frank took over the wheel in Hartford, I knew for certain my old friend was back where he belonged. We had never worked together on a case as convoluted as this, but we had shared lots of long, winding conversations that had eventually set us on the right course. After all the uncertainty and frustration of the past few days, that simple process, even without final answers, was a big comfort.
Night had fallen halfway into the trip, narrowing our already limited view to a hypnotizing funnel of onrushing snow. Coming from the space-like void, it blazed briefly in the headlights before careening off the windshield, without sound or trace. It was like flying through densely packed stars while standing perfectly still. I was no longer sure if we were moving, or if the earth was slipping rapidly beneath us. And we were utterly alone. North of Springfield the traffic had ceased to exist and we hurtled along in total isolation.
The illusion was shaken first by the dark, deep rumbling of a diesel engine coming up from behind-an oddly menacing sound that enveloped the car. Murphy muttered, “Christ, the son of a bitch must be flying.”
I looked around. The ice-caked rear window glowed with two shaking headlights from an eighteen-wheeler. The noise grew and became a vibration, tickling the soles of my feet and making my hands sweat.
“How fast are we going?”
Both of Frank’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. “Forty-something.”
The light was getting stronger, along with the noise.
“He’s got to be going fifty or better.”
The truck was abreast of us now, a mechanical monster looming like a nightmare.
“What the fuck’s he doing? He’s going to kill us.” Frank tugged at the window crank, fighting against the ice outside. The window suddenly came free. Blazing snow, wind, and the screaming of a diesel engine swept into the car, making us both shout in alarm. Across Murphy’s chest I could see the trailer’s side marker lights gleaming inches from his door; had he reached out his hand, he could have touched them. The wind blew the hat from his head, and in the demonic red glow his face was tight with fear.
“Let up on the gas,” I shouted.
He was ahead of me. The truck’s speed picked up as ours lessened, but too late. The riveted steel wall of the box veered closer and connected. There was a thump and a screech of metal. The car wa s lifted as by the wind. The smoothness beneath our wheels rippled loudly and then sent a punch that lifted us from our seats. Briefly, as in the flash from a camera, I saw the guard rail dead ahead, heard a sudden smashing and then all was quiet and darkness.
For a moment we were airborne, the headlights gone, the windshield a spidery web of cracked glass, the car filled with wind. The nose made contact first, throwing me against my seatbelt. The windshield blew out and we began to roll, slowly at first, then faster and faster. I felt my body float in harness amid an orchestra of noise. The end I don’t remember. There was a flash of light from deep behind my eyes, and there was water. The lovely sound of rushing water.
15
I woke up in a hospital room, staring at a ceiling of pockmarked little tiles, complete with a brown water stain directly overhead. I can’t remember ever seeing such a ceiling without a stain like that.
I was flat on my back and my head hurt. I knew it was a hospital because of the smell, the whiteness, the drip bag suspended from a coat-hanger contraption to my right, and the fact that I’d been woken up by a voice paging Dr. Winters.
I turned my head slightly to better examine the drip bag and instantly closed my eyes against the burst of pain. A scraping noise made me open them again. Gail’s face came into view.
“Joe?”
“Guilty.” My voice had a canned sound to it, as if it came from the outside.
“How are you?”
“Not good, I guess.” My head pounded regularly now, in perfect time with my heart.
Her face came very close, and I felt her lips touch my own. They were soft and trembling. I had never felt so totally in love. I wanted the kiss to continue.
She touched my cheek with her hand. “You’ve been asleep a long time.” Her eyes were brimming.
“How long?”
“Two days.”
I lifted my right hand to rub my eyes and found an intravenous tube taped to my wrist. It was hard to concentrate. “Did we land in some water?”
“A river. You were half-frozen when they found you. You’ve had a concusDid wesion.'
“Jesus. How’s Frank?”
She pursed her lips and a tear ran down her cheek. “He’s dead, Joe.”
The pounding got worse and was joined by a humming sound. I looked at her for a long time, feeling increasingly detached, as though the inside part of me could just get up and leave the room. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
When I woke up, Brandt was looking down at me. “Welcome back.”
His face was serious, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if trying to guess what lay hidden just beneath my skin. I watched him silently from my hiding place.
“How do you feel?”
“All right.”
“How’s the head?”
I thought a moment. “Fine, I guess.” I moved it slightly and the bomb went off again. “Maybe not so fine.”
“The doctor says it’ll probably hurt for a few days. It’s amazing you survived at all.”
“Where’s Frank?” Brandt blinked and looked away. He nodded at someone I couldn’t see-or didn’t try to see. He then took off his glasses and scratched the side of his nose. “You know Frank’s dead.”
“Yes.”
“We had the ceremony yesterday, Joe.” The pounding had faded to the background. It returned with a vengeance. “You could have waited.”
“We waited three days. We couldn’t any longer.”
“Three days? Gail told me I’d been out two.”
“You went under again.”
A deep rage gushed up inside me, making my entire body hot. I tried getting onto my elbows, fighting against the nausea. Gail appeared at Brandt’s side and put her hand on my chest. “What do you want, Joe?”
“I’m sick of staring up everyone’s nostrils.”
She placed a control box into my hand and pushed my thumb against a green button. The bed behind my pillow began to rise. The world slowly straightened. The pain in my head backed off a bit.
Brandt sat on the edge of the bed. “That better?”
I nodded to Gail. “Thank you.”
“What happened out there, Joe?”
“A truck ran us off the road.”
He frowned and reached into his pocket for his pipe. He sat there for a moment looking at it, turning it over in his hands. “What kind of truck?”
“An eighteen-wheeler. Wasn’t there a report?”
He shook his head. “As far as the Massachusetts State Police are concerned, it was a single-vehicle accident.” he='0em'
“A single… Jesus Christ, didn’t they check the side of the car for paint? The son of a bitch sideswiped us.” I had to breathe deeply to keep the pain in check.
“There wasn’t much left of the car. I saw it myself.”
