“That comment you made about the Grady Twins.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t care how creepy they were. If you’ve had a threesome, I have a right to know the details.”
I laughed.
“Laugh now, pay later,” she said. “I’m not kidding, Kevin.”
“Heeeere’s Johnny!”
“Excuse me?”
“You know the movie,
“Uh huh.”
“Remember the kid on the tricycle?”
She thought a minute.
“The one in the hotel that’s riding up and down the hallways?”
“Right, the caretaker’s son.”
“Yeah, I remember. So what?”
“So he’s riding down the hall a hundred miles an hour and he suddenly sees the two girls and nearly shits his pants, remember?”
“Oh, God, yes!”
“The Grady Twins,” I said.
Chapter 5
THE NORTHEAST FLORIDA Medical Center is located on Fifth Street, St. Alban’s Beach. We were standing outside the kid’s room, talking to the attending physician, Dr. Carstairs.
“How is he?” Rachel said.
“Too soon to tell, but he’s on a ventilator, so he’s got a chance. Thanks to you folks and the luck of St. Alban’s.”
“A doctor who believes in luck?” I said.
“We’ve lost very few patients since I’ve been here. I’d call that lucky, wouldn’t you?”
“Some might be inclined to give you the credit.”
“They’d be kind to do so. But there’s something more at work here.”
“Such as?”
“The patients here have the best attitudes I’ve ever seen. They eat more, sleep better, complain less, and most important, they believe they’re going to improve.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it lucky,” I said. “Miracle might be a better word.”
“Then let’s put it this way,” he said. “If you’re going to get sick or injured anywhere in the country, this appears the best place to be. And not because of me.”
Dr. Carstairs was short and squat, late forties. His head was completely bald in the middle, and he’d grown his fringe hair long enough to form a short pony tail in back.
“Incongruous,” Rachel whispered, trying out a word I’d taught her months ago, when she first started cheating on her husband.
“Compensatory displacement,” I whispered back.
She arched an eyebrow and I wanted to take her right there. She caught my look and smiled, then turned back to face the doctor. While she looked at him I studied her profile, and—okay, I know it’s corny, but time seemed to freeze. Rachel nodded her head, responding to something the doctor had said, and I realized I’d been focusing on her sexuality so intently, I’d missed it. Rachel somehow managed to keep her focus on the doctor despite my sexuality. What willpower she must have!
“Sensitization?” Rachel said.
“That means he had to have been stung by fire ants at least once in the past, probably as a child. The first stinging event often fails to cause an allergic reaction. But the second can be deadly.”
“Who is he?” I said. “Any guess how long he’d been lying there?”
“There was no identification, and none of the nurses know him, so he’s probably not local. We were sort of hoping you might know who he is.”
“No clue,” I said.
Something tugged at my brain, making me wonder what kind of kid comes to town and walks around with no wallet, no cell phone, no money in his pockets—but has the sharpest knife I’d ever seen. I could always take it down to the P.D., and have the locals lift his prints. If he had a police record, I’d be doing them a favor. On the other hand, I didn’t want to buddy up to the local police if I didn’t have to. A little town like this, they probably have plenty of time on their hands. If some over-achiever gets a bug up his butt and begins checking too deeply into my background he might find some inconsistencies.
Dr. Carstairs said, “As to how long he’d been lying on the ant hill, I’d have to say not very, because anaphylaxis occurs rapidly, within seconds to a minute. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say two, three minutes, tops.”
