hurting your sister like that…' He swallowed, obviously fighting with his emotions. 'I'm a selfish man, Lee. You're all I have left and I can't…' His voice caught. 'I can't lose you.'
Lena tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to understand that she would never leave him again. 'When I saw you at the house, you told me that man, Clint Jones, killed my mother.'
'He dealt to her,' Hank said. 'He dealt to both of us.'
Lena sat back, trying to reconcile the image she'd had in her head for all these years of Angela the angel with this new one of Angela the drug addict. Had her mother been as bad as Hank? Had her arms been as marked, her features as ravaged? Lena shuddered at the thought, almost wishing she'd never been told.
'Meth is just…' Hank shook his head. 'You die the minute you take it. The person you are, the person you were gonna be – that's gone the second the liquid hits your veins. You're dead from that moment on.'
'How did it happen? How did she die?'
He closed his eyes, chest rising and falling with each breath. He would not look at her when he said, 'She went over Taylor Bridge too fast and hit a telephone pole. Snapped her neck. The doctor said it must have been instant.'
Lena had been called out on her share of single-car accidents. Invariably, there was a dark story behind them.
His fingers wrapped around her hand. 'She would've never left you if she'd known how sorry I'd turn out to be. She thought I would take care of you.'
'You did,' Lena told him. 'You did the best you could.'
'Don't forgive me,' he said. His hand was weak but he held on to her as tight as he could. 'Don't ever forgive me.'
Lena couldn't stop herself. Not after all that had happened, all he had done for her and Sibyl.
He glanced at her, then looked away quickly. 'Better get now before that nurse comes back. Makes me wish I was back in a damn coma.'
'All right,' she said, letting his hand slip from hers. Neither one of them had ever been good at talking about their feelings. 'Call me if you need me, okay?'
Lena shuffled out of the room, feeling more tired than she'd thought herself capable. The doctors had told her the reason was because she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Lena thought it was because all she did was lie around the hospital all day with nothing to do but feel sorry for herself.
Her room was right next door to Hank's and she could hear the phone ringing from the hall. Lena hastened her step, snatching up the receiver mid-ring.
'This is a collect call from an inmate in Coastal State Prison,' an automated voice informed her. Lena didn't sit on the bed so much as fall. She waited for the recorded voice, her heart thumping against her ribs as she heard, 'Ethan Green.'
Lena crooked the receiver between her shoulder and ear, pressing the button on the phone to accept the call.
There was silence, nothing but a soft beep every three seconds to remind them that time was passing.
He said, 'How you doing?'
Lena glanced around the room, feeling like someone was watching her. 'Why are you calling me?' she demanded. I don't want to talk to you.'
'That why you accepted the call?'
'I'm hanging up right now.'
'I heard about what happened.'
Her hand had been hovering over the phone, ready to hang up, but she stopped at his words. Of course Ethan had heard about what happened. His
network would have fed him the news before the media even knew about it.
'That toothache I had when you saw me?' She knew he wasn't expecting an answer. 'Don't worry about it,' he told her. 'I got some medicine. It doesn't hurt anymore.'
She thought about Fred Bart, the way the dentist had smiled with his nasty little teeth before he set Charlotte on fire. She spoke before she could stop herself. 'Good.'
'Nobody hurts my girl. You got me?'
'Nobody but you,' she reminded him.
He chuckled lightly. 'That's right, Lee. Nobody but me.'
Her breath was coming up short. Her hand was still inches from the hook, ready to hang up, but she couldn't make herself do anything but listen.
'I'm gonna write to you,' he told her, his voice soft, coaxing. 'I'm gonna write to you and you need to write back, okay, baby?'
'No,' she said, a begging quality to her voice. She tried to be stronger. 'I don't want you in my life anymore.'
'You think it's that easy? You think you're ever going to get away from me?' He laughed again, humoring her. 'I'm gonna be out of here before you know it, Lee. Then we can start over. Just you and me. Okay?'
She shook her head, words failing her.
'Sleep tight, baby. I'll be thinking about you.'
Lena hung up the phone, still hearing his voice, sensing his presence in the room. Who would get to her first – Ethan or Harley? Both men always settled their scores. Neither let anyone get the upper hand. Would she be beaten to death or wake up a
couple of weeks from now with some stranger sticking a needle in her arm, telling her not to struggle, that it would be easier if she just gave in? Lena hoped it was the needle; hoped to God that she would never have to see Ethan Green ever again.
She looked up at the ceiling where shadows danced against the white tiles. Ethan was still there – filling every part of the room, every part of her soul. She lay back in bed, his dark presence hanging over her, until exhaustion won out and she finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
TWENTY-NINE
Sara sat on the front porch, talking on the phone to her mother. Jeffrey had called half an hour ago and said he was just crossing the Grant County line, but she wasn't going to feel safe until he was home. He had told her he needed to talk to her about something, and Sara guessed it was the same thing that had been bothering her for the last few days. She couldn't keep going on like this. Something had to give.
Her mother sounded exasperated. 'Are you listening to me?'
'Yes, Mama,' Sara lied.
'He told me that he'd fixed the automatic sprinkler. Half the plants are dead.'
'I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose.'
'We've been home less than a week and he still hasn't offered a credible explanation.'
'I'm sure he meant to fix the sprinkler.'
'Sara,' Cathy began, and Sara braced herself for a lecture.
