“Any questions?” he asked as he stopped with his hand on the door’s edge.
“One,” she said, her glance satirical. “You wouldn’t be a Benedict cousin, would you?”
“On my mother’s side. How did you know?”
“It figured.” She gave a wry shake of her head, then added, “Thank you. For everything.”
“Just doing my job.”
The door closed behind him. It opened again almost immediately, however, admitting Regina and April. Clay was only a second or two behind them and carried a cup of crushed ice in his hand.
“You look a bit happier,” April said. “Everything is okay then, for now?”
“For now.” Everything would never really be okay until Lainey had a new kidney, but there was no point in saying so.
Taking the cup from Clay with a quick word of thanks, Janna fished an ice chip from it and fed it to Lainey. The small face of her daughter lit up with pleasure while she crooned in the kind of ecstasy most kids reserved for chocolate ice cream.
A small silence fell. In it, the noise of the television seemed loud. Behind Lainey, one of the women caught her breath with a strangled sound. Turning her head slightly, Janna saw tears standing in Regina’s eyes before she gathered the baby she held closer to her and pressed her face to her small cheek.
Her gaze was not focused on Lainey, however, Janna realized. It was on the wall-mounted television screen.
The news was on, showing a coiffed and suited anchorwoman in front of a neat but featureless ranch-style home as she announced the identification of the body of the teenager recently found in the swamp near Turn-Coupe. Her expression suitably somber, she turned to the woman who stood beside her in faded, baggy shorts and with disheveled hair, angling the microphone in her direction. “Tell us what your feelings were, Mrs. Bianca, when you learned that your son had been murdered for his body organs?”
“He was just a boy!” the woman cried, staring into the camera with swollen, red-rimmed eyes that leaked tears. “He finished his last year of Little League Ball just last week. He wasn’t wild, didn’t do no drugs. He made good grades in school, played in the marching band, wanted to be a marine biologist when he grew up. He was a good kid! What kind…kind of monster could do…do this to him?”
Hard on her last cry, a grainy picture appeared on the screen. Obviously a school photo, it showed a boy with a lopsided grin, a cowlick in his dark hair and the gleam of mischievous intelligence in his dark brown eyes. In a voice-over, the anchorwoman spoke of the continuing police investigation into the recent deaths of two teenagers. Then she returned the program to the studio anchorman who began to talk about the mayor and plans for a new football stadium.
Janna felt as if a hard fist gripped her heart and was squeezing it. Her chest hurt, her jaws ached as she clenched them, and her brain felt on fire. It was one thing to know about a teenager’s death, but something else to see his face, to understand that he had really and truly lived but did so no longer. Dear God, she couldn’t stand it. And it didn’t help to hear Clay’s whispered curse in the subdued quiet.
“I’d like to kill whoever did it with my bare hands,” April said in tones of soft loathing.
“Think about that poor woman.” Anguish threaded Regina’s voice, and her arms tightened around the baby in her arms. “What a horrible thing to have to live with, knowing that your child died in fear and pain.”
The baby she held, disturbed, perhaps, by the movement, gave a small wail. The adults turned toward the sound, partly in concern, but also, Janna thought, in relief from the mental pain of what they’d just seen.
The sound attracted Lainey’s attention as well. “A baby,” she said in a small voice that was thin and scratchy from disuse. “Can I see?”
Regina looked at Janna. “Is it all right?”
Coolness descended over her as if she were being splashed with ice water. “She isn’t infectious, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, no!” Regina’s fine, redhead’s skin almost glowed with her fiery flush. “I just didn’t want to get in the way or tire her or…or maybe hurt her without knowing it.”
“I’m sorry,” Janna said in abrupt embarrassment. “Yes, it’s fine.”
Regina’s smile was still a shade anxious and she glanced at Clay as if for corroboration. At his nod, she stepped forward, holding out the baby. Lainey opened her small arms as naturally as breathing, and Regina, carefully avoiding her tubes, settled the infant against the girl with its tiny head resting on Lainey’s small shoulder.
The little one, disturbed by the move, opened her dark eyes. Baby and child regarded each other in solemn and silent communication. Then a slow smile bloomed across Lainey’s face, rising to shine in her eyes. “Oh,” she breathed in quiet wonder. “She’s beautiful. And just perfect.”
“You, too, honey,” Regina said softly. “You, too.”
Warmth toward Regina filtered through Janna. But at the same time, she allowed herself to accept something that she’d kept carefully cordoned off in her mind until that moment. Other mothers also had their perfect, beloved children, and for them, as for her, the idea of death for those children was unendurable.
It might have been that incident, though it could have been Dr. Hargrove’s half-comical warning or even simple exhaustion, but the idea of allowing Regina or April to sit with Lainey for a short time began to seem like a possibility.
There was no dramatic turnaround in Lainey’s condition over the next hours, but she did improve by slow degrees. Her blood pressure eased downward until it was as close to normal as it ever came; her excess fluid drained the way it should once dialysis was begun, and the sound of her heartbeat faded to its usual sandpapery whisper. Her low-grade fever remained and she was still a sick little girl, but the danger of losing her was no longer immediate.
April and Regina Benedict had not stayed long that afternoon. Clay saw them out and didn’t come back for several minutes. Janna assumed a family conclave of some kind was held in the hallway, but Clay didn’t mention what was said when he returned, and she didn’t ask. Afterward, however, there was a constant stream of visitors, most of them cousins of one degree or another. The first was Betsy, who was plump and outspoken, with frosted blond hair and an almost overpowering friendliness. Kane Benedict, the stern yet engaging attorney who was married to Regina, showed up around sundown, apparently on his way home. Luke joined him shortly afterward, a Benedict whose dark hair, warm smile and effortless charm gave him a strong resemblance to Clay. They left only after Roan returned, as if they felt some obligation to wait for the changing of the guard, or so it seemed to Janna.
It was almost a relief when Roan left again at last, since it seemed that the small hospital room had become a male enclave with a surfeit of tall, overwhelmingly masculine men stuffed into it. Of course, even one Benedict male added to Clay’s constant presence seemed one too many. She was glad he was there doing the visits, regardless, since she had no idea what to say to his cousins and her brain seemed too sluggish to produce anything more than mere commonplaces.
Johnnie, the nurse who had been on duty when Lainey was admitted, stuck her head in the door just before the shift changed, around ten-thirty. Seeing Janna and Clay, both sitting upright but silent and half asleep, she raised her brows. “You two still here? Jeez, the stamina of youth. Never fear, reinforcements are on the way. I saw April pulling into the parking lot just now.”
“April has arrived,” the author said from behind her. Easing past Johnnie’s broad form, she stepped into the room with a laptop computer under one arm and a woven bag over her shoulder from which protruded the unmistakable roll of a piece of unfinished needlepoint. “I’ve come to stay, too, and I don’t want to hear any arguments. You’re dead on your feet, both of you. Dedication to a child is a lovely thing, but there’s no use being a martyr about it.”
Janna, staring at April through eyes that were heavy with fatigue, was torn between annoyance and a strong urg
e to fall on her neck in gratitude. Lainey would be safe enough with her, she knew. And yet it was so hard to overcome years of being her daughter’s sole guardian and protector, years of being all she had to depend on.
“No martyrs here,” Clay said, climbing stiffly to his feet and stretching with his hands at the small of his back. “You can take over until daylight, anyway. Right, Janna?”
“You go,” she said. “I can sleep on the love seat.”
“No way.” He moved to stand over her, taking hold of her hand. “The twenty-four hours are up now, and everything is under control. You need a real bed and a few hours of nice, cool darkness without racket or people coming and going every ten minutes. On your feet, Kerr. You’re going if I have to carry you.”
Any other time she’d have blasted him. Now she stared into the rich blue of his eyes, seeing the hard determination that covered his concern, and she couldn’t quite manage it. She sighed, then let him pull her to her feet.
It was still necessary, however, to warn April exactly what to watch for and when, to show her a couple of small details about the continuing dialysis, and tell her all the things that Lainey liked and disliked. She kissed her sleeping daughter and brushed a hand over her cheek, then turned away. After two steps, she swung around again for yet more instructions. She was still talking when Clay took her by the shoulders and steered her from the room into the hall.
The night air that greeted her beyond the hospital doors was soft and pleasantly warm after the air-conditioned frigidness she’d left behind. A gentle breeze lifted her hair and brought the scent of the crape myrtle that stood in the islands of landscaping around the hospital building, with spent blossoms littering the ground around their feet like fallen confetti. Breathing that tantalizing scent, Janna became uncomfortably aware that her clothing, her hair, even her skin carried the sour, chemical odor of the hospital.
The parking lot was nearly empty as she and Clay walked toward it. The security lamps placed at regular intervals made yellow pools of light in the metallic paint of the few cars that were left and picked out the black streaks of skid marks in the concrete. It was quiet, almost too quiet, or so it seemed to Janna. She was used to big metropolitan medical complexes where people were always coming and going and the sound of traffic was omnipresent. There were no streets at all on this side of the hospital, however; it faced only a wooded area thick with pine trees and an undergrowth of briars and the vines crowding along its edges. The security lamps didn’t reach far into the thicket.
Clay touched her arm, guiding her in the direction of a dark green SUV parked about halfway between the woods and the building. Glancing at it, she asked, “Are you borrowing someone’s transportation?”
“It’s mine,” he said with a shake of his head. “Luke and Roan went out to the house and drove it back for me.”
“You being so sure that I’d leave when you thought I should?” she asked, her voice even.
“Being so sure I didn’t want to walk.” He took out a key and unlocked the SUV’s passenger side door, then pulled it open for her.
She flung a quick glance at his set face. Aware that she had said the wrong thing, she tried to find a way to rectify it as she climbed into the high vehicle. Clay gave her no help, but held the door with grim patience as he waited to close it behind her.
Abruptly the night exploded. Fire spurted with red light from the margin of the woods. Dull thuds sounded against the side of the SUV.
“Get down!” Clay yelled, even as he gave her a hard shove that sent her sprawling across the center console. The door slammed behind her.
Shots. Someone was shooting at them!
Even as her brain made sense of the noise and motion, another burst of gunfire rang out. Clay’s footsteps pounded around the vehicle. He needed to get inside, and fast.
Stretching out her arm, Janna found the driver-side door lock and released it just as he snatched open the door. He flung himself inside, inserted the key and turned it. The engine roared. Clay reversed out of the parking slot, then almost immediately stood on the brake so they skidded to a halt. He slammed the SUV into Drive and gunned the accelerator. They left the parking lot with a scream of tires and the stench of burning rubber.
15
Janna pushed upright as the SUV swerved out of the hospital driveway and they took off down the dimly lighted road that led away from town. She twisted in the seat to look back, but saw no sign of a gunman. The only thing moving was a couple of med techs who ran out the front door of the hospital. No more shots sounded in the night.
She settled back, holding her seat with clenched fingers. As she glanced at Clay, she saw that he was watching the hospital and the road behind them in the rearview mirror, dividing his glances between it and the blacktop unreeling ahead of them.
“What was that all about?” she demanded in strained tones.
“You tell me.”
“Why would I know anything?
The look he gave her was sharp and not at all concerned with her comfort. “Just a guess.”
“Maybe we should go back? What if it’s some psycho who plans to shoot up the hospital? Lainey is in there.”
“He was firing at you. I’d just as soon not let him too close to his target again.”
Something in his voice suggested that he would have returned if he were alone, or most likely never left in the first place. She might have been grateful if she could believe the bullets were meant for her. “What makes you say that? I was already in my seat when the shooting began.”
“Whose side of the vehicle is full of holes?” he asked with inescapable logic. “How many of those holes were made after I ducked around to my side?”
“He might have been after anybody. It could be one of those stupid, random things where some crazy person goes over the edge and starts shooting at anything that moves.” She continued to argue because she couldn’t bring herself to admit that he was right. If the man in the woods had really targeted her, then there could be only one reason. And it wasn’t one she wanted to discuss with Clay, much less with the police who were sure to show up.
“The shots weren’t wild and the shooter was sane enough to keep hidden. Besides, the odds against dying while playing it smart are a lot lower than they are for being killed while acting dumb.”
She crossed her arms over her chest as a shiver rippled over her. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Doesn’t matter. It happened.” He reached for the cell phone that hung in a support attached to the dash and began to punch in numbers with his thumb.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” His eyes were narrow as he waited for her answer, but at least he didn’t press the final button to send the call.
“If you’re reporting our part of this to Roan, I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Suppose whoever was out there was shooting at you? Suppose they think you’re interfering and decided to scare you off?”
“Your doctor friend, you mean.”
His voice was flat. It wasn’t surprising. She’d just suggested that any danger to him was unimportant. It hadn’t been her intention, but the result was the same. “I know you don’t think much of my—my arrangement with Dr. Gower, but I can’t just forget it after going this far.”
“You don’t have to go any farther.”
“But I’ve paid out so much.”
“And he still wants more. It’s crazy, Janna! It’s criminal.”
“It’s Lainey’s life! Don’t you care about that? Haven’t you seen how anything—a cold, a cut finger, too much fluid or not enough, a fright or upset—can become a life-and-death emergency?”
“There are other ways.”
“They don’t work for her! She’s your brother’s child, Clay. You’re her uncle. Doesn’t that matter?”
The look he gave her was murderous. “Of course it matters. Why the hell else do you think I let you keep me tie
d up for so long? It hurts in my gut every time I look at her. I’d do anything to help her. She’s like having a part of Matt back, or finding a part of myself”
He dropped the phone between his thighs then reached into his T-shirt pocket. Taking a piece of paper from it, he spun it toward Janna. She reached to catch it, but missed. As it fluttered to the floorboard, she leaned to pick it up, staring at it in the greenish lights of the instrument panel.
Matt. Lainey’s father, in the photo that was her most prized possession. “Where did you get this?”
“Lainey.”
She had given the photo to Clay. Her voice a thread of sound, Janna said, “She thought this was you.”
“She wondered.”
Lainey had wondered, but she hadn’t asked her mother, hadn’t mentioned it at all. What else had her daughter told Clay Benedict in all those long hours they had spent together? What games of pretend had she played with the man who looked so much like her father? If she had made a substitute of him in her mind, what would happen when she lost him?
But there was more to this equation. If Clay had stayed because he knew about Lainey, what did that mean? He could have wanted more information, but it would have been simpler to just reveal that he knew the truth and ask for details. However, the Benedicts were big on family. They looked after their own. Matt’s father had wanted to separate Janna from Lainey by buying her child. Suppose what Clay wanted was simply to take her?
“If it matters so much to you,” she said finally, “I’d think you’d want her to have every chance to live.”
“That it matters so much is the reason I don’t want your precious Dr. Gower anywhere near her with a scalpel. His shady way of doing things will kill her as surely as her kidney disease.”
Doubt assaulted Janna, familiar yet almost crippling now, after seeing the boy on television that afternoon. “You don’t know that! There’s no way to know. But don’t you see that I have to try? If I do nothing and she dies then it’s all my fault.” Her voice broke on the words and she turned her head to stare out the windshield to hide the tears crowding into her eyes.
Clay Page 20
