Dead Silver

35

I woke up again and spent the usual groggy moment figuring out where I was. The outdoor light filtering through the window blinds seemed stronger than last time I'd looked, but if there was a clock in the room, I hadn't yet located it. My sense of time was too out of whack for that to matter, anyway.

My throat was dry and scratchy, as it seemed to be every time I came to. Maybe it was the hospital air, maybe medications. I'd learned by now to maneuver water from the bedside stand without disturbing either the tubage that pierced me or my own torn flesh. I drank greedily; it was cool, soothing, and it freshened me like it was the first thing I'd really felt since I'd been here. I was stronger, even hungry. I decided that when a nurse stopped by again, I'd get myself disconnected and try to make it to the bathroom without weaving like a drunk while somebody held on to my arm. Then I'd see about scoring some breakfast, or lunch, or whatever they'd let me have.

But the next person who pushed open my room door wasn't a nurse. It was Renee.

She peered in cautiously. "I came by earlier and you were asleep," she said in a half-whisper. "I don't want to disturb you."

"It's fine."

"I'm so glad you're going to be all right." She came to the bedside and kissed me, a brief but intense touching of lips. Then she stepped back, looking anxious.

"Ian flew in this morning," she said. "He's here with me. He'd like to meet you."

"Ian?"

"My fiance."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I'm sort of goofed out on the meds." I shrugged, attempting nonchalance, but it brought a stitch of pain in my side that made my mouth twist. "Sure, bring him in."

She leaned over me again and spoke close to my ear, this time in a real whisper.

"I haven't told him anything about us."

I nodded thankfully. At least his jealous anger wouldn't be in the equation.

I knew that Ian must be a decent guy, and I admired people who did the work of healing; that was a hell of a lot more demanding than anything I'd ever taken on. But from what Renee had mentioned, he was also sure of himself, maybe to the point of arrogance. I wasn't interested in dealing with that, particularly now.

But the man who stepped into the room was anything but cool. He had a rawboned build and a kindly face that was on the homely side, with jug ears and a big nose. He did give off quiet self-assurance, but it was the sort that stemmed from competence.

"This will sound dumb, but I don't know how to thank you," he said.

I started to shrug again, but caught myself. When it came to pain, I was a relatively fast learner.

"Renee's the one who took the chance-dangled herself on a hook till the sucker hit," I said. "All I did was get in the way."

She put her hands on her hips and gave me her teacher-to-bad-schoolboy look.

"There's a little more to it than that," she said.

"Yeah, I shot up your house, too." I took another sip of water. "Heard any more about where things stand?"

"I talked to Gary Varna this morning," Renee said. "Paulson still swears he didn't commit the murders."

"Big surprise. So how else does he explain waiting for you with a gun?"

Renee lowered her gaze. "He had something else in mind. It almost would have been worse." She turned away uncomfortably.

"He was going to force her to drink rohypnol," Ian said, putting his arm around her. "He had handcuffs, tape-and a camera."

At first I was stunned. Then a wave of rage swept over me, bristling my hair and heating my face. If I could have gotten hold of Travis Paulson just then, I'd have crushed his throat and savored watching his eyes dim out.

I realized that I'd risen up off my pillows. I settled back and took my best shot at smiling.

"Hey, Renee," I said. "It's over, and you cleared your father."

She smiled back, and Ian gave me a grateful look.

Before they left, they made it clear that they'd be glad to do anything they could for me. Ian had already talked to hospital personnel about my treatment; in his judgment, I was in good hands. He also insisted on paying any medical expenses that weren't otherwise covered. I had no intentions of taking him up on it, but it was damned generous.

The bottom line was, I was sorry I'd met him. The situation was complicated enough anyway, and now I was stuck with liking him.