Troubleshooter

Chapter 68

The sight of Dray's empty bed struck him like a gut punch. He stopped in the doorway, his flesh gone cold and clammy, his face tingling. The unplugged monitors and equipment, without their lights and bleeps, seemed not just lifeless but obsolete. The bed had been remade, the starched sheet creased at the top to overhang the blanket.

Morning sun bled through the closed blinds, lighting the room in bands. The hospital halls were cold and empty and conveyed noise mightily; he heard a nurse at the station way down by the elevators complaining about Starbucks.

The first emotion to penetrate his shock was rage. The cell phone in his pocket had been turned to silent since before Den's takedown; he'd forgotten to change the ring setting. He pulled out the Nextel, saw he'd missed three calls from the hospital in the past few hours. His anger decayed swiftly, and he took a wobbly step to the side and lowered himself into the visitor's chair.

His hands trembled. He lifted them to his forehead, covered his eyes.

I'll be okay. Trust me. I'll be okay.

Her voice moved straight through him. He could practically taste her.

Come on, you don't learn anything unless you're on your own. Let me go.

Tears ran through the gaps in his fingers. He heard the plinks against the tile, one after another.

I'm okay. I'm okay now.

His breath caught in his throat. He stood, venturing cautiously out into the hall. Voices echoed up and down the corridor, confusing him. He moved rapidly now, almost panicked with hope, peering through doorways.

He reached the end room on the right, and there she was, the muscular line of her back visible through the gap of her patient gown. Standing weakly between the parallel support rails, she faced away, her short blond hair streaked with sweat. She clung to the rails, her bare arms tensed. The physical therapist was at her side, grasping Dray's arm and ignoring her complaints.

"I'm fine. I want to do this. I'm okay. I promise."

Tim tried to say her name, but it tangled up before it reached his mouth. He cleared his throat, but still he sounded feeble with disbelief. "Andrea Rackley."

She turned her head, regarding him across the ball of her shoulder.

The physical therapist said, "We've been calling you."

Dray couldn't quite pivot her legs, so she left them behind, twisting so she could see him more clearly. The low bulge of her belly drifted into view. Her dry lips pursed, opened. "I missed you, Timothy."

He tried to smile, but it came out a half laugh. Biting her lip against the pain, she stepped around so she could face him squarely.

Tim wiped his cheeks, still unable to move.

Dray's incomparable smile broke across her face, and for the first time he trusted the reality of what he was seeing. He reached to steady her through the next step.

"Come on," Dray said. "Let's get me home."