Upside Down

25

Concord, North Carolina

The Masseys' home was a California Mission Revival, a yellow brick house with a red barrel-tile roof and arches defining the covered front porch. It sat in a line of other homes all built when F.D.R. was president. For the past hour, Winter Massey had sat out on the porch swing alone, looking out through the arch, but Sean, who had been taking periodic peeks out the window at him, knew he wasn't looking at anything that anyone else could see.

She had never seen her husband grieve, but she knew him well enough to know that he didn't require her company, hadn't invited it. Knowing that she was helpless to comfort him was painful to her. She had been fond of both Hank and Millie, but she had been closer to Hank because he had taken a bullet in his and Winter's effort to save her life.

Not being a relative made getting any information on Hank's condition impossible. Sean called a lawyer she had been using in New Orleans. She told him to tell the chief administrator at Charity Hospital that the Trammels had no relatives, just close friends named Massey, and that for certain considerations she was prepared to make a six-figure donation in the Trammels' name to the ICU. Twenty minutes after hanging up, a Dr. Russell, the chief of medicine, called her back. He told Winter that Hank Trammel had only a slight chance of living through the night. The physician said that if he made it through the first twenty-four hours, Hank's chances would greatly improve, although he would probably never be the same. Winter told Dr. Russell that he would be at the hospital in the morning.

Sean went back to Rush's bedroom, opened the door, and saw that the boy was sound asleep. Her stepson had been every bit as upset as his father and was also upset by the fact that Faith Ann Porter's mother had been murdered and Faith Ann was missing. It appeared that Faith Ann may have been there when it happened.

Neither Winter nor Sean could imagine why Faith Ann hadn't gone to the police or remained on the scene after Hank and Millie were hit. They agreed that Faith Ann was probably in danger, that the odds against the two deadly incidents being unrelated were astronomical. Winter reasoned that whoever murdered Kimberly Porter must have run down the Trammels and was probably still after Kimberly's daughter.

Sean was in their bedroom when she heard the front door close, followed by Winter's slow footsteps coming down the hallway.

Winter entered the room, sat on the bed, put his arm around Sean, and pulled her close.

“You know, I'm really happy about the baby. I haven't seen Rush so excited in a very long time.”

“I know,” she said, hugging him. From the highest high to the lowest low in a matter of seconds. “Hank will be all right.”

“And so will Faith Ann,” Winter said.

“I want to go with you,” she said, knowing exactly what his response would be.

“It isn't a good idea,” he said. “Nicky is going to stay close to watch over Hank and be there in case Faith Ann shows up. I'm going to be busy from the second I hit the ground. I don't want to have to worry about you.”

“I can take care of myself, Massey. Or have you forgotten?”

“I know that. But Faith Ann may call here. If she calls Rush you need to tell her to call me at the Pontchartrain Hotel. Or better yet, tell her to sit tight and you call me on my cell and Nicky Green or I will go to her.”

“I just wish I could do more.”

As he rubbed her shoulder gently, Sean looked over at Winter's packed duffel parked on the floor beside the dresser. Winter's cordovan shoulder rig-the straps spooled around the holster containing his SIG Sauer 220-resting on top of the bag reminded her of a sleeping serpent.

“You need to get some sleep,” she said.

Winter stood, and Sean watched as her husband undressed. She pulled the covers back and he climbed into bed beside her, and without saying anything they held each other until sleep took her.

When Sean awoke before dawn, Winter was gone. She thought about how adept he was at moving around without making noise. She lay there thinking about him and his mission. She knew that he wouldn't have left her a note.

There was nothing he could say to her that she didn't already know.