The Barbed-Wire Kiss (32 page)

“Not for a day or so. Why? Harry, tell me what’s going on.”

“Your husband sent some people to my house last night.”

She was silent.

“Was he home all night?” he said. “Before the police came?”

“Yes, he’s been running around here like a crazy man the past two days. He says we’re going on a trip. Harry, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“A trip? Where?”

“I’ve been trying to call to tell you. He wants to go to Mexico City. He says he knows some people there. He’s trying to pretend it’s just a vacation, but I know it’s not. He says I need to be ready to leave on short notice, but he won’t tell me anything else.”

“Get a pen,” he said. “Write down these numbers.”

He waited for her, then gave her Ray’s home and office numbers.

“Leave a message at either of those if you need to reach me,” he said. “I won’t be home for a few days. If he says anything more about going away, or if he tells you when he wants to leave, let me know. I’ll be checking in at both those numbers.”

“You never answered me. Were you hurt?”

“No. But some other people were. Stay close to the phone.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Harry. What is it? Are they arresting Edward?”

“Probably not. And, unless something changes, I don’t think they’ll be able to keep him from leaving the country, either. He told you he knows people in Mexico City?”

“Some businessman he’s dealt with. Some sort of real estate thing. He’s been down there before, but he’s never taken me with him.”

“Does he have enough money to stay down there indefinitely if he needs to?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never seen him act like this before. It’s like he’s scared of something.”

“Be careful. And when he gets back from the police station, watch what you say around him.”

“I will.”

“Those things I told you, about going away, about taking you. They weren’t lies.”

“I know.”

“We can do it.”

“Be careful, Harry.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

After he hung up, he stood there for a while, watching the morning traffic speed by on the Parkway. Above the trees on the other side of the roadway, he could see a pair of hawks circling slowly. One angled down, dipped and dropped into the woods. It rose again a moment later, something trapped in its claws. He watched the hawk until it was out of sight.

He picked up the phone again, dropped in the last of his change, and called Ray.

Ray couldn’t sit still. he prowled the emergency room waiting area, flipped through magazines, looked out the window. Harry sat slumped in a plastic chair, watching a television set mounted on the wall. There was a talk show on, the sound turned down.

He thought of the last time he’d waited in an emergency room. Ray had been there that time too, the night of the burning wires. A lifetime ago.

“I hate this,” Ray said. “Waiting. Never got used to it.”

The double doors that led to the treatment area hissed open. Harry turned to see a woman in her forties come out, black hair shot with gray, wearing green scrubs beneath a white lab coat. She stopped at the reception desk, spoke with the female nurse’s aide there, then turned and looked at him. He stood and she motioned to him. Ray stayed where he was, watched them.

“I’m Dr. Stefano,” she said, extending her hand. He took it. “You’re here about Robert Fox?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go inside where we can talk.”

He followed her through the doors and into a long cream-colored corridor. A state trooper stood halfway down the hall, drinking from a take-out coffee cup. He looked at Harry without interest.

She led him down a side hall and into an empty cubicle.

“How’d you break that arm?”

“Somebody did it for me.”

“He must not have liked you very much.”

“He didn’t. What can you tell me about Bobby?”

“Have a seat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, I won’t mislead you. He’s in ICU right now. He’s been out of surgery less than an hour. Dr. Greenfeldt, the chief surgeon, did everything he could. There’s nothing we can do now except wait and see how he responds.”

“How much damage?”

“Difficult to say at this stage. He’s still in coma. What happens in the next twelve hours or so will tell us a lot. He’s on a respirator and we’ll be watching him every minute. Anything else I told you would only be a guess—and I don’t like to guess. I’m sorry.”

“Can I see him?”

“Maybe later today if we get him stabilized. We’ll have to see how it goes.”

“I saw what happened to him. I was there.”

“So I heard. Then you know how serious his injury is.”

“I’d rather hear it from you.”

She sat down in a chair, crossed her legs, and began to rub her right knee.

“Obviously, he’s had a massive cranial trauma. How much brain damage there is, we don’t know yet. We might not for a while. The bullet passed through his cheekbone, soft palate, and jaw. We found it embedded in the neck muscle and were able to remove it. It missed the spinal column by about an inch. There’s a lot of tissue damage and swelling of the brain, as you can imagine.”

“Is he going to live?”

“I couldn’t possibly answer that. You should know better than to ask.”

“Try at least.”

“Well, let’s just say I think there’s a chance. I’ve seen people come back from head wounds you wouldn’t have thought they could survive. I can tell you that if he gets through the next twenty-four hours, there’s a good chance he’ll have some sort of recovery.”

“Can I ask for an off-the-record opinion?”

“You can ask, but at this point I don’t have one. We’re watching him closely and we’re doing everything we can for him. On the positive side—if there is one—I can tell you that the bullet also narrowly missed the carotid artery, so I guess we can be thankful for that. But I’m not trying to get your hopes up here.”

“I know that. I appreciate it.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

“Can I call later?”

“Sure. Call the emergency room number, ask for me. I’m on duty until ten this morning. If I’m free, I’ll talk to you and tell you what I know. But for now …”

“I know. Thank you.”

“You don’t look so well yourself. I can give you a prescription for some mild sleeping pills, if you like. I might have some samples here. It’ll help you rest.”

He shook his head. She stood up.

“We’ll do our best for him,” she said. “That’s all I can tell you. It might not seem like much, but it’s the truth.”

He watched her head back down the corridor. He turned and went out through the automatic doors into the waiting room.

Ray was standing by the reception desk, talking to the aide. He turned away from her when he saw Harry.

They went out into the parking lot without speaking. The morning sun glinted off windshields. When they reached the car, Ray unlocked the driver’s side door, looked at Harry over the roof.

“Well?” he said. “How is he?”

“He’s dying,” Harry said.

•  •  •

There were still about a half dozen cars in his yard, but the crime scene van was gone. Ray parked in the grass. Nolan, looking tired, met them at the door.

“Wesniak called earlier,” he said. “I’ll have someone go upstairs with you so you can get what you need.”

Ray waited on the porch while Harry went inside. Where Perna’s body had been, the floor was stained black with blood, and there were holes gouged in the hardwood where bullets had been dug out. Each hole had been circled with chalk and marked by a folded triangle of paper with a number written on it.

With one of the county men following him, he went upstairs, got an overnight bag from the bedroom closet, and began to fill it with clothes. Nolan was standing at the foot of the stairs when he came back down.

“The Saturn’s cleared, as far as we’re concerned,” he said. “You can take it. We’ll have to move a couple cars for you to get out.”

He nodded, went out onto the porch. Ray was leaning against the railing, arms folded. A Colts Neck cop came out of the house and went past them, climbed into a cruiser parked behind the Saturn. He started the engine and began to back up.

“Are you okay to drive?” Ray said.

“I think so.”

“Follow me back to the house. Edda’s already left for work by now. You can sack out for a while. You look like you need it.”

Harry went to the Saturn and Ray headed back to his car. In the rearview mirror, Harry watched the Colts Neck cop pull the cruiser up on the lawn and wait.

Harry started the engine, shifted into reverse, and K-turned, his fender swinging within a foot of the cruiser’s grille. As he pointed the car toward the road, he was aware of people standing out on the porch, watching him.

Leaving his house to strangers, he followed Ray down the driveway. He didn’t look back.

•  •  •

The next afternoon, they sat on a bench at the end of the hospital corridor, six doors down from Bobby’s room. Janine’s eyes were red and wet. She clutched a crumpled tissue.

“He doesn’t even know I’m there,” she said. “I touch him and talk to him, but it’s like he’s a million miles away.”

Harry looked off down the hall to the nurses’ station. A security guard was leaning against the counter, joking with the woman at the desk. She began to laugh. An aide pushed a gurney by, wheels squeaking.

“You should go see him, Harry. He’d want you to.”

He stood, went over to the window, and looked down at the parking lot two stories below.

“He always looked up to you,” she said. “He loved you like a brother.”

He put his fingertips against the window, felt the coolness of the glass.

“Go see him, Harry.”

The door was closed. He pushed against it and it whispered open into a world of dimness.

The shades had been drawn but sunlight crept in around their edges. He walked toward the bed.

Bobby’s head was a mass of bandages, with only his right eye and cheekbone exposed. The eye was closed, the face dark and swollen. A corrugated plastic respirator tube emerged from beneath the bandages and ran to a machine next to the bed.

Beneath the covers, his chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly. The monitoring equipment beside the bed pulsed in time.

He pulled up a chair, brought it close to the bed, and sat down. He touched Bobby’s right hand, curled his fingers around it. The hand was slack, the palm cool and moist. He squeezed it gently, felt no response. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the aluminum restraining rail.

After a while, he felt Janine come into the room behind him. She touched his shoulder, then moved to the other side of the bed. She took Bobby’s left hand in both of hers.

He felt a tremor in the hand he held, a twitch of the fingers. At first, he was unsure if it was real or imagined. He held his breath and it came again, like a radio signal fading as it neared its destination.

He looked at Janine.

“I felt it too,” she said.

He loosened his grip, waited.

“He knows,” she said. “He knows we’re here with him. He’s trying to tell us that.”

She leaned over and softly kissed the bandaged head.

“I’m here, baby,” she whispered. “I’d never leave you alone. You know that.”

He felt the tremor again. This time he squeezed back, gently.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Janine said. “He’s just resting for now. That’s what he wants us to know.”

She kissed the bandages again, whispered something into his ear that Harry couldn’t hear. When she looked up again, he saw the strength back in her face.

“He’s not going to die,” she said.

Beside them, the machines pulsed on, like the beating of a fragile but immortal heart.

When visiting hours were over, he drove her back to Monmouth Beach. The house was dusty, the air inside stale. She went around opening windows, letting in the night breeze. He sat at the kitchen table, rubbed his eyes, and felt the fatigue creeping through his muscles.

“I could make something to eat,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

“I’m not very hungry, either.”

She leaned against the counter.

“You can stay here tonight. I’ll make up the couch for you. It’s too late to drive all the way back to your friend’s house.”

“I’ll stay.”

“You look like you’re about to fall down.”

“I haven’t gotten much sleep in the last two days.”

“I’ll get the things for the couch.”

She left the kitchen and he got up and began to pace. He went into the living room, checked the front door locks. She came down the stairs with a comforter, sheet, and pillows.

“It’s getting cool tonight,” she said. “You might need these.”

She set them on the couch.

“It would be strange for me,” she said, “sleeping in this house alone, without Bobby. I guess I’ll have to get used to it, for a while, at least.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind staying.”

They went back out into the kitchen, sat down.

“It’s almost funny,” she said. “He always says that he gets into trouble without me around. He can’t stand to be alone. I shouldn’t have let him come back without me.”

She blinked back tears. He reached across the table, caught her hand, squeezed it.

They talked for a while longer, but exhaustion had them both. At a little past eleven, she went up to bed. He made up the couch, stripped off his boots, socks, sling, and sweatshirt, and stretched out on his back. He switched off the lamp, pulled up the comforter, and settled down into darkness.

He woke all at once, not knowing why. The room was still black around him, wind rattling the windows. He raised his wrist until the luminous dial of his watch came into focus. Three-thirty. He felt something pass over him, like the shadow of a cloud moving across the sun on a warm day.

He sat up, let the comforter fall away, held his breath, waiting, listening to the house creak around him.

He sat that way until he felt the sensation lessen and pass. Then he gathered the comforter around him again, put his head back down on the pillow. As he closed his eyes, the phone in the kitchen began to ring.