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“No,” Crow agreed, “and let’s thank God for that. Apparently the one thing they can’t shake off is half a clip in the skull. ”
“Important to remember,” Weinstock said, almost to himself. “Did either of you mention the…um…‘V-word’?”
“No, but before the ambulance guys took her she told me that she knew that Boyd was dead. She knew it when he was still on his feet and coming after her. Maybe she hasn’t put the name to it yet, but she knows. ” He stared at the closed door as if he could already see Val. “I’m not sure if that’s going
to make it easier or harder. ”
“Seems to me that it should make it easier. ”
Crow looked at Weinstock, and there was raw pain in his eyes. “Saul, Boyd didn’t just kill Mark…he bit him. Connie, too. ”
Crow saw the meaning of that register on Weinstock’s face. “Holy God. ”
“I think we have to tell her everything. She’s lost her entire family to this. She has a bigger stake in it than anyone. We have to be straight with her. ”
At that moment there was a tap on the door and a nurse popped her head in. “Doctor? We’d like to bring Ms. Guthrie in, is that okay?”
Both men leapt to their feet as two orderlies wheeled Val in on a gurney. Her right eye and most of her head was turbaned in thick bandages, and most of the exposed flesh of her cheek, nose, and chin were puffy with dark red bruises. She was dressed in a white ER gown patterned with tiny cornflowers. She saw Crow and her eye widened, but before she could even say his name he’d pushed past the nurse and bent over her.
“Val!” Crow cried, shouldering past the orderlies. He bent to her, murmuring her name over and over again, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “Oh, baby! How are you?”
Val kissed him back, tears spilling from her eye. In a shattered voice she said, “Mark!” and then her voice disintegrated into sobs as he held her.
After a minute or so Weinstock gently pulled Crow away, and Val was transferred to the bed, hooked up to a fresh saline drip, and plugged into monitors. Weinstock shooed everyone but Crow out of the room. Polk appeared in the doorway, glaring at Crow.
“Hey, I thought I told you that you weren’t supposed to talk to my witness?”
Crow wheeled on him and was just about to tear into him when Weinstock stepped between them. “What’s the problem, Jim?”
Polk’s eyes narrowed on the doctor. “The problem, sir, is that I specifically told Crow that Valerie Guthrie was a witness and that no one was supposed to talk to her until—”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Weinstock snarled and pushed Polk out into the hall and pulled the door shut. “Not even you can be that thick, Jim. Or am I wrong about that? Are you that much of a blockhead?” Before Polk could answer, Weinstock plowed ahead. “Miss Guthrie is my patient and she is the victim of a crime. Crow is a deputy, last I heard, and until Sheriff Bernhardt himself revokes that designation, then I’ll continue to regard him as such. In the meantime, this is my goddamn hospital. If I hear one more word out of you I swear I’ll have security escort you off the premises and I will file formal chares of trespassing, harassment, and anything else I can get my good friend Judge Shermer to agree to. And I’ll be talking to Gus about this. Now get the hell out of my face before I ask Crow to bounce you off the walls just to make us all feel better. ”
Polk was livid and his balled fists trembled at his sides. Crow shifted position to be within reach of Polk, hoping to God that the cop would take a swing. Bouncing him off the walls really would make him feel better.
“Crow…?” It was Val’s’ voice, faint through the closed door, but still an arrow in Crow’s heart.
Polk pointed a finger at Crow. “This isn’t over,” he said with a hiss.
“Yes it is,” Weinstock said, beating Crow to it. “It had better be or I promise you, Jim, that you will regret it. Don’t push me on this. ”
Polk made a rude noise and turned away. He stalked down the hall under a cloud. The other two cops exchanged looks with each other and then looked at Weinstock.
“Do either of you have a problem with Crow being here?”
“No sir,” said the oldest of the two, “we surely don’t. ”
Weinstock touched Crow on the arm. “I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t tax her, buddy, okay?” With a parting glare at the cops, the doctor stalked off. Both cops gave Crow a palms-out “no problem” gesture as Crow opened the door and went inside.
Crow sat on the edge of the bed and for a long time he and Val, finally alone, just clung together as she wept for her brother and Connie. Crow wept with her—even for Mark, whom he barely liked? Maybe. In part, certainly. Mark was an officious ass at times, but he had been a good guy at heart, and he’d suffered the same loss that Val had when Henry had been murdered; now he was dead, too. And Connie was a total innocent; life never gave her a chance. Crow ached for them both, and for the whole town.
It was half an hour later, after tears and more tears, after soft words and silent times, that he finally worked up the nerve to bring up the events of last night. When he saw the aching, weary grief in her eye he almost didn’t. He looked down at Val, touched the stain of tears on her cheek, and absently licked the tears from his finger.
“Val…honey…we need to talk about some stuff. I need to tell you some things, but first I need you tell me what happened last night. Are you up to this?”
In the space of a heartbeat the look in Val’s eye changed from wretched pain to an almost reptilian coldness. “It’s long past time that we talked about this. All night I’ve been thinking about this, Crow, needing to talk to you. God knows I had nothing else to do while they fussed around me. I’m pregnant, so they couldn’t give me sedatives. They wouldn’t let me see you, and that jackass Polk kept trying to ask me questions, so I just tuned him out and thought about what I saw. ” Her grip was tightened like a vise on his wrist. “I wanted it to be straight in my head. I wanted to try and make some kind of sense out of what happened, put it together in my mind, try to be cold and clinical about it. I had time to think it through. ” She took a breath and studied him. “You know I don’t believe most of that supernatural crap—zombies and hobgoblins and all. You’re into it, but you know that I never…I mean, I don’t—”
“It doesn’t matter, baby. I don’t believe most of it myself. A lot of this is just for fun. Spooky movies and Halloween dollars in America’s Haunted Holidayland. ”
