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“He won’t get off,” Mark said. “Excuse me a minute.”
He nodded to Colleen and left the room, looking at his phone.
She guessed that meant she was to continue.
“You never saw his face?” Colleen asked.
“No.” Sally let out a breath, shaking her head. “I never saw his face. I never saw much of anything; he kept it so dark down there. And he wore a hood, eyes cut out, that kind of thing.”
“I understand. More details may come back to you in the days to come—”
“I wish they wouldn’t!” Sally said fervently.
“I know, and again, I am so, so sorry. But remembering helps. Think about things you heard, things you felt, you smelled. It may help us determine who we’re after now, and just how many victims Carver might have had. I know it’s hard. We’re grateful for anything at all.”
Mark walked back into the room. “Sally, this is up to you, but there is someone here who would like to see you. I spoke with your nurse, and she thinks it might be good. But it’s your decision.”
“Who—Brant?” she whispered, amazed.
Mark nodded.
“I—I...”
She was going to burst into tears again. Colleen looked at Mark, who shrugged. She saw something in his eyes, though.
He was hoping Sally would say yes.
He wanted to see the two of them together.
Before Sally could answer, there was a commotion in the hall.
Colleen heard a man’s distressed voice.
“I have to see her. I have to see her, please!”
Mark strode to the door. Colleen knew he would have blocked the distraught man who was trying to enter except Sally cried out then.
“Brant! Let him in!”
Mark stepped aside and a man in his late twenties with tousled dark hair and a look of desperation about him started through the door.
Red let out a warning growl.
“Down—it’s good!” Mark said quickly.
The dog moved away.
Brant Pickering hesitated just a second, respectfully looking at the dog and then at Mark and Colleen, then he rushed forward, reaching for Sally, who took him into her arms as he balanced at the hospital bedside.
“You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive!” he whispered. He pulled back. “I’m not hurting you, am I? Thank God! You’re alive!”
Sally started to sob softly, and he cradled her against him again.
Brant Pickering continued to hold her as he looked back at Mark and Colleen.
“We’ll give you two some privacy,” Mark said. “Sally, we do have a policeman in the hall if anything frightens you at any time.”
Sally looked around Brant’s chest and said, “Thank you, thank you!”
She was happy, Colleen thought. She was with Brant.
And Brant, well, he certainly appeared to be someone sane, grateful—and tender with Sally Smithson.
“Our cards are on your table,” Mark said, setting his card down before Colleen did the same. “Red! Let’s go.”
Sally was barely aware they were leaving. She was staring at Brant Pickering with all her love and gratitude apparent in her tearstained eyes.
“Brant,” Sally whispered.
“You’re alive, Sally. You’re alive,” Brant said.
Colleen believed the two of them just might be all right.
