Grave Secret (Harper Connelly #4)

Grave Secret (Harper Connelly #4) Page 14

"Want to have dinner together? I figure you're not getting to chat to too many people since your sweetie's in the hospital."

"That sounds good."

"Okay, how about the Outback? There's one close to the hospital." She gave directions, and I said I'd meet her there at six thirty.

I was not a little surprised that Victoria was being so forthcoming. In fact, her interest in talking to me was almost odd. But the truth was, I was feeling lonely. It felt good to know someone wanted to talk to me. Iona had called exactly once to ask after Tolliver, but that conversation had been brief and dutiful.

Hospitals are all self-contained worlds, and this one was spinning relentlessly along on its own axis. When I got to Tolliver's room, he'd been taken away for tests, but no one could tell me what tests or why he was having them.

I felt oddly forlorn. Even Tolliver, confined to a hospital, wasn't where I thought he'd be. My cell phone rang, and I started guiltily. I wasn't supposed to have it on in the hospital. But I answered it.

"Harper? Are you all right?"

"Manfred! How are you?" I was smiling.

"I got the feeling you were in trouble, and I had to call. Is this a bad time?"

"I'm glad you called," I said, probably more fervently than I should have.

"Oh, well, then," he said. "I'll be on the next plane." He was only half joking. Manfred Bernardo, developing psychic, was younger than I by three or four years, but he'd never made any bones about how attractive he found me.

"I'm lonely because Tolliver got shot," I said, and immediately realized how egocentric that sounded. After I'd explained to Manfred what had happened, he got all excited. He was actually serious about coming to Texas to "give you a shoulder to cry on," as he put it. I was absurdly touched, and for a crazy minute I considered saying yes. It would be comforting to have Manfred around-piercings, tattoos, and all. Only picturing Tolliver's face as I told him what I'd done stopped me.

By the time Manfred was ready to hang up, I'd promised I'd call him if "things got any worse," which was vague enough to satisfy both of us. And he'd sworn he'd check in with me by phone every single day until Tolliver got out of the hospital.

I felt a lot more cheerful when I hung up. To make my day even brighter, an orderly wheeled Tolliver in right after I'd shut my phone. His color was better than it had been the day before, but I could tell he was very weak, just from the way he slumped in the wheelchair. Tolliver was ready to get back into the bed, though he hated to admit it.

After the orderly had made sure Tolliver was settled and comfortable, he left with that quick, quiet walk hospital staff members seem to acquire as part of their job description. Tolliver had had another X-ray to check on his clavicle, he told me, and a neurologist had come in to verify that there hadn't been any nerve damage to the shoulder.

"Have you seen Dr. Spradling today?" I asked.

"Yeah, he came by earlier. He said everything looked okay. I kind of expected you an hour ago." Tolliver had completely forgotten that I'd told him I was going to stop by the police station.

I told him about the film I'd seen, how the woman differed from Cameron.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was ready for it to be someone else, but I guess I've always got a little bit of hope." That was exactly how I felt.

"It wasn't, and I'm only wondering why someone thought it was her. I mean, who called the police? Who got Pete to look at the tapes? And this woman was close enough in appearance to Cameron to at least make Pete feel I should see the video. Was the anonymous caller someone who went to high school with Cameron and me, someone who was genuinely mistaken? Or was he some creep who just wanted to jerk us around?"

"And why now?" Tolliver said. He looked at me. I didn't have an answer.

"I hardly see how this could have anything to do with Rich Joyce and his caregiver," I said. "But the timing is really suspicious, huh?"

We couldn't think of anything else to say about this strange grouping of events. After a while, I found Tolliver's comb in a pocket of his jeans, which were hanging in the closet. They were a little stained. His shirt had been cut off of him. I reminded myself to bring another one to the hospital for the day he was released.

When I began to comb his hair, I found it was dirty, of course, and I tried to think of a way to wash it. With some improvisation, including a clean bedpan, an extra pad that they'd brought in case his shoulder leaked, and the little bottle of shampoo included in his admissions package, I managed. I also helped him shave and brush his teeth, and then I gave him a sponge bath, which turned unexpectedly bawdy.

He was very relaxed and sleepy-and happy-by the time that was over, and he said he felt much better. I combed his damp, dark hair and kissed his smooth cheek. He was going through a clean-shaven phase.

A nurse came in to give him his bath right after I finished, and she shrugged when I told her it was done.

Time in a hospital inevitably drags. Before I had a chance to tell Tolliver about Victoria 's phone call, he fell asleep. I hated to wake him when the long day stretched in front of us. I napped myself. I struggled awake when Tolliver's lunch tray came at eleven thirty.

That was another exciting break. I cut up all his food-well, the little that required cutting-and put a straw in his drink for him so that he could eat one-handed. He was so happy to be getting real food instead of liquid that even hospital food was welcome, and he managed pretty well. When I was sure he'd had as much as he wanted, I rolled the table away and handed him the TV remote. I needed to go in search of food myself.

"You don't have to sit here all afternoon, you know," Tolliver said.

"After I eat, I'll spend the afternoon with you," I said in a tone that told him not to argue. "Then I'm meeting Victoria for supper. I probably won't come back after that."

"Good. You don't need to be cooped up all day. You'll probably want to have a run or try the hotel's weight room or something."

He was right about that. I'm used to sitting still for long periods, because we're in the car so much, but I'm also used to getting exercise every day, and my muscles were stiff.

I got a salad at a fast-food place, enjoying the bustle and purpose of the people in the restaurant. It felt odd to be alone, though I didn't mind so much after I watched (and listened to) a mother dealing with three preschool-age children at the next table. I wondered if Tolliver wanted to have children. I didn't. I'd already had the care of two babies, my little sisters, and I didn't want to go through that again. And I admitted to myself that while I didn't want to be pushed out of my sisters' lives, I didn't want to be in charge of those lives, either.

Even after I saw the youngest boy give his mother a spontaneous hug and kiss, I didn't warm up to the concept of carrying someone else inside my body. Should I feel guilty about that? Didn't every woman want to have her own child to love?

Not necessarily, I thought. And God knows there are plenty of children in the world. I don't need to supply another one.

Tolliver was awake and watching a basketball game when I walked into his room. "Mark called while you were gone," he said.

"Oh, gosh, could you reach the phone?"

"It was my big adventure for the day."

"What did he have to say?"

"Oh, that I'd made my dad feel bad, that he thought I was being an idiot for not welcoming Dad back to the land of the sober, with my arms open wide."

I debated with myself for a minute before deciding to say what I thought. "Mark has a real weakness for your dad, Tolliver. You know I love Mark, and I think he's a great guy, but he won't ever really get it, about Matthew."

"Yeah," Tolliver said. "You're right. He was nuts about Mom, and when she died, he kind of transferred that emotion to our dad."

Tolliver didn't talk about his mother a lot. Her death, from cancer, had to have been completely awful.

"I think Mark believes that Dad has to be good at heart," Tolliver said slowly. "Because if Dad isn't good, then he's lost his last parent. And he has to have that relationship."

"Do you think your dad is good at heart?"

Tolliver really thought about his answer. "I hope he's got some good left in him," Tolliver said. "But honestly, I don't think he'll stay sober, if he's really sober now. He's lied about it before, over and over. He always goes back to the drugs, and you remember that at his worst he'd take whatever anyone offered him. Now, I'm sure he must have been in a lot of emotional pain to need so many drugs to kill it, you know? But he abandoned us to whoever wanted to prey on us, because he had to drug himself. No, I can't trust him," Tolliver said. "And I hope I never do, because I'll be disappointed all over again."

"That was exactly the way I felt about my mother," I said, understanding completely.

"Yeah, Laurel was a piece of work," Tolliver said. "You know she tried to hit on Mark and me?"

I thought I might throw up the food I'd just eaten. "No," I said, my voice strangled.

"Yeah. Cameron knew about it. She came in on the, ah, critical moment. I thought Mark was going to die of embarrassment, and I had no idea what to do."

"So what happened?" I felt a deep and burning shame. I told myself it was none of my concern, but it's hard to believe that when you hear a story about your own flesh and blood that makes you sick to your stomach.

"Well, Cameron dragged her mom into the bedroom and made her put some clothes on," Tolliver said. "I don't think Laurel knew where she was or who she was coming on to, Harper, if it makes a difference. Cameron slapped your mom a few times."

"Jeez," I said. Sometimes there are no words.

"We're out of it," Tolliver said, as if he was trying to convince himself.

"Yes," I said, "we are. And we have each other."

"It can't touch us anymore."

"No," I said, lying through my teeth. "It can't."

Chapter Nine

THE restaurant where I met Victoria Flores was crowded, and servers were bustling back and forth. It seemed incredibly lively after the muted sounds of the hospital.

To my surprise, Victoria wasn't by herself. Drexell Joyce, Lizzie and Kate's brother, was sitting at the table with her.

"Hey, girl," Victoria said, rising to give me a hug. I was surprised, but not enough to pull back. I hadn't known we were on those terms. Somehow, this show was being put on for Drexell Joyce. I'd been picturing a relaxed dinner between two women who found out secrets for a living, not a strategy session with an unknown man.

"Mr. Joyce," I said as I sat down and stowed my purse under the table.

"Oh, please, call me Drex," he said with a broad grin. He poured a lot of admiration into his look. I didn't believe in his sincerity for a second.

"What are you doing away from the ranch?" I asked, with what I hoped was a disarming smile.

"My sisters asked me to come check with Victoria, here, see what she's found out and how the investigation's going. If we have a little aunt or uncle out there, we want to find that baby and make sure he's brought up right," Drex said.

"You're simply assuming that Mariah Parish's child was your grandfather's?" I found that astonishing, and I didn't try to hide it.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. He was an old dog, no doubt about it, but he had a few tricks. My granddad liked the ladies, always did."

"And you think Mariah Parish would have been agreeable to his advances?"

"Well, he had a lot of charisma, and she might have thought her job depended on saying yes. Granddad didn't like to hear 'no.' "

Charming. I couldn't think of anything to say, so I didn't speak.

"So, how's your brother?" Victoria asked, her voice warm and concerned.

I was disappointed. I was sure now that Victoria had asked me here for some secret purpose of her own. She hadn't simply wanted my company, after all. "He's doing much better, thanks," I said. "I hope he'll be out of the hospital in another day."

"Where will you go next?"

"Tolliver usually handles our bookings, and I'll have to go over our schedule with him when he feels up to it. We had originally planned on staying here at least a week, so we could see our family."

"Oh, you got folks in this area?" Drex leaned forward, all interest.

"Yes, our two little sisters live here."

"Who's bringing 'em up?"

"My aunt and her husband."

"They live right around here?"

It could be true that Drex was simply fascinated by all things Harper, but I didn't credit his interest as personal. "Does your family spend a lot of time in Dallas?" I asked. "I saw your sisters the other day, and now you're here. That's lots of driving."

"We have an apartment here, and one down in Houston," Dex said. "We're on the ranch around ten months out of the year, but we all need to see the bright lights from time to time. 'Cept Chip. He loves running that ranch. But Kate and Lizzie sit on about ten boards apiece, from banks to charities, and those meet in Dallas."

"Not you?" Victoria asked. "You don't do charity work?"

Drex laughed, his head thrown back. I suspected that was so we could see his handsome jawline from another angle. I wondered what he would do when he got older and that jawline wasn't quite as firm. I know from my own experience that no one looks pretty in the grave.