One of the nurses came out.
“How’s Jimmy?” Amy said, getting up from her chair.
“He’s fine.”
“He took the bullet out?”
She nodded. “Took the bullet out, cleaned the wound.” She smiled. “And even handed him a can of Pepsi, which Jimmy really seemed to appreciate. But he wants Jimmy to lie down in there for a while. Then we’ll have to have somebody take care of him for a few days.”
“He can stay at my place,” Amy said.
“Great,” the nurse said. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
She started walking over to her desk, then said, “Oh, Sam, the doctor would like to see you a minute. Why don’t you go in?”
“Sure,” Sam said.
“I transferred all the calls over to the answering service,” the nurse said. “I’d better check in.”
While Sam went to see the doctor, and the nurse checked her messages, Amy drifted over to the window and looked out on the small town she loved so much.
Maybe now there was going to finally be a place here for Richie.
Maybe he’d put away all his childish pleasures and find in himself the desire to start living like a responsible adult.
She knew there wasn’t any more she could do for him. It would be up to him.
She started planning meals for Jimmy for the next few days. She wanted to make him things that would be good for him — he had an atrocious diet, running to chili dogs and Dinty Moore beef stew — but she also wanted to make him meals he’d be happy to have. She was grateful to him for saving Richie’s life.
She was still staring out the window five minutes later when she heard the surgery door open.
She turned and saw Sam coming out. She wondered instantly what was wrong.
He did not look happy.
“Is everything all right?”
For one of the few times since she’d known him, Sam lied to her.
“Everything’s fine. There’s just something I need to do.”
“And you’re not going to tell me what it is?”
“I’ll tell you a little later.”
Sam was having some trouble looking directly in her eyes.
He nodded to the door.
“I really need to get going.”
“Sam,” she said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
From the doorway, Doc Klever said, “Jimmy’s waiting to see you, Amy.”
She sensed that he had chosen this moment to interrupt them so he could help Sam get out the door.
“C’mon in, Amy,” Doc Klever said, trying to sound like a favorite uncle inviting a favorite niece inside for a treat. “Jimmy’s been asking for you.”
“I’ll call you,” Sam said, and walked straight over to the door, and out to the parking lot.
“Did something happen I don’t know about, Doctor?” Amy said when she moved away from the window.
Doc Klever looked evasive, too. “Why don’t you spend a few minutes with Jimmy? Then walk down the hall to my office. I’ll be in there.”
Jimmy was lying down on a bedlike cot. His arms were at his sides. A heavy pink blanket covered him.
He tilted his head up to see her. “Hi, Amy.”
“Hi, Jimmy.”
“Doc Klever says you’re doing very well.”
“It hurts, Amy.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
She walked over to the cot. “You’re going to stay at my place for a few days.”
“I am?”
His excitement was clear. A bit of color returned to his cheeks. “That’ll be great, Amy.” Then he looked at her a long time. “I didn’t mean to tell them, Amy. But when he saw my neck, he started asking me questions.”
She felt alarm, panic, but without knowing why. “I guess I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jimmy.”
“The bruises, Amy.”
“Bruises?”
“Yeah, on my neck. And hers.”
“Who’s ‘hers,’ Jimmy?”
“You know, that girl’s.”
“Bruises on Darcy’s neck?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “And bruises on my neck.”
He stretched his neck so she could see what he was talking about.
“You see the bruises, Amy? Doc says they’re all over my throat.”
And indeed they were.
“I didn’t want to tell them, Amy. I really didn’t. I don’t want Richie to hate me. But I’m scared he will, Amy. I’m scared he will.”
Then he started crying.
“So that’s where Sam went?” Amy said five minutes later, as she sat across from Doc Klever in his cluttered little office. His desktop was an explosion of papers of various sizes, shapes, and colors.
“Once I saw the similarities, I asked him to come in and take a look.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry, Amy.”
She was still numb from what she’d learned. Numb... and confused.
Just a few minutes ago, her world had been bright and shiny again.
But now—
“I’ll talk to you later, Doctor,” she said, rising from chair and walking trancelike out the door.
“Amy? Amy, are you all right?” Doc Klever called.
Eighteen
1
Sam’s car was parked next to Richie’s cottage.
Amy had just finished parking her own car when she heard the explosion from inside. The gunshot.
She hurried from the car to the front door of the cottage.
No sound whatsoever came from inside.
She tried the door handle. Locked. She pounded on the door several times, shouting, “Richie! Richie!” as she did so.
Still no response.
She walked over to the vine-entangled window and tried to peer inside.
Richie had a gun. Sam was lying in the corner, apparently wounded. Blood covered the left shoulder of his khaki uniform shirt.
Richie glanced up. Saw his sister in the window.
“Let me in!” she shouted.
“Go away, you don’t want to get involved in this.”
“Let me in right now, Richie! I think you owe me that much, anyway.”
Richie looked at Sam. “You stay right where you are.”
Sam glared at him. “You’ve got my gun, Richie. And I’ve got a bad wound. I don’t think there’s a whole hell of a lot I can do to you.”
Amy had never heard Sam’s voice so contemptuous before.
As she waited for Richie to open the door, the beauty of the day again seized her. She wanted to be walking through the woods, collecting the most beautiful of leaves to press between the pages of a cherished book. She wanted to be horseback riding up in the hills. She wanted to be watching a good movie on TV with a fireplace crackling nearby.
All the terrible nightmares had ended less than a few hours ago, it had seemed, with the confession of Senator Cummings.
Her hand slipped inside the purse that hung from her right shoulder.
But now...
Richie opened the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t want anybody else to get hurt.”
“Sam being shot wasn’t my fault,” Richie said. “I was just trying to get away and I shoved him into the wall. The gun misfired.”
“That isn’t true, Amy,” Sam said, speaking through gritted teeth. The pain must have been pretty bad. “He jumped me as soon as I got inside. He got my gun from me and then he shot me. Point-blank.”
She could see by Richie’s expression that Sam’s words were true.
Before her now stood a stranger. Though she’d known Richie her whole life, she knew Sam a lot better.