any?”
“Yeah. They tell me it should return to eighty or ninety percent normal eventually.”
“We can settle for that,” Carver said. “If you’d walked into the clinic a few seconds sooner you might have been killed.”
“Timing and luck, maybe they’re the same thing.” There were faint sounds in the background, as if someone had entered the room, and Beth said something he couldn’t understand, muffled, as if she had her hand over the mouthpiece. “The nurse was here looking in on me,” she explained a few seconds later. “And McGregor was here about an hour ago, Fred. He was looking for you.”
Carver glanced again at his answering machine; the digital counter registered no messages. McGregor hadn’t called. “Did he say why?”
“No. He was only here a few minutes. He urged me to leave you and sleep with men of my own race, then he left.”
“Did he upset you?”
“No. I wouldn’t let him. I know how he is, how he tries to draw out people’s rage or humiliation so he can feel superior.”
“If he comes back, don’t tell him I called. I’ll avoid him.”
“That would be my advice, Fred. To anyone.”
“Can you get through the afternoon without me? I’ve got to talk to some people.”
“Concerning the bombing?”
“Yes.”
“About Adam Norton?”
“More or less.”
“You don’t think he’s the bomber?”
“I want to make sure. And if he did the actual deed, I want to know who if anyone put him up to it.”
“What about tonight?”
He smiled. “You’re full of questions.”
“That’s my job, just like it’s yours.”
“I’ll be there tonight to see you.”
“Good. But don’t worry so much about me, Fred. I’m on the mend.”
“I know you are.”
“It’s just that . . .”
“What?”
“The baby.” There was a catch in her voice.
Something bent and broke inside him with an abruptness that surprised him. Was he that vulnerable?
“I’ll drive over there now,” he said. “I should have come earlier today.”
“Don’t you dare.” She sounded angry with herself. Determined.
He listened to his own breathing for a moment. “You sure you’ll be okay alone?”
“I’m not alone, Fred. Including staff, there are about a thousand people in this building. Half of them come and go in this room, checking on me, giving me medication.”
“So you don’t need me.”
“I didn’t say that. Bring my Toshiba when you come tonight.”
“Why would you want a notebook computer?”
“I’m going to write a piece on the clinic bombing for Burrow. I talked on the phone with Jeff Smith about it this morning.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking about work.”
“I’m thinking about my work and yours, Fred. I’ll need you to keep me up to speed on the investigation.”
He almost cautioned her again, but in truth he was glad to find her well enough to be interested in her work. He knew how work could displace pain.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll brief you when I get there this evening.”
“The nurse just walked in again, Fred, this time with something that looks like a turkey baster. I’ve got to hang up.”
“Beth—”
“Don’t forget the computer.”
The line went dead.
Carver, whose cooking skills and experience were limited, sat thinking that it had been years since he’d seen a turkey baster.
Xaviar Demorose’s address turned out to be the Golden Time retirement home in West Del Moray, not far from Women’s Light. Carver had to drive past the clinic on his way there. The low brick clinic looked normal except for the boarded-up front doors and windows, and the wreaths and bouquets of colorful flowers laid out on the step that led to the entrance. Across the street, two dour looking men were walking back and forth with signs. One sign appeared to show a blown-up photograph of a fetus with a red X slashed through it. The other said simply HIS TERRIBLE SWIFT SWORD beneath a crude drawing of an explosion. Carver pushed down his anger
“Yeah. They tell me it should return to eighty or ninety percent normal eventually.”
“We can settle for that,” Carver said. “If you’d walked into the clinic a few seconds sooner you might have been killed.”
“Timing and luck, maybe they’re the same thing.” There were faint sounds in the background, as if someone had entered the room, and Beth said something he couldn’t understand, muffled, as if she had her hand over the mouthpiece. “The nurse was here looking in on me,” she explained a few seconds later. “And McGregor was here about an hour ago, Fred. He was looking for you.”
Carver glanced again at his answering machine; the digital counter registered no messages. McGregor hadn’t called. “Did he say why?”
“No. He was only here a few minutes. He urged me to leave you and sleep with men of my own race, then he left.”
“Did he upset you?”
“No. I wouldn’t let him. I know how he is, how he tries to draw out people’s rage or humiliation so he can feel superior.”
“If he comes back, don’t tell him I called. I’ll avoid him.”
“That would be my advice, Fred. To anyone.”
“Can you get through the afternoon without me? I’ve got to talk to some people.”
“Concerning the bombing?”
“Yes.”
“About Adam Norton?”
“More or less.”
“You don’t think he’s the bomber?”
“I want to make sure. And if he did the actual deed, I want to know who if anyone put him up to it.”
“What about tonight?”
He smiled. “You’re full of questions.”
“That’s my job, just like it’s yours.”
“I’ll be there tonight to see you.”
“Good. But don’t worry so much about me, Fred. I’m on the mend.”
“I know you are.”
“It’s just that . . .”
“What?”
“The baby.” There was a catch in her voice.
Something bent and broke inside him with an abruptness that surprised him. Was he that vulnerable?
“I’ll drive over there now,” he said. “I should have come earlier today.”
“Don’t you dare.” She sounded angry with herself. Determined.
He listened to his own breathing for a moment. “You sure you’ll be okay alone?”
“I’m not alone, Fred. Including staff, there are about a thousand people in this building. Half of them come and go in this room, checking on me, giving me medication.”
“So you don’t need me.”
“I didn’t say that. Bring my Toshiba when you come tonight.”
“Why would you want a notebook computer?”
“I’m going to write a piece on the clinic bombing for Burrow. I talked on the phone with Jeff Smith about it this morning.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking about work.”
“I’m thinking about my work and yours, Fred. I’ll need you to keep me up to speed on the investigation.”
He almost cautioned her again, but in truth he was glad to find her well enough to be interested in her work. He knew how work could displace pain.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll brief you when I get there this evening.”
“The nurse just walked in again, Fred, this time with something that looks like a turkey baster. I’ve got to hang up.”
“Beth—”
“Don’t forget the computer.”
The line went dead.
Carver, whose cooking skills and experience were limited, sat thinking that it had been years since he’d seen a turkey baster.
Xaviar Demorose’s address turned out to be the Golden Time retirement home in West Del Moray, not far from Women’s Light. Carver had to drive past the clinic on his way there. The low brick clinic looked normal except for the boarded-up front doors and windows, and the wreaths and bouquets of colorful flowers laid out on the step that led to the entrance. Across the street, two dour looking men were walking back and forth with signs. One sign appeared to show a blown-up photograph of a fetus with a red X slashed through it. The other said simply HIS TERRIBLE SWIFT SWORD beneath a crude drawing of an explosion. Carver pushed down his anger
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