Unfinished Business (14 page)

“What?” Grimaldi said.

“Huron.” Wendell turned to her. “Spanish
word. Means ‘the Ferret.’ Eugenio Hernandez’s nickname.”

“He did this? Eugenio Hernandez?”

She turned back to Rafe, who said,
“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“He’s a sick bastard?” Wendell suggested,
and Rafe made another of those not-quite-a-laugh noises.

“He’s a sick bastard,” he agreed, his voice
still rough. “And while he was serving his three to five, someone
happened to mention that Hector Gonzales was in prison just over
the state line in Georgia, and who put him there.”

“He figured out you were an undercover
agent,” Grimaldi translated, and Rafe nodded. “I guess he grabbed
you out of the parking lot at Gabe’s night before last?”

“Blue van,” Rafe said, “next to the bike
when I was leaving. I didn’t think nothing of it till the door
opened. Losing my edge.” He grimaced.

“You had other things on your mind,”
Grimaldi said soothingly, although Rafe didn’t look particularly
soothed, and Wendell looked grim.

“He hit you?”

“Knocked me out.” Rafe worked a limp hand
out of the blankets to touch the back of his head. It happened to
be the arm with the bandage wrapped around it, and we all watched
as he tucked it back under the blankets. No one commented. Rafe
continued, “I woke up a couple hours later tied to a chair.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Rafe said. “The fucker drove a knife
through my arm and into the table. You can get the other details
tomorrow. When she ain’t here.”

He glanced at me.

“She’s going to be here,” I told him.
“Unless you were talking about Mother. I imagine she’ll go home to
Sweetwater in the morning, now that you’re back. But if you were
referring to me, I’ll be here. Tomorrow. And the next day. And the
day after that.”

“Don’t imagine they’ll keep me here that
long, darlin’.”

I didn’t imagine they would, either. These
days, they seem to send people home as soon as there’s no chance
they’ll die on the way there.

“I’ll be here for however long you’re here,”
I told him. “And then I’ll go wherever you’re going. You’re not
getting rid of me this easily.”

It was something he’d told me once or twice,
and he must have recognized the words, because his lips curved.
“D’you think I’d run out on you, darlin’?”

He reached a hand out from under the
blankets toward me. The other hand this time. I took it and held
on. “For five seconds. Maybe ten.”

He looked skeptical, and I added, “I thought
about it. Wondered about it. But I didn’t really believe it.”

His fingers—usually warm and hard—were cold
today. A combination of shock and blood loss, most likely. Or
whatever medication they had put into him. He wasn’t on an IV
drip—I don’t imagine he’d have welcomed that suggestion, especially
after what he’d gone through—so whatever pain medicine they’d given
him, had been oral.

“You should get some rest,” I said.

“Soon as we finish talking.” He turned back
to Wendell and Grimaldi, but kept hold of my hand. “What else d’you
need?”

“Where you were,” Grimaldi said, and Wendell
added, “So’s we can go out there and get the bastard.”

Rafe shook his head. “He ain’t there no
more.”

“How d’you know?”

“He left,” Rafe said. “Stuck my arm to the
table and walked out. I don’t think he was happy with my
performance. Prob’ly went out to find someone more
entertaining.”

There was a moment’s pause. Then—

“How did you...?” Grimaldi paused
delicately.

“Lifted my arm up,” Rafe said, like it was
nothing; like he hadn’t had to push up against the handle of a
knife that was driven through his arm and into the wood of a table.
“Took the knife out with my teeth and used it to cut the ropes. And
got the hell outta there.”

There was silence again. This time I’m
fairly certain it was awe. I was tempted to look at Mother, to see
what sort of expression was on her face, but it would have
necessitated turning my head all the way around, so I refrained. I
hoped she was impressed, though. It was almost unbelievable that
she could be anything else, but then we were talking about my
mother and my boyfriend, and it didn’t do to take anything for
granted.

“Where was ‘there?’” Grimaldi asked after a
suitable pause. “Where were you?”

“Cabin in the woods somewhere.” He tried to
shrug, and it, too, must have hurt, because he made a face and
stopped trying. “Not sure. I followed a dirt road for a while, and
then a paved road, and then I hotwired an old truck and started
driving. Made my way back home finally. But it ain’t really all
that clear, you know?”

I wasn’t surprised. He’d been hurt, and
bleeding, and possibly still woozy from the knock on the head, and
half naked—not that that was really a problem with the heat wave we
were having, but with all the cuts and open wounds, even the warm
night air must have been uncomfortable...

“Can you at least tell me which direction
you were in?” Grimaldi asked, somewhat desperately. “Just to give
us some idea of where to start?”

“East,” Rafe said. “Past the Stone’s River
Dam.”

“Wilson County?”

“Mighta been.”

Wendell and Grimaldi exchanged a glance, and
I thought I knew why. Wilson County was where the police had had a
John Doe yesterday morning, one who had fit Rafe’s description.
Coincidence?

“The truck ran outta gas just past the
airport,” Rafe added. “I made it the rest of the way on foot.” And
he made it sound easy, although he’d walked miles. In his
condition. “You can go check the registration. I found it in a
driveway after twenty or thirty minutes. If the owner lives there,
it’ll give you a baseline.”

Grimaldi and Wendell exchanged another
glance. “I’m on it,” Wendell said. “Then I’ll go rustle the boys.
Can you get a car down to Woodbine, just in case he comes back
there?”

Grimaldi nodded. “Don’t pull your boys off
until someone else gets there.”

“I’ve been doing this job since before you
were born,” Wendell informed her, and turned to Rafe. “You get some
rest, boy. You look like shit. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Rafe nodded.

“He’s right,” I told him, as Wendell made
his way toward the door, with a polite nod at Mother and Dix, who
moved out of his way. Dix sidled closer to the bed, now that there
was more room. Mother stayed where she was. “You should try to get
some sleep. It’s been a long day.” And a long night. And a long
night last night, too.

I tried to twitch my hand out of his, so he
could put it under the blanket again and be warm, but he held on.
“I’m sorry I missed the wedding.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “First of
all, it’s not as if you could help it. And second, compared to what
happened to you, postponing the ceremony is a very small thing. It
wasn’t like we’d planned to have a party. We were just going to
City Hall. We can get married anytime.”

“You could get married right now,” Dix said.
He came to a stop on the other side of the bed. “Hospitals usually
have chaplains. There’s probably someone here who could perform the
ceremony right now. And we’re all present.”

He looked around.

We
were
all present, except for
Wendell, who had disappeared down the hall. But he’d be back
tomorrow. And I didn’t think Dix was talking about getting married
right this second. It was the middle of the night. The chaplain was
most likely asleep, and while I’m sure he was on duty for things
like last rites, I wasn’t about to wake him up just so he could
marry us. Rafe wasn’t going anywhere. Getting married tomorrow
morning would be sufficient.

Although the groom shook his head. “No
offense, darlin’. But I’d like to marry you standing up, not flat
on my back. And with this,” he raised the bandaged arm, “ain’t no
way I’d be able to carry you across any threshold when we got
home.”

“You shouldn’t try to do that anyway,” I
told him. “I’m carrying extra weight these days. You’d throw your
back out.”

He looked insulted, and before he could try
to assure me that he was perfectly capable of carrying me and the
baby, and probably Dix and Mother as well, I added, “No offense,
but at the moment, I’m pretty sure
I
could take you.”

That got me a smile, anyway, even if that
wasn’t what I’d been going for. “Darlin’, you can take me anytime
you want.”

OK, then
.

I blushed, of course, while Rafe managed an
approximation of a lascivious wink. Dix hid a grin, and so did
Grimaldi. I’m sure Mother looked scandalized, but I didn’t glance
at her. “You must be feeling better,” I said instead, half
disapproving and half delighted, “if you can think about sex.”

“Darlin’,” Rafe drawled, “I can always think
about sex.”

Yes, he was definitely feeling better. A
result of the pain pills, no doubt.

“Go to sleep,” I told him. “If you feel
better tomorrow,” and if he got to go home, because there was no
way I was getting it on in a hospital bed, “we can have sex
then.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“And we’ll wait to get married until you
feel better.” Although I still wouldn’t let him carry me—and my
passenger—across the threshold.

He nodded. “Sorry to drag you out in the
middle of the night,” he told Grimaldi, who gave him a ‘get-real’
sort of look, before telling him,

“I’ll be out of here in a minute, too. If
Mr. Craig is handling the truck and cabin, I’ll rouse Spicer and
Truman and see if there’s any connection to the DB in Wilson
County.”

“What DB?” Obviously Rafe didn’t need an
explanation for what a DB was.

“Dead guy whose description matched yours,”
I said, before Grimaldi could. “Spicer and Truman drove out there
yesterday morning, to make sure it wasn’t you.”

He didn’t say anything immediately.
“Sorry.”

I knew what he meant.
Sorry you had to
spend time worrying it was me
.

“It’s OK,” I said. “I didn’t actually know
about it until afterwards. Grimaldi didn’t tell me until they’d
driven there and had confirmed that it wasn’t you.”

He nodded. “Thanks,” he told Grimaldi.

Who told him, easily, “No sense in worrying
unnecessarily. I don’t suppose you have any idea who it might have
been?”

Rafe shook his head. “Huron was alone the
whole time I saw him.”

Grimaldi nodded. “It may not be related at
all. Wilson County’s a big place. Plenty of people with all sorts
of reasons for wanting one another dead. It’s probably just a
coincidence. But it won’t hurt to check.”

“Does this DB have a name?”

“Not so far,” Grimaldi said. “Or not that
I’ve heard. He was a John Doe this morning. I’m not sure whether
they’ve identified him since. Since he wasn’t you, I didn’t worry
about it.”

Rafe nodded. “When you find out his name,
run it by me. Just in case.”

Grimaldi promised she would. She turned
toward the door, and then turned back. “I’m glad you’re OK.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond, just
pushed the door open.

“I’ll walk you down,” Dix said—displaying
good manners and maybe the desire to spend a couple of minutes
alone with his... friend.

Mother didn’t say a word, but she slipped
out the door behind him. I’d like to chalk it up to delicate
feelings, and to wanting to give Rafe and myself a few moments
alone, but I’m afraid she probably just didn’t want to be stuck in
here alone with us. Either that, or she had her suspicions about
Dix and Grimaldi, and wanted to nip anything that might happen in
the bud.

It was late morning by the time Wendell and Grimaldi came back to
update us—or Rafe—on where their investigations had taken them.

We were all still there, in the hospital
room. Rafe had tried to talk me into going home, but I had refused
to leave him. I knew it was silly, but part of me—a half-ashamed,
mostly subconscious part—worried that if I let him out of my sight,
he’d disappear again. I knew it wasn’t likely that the hospital
would allow that to happen, but I couldn’t bear to leave. If I
stayed by his bedside and watched him sleep, I could make sure
nothing happened to him.

And while I had tried to talk Mother and Dix
into leaving, they’d chosen to stay the rest of the night, too.
Don’t ask me why. Dix liked Rafe well enough, but there was
certainly nothing he could do at the moment, and I would have
expected Mother to insist on being taken back to the house
immediately.

Then again, it was Rafe’s house, and a house
in a ‘bad’ neighborhood, so maybe she felt safer here.

“I guess you guys are planning to head home
soon?” I asked sometime during the midmorning, after we’d all been
wakened by the nurse who came in to check that Rafe was still
breathing.

He was, but a bit harshly, so she asked him
whether he wanted an IV drip. He said no, and she gave him another
pain pill instead, but not until she had hauled him out of bed and
into the adjacent bathroom so he could relieve himself.

There was—sadly—no hospital gown gaping open
over his admittedly excellent rear end. Instead, he was wearing a
pair of pants, the kind with a drawstring waist that the doctors
and nurses wear, the bottom half of a set of scrubs, that hung low
on his hips. With every step he took, it looked like the pants
might give in to gravity and slide off, but it never happened. He
made it to the door to the bathroom with his dignity intact. And of
course he turned in the doorway to glance at me over his shoulder,
and to wink when he saw me staring. The nurse gave me a jaundiced
look before propelling him into the bathroom.

Dix chuckled. Mother looked pained. I
shrugged unapologetically. Not only is he nice to look at, even in
his current condition, but I love him. I’m supposed to look at him
like I can’t get enough.