Page 157 of Deadline

She sighed. “Bad bloody time, but I don’t think he’s going away.”

Dawson made to get up, but she told him to stay put. She walked the short hallway, released the bolt, and opened the door. Anticipating a room-service waiter bearing a tray, she was momentarily puzzled by the funny-looking man holding a wilting bouquet of flowers.

Which he immediately threw to the floor, leaving only a pistol in his hand. He jammed it against her ribs as he pushed her backward into the room.

She turned and cried out to Dawson. He bounded off the bed, but drew up short when Carl caught her around the throat from behind and placed the barrel of the handgun against her temple.

“Well, how about this? A little reunion with my beach friends.”

Dawson’s hands balled into fists at his sides. Enunciating each word, he said, “Let her go.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

“Because if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“You’ve got it wrong. I’m killing you.” He swung the pistol away from her and aimed it at Dawson.

Chapter 28

I’m about done for the day. Before I sign you over to the evening shift, is there anything I can get you?”

The nurse was one of Headly’s favorites. Even so, he replied grumpily. “Cheeseburger and fries.”

“Don’t ask for what I can’t deliver. You’re still on a restricted diet.”

“He knows,” Eva said from the chair where she was thumbing through a magazine. “He’s just being ornery.”

The nurse wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his biceps. “How about some skim milk?”

“How about a stiff bourbon?”

She swatted his arm. “BP’s lowered. That’s good.” As she noted it on the chart, she asked Eva if she was staying overnight again. “That foldout can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s not bad. The patient, however, is a pain in the butt.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”

The nurse chuckled. “I know what a grouch he can be, so I think it’s sweet of you to stay with him, Mrs. Headly. In fact, your ears should have been burning earlier today.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I was bragging on you.”

“To whom?”

“This little old man who was waiting on the elevator. He saw you in the hall talking to Mr. Scott and recognized him. I confess the conversation got gossipy. I told him how y’all had known Mr. Scott since birth, that he was your godson, but mostly I bragged on you for staying here in Mr. Headly’s room, taking very few breaks. Like everyone else, he was impressed.” She made one final adjustment to Headly’s IV drip. “Changed your mind about the milk?”

“No, thanks.”

“Well then, I’m out of here. Rest easy. See y’all tomorrow.”

As the door closed behind her, Eva remarked, “Sweet girl.”

“Hmm.” Headly worked his head deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes. He was more tired than he let on. A physical therapist had been in earlier doling out wisecracks, bonhomie, and sheer torture. By the time the fifteen minutes was up, Headly’s hands and arms were tingling. Which was a relief, but still.

As though reading his mind, Eva said, “You should be doing the exercises the therapist showed you.”

“Give me ten minutes’ rest.”