Grave Secret - Charlaine Harris [40]
“That would sure be wonderful if you can swing it,” I said. “The round trip would be a long time to be away from him.” I was trying to force myself to be calm.
Before I could stop myself, I bent over Tolliver and took hold of his hand. It was cold, and I told myself I’d have to ask the nurse for another blanket. “Hey, you,” I said. “Did you hear the detective?”
“A little,” Tolliver said. It was more of a mumble, but I could understand him.
“He’s going to try to get the mall tapes here for me to see,” I said. “Maybe we’ll finally get a lead.” It seemed incredible that Victoria and I had been discussing this very thing not an hour previously.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Tolliver said, in a clearer voice. “This has happened before.”
I didn’t want to consider all the previous false sightings. “I understand,” I said. “But maybe this time will be the charm, huh?”
“She wouldn’t be the same,” Tolliver said, his eyes fully open. “You know that, right? She wouldn’t be the same.”
I calmed down in a hurry. “Yes, I know,” I told him. She would never be the same. Too many years had passed. Too much pain had been felt, too much . . . everything.
“If you need to go to Texarkana . . .” Tolliver began.
“I’m not leaving you,” I said immediately.
“If you need to go, you go,” he said.
“I appreciate that,” I said. “But I’m not going while you’re here in the hospital.” I couldn’t believe I said it, even as I listened to my own words. For years I’d been waiting to hear news of my sister. Now there was actually a lead, however odd and unreliable it sounded—and I was telling Tolliver I wasn’t going to chase it down immediately.
I sat down in the chair by the bed. I laid my forehead against the cotton blanket that covered my brother. I’d never felt more committed.
Detective Flemmons had listened to our discussion with a blank face. He seemed to be reserving judgment on us, and I appreciated that, too.
He said, “I’ll give you a call when we’re ready.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a little numb.
When the detective was gone, Tolliver said, “It’s only fair.”
“What?”
“You got shot for me. Now I got shot for you, if he’s right. You think the shooter was aiming for you?”
“Huh,” I said. “The difference is, when I got shot, she almost missed me. I mean, it was just a graze. Whoever shot you did a better job.”
“So,” he said, “I get shot by more efficient people.”
“I think that pain medication must be pretty damn good.”
“The best,” he said dreamily.
I smiled. It wasn’t often Tolliver was so relaxed. I didn’t want to think about Cameron anymore, because I didn’t know what I wished for.
His dad knocked on the door of the room and stepped in before we could say yes or no. Our peaceful moment was shot all to hell.
Matthew was looking a little ragged, not too surprising considering how late we’d been up the night before; and he’d told me he’d had the morning shift at McDonald’s. Clearly he’d taken the time to shower after he’d been at work, because he didn’t have the distinctive McDonald’s smell.
“Tolliver, your dad helped me while we called for an ambulance,” I said, because I had to give the devil his due. “And he came to the hospital until they said you were out of danger.”
“You sure he didn’t shoot me, too?”
If I hadn’t lived with Matthew Lang for several years, I would have been shocked through and through.
Matthew himself gave a good impression of a man hurt to the core. “Son, how can you believe that?” he asked, simultaneously wounded and angry. “I know I wasn’t the best dad . . .”
“Not the best dad? You remember the time you held a gun to Cameron’s head and told me you would blow her brains out if I didn’t tell you where I’d hidden your stash?”
Matthew’s shoulders slumped. I think he’d managed to forget that little incident.
“And then you ask me how I can believe you’d shoot me.” If Tolliver’s voice hadn’t been so weak, it would have been hot with sheer rage; as it was, Tolliver’s words sounded so