Grave Secret - Charlaine Harris [54]
“You could leave,” he said, a little wildly. “You could go up to St. Louis, to the apartment.”
“And leave you here by yourself? Not too likely.”
“You could leave the country.”
“Oh, hush. I’m not going to spend the money to fly to Europe or whatever, just because someone shot at guys while I was around.”
“You got a death threat,” Tolliver said, as if I was mentally slow or hard of hearing.
“I know that,” I said, mimicking his tone accurately. He gave me a narrow-eyed glare. “Seriously, Tolliver, I think someone’s just trying to spook me. I mean, you got shot and then poor Detective Powers. But couldn’t that shooter have hit me, just as easily, if I’d been the real target? I’m not so sure anymore that I simply got lucky both times. I’m thinking maybe the shooter is just trying to scare me.”
“I don’t particularly like the results of someone trying to scare you any more than I like the idea of someone trying to really kill you,” Tolliver said, indicating his hospital bed pointedly.
“True enough.” It appeared we were at an impasse.
Dr. Spradling appeared and asked Tolliver the usual questions. It seemed clear that Tolliver was out of danger, and the doctor talked about dismissing him, provided Tolliver had someone to take care of him at home. I raised my hand, to indicate I was that person.
“What about traveling?” I asked.
“By car?”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t. He needs to rest for at least two days before you travel. I’m thinking of giving him an antibiotic drip, but if you promise to stick to what I say faithfully, if you promise to keep him in a room and quiet, then I’ll make it oral antibiotics and release him tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said. “I promise.”
“Then if he continues to improve, doesn’t run a fever, tomorrow.”
I was delighted to hear it. Tolliver looked relieved, too. When the doctor had left, I said, “I guess I’d better go back to the hotel to take a shower and eat something.”
“Can you wait until Mark gets off work? He could go with you.” “I’ll go by myself. I can’t stay shut in a room the whole time, Tolliver. I’ve got to get out and get things done.” I didn’t want Mark to get shot, too.
“Who do you think is doing this?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but I wondered if it was someone who got obsessed with me on the website, some nut who decided he didn’t want me to be around other men. Or maybe it’s a coincidence that I was with men both times. Maybe this guy is a really bad shot and was trying to get me. Maybe it’s someone who just wants to rattle me and see what I do.”
“Why now? There’s got to be a reason.”
“I don’t know,” I said, losing patience. “How would I know? Maybe the police will come up with something. Having one of their own shot is a powerful incentive to find the bad guy. God knows they asked me to tell them every single thing I’ve done in the past few days, over and over. I’ll tell you something else I have to do—I have to go see the detective who got shot.”
Tolliver nodded. He turned his face away from me, to look out the window. The day was cold and clear, the sky so bright a blue that it hurt to look at it. It was an achingly beautiful day. And here we were, shut inside a hospital and peeved with each other.
I stepped over to his bed, took his hand. It was unresponsive in my grasp. “I have to shower and eat, and I have to go see the detective,” I said. “After that, I’ll be back. If I keep moving, I’ll be fine. No one can follow me 24-7. Right?” I hated to sound wheedling, but I did.
“I need to get out of here,” he said.
“Yes, and you will, soon. The doctor said so. Just don’t do anything crazy and fall, okay?”
There was a sketchy knock at the door, and as our heads turned, a short man walked in. He was extraordinary looking—all in black, with platinum spiked hair and piercings in his eyebrow, his nose, and (I knew from the past) his tongue. He was younger than me, somewhere around twenty-one, and he was slim and oddly handsome.
“Hello, Manfred,” Tolliver said. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad to see you.”
Eleven
MANFRED seemed a little hurt that I had protested