8

SISTER THERESA AND I reached the bench at the same time.

“Mrs. O’Connor?” she said to Barbara. “Come along now, the doctor is ready to talk to you about your husband.”

“Is he…?”

“Yes, he’s alive. Now, more than that, you’ll have to learn from the doctor.”

I murmured a prayer of thanks to a God who would listen to hypocrites.

Barbara and Sister Theresa started back. I was about to follow when Barbara turned and asked me if I’d wait outside with Frank. I felt hurt, but I stayed where I was. Frank looked over at me.

“Hey, don’t take it so hard. Later on she’s probably not even going to remember being upset with you.”

“I’ve never been-what did you call it the other day?-‘sympathetic’ enough with her. I’m always wanting her to be a little tougher, less vulnerable.”

Frank was good enough just to let me kick myself in silence for a while.

“I don’t suppose there are any leads on this?” I asked.

“Nothing solid. We’ve got a forensics team combing every inch of that beach house.”

“I wonder if Kenny was the intended target all along.”

“It’s possible. But then there’s this Hannah business and a couple of other things that bother me. For example, why shoot out your window? If they thought he was at your place, and were planning to kill him, why not wait for a clear shot? For that matter, why not just shoot him today? If they wanted to kill him, why not just do it outright?”

“O’Connor must have figured out who Hannah was,” I said, “or at least worried someone into thinking he was getting too close to figuring it out. But why be so vicious with Kenny?”

“I don’t know. We’re talking to people with whom Kenny has been in recent contact, trying to find out if anyone knows anything that might help us figure out how he comes into it.”

“I talked to Lydia. I think things look pretty good for my getting my job back at the paper.”

To my surprise, he didn’t seem very happy about this. “Irene, what happened to Kenny changes everything. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay in Las Piernas. At least not until we figure out what’s going on.”

“And what if you never figure it out?”

“We will.”

“Who are you trying to kid? Maybe some people expect you guys to be supermen, but I don’t. I’ll bet even the Canadian Mounties don’t always get their man anymore. I’ve worked the crime beat, remember?”

“Look-doesn’t my experience count for anything with you?”

“Doesn’t mine count for anything with you?”

“Goddamn it, Irene, this guy’s a freak. Burying Kenny in the sand-that’s not the work of some hood on an errand.”

“I appreciate your concern. But think about it, Frank. I’m in danger until we figure out who’s behind all of this. That will be easier to discover if I pick up the threads of O’Connor’s investigations. I know how O’Connor’s mind worked, the way he attacked a problem. You’ve probably already gone into the newsroom and gathered whatever Wrigley could hand over, and I know enough about O’Connor’s note-taking to know you probably haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it. I’m not trying to be a hero here, Frank. I just don’t see any quicker or better way to get my own life back in order.”

I waited. He was rubbing his knuckles again.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

“In a word, no.”

“Well, hell.”

“This isn’t something I take lightly. I’m about to compromise the hell out of my journalistic ethics. I don’t like Wrigley, but that doesn’t make me feel any less like a double agent, working with you on this. The only way I’m going to be able to face myself in the mirror is by telling myself that this is beyond reporters versus cops. That, and I trust you.”

“Thanks, but I also happen to know you see yourself as O’Connor’s Avenging Angel.”

“I’ve never been any kind of angel, Frank.”

“Hmph.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’d better get going. All hell will be breaking loose at headquarters. I’ll call you at Lydia’s tonight.”

I watched as he walked off, then went back to the ER waiting room. I walked over to the counter, where Sister Theresa was concentrating on something on her desk. I looked down and noticed she was doodling-a fairly good caricature of one of the nurses I had seen going in and out of the ER. She had captured the nurse’s semimilitary bearing and grim facial features rather well.

“Remarkable resemblance,” I said.

She gave a start and then two bright red spots appeared on her cheeks.

“Not very Christian of me, I suppose,” she said.

“I won’t tell.”

She smiled. “You want to find your sister.”

“No, I don’t think she really wants to see me, at least not now. I just want to know if she’s okay and where she’ll be later on-I know she’ll want to stay with her husband as much as possible.”

“Yes, I’m afraid your sister is the kind of person who will exhaust herself with dedication. And you’re wise to let her have some time to, well, to get used to things. It’s very hard to adjust to extensive, critical injuries to those we love. She may not be herself for a while.”

“I understand.”

She looked at me with those gentle eyes. I grew up thinking nuns had X-ray vision where your guilty conscience was concerned, so I never really enjoyed getting the old eyeball from them; but I didn’t feel uncomfortable with Sister Theresa.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “you’re a good sister to her.”

Damn. X-ray vision after all.

9

BEFORE I LEFT, I learned from Sister Theresa that Kenny was in a coma, had multiple fractures and facial injuries. Both collarbones and several ribs had received bone-breaking whacks from the bat. Brain damage might or might not be permanent. She explained that most of the beating had been on his face, which gave him a better chance of recovery than he would have had if the blows had landed on other parts of his head. Most of the blood probably had come from his face-especially the mouth and nose. He was also lucky that the broken ribs hadn’t punctured his lungs. His condition was listed as critical.

It was late afternoon when I got back to Lydia’s place. Cody was starved for attention and gave me a grand welcome, prancing and yowling and purring loudly. The phone rang.

I let the machine get it, but listened in, then picked up the receiver when I recognized Lydia’s voice.

“What’s up, Lydia?”

“I’ve been worried sick about you! Do you know what’s happened to O’Connor’s son?”

It dawned on me that as assistant city editor, she would have heard the police and paramedics’ calls on the scanner and sent some general assignment person out to check out the beach-house story.

“Yeah, I know. That’s where I’ve been, down at St. Anne’s.”

“Is he going to make it?”

“Don’t know. He’s a mess, but he’s hanging in there so far. Can’t get nuns to quote odds. How are things going with Wrigley?”

“He wants to take us both out to dinner tonight.”

“Are you game?”

“For an evening with Wrigley? Now we’re talking sacrifice. But I wouldn’t send my worst enemy out alone with that wolf.”

“I take it he’s not in the newsroom.”

“You’ll make a fine newspaperwoman someday.”

“Gee, thanks. So he took the bait?”

“Hook, line, and sinker.”

“So where’s dinner?” I asked.

“Cafй La Fleur, eight o’clock.”

“How trendy.”

“That’s our Wrigley.”

“Are you coming back home first?”

“Of course; I need to change.”

This struck a note of panic in me. “Lydia, I haven’t got anything fancy with me.”

“Fancy? My dear, the look at La Fleur is studied dishabille. Got anything left over from the hippie days with you?”

“No, gone to Goodwill. But I get the picture.”