All the Beautiful Lies(74)

A nurse came in to check on him. “Awake, I see?” he said.

“On and off.”

“How’s the head?”

“A little fuzzy, but getting better.”

“You’ll be glad to know your mother’s still here. We told her to go home, but she insisted.”

“My stepmother,” Harry said.

“Oh, right. She’s very concerned.”

“She’s awake?”

“No, she’s sleeping now. There’s a couch in the waiting room.”

When the nurse left, Harry dozed for a few minutes then woke again, still thinking of John. What did he know about him? Not much, except that he was local, having spent many years in southern Maine. He lived on Kennewick Beach, in one of the dated condos up near Buxton Point. Bill had pointed it out to Harry once during a walk; this was right after his father had brought John in full-time at the store. “What’s his deal?” Harry had asked Bill.

“He’s just one of those guys who needs to be working, I guess. But I like having him around. He’s harmless.”

Harry’s temples throbbed, and he closed his eyes. Bright splotches of color spread and contracted under his eyelids. He was exhausted again, despite the rising anxiety, and he fell into a thin, disturbed sleep.

When he woke, Alice was over him, her face registering the same overly concerned look from before. “Hi, Alice,” he said, the words clicking a little because his mouth was so dry. How long had he slept?

“Hi, sleepyhead,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“Okay. Thirsty.”

Alice brought him a cup of lukewarm water.

“Dr. Roy’s coming soon. She said she thinks you can leave this morning.”

“Oh, good,” Harry said. He remembered being convinced that it had been John outside of Caitlin’s motel, and said, “Is Detective Dixon here?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“What about John? Was he here last night? I remember hearing him.”

“He was here, but he’s back home now. Want me to call him for you, have him come back?” Alice pushed a lock of Harry’s hair off his forehead, and the touch of her fingertips on his skin caused a ripple to race down his spine.

“No, I just . . . How long have you known John, Alice?”

Alice blinked. “Years, I guess. Since I was a teenager.”

“You knew him when you were a teenager?” Harry asked.

Alice sat back on her chair. “He was married briefly to my mother. You knew that, didn’t you, Harry?”

Harry didn’t say anything right away. Was he still confused from the concussion? Had he somehow forgotten that Alice and John had been related?

“I didn’t know that, did I?” he said. “He was your stepfather?”

Alice laughed. “I never thought of him that way. No, he was just someone who married my mother. I didn’t know him well at all.”

“And my father knew this, too?”

“Knew what? That John had been married to my mother? Sure, I suppose it came up when he first volunteered at the store, but I don’t even remember talking about it.”

“What was he like back then?” Harry asked. “Did you live with him?”

“Just for a little while. He was the same. He loved to work, was friendly to everyone. Why are you asking all these questions?”

Harry rubbed at one of his eyes where a nerve had been fluttering. A few hours ago he’d known for a fact that it had been John standing out in front of the motel room, keeping an eye on Caitlin. Now he wasn’t so sure. He opened his mouth to ask another question, then stopped. Suddenly, he didn’t want Alice to know about his suspicions. Why had he even had them? The flapping suit jacket? It wasn’t enough.

“No reason,” Harry said.

“You don’t think he—” Alice began, just as Dr. Roy entered the room.

“Good morning,” the doctor said, as Alice stood. “How are you feeling this morning, Harry? Better?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“I’ll just step outside,” Alice said, and moved quickly to the door.

Dr. Roy perched on one of the plastic chairs next to Harry’s bed and asked him how he had slept.

“Except for being woken up every hour, fine.”

“Are you sleepy now?”

“No. I’m just ready to get out of here.”

“Yes, I totally understand.” She pushed a dark strand of hair back behind an ear, and looked down at the clipboard in her lap. “I need to ask you some questions first, okay? Then you’re free to go.”

Harry nodded.

“I’m going to give you four words and I want you to repeat them back to me in the same order as I say them, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Car, telephone, apple, and shoe.”

Harry repeated the words.

“Good. Now, can you tell me the months of the year, but backward?”

He did that as well, as Dr. Roy scribbled onto a sheet.

“Very good,” she said. “Now tell me about how your head feels. Last night you complained of a headache—do you remember that?—and said that the pain was a six out of ten. Do you still have a headache this morning?”