Casey took off his helmet and strode up to the hospital’s information desk. “Please, ma’am, will you give me the number of Mr. Deverell’s room?” Sarah had told him Mr. D.’s room number, but Casey couldn’t remember it.
The woman behind the counter pressed various keys on her computer. “Sorry, but I’m not allowed to give out that information.”
“How can I bring him flowers if I don’t know his room number, ma’am?”
“Well, you can leave them at the nearest nursing station. That would be 3C.”
“Thank you very much,” Casey said. He pretended to walk to the Gift and Flower Shop, then turned to glance back at the information desk. The woman was talking with someone else, so Casey made his way to the bank of elevators.
There wasn’t much going on at Nursing Station 3C. Casey ambled down the hallway to the left, looking at patients’ names as he passed each door. Mr. Deverell’s name wasn’t posted, but the last room on the corridor, a room whose door was shut, didn’t have a name on it. No Deverell on the other corridor, either. On that corridor there were patients’ names on each door frame.
Casey returned to the room without a name and tried the door. It opened, and he went in. The room was totally empty. No bed, no beside table, nothing. But there was a second door in the room. Casey tried it. It, too, opened, and this time there was a bedside table and a bed. Lying in the bed, connected with intravenous tubes and wearing an oxygen mask, was Mr. Deverell, his head wrapped in a large white bandage.
Casey gazed at the thin figure in the bed and had to blink back tears. If his science teacher had looked bad the night Casey had rescued him, he seemed a lot worse now. There was a telephone on the bedside table. Casey lifted the receiver and pressed the number for hospital security.
“Security,” someone answered.
“Sir, my name’s Casey Templeton, and I’m calling from —”
“I can see where you’re calling from. What I want to know is what you’re doing in that room.”
“Sir, if you’ll just listen. Mr. Deverell’s in real danger —”
“Casey Templeton, you’re in real danger of being apprehended. Get out of that room ASAP.”
“No, sir, I won’t.” Casey replaced the receiver and sat in the chair across the room from the bed. “That’ll bring someone, I’ll bet,” he said out loud, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. About a minute later, when he heard the outer door open, he folded his arms across his chest. Security is sure on the ball, he thought as the door to the room flew open.
Facing Casey was the man from the dark blue van, the one who looked just like Mr. Deverell. “You!” the man shouted. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to protect Mr. Deverell from you,” Casey said, standing.
The man took the few short steps across the room, grabbed the cords to Casey’s coat hood, and began to pull. Casey tried to fend him off by lashing out with his helmet, but less and less air was getting to his lungs and the helmet crashed to the floor.
As Casey felt his legs give out from under him, he heard the outer door open and close. The man let go of him, and Casey staggered to a chair. Never had the sight of someone in a uniform looked so good.
“Stay where you are.” The hospital security guard blocked the door as he pressed a button on his cell phone and said, “Deverell’s room. Two of you. Now!” He listened for a minute, then said, “Oh, is that right? Send them up, as well.” The guard stared at Casey and the Mr. Deverell look-alike. “Both of you go out to the anteroom.” Casey dragged himself to his feet and limped out. “I locked the outer door,” the guard said. “Stand facing that wall with your arms against it and your legs spread.”
“But I’m a close relative of Mr. Deverell’s,” the man whined. “What’s this nonsense of not letting me see him?”
“Don’t talk anymore!” the guard ordered him as a key turned in the outer door and four men came in — two more guards and two Mounties, Staff Sergeant Deblo and Constable Hexall.
The clock above the elevators said one-thirty as Casey, Mr. Deverell’s son, two hospital security guards, and the two Mounties got on. One guard had stayed with Mr. Deverell. Once again Casey was amazed at how fast the time had gone. Had it really taken them an hour and a half to get to Fraserville? It must have.
“This way, Casey,” Constable Hexall said, pointing as the elevator stopped at the first floor. Staff Sergeant Deblo took Mr. Deverell’s son the other way.
As soon as the door opened to the hospital’s staff lounge, Casey found out where his dad was, and Hank, and his mom. The three of them, Hank, with his left arm in a sling, sat in chairs along one side of the comfortably furnished room, drinking coffee. Casey’s mother smiled a little tentatively at Casey, Hank waved his good hand, and Chief Superintendent Templeton glowered.
“Hi, guys!” Casey said. “Real glad you got here so fast. How’s your arm, Hank?”
“It’s a sprain, not a break,” Hank told him.
“Casey,” his father said, “your mother’s going to drive Hank and you back to Richford. I’ll drive ahead on the Harley. While I’m setting up a conference at our house with the local Mounties and everyone involved in the official investigation, and yours, Casey, you and Hank can help your mother shop for food. Some of us haven’t eaten in a very long time.”
Casey nodded.
“Hank,” his father continued, “come down and give me a few pointers about your machine. It’s been years since I’ve driven a motorcycle.”
They filed out of the lounge, and Casey followed his mother to the parking garage. “I didn’t know Dad could drive a motorcycle, Mom.”
“Your father can drive everything from a tank to a bus.”
“I guess Dad’s pretty upset with me, eh?”
“You don’t want to know how much,” his mother said, unlocking the car and sliding behind the wheel.