The ambulance had come at record speed, taking care of both Mason and Bill. Mason himself had little more than a couple of scratches from stray rocks leaping out at him. It was Bill’s condition that concerned him the most. He could still walk, but his body was being put through its paces, struggling to focus on any one person and form a thought.
After they were taken to the hospital, things became a little clearer. Mason was let in to see him almost immediately, being told that he was only allowed a minute or two. Those minutes entailed a cop being posted right outside his door, keeping watch on him in case Wendell came to finish the job. Mason thought this to be overkill, but he was glad it kept his friend safe, if nothing else.
When the cop let him into the room, Mason laid eyes on Bill immediately. His body was rigid and stiff in the hospital bed, his face a pattern of bruises and cuts. Mason thought he looked like an unripe blueberry. If he wasn’t so worried, he might have laughed.
“Well, you don’t look good,” he said.
“It looks worse than it is. What the hell happened?”
“Police found traces of a bomb. Amateur design, apparently, but what do I know?”
Bill nodded slowly as if it hurt, then turned toward the open window. A gentle breeze rolled in, caressing his face and blowing away his thin hair. Mason watched him from beside the bed, worrying about just how close they had come to death. The young officer who’d gone into the building had, in fact, died—yet another casualty of Mason’s past.
“The bomb was meant for you,” Bill mumbled.
“Yeah.” Mason had already figured that much, but he didn’t doubt Wendell would have been happy with the double kill. After all, Bill had played a large role in the killer’s supposed death, so it was a wonder he wasn’t targeted as well. Mason simply figured the grievance went much further back, all the way back to when he was the cop assigned to the case.
“You’re going to take care of this, aren’t you?” Bill asked.
“Of course I am.”
“I mean… under the radar.”
Mason faked a snicker, but it wasn’t convincing. “Somehow, I doubt the cops will let me come in and play nice. I’m just worried that Christine is on her way over here and she’ll edge you a little closer toward resignation.”
“I love my job too much.”
“Just keep her safe, Bill. Don’t be like me.”
“As a rule of thumb, I tend to watch what you’re doing and then do the complete opposite. That’s how I got my promotion.”
Mason smiled kindly. He appreciated the jokes, but it wasn’t going to get them very far. Not unless it was considered a survival technique, which he supposed it was for a homicide detective. But Mason was unable to smile genuinely. Diane was still out there, more people had been hurt, and somehow, he was still standing in the middle of it all unscathed. It brought about a kind of infuriating tension he had never felt before. Not even with Amy.
“What will you do?” Bill asked.
“Not much I can do. I guess maybe just sit around and wait for a call.”
“Sounds smart.”
“Smarter than you, getting all bruised up like a peach.”
Bill stiffened as he laughed. “Seriously though. Do whatever you need to stop this son of a bitch. If you need to kill him…” He lowered his voice to a whisper, waving Mason in. “Do it. You have my blessing. Just get out of here and go kill the bastard once and for all.”