Gage's hearing returned—a little at first, then fully an hour later. The ringing in his ears persisted, an obnoxious whine that didn't subside at all, though that was the least of Gage's concerns. The doctors had wanted to examine him, but he'd shrugged them off. Later, in the dead of night, the nurses brought him a pillow and a blanket, encouraged him to rest, but he'd shrugged them off too. He didn't feel tired. He didn't see how he could ever sleep again.
Within the tiny hospital room, the sun rising over the firs outside filled the eastern window with a gauzy, golden light. A tan sheen blocked most of the glare and created an otherworldly glow in the room. It was the kind of glow movies often used to indicate flashbacks and dream sequences, where everything was slightly blurry and out-of-focus. It was the sort of thing that Zoe might say if she was conscious, and as he watched her lying in the bed, neck bandaged, eyes closed, face with more color in it but still too pale, he wished she was awake to say it. She'd say it with a sarcastic tone and a roll of the eyes, of course, in a way only she could.
As it was, he had to wait another hour in his uncomfortable wooden chair, listening to the occasional squeak of a passing gurney, or laughter from the nurse's station, before Zoe finally opened her eyes.
"Hello," she said.
He reached over and grabbed her hand, careful with the IV attached to her arm. Her fingers felt cold. He couldn't remember holding her hand before. All these years, and not even once?
"I'm not dead, you know," she said.
"It's not for lack of trying," he said. "You lost a hell of a lot of blood."
"Hey, I tried to dodge the bullet. Just not fast enough, I guess."
"Try harder next time."
"Duct taped to a chair? It's not—it's not easy, you know."
"Excuses, excuses."
She started to say something else, but the words faded on her lips, and she closed her eyes and breathed. She was in no danger now, the doctors had said so, but it still alarmed Gage. He started to rise, to call for the nurse, but Zoe pulled him back down.
"I'm fine," she said.
"You sure?"
She nodded. "Just tired. I want . . . I want to say something."
"We can talk later. You should get your rest."
"I want to say I'm sorry."
"Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm the one who put you in that situation."
She shook her head. "You couldn't have stopped me, and you know it. But I understand now. That's all I wanted to say. I understand why you—why you wanted to protect me. It wasn't because I was too weak. It wasn't that."
"No, there's nothing weak about you."
"Listen to me. You didn't want me there because . . . because no matter how strong you are, in the end, it doesn't . . . it doesn't always matter. Bad things can happen even if you do everything right, even if you're strong."
"Yes."
"And if you do this, this thing you do, because you have to prove something to yourself, you'll just get yourself killed. It can't be for that."
"It's better if it isn't," Gage said.
"So that's all," Zoe said. "I just wanted to say I was sorry. I thought maybe you were trying to protect me because you thought I . . . I couldn't handle it. It was because you couldn't handle it. Me being there. It made it hard for you to do your job. And it almost got both of us killed."
"No way."
"Yes way. And I won't do it to you again."
"Just stop. You need your rest."
"I'm going back to school," she insisted. "I want you to know that."
"That doesn't matter right now."
"Yes it does. And I'm going to do something with my life. Something big."
"Like what?"
"I have absolutely no fucking idea."
They both laughed.
"But I'll figure it out," she said. She gave his hand a last squeeze, then she pulled her fingers away and touched the bandage on her neck, felt her way around it. "Jesus. Did the bullet almost decapitate me or what?"
Gage slumped back into the chair. "Actually, you lucked out big time. Another half an inch and it would have severed your carotid artery for sure. Bad news is you're going to have a little scar." He pointed at his own neck, just below the jawline. "Right here. Doctor said it won't be that big, though, when it all heals. Maybe you can get a tattoo, huh?"
"Nah," Zoe said. "Everybody's getting tattoos these days. I'll keep the scar. It'll remind me of this. One thing I want to ask."
"We can really talk later, but I'll give you a quick recap. Brianna's all right, though she has a concussion. Her baby will be fine. Ridley is dead. Winnie was tied up at Harriet Abel's house—pretty shaken up, but otherwise fine. The Bugle is going to run a big piece on the real estate scheme that drove this thing. Probably no way we can get at the people who employed Ridley. Even if the casino wasn't directly involved, they're going to have a hard time building a conference center once the lid is blown off this thing. I can fill you in on all the other details later."
"No, it's about how it all went down at the principal’s house. I gotta know. When that man showed up on the beach, it was like he knew I was there."
"Yes," Gage said.
"Did he see me? From the house? I don't see how, it was so dark."
"No."
"How about the parking lot? Was he there the whole time, watching us?"
"Maybe."
Zoe looked at him. "You sound like you have another theory."
"I do."
"And?"
Gage stood and walked to the window, looking through the sheen at the parking lot. It was mostly empty. Two crows pecked at a brown paper bag that lay at the base of one of the firs, too far away to see which fast food restaurant it was from. Someone had tossed that paper sack out their car window as if it didn't matter. It made him angry, how often people did things with no consideration of how it would affect other people.
"I have to talk to someone first," he said.