Chapter Four

SCOTT had been on the operating table for three hours, and they still weren’t done. Amy wondered if she would ever see him alive again. They would wheel him out with a sheet draped over his face, she kept thinking, the blood soaking through the material. They would tell her with sad faces that they had done everything they could. Then she would faint, and they would catch her. They would wake her up, then give her something to help her sleep. But she wouldn’t sleep. She would stare at the ceiling all night and try to imagine a world without Scott.

After calling the ambulance, Amy had found the owner of the gas station tied up in the back, unconscious. He had been struck hard on the back of the head, but the doctors said he would be fine.

At present a detective was questioning the three of them. They sat in a cramped waiting room, across the hall from a larger room where Scott’s family had assembled. Amy had spoken to Scott’s mother for a few minutes, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done. The woman had no hope.

“Where did he get shot, Amy?”

“In the head”

“The bullet went in my son’s head?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hague. Tm so sorry.”

“He’s finished.”

Amy told her they couldn’t think that way, but Scott’s mother just shook her head. She refused to go to the hospital chapel to pray with Amy. Amy had prayed—she believed in miracles.

She also believed that Julia had known what was going to happen.

“Let me get this straight,” Lieutenant Crawley said. “Scott went into the gas station first, but Julia ran in after him a minute later.”

“That’s correct,” Julia said, her voice flat, her expression empty.

“Why?” Crawley asked.

Julia shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t you do any better than that?” Crawley asked.

“Nope,” Julia said.

“Did you see anything that made you suspect a robbery was in progress?” Crawley asked.

“Nope,” Julia said.

“You’re not being very cooperative, young lady,” Crawley said.

“I guess not,” Julia said, staring straight ahead.

“Lieutenant,” Amy interrupted, “we told you what happened. Julia’s told you twice. Why do you keep asking her the same questions?”

Lieutenant Crawley didn’t appreciate the interruption. He was a funny guy. When he had first showed up at the hospital, Amy thought he was very professional, very thorough. But then he went over the exact same questions for a second and third time. Amy decided he might be confused after being awakened in the middle of the night. But he didn’t look confused. On the contrary, he was sharply dressed, with a black sports coat and tailored gray slacks. Although he must have been close to forty and was almost bald, he was handsome in a no-nonsense sort of way. He had crushed Amy’s hand when he shook it. Amy suspected he had served as a marine.

“I’m repeating myself because I’m not satisfied with your answers,” Crawley said. “I understand Scott is your friend and how much you must be hurting, but the best way to catch the kids who shot him is to tell me everything you know.”

“What do you want to know that I haven’t told you?” Julia asked.

“Why did you run into the store after Scott?” Crawley asked.

“I had a feeling something was wrong.”

“What gave you this feeling?” Crawley asked.

“I didn’t see anybody behind the cash register,” Julia answered.

“And that made you panic?” Crawley asked.

“I didn’t panic.”

“But Jim here says you rushed into the gas station like you knew something was wrong,” Crawley said.

“I just had a feeling,” Julia said. “What can I say?”

“When did you get this feeling?” Crawley asked.

“I don’t know. When we got to the gas station.”

“But Jim said that you were worried about stopping for a drink the whole night,” Crawley said.

“I don’t think people should drink and drive,” Julia said.

“Lieutenant,” Jim said, “all I said was that Julia seemed to be on edge the whole night. I wasn’t implying that she—”

“I know what you meant,” Crawley interrupted. He studied the notepad in his hand. “When you entered the store, Julia, you said you saw two guys, one with a handgun and the other with a shotgun. The skinny one pointed his gun at Scott, and you tried to knock Scott out of the way. But before you could reach him, Scott got shot in the head.”

“That’s correct,” Julia said.

“Then you jumped up, and the fat kid pointed his shotgun at you.”

“He didn’t exactly point it at me,” Julia said.

“What exactly did he do?”

“He shifted it in his hands.”

“And then?”

“Then he stumbled against the wall,” Julia said. “His partner caught him. Then his partner shot at me.

“But you dodged the shot?” Crawley asked.

“Yes.”

“You jumped out of the path of the bullet?”

Julia shrugged again. “I guess so.”

“You must be pretty quick.”

Julia stared at him. “May I ask you a question, Lieutenant?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I knew those two guys?”

“Did you?” Crawley asked.

“No,” Julia said. “I told you I didn’t. Why do you think I’m connected to this robbery?”

Crawley was insulted. “I never said—”

“Not in so many words,” Julia said, continuing to stare at him. “Let’s not play games. I know who you are. I remember you.”

Crawley raised an eyebrow. But he didn’t give a damn. “Then you remember that I ask a lot of questions.”

“What are you two talking about?” Amy asked.

“It’s nothing,” Julia said. “Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” Crawley stood. “I’m not through with any of you.”

“That makes us feel a lot safer,” Julia said sarcastically.

Crawley sucked in his gut and let out his air in a short burst. He turned his attention down the hall in the direction of the operating theaters. “I hope your friend lives,” he said simply as if to make amends.

“Thanks,” Amy said. When the detective was gone, she turned to Julia. “What was that all about?”

Julia leaned her head against the wall. “Jim, could you get me a Coke from the machine? I’m dying for a drink.”

Jim jumped up. “Sure.”

“Jim?” Amy said.

“Yeah?”

“Could I have one, too?”

“OK.”

When Jim was gone, Julia glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye. Amy hadn’t gotten over seeing the venom that burned in Julia’s eyes after the shooting. Julia had wanted an eye for an eye. Amy felt a chill. Julia had wept at the gas station after touching Scott’s head, but now her tears were dried up and she seemed to be thinking of revenge again.

Why does that scare me? Because she’s capable of getting it?

Had Julia known those guys? Amy had doubts of her own.

“I met Lieutenant Crawley a year ago,” Julia said. “You remember that paper warehouse that burned down outside of town? I was in the area when it happened. It was a Saturday—there was no one there. I saw the smoke and ran to the nearest house for help. Crawley was there, but he wouldn’t do anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t his house—I found out later it was his mistress’s. Crawley tried to act like he wasn’t even a cop when I saw him at the door. But I knew who he was. I’d seen him around. He made me go somewhere else to call the fire department. By then the warehouse was an inferno. I told the police afterward that Crawley wouldn’t let me use his phone. He got into trouble.”

“I don’t understand,” Amy said. “Why didn’t he just call the fire department?”

“I think he panicked. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was afraid of being found out. He tried to shoo me away. For all I know, his wife left him.”

“How could she have found out?”

Julia chuckled bitterly. “She wouldn’t have found out if Crawley had accepted his superiors’ reprimand and kept his mouth shut. But he tried to convince them that I was lying, that I hadn’t talked to him that day. He tried to discredit me. He brought up evidence that I must have started the fire.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m not. He said there was no way I could have seen the smoke when no one else had—unless I started the fire.”

“How did you see it?” Amy asked.

Julia paused. “What do you mean?”

“What were you doing out there?”

“I was just driving around.”

“How did you know Crawley was a cop?”

“I told you, I’d seen him around.”

“But isn’t he a plainclothesman?”

Julia spoke carefully. “I didn’t say I went to his mistress’s house because I knew a cop was there. The place was near the warehouse. He just happened to be there.”

“I understand,” Amy said, surprised by Julia’s serious tone. Julia’s story about the fire disturbed Amy, and she wasn’t sure why.

“I just don’t want to walk in on a holdup.”

Amy knew, of course, that what she was thinking was impossible.

Julia saw smoke tonight—before the guns were fired.

“What’s wrong?” Julia asked.

“Nothing. Everything.” Amy shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. She’d already gone through a box of tissues since they left the gas station. The waiting and not knowing was killing her. Would the doctors never come out? “You think Crawley’s trying to implicate you in this holdup so he can show you could have been involved in the warehouse burning down?”

Julia sighed. “I think Crawley’s an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Jim returned with the Cokes, but they never opened them because the surgeon appeared just then. He was a short man with incredibly hairy arms. He hadn’t changed out of his green operating gown, and there were specks of blood on it still. He looked exhausted. He asked Scott’s parents if they wanted everyone to hear the news, and they nodded their heads.

The news was not good.

“The bullet entered the left side of Scott’s skull here,” the doctor said, tapping his own head. “Had it continued on a straight course, it would have caused severe damage to the frontal lobes of his brain. But what it did—and this is not uncommon among headshot victims—was snake around the perimeter of the skull and lodge back here.” The surgeon touched the back of his head on the left side. “Fortunately, the bullet remained intact, and we were able to remove it whole.”

“Then he’ll be OK?” Scott’s father asked. Amy had grown up only a block away from Scott. Mr. Hague had always been there, pitching them baseballs, taking them to the movies, buying them ice cream. Like Scott, he was always filled with ready laughter. Tonight, though, he looked as if he might never laugh again. No one had loved a son more.

The doctor shook his head. “Scott has suffered a serious head wound,” he said. “There is extensive bleeding and tissue damage. The fine membrane that filters what enters the brain—it is often called the brain barrier—has been badly torn. Infection is a major problem. The problem of swelling is worse and more immediate. Because the brain sits in a tight space, it has no room to expand. Swelling causes pressure, and brain cells die when subjected to pressure. We have left Scott’s skull open a bit, with a tube draining to the outside. But Scott is running a high fever, which is one sign that the swelling is building.”

“Is he going to die?” Mrs. Hague asked.

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is he going to die?” the woman insisted. The doctor looked long into her face. He started to say something, then changed his mind. He said what he thought.

“I’m sorry. Scott probably won’t last the night.”

Amy heard the words. She had been waiting to hear the words. And now that they had been spoken, she didn’t have to wait any more. The prognosis stabbed at something inside her, killing it, putting it out of its misery. She felt suddenly cut off from her surroundings, from her body even. She drifted in a gray void. The doctor continued to talk, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Time took on a strange quality—moving both fast and slow at the same time. Finally the doctor turned and walked away. Jim put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, bringing her out of her stupor.

“Do you want to see him?” Jim asked.

“What?” she mumbled.

“The doctor said we could see him,” Jim said.

Amy felt confused. Close family should be the only ones allowed in to see a patient after a serious operation. Then she realized the truth: the doctor didn’t think it would make any difference.

He’s letting us say goodbye.

“Yes,” Amy said. Let’s go.”

They didn’t get in immediately. Scott’s family was in front of them, and Julia wanted to wait until they were gone. Amy caught herself staring at Julia. At the gas station, Amy had had reason for wanting Julia to touch Scott’s head. For a long time she had known of the wonderful magic in Mother Florence’s hands. Mother Florence had not hidden it from her. A couple of years earlier, when Amy had been suffering from a migraine—she used to get them at least once a month—Mother Florence put her hands on the back of her head and the pain vanished in a matter of seconds. In fact, the headaches never returned. When Amy asked what she had done, Mother Florence said it was a gift and that it couldn’t be explained.

“But keep it private. Don’t even tell Julia what I It isn’t me who does it, anyway. It’s God.”

Amy asked if Julia had the same gift. Mother Florence said yes. Amy wasn’t surprised. The few times Julia had trimmed her hair, Amy loved the feel of Julia’s hands on her head. They radiated warmth and love.

Amy had known Julia could get rid of Jim’s sore neck.

But what Julia felt when she touched Scott terrified her. Why? Amy wanted to know.

Finally they were able to see Scott. His cubicle in intensive care was separated from the other cubicles by drawn curtains. The air smelled strongly of blood and medicine. Amy wondered if she should have stayed outside. She had a weak stomach. The bandages around Scott’s head were already soaked red. A thin white sheet covered him, and there were so many tubes and needles going into his body that she cringed at how tenuous his hold on life must be. A pump hissed up and down beside his head. He was being artificially ventilated.

He can’t even breathe for himself

His color also shocked her. He had none. He was bone-white.

“This should never have happened,” Jim said sadly. “It should have been me who went in that store.”

“Don’t say that,” Amy said, unable to pry her eyes away from Scott, even though he no longer looked like Scott or anyone she had ever known. The left side of his face was a swollen mass of purple. His lips were cracked and bleeding.

“It’s true,” Jim said, still speaking. He had turned to Julia. “You saved my life when you stopped me.”

“I didn’t save anybody’s life,” Julia whispered. Amy tore her eyes from Scott to look at Julia, who was clearly dazed. Yet the hardness around her eyes and mouth remained. She held her clenched hands near her heart. It was as if a part of her wanted to touch Scott, while another part was telling her to beware.

“What do you think?” Amy asked her.

“I don’t,” Julia said.

“Is he going to die?” Amy insisted.

“I’m not a doctor,” Julia said. She added, “His light is very weak.”

“Huh?” Jim asked.

“Is there anything you can do?” Amy asked.

Julia looked up. “What would you have me do, Amy?”

Amy held her eye. “Whatever you can.”

Julia drew in a short breath. She barely nodded.

“You know?”

“Yes,” Amy said.

“Who told you? My mother?”

“Yes.”

Julia turned her attention back to Scott. “I’m not my mother.”

“I don’t understand what you two are talking about,” Jim said.

Julia’s gaze shifted to Jim. The dark light glittered deep inside her green eyes. “How would you like to catch the guys who did this to Scott?” she asked.

Jim was interested. “How? Do you know who they are?”

“In a way,” Julia said. “I can find them.”

“You should tell the police what you know,” Amy said.

“The police!” Julia snorted. She gestured to Scott. “Do you think any of them give a damn about what’s happened here?”

“If you can find them, I’ll make them pay,” Jim said. “You can bet on it.”

Julia smiled thinly. “That’s just what I wanted to hear.” She turned to leave. “Let’s go. Stay here, Amy.”

Amy jumped after Julia, grabbing her by the arm. “What are you going to do?” she demanded.

Julia paused, regarding her without emotion. “What I have to do.”

Amy felt another chill. She didn’t know exactly what Julia had in mind, but she felt intuitively that it was wrong. “What would your mother say?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t ask her, can I?”

“Forget those guys,” Amy said. “What’s done is done. Your place is here with Scott. You can help him.”

Julia glanced over at Scott. For a moment the anger in her eyes vanished. Her lower lip trembled, and a teardrop glistened below her right eye. “I can’t ask Scott now, either,” she said softly.

“Stay,” Amy begged. “Please?”

Julia hugged her. But when she let go, she was shaking her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to set things right.”

“By killing somebody?”

“We’ll see,” Julia said. “Goodbye, old friend.”

“Goodbye,” Amy said sadly, not knowing if the “old friend” was meant for her or Scott.

Jim left with Julia. He barely nodded a quick goodbye to Amy.

He wants her as much as he wants revenge.

Amy turned back to Scott and picked up his cold hand. She kissed it and tried to warm it in her own hands. She was afraid she’d never see Julia or Jim again.

“I’ll stay with you,” she told Scott. “You’re all I have left.”