Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be in there, but the nurses were kind and overworked, so they allowed me to rest in a chair in Sam’s room. Sleep didn’t come easily. I kept reliving the accident again and again, kept hearing the sound of the impact. I finally drifted off to images of Sheila and Olmo, Queenie and Junior, and Queenie’s voice. Aren’t you scared of me?
I woke exhausted in the pale daylight. According to my watch, it was eight o’clock. I’d slept through the shift change. The day nurses, who came on at six, had been kind enough not to disturb me.
My only clear thought was that I had to end this—and end it soon—before any more damage could be done.
Was I saving Junior or hunting Queenie? In the past several hours, it had switched from the former to the latter.
I stretched my stiff limbs and went to take a look at Sam. He seemed paler, but otherwise unchanged.
A nurse came in. She was in her twenties, bright, and full of energy. She smiled. “I hope you had a good rest.”
I responded with a nod and sank back in the chair at Sam’s bedside. Except for brief breaks to get something to eat or use the facilities, I spent the whole day there. Sometimes I spoke to him, sometimes I read. Mostly, I just sat quietly and held his hand. I was all talked out. The hours sped by. The time was fast approaching when I would have to go home and get ready for the ball—and my appointment with the Black Orchid.
That afternoon, George Greene stopped by. “The publisher’s worried. We all are.”
“Don’t be. Sam’s tough. He’s coming back to us. You’ll tell him that for me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will.” He stayed only a few minutes.
Blackie dropped by an hour later. “Lanie, you’ve got to get home, get some rest.”
“I am resting, here.”
“This is no good.” He quickly got to the point: “You got no business doing this thing with Lovetree. It’s dangerous.”
“I know that. I also know that I have no alternative.”
“Why not?”
“Because of her.”
“Who?”
Sheila, I wanted to say. But what would be the point? Blackie wouldn’t understand. Or maybe he would. Though he’d still say it wasn’t my job. And perhaps he was right. Yet somewhere along the line, it had become my job—and I was going to see it through.
“Have you made a plan for tonight?” I asked.
“We talked to the owners of the Casino last night. Also reached the guys who host this thing. They wanted to cancel it. We told them it was too late for that.”
“And probably too risky. Even if a cancellation was announced every hour on the hour on all the radio stations in New York, hundreds would still show up. And Queenie might blow the place up out of pure spite. Were you able to talk to the Bernards?”
“Yeah. It took some convincing, but Dr. Bernard agreed to cooperate.”
“So you collected all the money?”
“Yes, and we need you to go to the station house, so we can properly tape it to you.”
“That wouldn’t be wise. Queenie’s been a step ahead of us this whole time. I’m sure he’s expecting something, and he’ll definitely be watching. The last thing we need is for him to see me heading to the station.”
“Then we’ll do it at your house. I’ll send a female officer over.”
“In plainclothes.”
Blackie gave Sam and me one last worried look, then brushed past Dr. Maynard on his way out. The doctor had been in earlier, but I’d missed him when I was grabbing breakfast. He picked up Sam’s chart and studied it, then checked his pulse and examined his pupils. When he was done, I signaled him to follow me to one side and spoke in a hushed tone.
“Yesterday you said that the next twenty-four hours would make all the difference.”
“I know, but it’s too early to tell what’ll happen. I don’t believe in false promises. But I do believe in hope.”
I was going to hold on to that. Sam would be fine. He had to be. He was going to come back, strong and whole, for himself, for me, for all the people who loved and respected him.
“The nurses said you were here all night, and you’ve been here all day,” Dr. Maynard said. “You need to take a break.”
He was right. I couldn’t do anything there. But suppose something happened while I was gone?
I turned back to Sam. The rise and fall of his chest was barely detectable. I took his right hand in mine. Without knowing what I was about to say, I bent and whispered in his ear. “You come back, you hear? Come back to me.”
His hand remained limp. There was no response, no sign of any recognition that he’d heard me.
“I’ll be back tonight,” I said, then walked away.