Arn stopped in the doorway of Danny’s room and leaned against the door jamb. “Looks like you took a few stitches, too,” Danny said, focusing on Arn with the eye not covered by gauze.
“Ten stitches, to be exact.” Arn carefully patted his head and touched the Steri-Strip closing the gap on his cheek. “This will leave a shallow scar.”
“Guess both our pretty faces will look like hell when we mend up.”
“They looked like hell before.” Arn smiled, and winced in pain. He came into the room and pulled up a chair beside Danny’s bed. “I just had to come visit my friend Daniel Lone Tree.”
Danny set the issue of People magazine on the tray table beside his bed. “I guess this means Oblanski got my prints back?”
Arn pulled his chair around to the foot of the bed so Danny wouldn’t have to turn his head to see him. “He got a lengthy history back on you.” He took a notebook out of his man bag, which was slung over his shoulder, and Danny snickered. “Army tunnel rat working the Chu Chi tunnels in IV Corps, Vietnam. Honorably discharged.” Arn flipped a page. “Attended the University of Minnesota under the GI Bill. Accurate so far?”
“Just finish it.”
“It says here you became a structural engineer.”
“I earned the degree, anyways.”
“And you put it to such good use”—Arn turned a page—“when you and two other American Indian Movement activists bombed a building in downtown Minneapolis in 1969.”
“We thought we would disrupt transportation in the city.”
Arn snickered. “You didn’t make much of a criminal. The building was abandoned. Scheduled for demolition. I guess you did the city’s work for them when you took it down.”
Danny laughed and his hand shot to his head. “Pretty rank amateurs, we were.”
“And … ” Arn squinted, his own writing a little shaky when Oblanski had passed the information along. “Minnesota issued warrants for your arrest.”
“And I’ve been on the run ever since,” Danny said. “I guess Oblanski’s doing a jig, nabbing an international criminal. I’ll be surprised if Interpol doesn’t give him an award.”
Arn closed his notebook and stuffed it back in his bag. “What did you do from the time you blew up the building until you squatted in Mom’s house?”
“I began using another name.” Danny reached over and grabbed a bowl of runny Jell-O from the tray table. “I had this romanticized notion that the Sioux tribe might want some help getting on its feet. Help with their housing development. That maybe an engineer would be of some use. But all the young bucks wanted back then was to raise hell.”
His face scrunched up with the first bite of Jell-O and he put the bowl back. “I opened my own business in Rapid City doing high-end home modifications.” He frowned. “Under a different name, of course. I spent all my money sending my boy to college.” His voice wavered, and Arn waited until he composed himself. “But he and some of his friends got tanked up one afternoon and hiked to the back of Mt. Rushmore. They were so drunk my boy did a double gainer off Washington’s head.” He closed his eyes and settled back on his pillow. “When’s Minnesota coming for me? ’Cause I’m not going to fight extradition.”
“Never.”
Danny opened his eyes. “What’s that?”
“I’d like to say I got your charges dropped in exchange for working on my house. But the fact is, Minnesota purged their old warrants five years after you three stooges pulled that little stunt. They figured it would cost more in the long run looking for you guys than you’re worth.”
“So I don’t have to hide out anymore?”
“Not unless you want to.”
Danny smiled for the briefest time before he became serious again. “This mean you’re kicking me out into society?”
Arn shook his head. “Not on your life. We had an agreement: you were going to renovate Mom’s house. All this means is that you’ll be able to get a driver’s license so I won’t have to do the Driving Miss Daisy thing anymore.” He handed Danny a Trac Phone. “I stored my number in there. Call when they release you—probably tomorrow—and I’ll come get you.”
“Not in that micro-hearse you’ve been driving?”
Arn grinned. “I got the Beast back.”
Danny lay back in his bed and his mouth downturned in sadness.
“I thought you’d be happy you’re a free man.”
Danny shook his head. “Erv tried warning me that Pieter had come sneaking into the house. When he tripped the circuit box outside, it disabled the security system. Next I knew, Pieter stuck that gun under our noses and led us out to his car. When Erv didn’t join us, I knew he was dead.” Danny wiped his eye. “He didn’t have any family to make arrangements?”
“He had us.” Arn laid a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I’ve taken care of it. Erv’s funeral is Friday.”
Danny closed his eyes. “Thanks, Arn.” He sat up straight in his bed. “I forgot to ask how Ana Maria’s doing?”
“Good,” Arn said. “At least the nurses tell me she is. I’m headed over to her room now.”
“Tell her to grab a wheelchair and come keep me company.”
Arn smiled. “I will.”
He walked to Ana Maria’s room at the other end of the hall and paused at the door. Her breathing told him she was sleeping, and he was turning to leave when she called after him in a faint voice, “You better be bringing flowers when you come calling.”
He turned on his heels and entered the room. “I’m headed to the gift shop downstairs now.” He took her hand, careful not to disturb the IV tube. “How you feeling, kiddo?”
“Let’s see.” She forced a smile. “I got a fractured cheek bone, a cracked jaw where Pieter shoved me into the car door. I’ll have eleven stitches across my forehead. How the hell you think I’m doing?”
“I think you’re recuperating.”
“To what?” She wiggled around, and Arn propped pillows in back of her. “The scars left on my head will look like hell on camera—”
“It’ll give you character. Besides, they can do wondrous things with makeup nowadays.”
She forced a laugh. “That’s the least of my worries. Did you catch the morning news today?”
“That proves my point,” Arn said. “As busted up as Nick Damos got down in Denver, he looked pretty good on camera.”
“He might have looked good, but he sounded like a second grader, stuttering when he was reading the news about Pieter and Frank.” She sipped ice water from a straw. “That was my story that Nick botched. I put all my heart into uncovering the killer. Now what the hell did I get for it?”
Arn patted her shoulder. “I’m sure DeAngelo will have you back in prime time once you’re back on your feet.”
“That might be,” Ana Maria said. “And maybe it’ll be Nick who catches the eye of some national producer.”
“Then look at the bright side. At least Nick will be gone from Cheyenne.”
Ana Maria smiled and winced, her hand going to her split lip. “At least he’d be out of my hair.”