Alex had to clench her jaw muscles to keep from sobbing. The right half of Grace’s face was paralyzed, and drool ran down her chin whenever she struggled to speak. She sounded exactly like Uncle T.J., who’d died after a series of strokes left him without a shred of his old identity.
“Wu … wu have tuh thave Jamie,” Grace gargled.
“What? I missed that.”
“Havuh thave Jamie!” Grace repeated, struggling to rise in the bed. She seemed to be trying to look behind Alex.
“Jamie’s fine,” Alex said in a comforting voice. “He’s on his way here.”
Grace shook her head violently. “Wissen! Havuh wissen!”
“I’m listening, Sue-Sue, I promise.”
Grace stared into Alex’s eyes with all the urgency in her soul. “You—have—tuh—thave—Jamie … Gay-Gay. You thuh … onwe … one ooh can.”
“Save Jamie from what?”
“Biw.”
“Bill?” Alex asked, sure she must be wrong in her translation.
With painful effort, Grace nodded.
Alex blinked in astonishment. “What are you talking about? Is Bill hurting Jamie in some way?”
A weak nod. “Ee wiw … thoon ath I’m gone.”
Alex struggled to understand the tortured words. “Hurt Jamie how? Are you talking about some sort of abuse?”
Grace shook her head. “Biw—wiw—kiw—Jamie’s—thole.”
Alex squinted as though trying to decipher some coded text. “Bill … will … kill … Jamie’s … soul?”
Grace’s head sagged in exhaustion.
“Gracie … Bill isn’t my favorite person. You’ve always known that. But he’s been a good father, hasn’t he? He seems like a basically decent man.”
Grace gripped Alex’s hand and shook her head. Then she hissed, “Eeth a monther!”
Alex felt a chill. “He’s a monster? Is that what you said?”
A tear of relief slid down Grace’s paralyzed cheek.
Alex looked at the anguished eyes, then turned and glanced over her shoulder. Bill Fennell was still speaking to Dr. Andrews, but his eyes were on Alex.
“Ith Biw coming?” Grace asked in a terrified voice, trying in vain to twist in the bed.
“No, no. He’s talking to the doctor.”
“Dogtor—duthend—know.”
“Doesn’t know what?”
“Whuh Biw did.”
“What do you mean? What did Bill do?”
Grace suddenly raised her hand and gripped Alex’s blouse, then pulled her head down to her lips. “Ee kiwd me!”
Alex felt as though ice water had been shunted into her veins. She drew back and looked into Grace’s bloodshot eyes. “He killed you? Is that what you said?”
Grace nodded once, her eyes filled with conviction.
“Grace, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Even with a partially paralyzed face, Grace managed a smile that said, Oh, yes, I do.
“You can’t mean that. Not literally.”
Grace closed her eyes as though gathering herself for one last effort. “You … onwe one … ooh can thop im. Too … wate … fuh me. I urd … dogtuh … out thide. Thave Jamie for me … Gay-Gay. Pleath.”
Alex looked back through the glass wall. Bill was still watching her, and his conversation looked as if it was winding down. Alex had always known Grace’s marriage wasn’t perfect, but what marriage was? Not that Alex was any authority. She had somehow reached the age of thirty without tying the knot. After years of badge groupies and badge bolters, she’d finally accepted a proposal, then terminated the engagement three months later, after discovering that her fiancé was cheating with her best friend. In matters amorous, she was a ridiculous cliché.
“Sue-Sue,” she whispered, “why would Bill want to hurt you?”
“Thum-one else,” Grace said. “Wuh-man.”
“Another woman? Do you know that for a fact?”
Another half-paralyzed smile. “Uh—wife—knowth.”
Alex believed her. During her engagement to Peter Hodges, a feeling very like a sixth sense had told her something was amiss in their relationship. Long before there was any tangible clue, she’d simply known there was betrayal. If she had possessed the same instinct about conventional crimes, she’d already be an SAC instead of a hostage negotiator. Correction, she thought, I’m a common field agent now.
“If Bill wants to be with another woman,” she said, “why doesn’t he just divorce you?”
“Muhn-ey … dum-me. Would coth Biw miw-yens … tuh do that. Five—miwyen … may-be.”
Alex drew back in disbelief. She’d known that Bill had been doing well for some years now, but she’d had no idea he was that wealthy. Why in God’s name was Grace still teaching elementary school? Because she loves it, she answered herself. Because she can’t not work.
Grace had closed her eyes, seemingly drained by her efforts. “Tew … Mom … I tho-we,” she said. “Tew huh … I be waiting fuh hurh … in heaven.” The smile animated the living half of her face again. “If—I—make it.”
“You made it, honey,” Alex said, balling her free hand into a fist and holding it against her mouth.
“Well, look at this, Dr. Andrews!” boomed Bill Fennell. “She looks like she’s ready to get up and out of that bed.”
Grace’s eyes snapped open, and she shrank away from her husband, obviously trying to use Alex as a shield. The terror in her eyes hurt Alex’s heart, and it also thrust her into full-defense mode. She stood up and blocked Bill from coming to the bedside.
“I think it’s better if you don’t come in,” she said, looking hard into her brother-in-law’s eyes.
Bill’s mouth dropped open. He looked past her to Grace, who was literally cowering in the bed. “What are you talking about?” he asked angrily. “What the hell’s going on here? Have you said something about me to Grace?”
Alex glanced at Dr. Andrews, who looked confused. “No. Quite the reverse, I’m afraid.”
Bill shook his head in apparent puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”
Alex probed his brown eyes, searching for some sign of guilt. Grace’s fears and accusations were probably the product of a dying woman’s hallucinations, but there was no doubt about the reality of her terror. “You’re upsetting her, Bill. You can see that. You should go downstairs and wait for Jamie.”
“There’s no way I’m going to leave my wife’s bedside. Not when she might—”
“What?” Alex asked, a note of challenge in her voice.
Bill lowered his voice. “When she might …”
Alex looked at Dr. Andrews.
The neurologist stepped toward Bill and said, “Perhaps we should give Grace and