Grant turned away from the glass. He’d thought at first that Andrea had known everything but he decided he’d been wrong. Vicki had informed her sister of what she’d wanted to, making him sound like the jerk and her the golden princess. He didn’t really care what Andrea Hunt thought of him but he didn’t want her for an enemy. That wouldn’t be a good idea.
When she came back, she’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet, but she put aside her grief. “Let’s go to X ray,” she said. “You can see Kevin if they haven’t begun the cast.”
Grant wanted to say something about Vicki as they headed down the hallway, something appropriate and normal, something that ordinary people might say to one another when someone died, but he’d been out of polite society for so long, he’d lost the rule book. He didn’t know how to act around women like Andrea.
Staring at the floor as they walked, he finally said the only thing he could think of to say.
“I’m sorry about all this,” he said in a low voice. “I know you and Vic were close when you were kids. She talked about you a lot.”
He was an expert at reading reactions—if a good Vice cop wanted to live to be an old Vice cop he picked up the skill quickly. Andrea was taken off guard by his words; her voice reflected her reaction and so did her body.
“She talked about me?”
“All the time. She wanted to be more like you.”
Her response was so softly spoken he barely caught it.
“Well…shit…”
He raised an eyebrow.
Her hair shimmered as she shook her head. “Why on earth would she feel that way? I’m not hero material, believe me.”
“Vic thought so.”
“Well, she thought wrong.” Her voice sharpened and so did her look.
Raising his hands defensively, he backed off. “Fine…she thought wrong.”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Without a word, Andrea Hunt stepped inside and Grant entered as well. An eternity later they arrived on the next floor and they escaped, the silence between them thick and full of tension. Andrea didn’t stop until she came to a doorway that had a “Radiation” sign above it and a sliding glass window set beneath. When it rolled back following her knock, Andrea talked to someone inside, then she turned and tilted her head toward the door.
“He’s finished,” she said. “We can see him but only for a second.”
Kevin was lying on a gurney just inside the doorway, looking pale and frightened. Grant felt his heart turn over and calling the boy’s name, he hurried to the bed.
Kevin’s eyes opened slowly then widened when he saw Grant. A smile lit up his face.
Grant wanted to pick him up and whisk him away but he settled for a hug, burying his face in Kevin’s neck and breathing in deeply. The flood of emotions that followed rocked him. How could he have let this kid go? What had he been thinking?
Pulling back, Grant studied Kevin from head to toe. When he finished, he shook his head. “How’d this happen, buddy? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
He waited for the little boy to answer him but Kevin stayed silent. Grant looked toward the foot of the stretcher where Andrea waited. She said nothing, either.
“Kevin?” Grant asked again. “Did you hear me? What happened, son?”
When Kevin answered with only a stare, Grant turned away from the child and moved to Andrea’s side. She had a small scar beneath her right eyebrow, he noticed, a thin pale line that ran from there across her temple.
“What the hell’s wrong with him?” he whispered tightly. “Why won’t he answer me?”
“I thought you knew,” Andrea murmured, her voice so low he could barely hear it. “Didn’t Vicki tell you?”
“Vicki didn’t tell me jackshit.” He sent a confused look in Kevin’s direction, his heart tripping, then he faced Andrea again. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Kevin doesn’t talk anymore,” she said quietly. “He’s been mute since the day you left.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SHOCKED LOOK ON Grant Corbin’s face was genuine. He’d had no idea of Kevin’s problem.
He started to say more, then halted, obviously deciding not to discuss the situation in front of his son. Surprised by the show of sensitivity, Andrea rejected her momentary flash of appreciation. She didn’t want to see anything positive in the man who’d broken her sister’s heart.
Grant spoke with Kevin a little longer, then stepped away from the gurney. Andrea took Grant’s place and kissed her nephew’s forehead. “We’re going to another part of the hospital now, Kevin, and the doctors are going to put a cast on your foot. When that’s done, we’ll go upstairs to a room that will be yours while you’re here. We’ll be right behind you, okay?”
The nurse came and began to roll the bed down the hall, chatting to the little boy as she pushed him along. In the cast room, Andrea and Grant got Kevin settled, then the tech arrived. The young man quickly started a monologue on the merits of different computer games. Apparently well-versed in what kept the interest of kids with broken bones, he tilted his head toward the door a second later. Andrea and Grant took the hint and went into the corridor, the nurse telling them to come back in an hour.
Grant ran his hands through his straight dark hair. “God. I had no idea—” He stopped abruptly and looked at her. “Can we get out of here? Hospitals and I don’t get along too well.”
Curious but unwilling to ask him why, Andrea shrugged. They retraced their steps to the E.R. exit and went outside to the bench where Andrea had been sitting before. The fresh air and sunshine felt wonderful after the antiseptic smell of the hospital, but strangely enough, they also seemed to trigger her grief. As soon as she took her seat, the sorrow she’d been holding off washed over her. Vicki was gone. Her one and only sister was dead.
Her tears came in a hot wave.
Grant made no attempt to touch her or console her or voice some useless platitude, and once again, she found herself, unwillingly, impressed by his actions. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who could sense what people needed, but his actions gave him away.
After longer than she would have liked, Andrea managed to pull herself together.
Handing her a white handkerchief, Grant gave her another minute, then he spoke. “What in the hell is going on with him?”
Taking a deep breath, Andrea looked up. “I thought you knew he’d been having trouble.”
“Vicki didn’t—” Once again, he stopped himself. “I didn’t know anything about it,” he said simply.
“Neither did I,” Andrea said, “but when I called Vicki the night before the accident, she said Kevin had stopped talking to her after the divorce. Apparently, he would talk at school, but not to her. She discussed the situation with a counselor and his teachers. They call the problem ‘selective mutism.’ They recommended therapy and told her not to make a big deal out of it. A lot of times children who have this condition apparently resume talking and no one ever finds out why they stopped in the first place.”
“Has he spoken to you?”
Andrea shook her head. “Not so far.”
“What about your parents? Did he talk to them?”
“No.”