Part 9 (1/2)

Pen drew the girl gently against her. Melanie's arms went around her and she rested her forehead against the side of Pen's neck. Her breath felt hot through the blouse. 'Don't worry, okay?'

'I'm scared.'

'So am I.'

'What if he's dead?'

'He's not. Joyce would've said so.' But my phones were unplugged, Pen thought. Joyce might've tried to call back. 'Come on, Mel. Let's go.' She eased the girl away.

'Do you know where they took him?'

'The Beverly wood Medical Center.'

'Okay. It's not far.'

They hurried down to the front of the apartment building. Bodie offered to drive. His blue van was parked at the curb. Pen rode in the pa.s.senger seat and gave directions, while Melanie crouched behind the gap and hung onto the seat backs.

The numbness in Pen wouldn't pa.s.s. None of this seemed real.

'Make a right on Pico,' she said.

When Pen finally saw the hospital at the end of the next block, she felt as if she were in an elevator and its floor had dropped out from under her feet.

'That's it,' she gasped.

Bodie swung his van to the curb. 'Is this close enough?'

'Fine,' Melanie said.

It's as close as I ever want to get, Pen thought.

They climbed out. Bodie fed the meter. Melanie took his hand, and Pen led the way.

The morning sky was deep blue. The mild breeze, smelling fresh after last night's rain, drifted Pen's blouse against her skin. She noticed that it felt good, and she wondered how anything could feel good at this moment with her stomach clenched and her shaking legs barely able to hold her up - with her father in the building up aheada He has to be alive. He has to be. Please.

A woman approaching, pus.h.i.+ng a baby stroller.

He always wanted a grandchild.

Only a week ago, he'd said, 'I'm not getting any younger, you know. Why don't you go out like a good daughter and get yourself knocked up?'

Pen's throat tightened. Her eyes started to burn.

Christ now, don't cry.

He's all right, d.a.m.n it.

Don't fall apart in front of Melanie. Hold it together.

She glanced back. Melanie was holding Bodie's hand and gazing at the sidewalk. Bodie met her eyes. She wondered how he must feel, finding himself in the middle of a family tragedy. Probably wis.h.i.+ng he'd never left Phoenix. First he gets stabbed, now this.

At the corner, Pen turned toward the crosswalk. She pushed a b.u.t.ton on the light post to activate the WALK sign, and waited. Across Pico Boulevard was a driveway marked 'Ambulance Entrance'. A police car was parked at the curb.

The WALK sign went green. She stepped off the curb and a hand clamped her shoulder from behind. It jerked her to a halt. A red blur steaked by, roaring, hitting her with its slipstream. As she staggered backwards a step, she saw the low rear-end of a speeding Porsche.

'a.s.shole ran the red light,' Bodie muttered.

Pen turned to him. He took his hand off her shoulder. 'Thanks. Guess I'd better watch where I'm going.'

Melanie had a hand pressed to her heart. She looked wide-eyed and breathless as if someone had just jumped at her in the dark.

'You okay?' Pen asked her.

She nodded.

The DON'T WALK sign was already flas.h.i.+ng, so they waited through another cycle of the traffic lights. When the WALK sign returned, Pen checked the intersection before leaving the curb.

On the other side, she headed for the ambulance driveway, realized she shouldn't try entering there, and turned around in confusion. She shrugged, stepped past Bodie and Melanie, and spotted a doorway facing Beverly Drive.

Her numbness seemed to spread and deepen as the gla.s.s doors parted.

She stepped into a reception room. A young woman gnawing her lower lip glanced nervously at her and looked away. She was on a bench, holding the hand of a tow-head no older than five who was bent forward to peer at a black woman with a b.l.o.o.d.y rag wrapped around her arm. The black woman, on a chair along the far wall, held her arm and rocked herself back and forth, humming softly. She had a blank look in her eyes. The child stopped staring at her long enough to eye the three new arrivals, apparently checking them for injuries.

Pen turned to the office enclosure on her left. Through the gla.s.s part.i.tion, she saw two women in white uniforms. One was seated at a desk. The other, heavy and wearing her brown hair in a Prince Valiant cut, looked up from her paperwork, smiled at Pen, and approached the window.

Pen froze.

She was here - a few steps, a few words, a few moments away from learning the truth - and the weight of it paralyzed her. She couldn't move. Her legs shook. She stared at the woman and gasped for breath.

Bodie stepped around her. He leaned close to the window. 'We got word that a Whit Conway was brought here yesterday after an accident. These are his daughters. They're awfully anxious to find out how he is.'

The woman looked down at something out of sight below the counter front. 'That's Whitman Conway?'

'Yes.'

'He was admitted via ambulance last night, accompanied by his spouse.' She stopped talking, but continued to read whatever gave the information.

Pen's stomach gave a little flip.

Melanie took hold of her hand.

'His admitting diagnosis was fracture of the patellae bilaterallya'

'What does that mean?' Bodie asked.

'Both kneecaps were broken. His right upper arm was also fractured,' she added, bypa.s.sing the medical jargon. She rubbed her mouth. 'He also had a severe head injury. He was unconscious when they brought him in.'