I eased back. “Hey, Lex, you remember my coworker Shay Turnbull?”
He shook his head. “Have you heard any news about my dad?”
“No, I promised I’d wake you up if I did.”
“So when can we go to the hospital?” His gaze landed on my empty lowball glass. “You haven’t been drinking all day, have you?” He stepped closer, sniffled the air like a human Breathalyzer.
“I’m fine. We should both eat something before we go.”
Lex’s mouth turned mutinous. “I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am. So park it. As soon as we eat, we’ll go.”
“Is he coming with us?” Lex asked suspiciously.
“Nope. No visitors, remember?”
Shay took that as his cue to leave.
I walked him outside. “I appreciate your driving out. I…” I wanted to ask him to stay longer and felt stupid for it.
“Hey.” He grabbed my hand, forcing my attention. “Anything you need. Anytime, day or night. Call me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He retreated. “I’ll see if I can arrange for you to help Carsten at the VS office in Eagle River this week.”
“Thanks.” I watched his Blazer disappear down the driveway before I returned inside.
I microwaved two helpings of Geneva’s chicken pot pie. Lex finished his in approximately three mouthfuls and was out the door, waiting in the truck, before I swallowed my last bite.
Usually, I didn’t mind the silence between us, but at this moment, it was choking me. About halfway into town, I asked, “Do you miss your mom?”
Lex squirmed. “Sometimes. But I like it here better.”
Another silent void filled the cab. Then the boy started bouncing his feet. He leaned forward, burying his face in his knees and wrapping his arms around his calves.
“Lex. Are you gonna be sick?”
A muffled, “No.”
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
He raised his head. “Why did you ask about my mom? Is it because if my dad’s not all right, you’ll make me go back to Colorado to live with her?”
I hadn’t thought of that.
“Because if he’s in a wheelchair, I can take care of him and stuff. I promise I would be a really big help.”
Don’t cry. “I know.” I set my hand on his shoulder. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
• • •
Monday morning Lex looked up from his bowl of Cookie Crisp cereal when I entered the kitchen. I paused in front of the empty coffeepot. Mason made coffee in the morning. It was just another pointed reminder that he wasn’t here.
I snagged a Coke from the fridge. I turned around to see Lex frowning at me. “What?”
“Will they let you wear a gun at the hospital?”
“No, why?”
“So why do you have it on?”
“Because I have to go to work today, and you have to go to school.” His spoon clattered into his bowl. “What? No way. I’m going to the hospital to stay with my dad.”
“There’s nothing you can do at the hospital.”
“I can talk to him. You heard that nurse saying he can probably hear us. I want him to know I’m there.”
“Which is why we’ll visit him after you’re out of school this afternoon.”
His green eyes, identical to Mason’s, narrowed, and I recognized the look-ass chewing ahead.
“So you’re just gonna go to work today and forget about him like nothing happened?” Lex demanded. “What if he dies?”
“Don’t say that,” I snapped. “Don’t you ever say it, let alone think it, do you hear me?”
Lex dropped his tear-filled gaze.
Goddammit. I didn’t know how to do this. I probably should’ve hugged him-done anything besides yell at him. I counted to twenty. “Look, Lex, we’re both on edge because we’re worried about your dad. But there’s nothing we can do at the hospital today except get in the nurses’ way. We can only see him for five minutes at a time. He isn’t just gonna wake up, and honestly, that wouldn’t be a good thing anyway. He’d want you in class. He’d want me to go to work and do my job. And we’ll stay at the hospital as long as you want tonight.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” I knocked back a big swig of soda, hoping the fizz would dissolve the lump in my throat. “Now get cracking so you’re not late.”
He bailed, leaving his bowl on the table. Mason would’ve made him come back and pick it up, but today, I let it slide.
• • •
Dawson’s condition hadn’t changed. Each day passed in a blur. One day. Two days. Three days. Four days. Lex and I visited him every night. And every night I felt myself slipping deeper into depression.
I made Jake remove the booze from the house. It was too great a temptation.
Other things got moved around. Pictures. Clothing. Kitchen items. I snapped at Lex about putting things back where he found them. Hope intervened. I snapped at her, too, ignoring how irrational it was to lose my cool because I couldn’t find a fucking spatula.
Carsten tried to get me to talk. If I could’ve talked to anyone, it would’ve been her. She was a genuinely thoughtful and kind person, not a pushover-Turnbull had pegged her completely wrong.
But talking to her meant I had to consider that my life might change drastically in the next week. I refused to give voice to “what ifs” about Dawson.
• • •
A few people stopped into the Victim Services office to ask me about Dawson’s condition. Sheldon War Bonnet. Tribal Police Chief Looks Twice. Officer Orson. Fergie. It bothered me a little that I hadn’t heard from Sophie because I knew she was fond of the sheriff. I blamed John-John. If nothing else, blaming him made me feel better.
So I was surprised when Latimer Elk Thunder ambled into the offices on Thursday afternoon.
“Agent Gunderson, I just heard about what happened to Sheriff Dawson. What a shock. I came over right away to tell you how sorry I am.”
“Thank you.”
“If there’s anything you need, anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Here was my opening. Hopefully, if the FBI got wind of this, they’d chalk up my nosiness and crap attitude to stress. “Does that offer include lending me money for hospital bills? I heard you’re the go-to guy around here for a short-term loan.”
He stiffened briefly, then smiled. “You heard right. Sadly, banks aren’t an option for many of our tribal members in need… So I fill the need. It’s not like I’m getting rich for providing this service.”
Bullshit.
“Are you in a financial bind, Agent Gunderson?”
“No, I’m more concerned for a family friend. Devlin Pretty Horses owes you money. I’m betting not a small amount, either.”
“I don’t normally discuss my business, but I can assure you that I’m not worried. Devlin is good for it.”
“How can that be? He doesn’t have a job. He lives with his mother. Devlin has nothing of value.”
Latimer parked his behind on the corner of my desk. “Now that’s a harsh judgment. You can’t possibly know everything about the Pretty Horses family or their financial situation, current or future.”
I fought the urge to stab his casually swinging leg with a letter opener. “And you do?”
An indulgent smile. “Of course. I’m in a position where I have full budget oversight for the tribe. We have several well-pensioned employees, and it’s my job to make sure our financial experts stay on top of the employees’ investment portfolios. Penny worked for the tribe for over twenty years. She had a better-than-average wage, so she had a better-than-average pension, too.
“And she had decent health insurance coverage, thank goodness. Although aggressive cancer treatment will eat up that lifetime maximum pretty fast. But it doesn’t appear to me that Penny’s family will have outstanding medical bills, which is a plus in this horrible situation.” He shook his head sadly. “Imagine getting such a dire cancer diagnosis one month before retirement.”