sure. I’ll call and give Sylvia the latest news once Kevin is awake.”
Sylvia hadn’t come to the hospital to see Kevin, and Deidre had been glad for that. It wasn’t that Sylvia didn’t care; it was that she was too fragile emotionally to be helpful.
Kevin’s hand stirred in hers—just a butterfly touch at first, then a definite movement.
“Kevin.” She leaned over him. “Baby, are you awake?” She sensed, rather than saw, Jason snap to attention next to her. “Kevin?”
Nothing happened for a minute that seemed to last forever. Then Kevin moved, wiggling a little as he did when she woke him for Sunday school. His forehead wrinkled.
“Wake up, baby,” she said, keeping her voice gentle. “It’s time to get up now.” They were the same words she said every morning.
And, just like all those other mornings, Kevin blinked and opened his eyes. At first he stared, seeming puzzled, at the ceiling. Then he focused on her face. His blue eyes widened and he smiled. “Mommy.”
She’d never heard anything better in her life. It took a giant effort to keep her voice calm, her manner casual. “You awake, baby?”
“Sure.” He started to get up, then stared at the tube leading into his arm. “Mommy?” His voice shook. “What’s happening, Mommy? What’s that thing?”
“It’s okay.” She eased him back on the pillow, putting her arms around him. “You had a little accident and had to come to the hospital. But you’re getting better now.”
“Oh.” He settled down but still looked troubled. She thought he was trying to remember. “Did I fall out of the tree? That’s what happened, right? You told me not to climb so high, but I wanted to see.”
“Climbing the apple tree, you mean?” At a movement from Jason, she glanced at him. “That morning,” she said quietly. “Is that what you remember, Kev?”
He frowned. “I remember climbing up high in the tree. That’s all.”
Kevin was making up his own story about what had happened. It was a story that probably seemed normal and comforting to him.
Comforting because he didn’t know how he got hurt. Here was the answer everyone had been waiting for. Kevin didn’t remember anything about the attack on Dixie. However the police might feel about it, Deidre couldn’t help but be relieved.
FROM WHAT JASON had seen during the time he’d spent at the hospital, Kevin awake was going to be quite a handful. It would try everyone’s patience keeping a lively kid like that quiet. But it was a lot better than watching him lie in the hospital bed unconscious.
Sitting unobtrusively while Deidre talked to the doctor, Jason had come away with an answer that troubled him. From what the pediatrician had said, she hadn’t been at all surprised that Kevin didn’t remember what had happened in the hours prior to his injury. Apparently that occurred often with head injuries. So for the moment, Kevin could be of no help at all to the police. Chief Carmichaels would be disappointed.
But there was also the possibility that the memory would come back as the child’s brain healed from the trauma. And if it did, what then?
Deidre had wanted to reject that result. Her fear had been palpable. But he couldn’t entirely dismiss the judge’s comment that something Deidre had done had put Kevin in danger.
Not intentionally, he was sure. He’d seen enough of her devotion to the boy to know that. But what did he really know about her?
For that matter, what did he really know about the judge? This situation was becoming more uncomfortable by the moment. He’d been desperate enough and raw enough emotionally to grab at the lifeline the judge had offered him. But the strings attached to that offer were pretty ugly when viewed impartially, and right at the moment, he didn’t see a clear way out of the position he was in.
He’d nearly reached the edge of town, where the row of graceful old Victorian houses petered out and farmland took over. He’d offered to pick up some toys to keep Kevin occupied, so he had a legitimate reason for going into Deidre’s house alone. He had the key she’d lent him so that he could complete his errand.
Pulling into Deidre’s driveway, he parked and slid out. The front door was locked, of course, but it responded readily to the key.
His fingers closed over the key as he stepped inside. Would the judge expect him to take advantage of the situation to have a copy made? Possibly. But even though his values had taken quite a battering during the events of the past six months, he wasn’t willing to compromise them that much.
He spared a flickering thought for Leslie, who hadn’t had any such compunction, and then dismissed her. Maybe it was a good sign that he’d been too busy to think of her more than once since he’d arrived in Echo Falls.
Jason came to a halt in the living room and had a cautious look around. The previous time he’d been here, he’d been focused on the emergency and the need to act. He’d barely been aware of the surroundings. He looked first at the spot where Dixie James had lain, on an area rug in front of the sofa. That rug was gone now, maybe to the police lab or maybe disposed of, and in its place was an oval braided rug, whose mellow colors blended with the blue upholstery on the sofa and chairs.
The room seemed furnished for comfort rather than style, as if a family had acquired pieces they liked over a couple of generations. A child’s toy airplane nosed against a framed photo of an older couple on an end table, and several magazines had slid to the floor from an overburdened rack. It wasn’t messy, just lived-in, he supposed.
He could imagine it annoying the judge, though. He’d already noticed that everything in the office had to be exactly the way the judge liked it, down to the way the pens were arranged on Evelyn’s desk.
He moved through the adjoining dining room, where tulips drooped in a vase, dropping their petals onto the polished surface of the table, and on into the kitchen. Deidre had apparently resisted the current urge toward steel appliances and granite. The cabinets were painted wood, and geraniums bloomed in a pot on one windowsill, while what were probably herbs grew on the other.
Beyond the kitchen he found what must be the headquarters of Deidre’s business. On one side, shelves and racks held packing supplies, while two walls were covered with shelves holding a variety of handcrafted items—everything from placemats to quilts to wooden toys and more. He zeroed in on the computer at one end of a long wooden table.
He switched it on. Deidre apparently hadn’t seen the need to password protect it, and he easily accessed the files. The computer seemed devoted to the business, though, with sales records, addresses, sample newsletters and photographs of items offered for sale.
Searching her email was similarly nonproductive—it contained only correspondence related to the business. If Deidre had personal emails, she obviously kept them elsewhere.
Glancing at his watch, he retraced his steps and started upstairs. He couldn’t take too long completing his errand, or Deidre might become suspicious. Still, he might not have another chance to prowl around her house undetected.
The
