Another silence, longer this time. “Right,” Sam said. “True enough. I’m not about to argue over anything tonight, anyway. I’m too happy about seeing you again.”
I swear it took me a second to catch up. I had been so focused on the chance of seeing the mysterious N, it hadn’t even hit me that I would be seeing Sam. “Less than twelve hours,” I said. “I’ll be the one looking like Lexie Madison and wearing nothing but white lace underwear.”
“Ah, don’t be doing that to me,” Sam said. “This is business, woman,” but I could still hear the grin in his voice when we hung up.
Daniel was in one of the armchairs by the fire, reading T. S. Eliot; the other three were playing poker. “Oof,” I said, flopping down on the hearth rug. The butt of my gun jammed itself neatly under my ribs; I didn’t try to hide the wince. “What are you doing out? You never get knocked out first.”
“I kicked his arse,” Abby called across, raising her wineglass.
“Don’t gloat,” Justin said. He sounded like he was losing. “It’s so unattractive.”
“She did, actually,” Daniel said. “She’s getting very good at bluffing. Are your stitches hurting again?”
A fraction of a pause, from the table, in the sound of Rafe flipping his stack of coins through his fingers. “It’s just ’cause I’m thinking about them,” I said. “I’ve got this follow-up appointment tomorrow, so the doctors can poke me some more and tell me I’m fine, which I already knew anyway. Give me a lift?”
“Of course,” Daniel said, putting his book down on his lap. “What time?”
“Wicklow Hospital, ten o’clock. I’ll get the train into college afterwards.”
“But you can’t go in there alone,” Justin said. He was twisted around in his seat, the card game forgotten. “Let me take you. I’ve got nothing else to do tomorrow. I’ll come in with you, and then we’ll go into college together.”
He sounded really worried. If I couldn’t get him to back off, I was in serious trouble. “I don’t want anyone to come with me,” I said. “I want to go on my own.”
“But hospitals are awful. And they always make you wait for hours, like cattle, jammed into those hideous waiting rooms-”
I kept my head down and rummaged in my jacket pocket for my smokes. “So I’ll bring a book. I don’t even want to be there to begin with; the last thing I need is someone breathing down my neck the whole time. I just want to get this over with and forget the whole thing, OK? Can I do that?”
“It’s her choice,” Daniel said. “Let us know if you change your mind, Lexie.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m a grown-up, you know. I can show the doctor my stitches all by myself.”
Justin shrugged and went back to his cards. I knew I had hurt his feelings, but there was nothing I could do about that. I lit a cigarette; Daniel passed me the ashtray that had been balancing on the arm of his chair. “Are you smoking more these days?” he inquired.
My face must have been totally blank, but my mind was going like crazy. If anything, I’d been smoking less than I should have-I’d been keeping it at fifteen or sixteen a day, halfway between my normal ten and Lexie’s twenty, and hoping the drop would be put down to me still feeling weak. It had never occurred to me that Frank had only the others’ word for that twenty. Daniel hadn’t fallen for the coma story; God only knew how much more he had suspected. It would have been so easy, terrifyingly easy, for him to slip just one or two bits of disinformation into his interviews with Frank, sit back-those calm gray eyes, watching me without any trace of impatience-and wait to see if they found their way home.
“Not sure,” I said, puzzled. “I haven’t thought about it. Am I?”
“You didn’t usually take your cigarettes on your walk,” Daniel said. “Before the incident. Now you do.”
The relief almost punched the breath out of me. I should have caught that-no smokes on the body-but a research glitch was a whole lot easier to deal with than the thought of Daniel playing, blank-faced, a hand full of wild cards held close against his chest. “I always meant to,” I said. “I just kept forgetting them. Now that you guys make me remember my mobile, I remember my smokes too. Anyway”-I sat up and gave Daniel an offended look-“why are you giving me hassle? Rafe smokes like two packs a day and you never say anything to him.”
“I’m not giving you hassle,” Daniel said. He was smiling across at me, over his book. “I just believe that vices should be enjoyed; otherwise what’s the point in having them? If you’re smoking because of tension, then you’re not enjoying it.”
“I’m not tense,” I told him. I collapsed back on my elbows, to prove it, and propped the ashtray on my stomach. “I’m fine.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being tense just now,” Daniel said. “It’s very understandable. But you should find another way of releasing stress, rather than wasting a perfectly good vice.” That hint of a smile again. “If you should feel the need to talk to someone…”
“You mean like a therapist?” I asked. “Ewww. They said that in hospital, but I told them to fuck off.”
