Миранда Джеймс - Claws For Concern

“Don’t worry about Diesel,” Stewart said. “You go and see what’s got the poor man so upset.”

“Thanks,” I said on my way to the back door.

As I backed the car out of the garage, I could feel my heart rate pick up. Was Bill Delaney finally ready to talk to me about the Barber case?

TWENTY-SIX

The Barber case might be solved tonight. Bill Delaney must be willing to tell me what he’s been keeping back, I thought. Otherwise why would he be so agitated and insist that he would leave the hospital if he had to in order to talk to me?

When I left the car in the hospital parking lot, I felt the heat close in on me. The humidity, even this late in the day, felt suffocating. I had to stop at a water fountain in the hospital and gulp down several mouthfuls of water before I began to cool down. I loved my life in Athena, but in the summer months I preferred to live as much of it as possible inside in the air-conditioning.

Thankful that the hospital was cool, I took the elevator up and soon I reached Bill Delaney’s room. The door stood wide open, and when I stepped into the room I was shocked to find several people in scrubs and white coats around the bed. One of the nurses turned and noticed me. She walked over to me and motioned for me to move out of the room.

“Are you Mr. Harris?” she asked when we were out in the hallway. “He had us list you as his emergency contact.”

“Yes,” I said. “What’s going on? Is he going to be okay?”

“He had a heart attack,” the nurse replied. “He was extremely agitated, and he kept asking for you. We assured him you were on the way, but the stress evidently triggered a cardiac event. He’s stable now. Luckily one of the attendants was with him and recognized the signs.”

“Will I be able to talk to him?” I asked.

“Not for a while yet,” the nurse replied.

“All right,” I said. “Can you at least let him know that I’m here? I don’t want him to get agitated again.”

“I’ll talk to the doctor,” she said. “Why don’t you go down to the waiting room near the nurses’ station and wait? Someone will come talk to you soon.”

I nodded, and she turned away to reenter the room. I walked down the hall and found the small waiting area. I had it to myself at the moment. I chose a seat and pulled out my cell phone to call Stewart and let him know I could be at the hospital much longer than I had planned.

“Don’t worry about Diesel,” Stewart said. “Is there anything you need? You’re not going to stay all night, are you?”

“Thanks, I’m okay,” I said. “How long I stay depends on how he’s doing. If at all possible, I’d like to talk to him. He obviously has something he needs to tell me, and I’m afraid he’ll upset himself again if he can’t talk to me.”

“Call me back if you do need me to bring you anything,” Stewart said.

I thanked him again and ended the call. I debated calling Jack Pemberton to let him know about this new development, but after brief reflection I decided I should wait until I knew what had upset Bill Delaney so badly.

A few minutes later a tall man in a white coat entered the room. He looked to be about forty, with dark hair graying heavily at the temples. “Mr. Harris?” he asked, and I nodded as I rose from my chair. “I’m Dr. Greenway, a cardiologist. I understand that you’re related to Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes, I’m his cousin,” I said. “How is he?”

“Not good, I’m afraid,” Dr. Greenway replied. “Why don’t we sit down for a moment?” He gestured toward the chair I had been occupying.

I resumed my seat, and he chose one across the small space from mine. “Mr. Delaney has been a heavy drinker for many years,” the doctor said. “That has done a lot of damage, and his heart is not in good shape. Neither is his liver. Right now he is stable, but I’m having him transferred to the ICU immediately. I don’t want to give you any false hope. The heart attack was relatively mild, and if he was in better physical condition, I’d say he had every chance of making a good recovery. As it is, however, I can’t say how well he might recover from this. He might not.”

“Thank you for telling me,” I said, saddened by this news. “He evidently got agitated because he had something to tell me.”

Dr. Greenway nodded. “Yes, he was mumbling until we sedated him. The same words, over and over.”

“What were they? Could you make them out?”

“He was saying, ‘Tell him to let it go,’ and then ‘I promised, can’t break a promise.’” He shrugged. “That’s what it sounded like to me. Do you have any idea what it means?”

“Some of it, perhaps,” I said. “Once he wakes up—if he wakes up—can someone please call me immediately? It doesn’t matter what time it is.”

The doctor stood. “All right. I suggest you go home for now. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Except pray,” I said.

The doctor nodded and smiled briefly before he left the room.

I sat there, still dazed by what had occurred, trying to assimilate everything and to make some sense of it. What did Delaney’s words mean?

I understood tell him to let it go . He was talking about the investigation into the Barber case. He wanted me to leave it alone.

I promised, can’t break a promise .

He was protecting someone, I thought. He’d made a promise not to reveal something. Whatever it was, it obviously meant a great deal to him. So much, in fact, that he had suffered a heart attack over it.

Who had he promised to protect with his silence?

Three candidates came immediately to mind: Sylvia Delaney, Elizabeth Barber, and Leann Finch.

What about X ? The unknown person. There certainly could be one, someone Jack and I hadn’t discovered yet, who was linked to the case.

Time to head home, I decided. I left the waiting room.

A couple of minutes later, sweating profusely from the unrelenting heat, I unlocked the car and rolled down the windows to let the air inside dissipate. The sun had at last started to go down, but the night wouldn’t bring much relief from the heat.

I prayed for Bill Delaney on the drive home. I had begun to realize that Jack and I were partly responsible for Bill Delaney’s state of mind. His agitation over our interest in the Barber case had been significant enough to bring on a heart attack. Had we not been pushing him to confide in us, he probably wouldn’t have been so upset, and the heart attack might not have happened.

Jack and I had no way of knowing, however, that something like this would happen. Neither of us was responsible for the state of Delaney’s health. His poor condition was self-inflicted. A lifetime of drinking took a harsh toll on the body. Delaney’s own lifestyle choices were largely to blame, as was the unknown person who had tried to run him down. Still, I felt uncomfortable knowing that my actions had exacerbated the situation. Should I get the chance, I would apologize to Bill Delaney for upsetting him.

Despite my regrets, I did not intend to stop seeking the truth. I thought about those two young boys and their parents. They deserved to have their murderer named. If Jack and I could help find the truth, we would and be glad we had. If Bill Delaney was innocent, then he deserved to be vindicated.

By the time I reached home, I had decided not to call Jack. I would wait until I heard another report on Bill Delaney. If he made it to the morning, I would run over there, before Diesel and I needed to leave for Tullahoma, to see if he was in any condition to have visitors. I would share everything with Jack when I met him in Tullahoma.

Diesel greeted me at the back door. Stewart sat at the table, reading a magazine. He laid it aside while I was petting the cat. “How is he?” Stewart asked.