Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

He pushed the cup away with his arm. “If I drink any more, I’ll throw up.”

“You’re still pale-”

“Of course, I’m still pale. I’m goddamn sick to my stomach. Leave me alone.”

Lids fluttering, Paul’s eyes swept over the scene. He paced, checked his watch for the thousandth time. His wife, Angela, was blond and plump, a floral muu-muu covering her body, doughy arms popping out of the short sleeves. She wore no makeup, her face was haggard.

The minutes crawled along with the fear of the unknown.

Michael regarded Decker. “You should…” His voice cracked. “Your arm…you should take care of it.”

Paul turned his glazed eyes toward Decker, as if looking at him for the first time. No doubt that was the case.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Mom…” Michael cleared his throat. “Mom did it.”

“Oh God!” Paul sank into a chair. “Will this nightmare ever end?”

Pink-eyed, Angela said, “Do you want more water, Paul?”

“Nothing.” He lowered his head between his knees. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

But he remained hunched over, arms wrapped around his head.

Angela kneaded her hands. She had bitten a couple of her nails past the quick, trickles of blood oozing over the fingertips. To Decker, she said, “Is your arm okay?”

“It’ll keep.”

She said, “Mama’s really not an evil person…”

Angela stopped talking, waiting for someone to corroborate her position. When no one rose to Mom’s defense, Decker said, “Somebody should be paying attention to her needs…go down to the jail, talk to her and to her representation. Right now, they’ve assigned someone from the PD’s office. Eventually, you might want to hire your own lawyer.”

Nobody said anything, nobody moved.

Eva’s husband, David, tapped his foot. Dark, Semitic-looking. Sleepy brown eyes, thick black hair, a long face, and a prominent nose. Handsome though, because his features were strong. He was wearing an untucked linen shirt over a pair of old jeans. “You want me to go?”

Nobody answered him. He looked to Decker for help.

“It would be a good idea,” Decker answered.

Eva had curled herself into a ball and pressed herself against the corner of the couch. Maggie was next to her, head on her shoulder, eyes closed, mouth open, snoring slightly.

“Then I should go, Eva?”

Eva glanced at him, looked away. Her eyes held no emotion, dead to the world. “Do whatever you want.”

Paul raised his head, looked at his watch. “You said they brought him here around ten, Michael?”

“About,” Michael answered by rote.

“So it’s been four hours,” Paul said. “Don’t they say the longer the better?”

He had addressed his question to Michael. But the med student didn’t answer.

Paul said, “Did anyone hear me?”

Luke said, “I don’t know, Paul. I guess no news is good news.”

Paul surveyed his brother’s face. “You’re gray, Luke. You need to drink.”

“I’m too nauseated,” Luke said. “Goddamn room feels like a boat in a storm.”

“I’ve got a crashing headache,” Paul said. “Anyone have an aspirin?”

Michael said, “Paul, you just gave blood. You can’t take aspirin for at least a week. It makes you bleed.”

“I’ve got a Tylenol,” David said.

“Tylenol doesn’t work on me.”

Michael said, “No aspirin, no ibuprofen-Advil, Motrin, Ecotrin. Didn’t you read the handout they gave you?”

Paul said, “No, Michael, I didn’t read the handout.”

“Please don’t fight,” Dana said.

“No one’s fighting,” Paul said. “Last thing I want to do is fight. I’m sorry, Michael.”

Michael smiled weakly, tried to speak but couldn’t. Instead, he paced. A minute later, he turned to Decker with wet eyes. “I never did thank-”

“Not necessary,” Decker said.

“Some people can think on their feet.” He shook his head. “Others just stand around like stunned idiots.”

“Michael, I was a medic in the army. I didn’t think, I just did.”

“You saw action then?” Paul asked.

Decker nodded.

“Vietnam?”

“Yes.”

“A survivor,” Paul whispered. “More power to you. That’d been me, I would have shriveled up and died.”

Decker said, “Self-preservation kicks in, Paul.”

Again, the room fell quiet.

To Decker, Luke said, “He talk to you at all, Lieutenant?”

“A little.”

“What’d he say?”

Michael said, “He prayed, Luke.”

Luke said, “Say anything to you in the ambulance?”

Decker shook his head.

“Unconscious?”

Decker nodded.

“So, he wasn’t in pain, right?”

“No,” Decker lied. Because he really didn’t know one way or the other.

Tears fell down Eva’s cheeks. “You should go see Mother, David. The sooner the better. You should leave now.”

David rocked on his feet. “If that’s what you-”

“Yes. Go.”

He threw his wife a surprised glance. Decker gave them the address of the jail as well as the name of a contact person. David thanked him and left. As soon as David was gone, Eva uncoiled an arm, placed it around her sister’s shoulder.

Maggie sat up abruptly, rubbed her eyes. “Oh my God! I dozed off.”

Eva said, “That’s good.”

“No, it’s not,” Maggie cried. “It’s horrible! How could I sleep when…I’m so terrible!”

She burst into tears. Eva hugged her. “You’re not terrible. I’m terrible.”

“No one’s terrible,” Luke said.

Eva blurted out, “I was always yelling at him.”

“Eva, everyone was always yelling at him,” Paul said. “That’s what we did. We yelled at Bram. Do this! Do that! Get this! Go here! Take care of Mom! Fix up my life!” He lowered his head into his hands. “You want regrets? I’ve got enough to fill a bank vault.”

Dana said, “You know, everything might be okay…I mean, he…we…”

Her voice faded to nothing.

Maggie said, “How could I fall asleep at a time like this?”

Luke said, “Maggie, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. If Bram were here, he’d tell you to sleep.”

“We’d all sleep if we could,” Paul said.

Luke said, “Only reason why you can sleep and we can’t is your conscience is clean.”

“Amen,” Paul said.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Maggie said.

“It means, like Paul and Eva, I’m wracked with guilt and filled with ‘I should haves.’” Luke’s eyes watered. “You know, I don’t want or expect miracles. I don’t need the Red Sea to split or to walk on water or to see Lazarus rising from the dead. All I want is a chance to talk to him again. Is that asking too fucking much?”

“Amen,” Paul answered.

Dana said, “You came to his rescue, Lucas-”

“No, Dana, he came to my rescue-”

“You know, he’s not…” Dana held back tears. “Stop talking like it’s…final!”

Luke’s eyes shifted upward, over Decker’s shoulder, across the empty lobby. Decker turned around.

Rina.

She wore the same maroon cotton dress she had on for last night’s dinner. Light years ago.

He started toward her, meeting her in the middle of the room. She stared at her husband, lip quivering. The hospital had given him a clean top, but he still had on blood-stained pants. He expected her to explode into tears.

Instead, she said, “What happened to your arm?”

“It’s nothing-”

“Peter-”

“I got shot-”

“Oh my God-”

“Rina, I’m-”

“Can you move it?”

“The arm? Yeah, no problem.” He lowered his voice. “They just have to take the bullet out.”

“They haven’t taken the bullet out?”