She frowned. “Stuart was always anxious to please you and his mom. Not pressured to please you—I don’t mean that. He loves you so much.”
“Yes, well…he was writing. Which was, of course, what he always wanted to do. Freelance. He hasn’t been able to get in with a major paper the way he wanted to, but he wasn’t troubled by that. He said that he was going to get the stories and get them out there, and then people would be coming to him. And he was making a living. Not getting rich, but making a living. He sold articles to a number of publications. One of them was In Depth.” He wagged a finger at Ashley before she could say anything. “Yes, it’s a rag. One of those papers that has headlines like, ‘I was abducted by a two-headed alien gladiator.’ But they pay well, give their reporters lots of freedom—well, obviously—and sometimes, sometimes, they come up with the kind of story that gets real attention. He’d been living at home with us but a few months ago, he said he was moving out for a while. That he was writing and wouldn’t be seeing much of us. And he meant it. We hadn’t seen him since.”
Ashley sat back, frowning. “Did you tell this to the police?”
“Of course.”
“And they still think he just got himself involved with a bad crowd?”
“I don’t know what they think. They’ve promised that they’re looking into the situation. So…” He ran his thumb over the rim of his coffee cup, staring at the coffee, then up at her. “So if there’s anything you can find out, his mother and I would greatly appreciate the help.”
“I’m not even a rookie,” she told him.
“You must have friends higher up in the force?” he said hopefully.
“I do. And I swear, I’ll do all I can.”
“Let’s go!” Nathan said, suddenly sounding angry.
“What’s the matter?” Ashley said, looking around. Then she noticed the man who had gotten Nathan so upset. He was the man about her own age who’d had his head buried in the newspaper in the waiting room. Dark-haired, light-eyed, he looked like a decent sort. But then again, the most decent appearing people could be the slimiest.
“That leech—another would-be reporter. Claims he knew Stuart. But he can’t seem to give us anything. They talked to him at first, and he came up with a bunch of wild stories. The police asked questions, and he did nothing but infuriate a lot of important people and make it harder for them to take Stu’s mom seriously. The media people have been obnoxious, trying to prove we’re unfit parents or something, and that tragedy of Stuart’s upbringing caused his descent into the pitfalls of drugs. I’ve gotten rid of them time after time, and one of the fellows on the case, Sergeant Carnegie, has been great, warning them away from us. This guy is trying to get a story out of us, and I don’t intend to turn Stuart’s trauma into a sensational headline.”
Ashley rose along with Nathan. When they reached the hall, she told him that she was going to go home and get some sleep, but that she would be back the following night.
“Ashley, that’s kind of you. Come on up for just a minute. We can get you in for a second, I’m certain.”
She went back upstairs with Nathan. When they reached Stuart’s room and looked through the window, Lucy was by his bed, holding his hand.
Tears welled in Ashley’s eyes as she saw her friend. He was connected to several monitors. There were tubes in his nose and mouth. An IV line dripped fluids into his veins. His face was bluish and swollen. A bandage was around his head.
And yet his hand…
The hand his mother held looked so incredibly normal. Stuart had beautiful hands, with long fingers and neatly clipped nails. Strong, masculine hands.
Lucy glanced up and saw them. She rose and came to the door. “Ashley, I’ll get you a smock, then you can go in for a few minutes.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I said you’re my niece, our closest relative…go in, dear. Talk to Stuart.”
Ashley nodded, because it seemed to mean so much to Lucy. She didn’t think Stuart would even know she was there.
At Stuart’s side, just as Lucy had, she sat and held his hand. He seemed cold, cold as death, she thought, then forced herself to banish the idea. It was awkward at first, but then she began to talk to him. “Listen, you stuck-up little would-be literary giant, you hang in there. You’ve got everything in the world, including the world’s most wonderful parents. I mean, Nick is great, but…We’ve talked about this before, but I like to imagine that my parents would have been like yours. And I’m going to find out what the heck you were up to, Stu, so help me. I know you’re not a junkie, and I’m going to prove it, I swear.”
She thought she felt a squeeze. The slightest squeeze. She stared at his monitors. She didn’t know how to read them, but she was certain that nothing had changed.
Neither had he. With the help of a machine, his breath rose and fell.
And yet…