“I don’t think you should be talking too much. I’m just so glad you’re awake. You really took a wallop on the head. Did you see who did it?” she asked anxiously.
He winced. “A large cemetery cherub with a bat? Ah, lass, no. I was walking—sober as can be, you know that—and suddenly it felt like I was flying. Except that I was scraping stone. And there was a big man there, aye, a big man. I’m pretty sure he was dark haired, but it was a chilly night. He might have been wearing some kind of a cape. You know—like Dracula.” He was quiet for a moment. “He wasn’t alone, either. Someone said, ‘He’s a goner, and I never even got to ask him,’ and I don’t think you’d say that unless you were talking to someone else. So...did they rob me blind?”
She shook her head. “They didn’t take anything, Bobby.”
“They didn’t, eh?”
She couldn’t tell whether he was surprised or not.
As if to himself, he murmured, “What do they think I know?”
“What are you talking about, Bobby? Who are ‘they’?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But they must have been there in the pub at some point that night, and they must have been after something more valuable than my wallet. I remember old Krakowsky—you know, Gary’s boss—bragging about his new shipment of stones. There were a bunch of jewelers in there that day. They thought they were so discreet, but I sit at the bar and I hear a lot. But,” he added, “not enough, I think.”
Kieran heard footsteps in the hall and looked up to see Craig standing outside the room with Mike, speaking with the policeman guarding the door.
Bobby suddenly gripped her wrist in a fierce hold, shockingly strong for his condition.
She turned to look at him. His features were tense.
“Don’t tell them anything, not yet. You can say I’ve opened my eyes a few times. I’m not ready to talk, do you understand? I’m not ready.”
Bobby’s grip fell away as he relaxed his features and closed his eyes.
Seconds later special agent Craig Frasier walked in.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
CRAIG LEFT MIKE in the hall, talking to the officer there, as he entered the room. The latest report was that Bobby O’Leary had yet to reach full consciousness, though the doctors said things were going well.
Kieran was sitting by the old man’s bed, her fingers curled around his hand where it lay on the covers. She was leaning down, resting her head on the bars of the bed, as if she had been resting. He saw that she was sitting in a chair that could fold down into a bed, and something told him that she was planning to use it, stay for the night, keep her eye on Bobby and hold his hand.
“Anything?” he asked her softly.
Her long dark auburn hair seemed especially vibrant tonight, falling over the white sheet. She lifted her head, and her eyes were especially blue in the harsh lighting.
“I think he’s doing well. The doctor said there’s no sign of water building up on his brain, no swelling.” She glanced down at Bobby, and Craig thought she sounded a little uneasy when she spoke again. “He’s opened his eyes a few times, but it never lasts.”
“Good to hear. I’ve been calling in all day, but all I got was ‘no change, stable condition.’ I’m really hoping he’s going to be able to help us out.”
“Do you think he saw anything?” she asked. “If he was attacked from behind...”
“He may still be able to tell us something. Even if he couldn’t see his attacker, he might have noticed something. Like the scent of soap or aftershave,” Craig said. “Or maybe he heard something, his attacker’s voice, the way he breathed...something. You never know. All we can do for now is hope.”
“It was probably some random thing,” Kieran said. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
“Or it might have been someone who knew he spent his days in the pub and thought he might have heard something or know something,” Craig said.
“Do you really think so?” Kieran asked. “It seems strange that...that someone would go to such lengths to attack Bobby, of all people. I still think it was a robbery like—”
“Nothing was taken.”
“Maybe the mugger was interrupted. Maybe a taxi went by, or even a cop car.”
She sounded defensive, Craig thought. And that wasn’t good.
“Kieran, don’t you want this solved—no matter what?” he asked her.
“Of course!”
The door opened, and a nurse walked in. She looked Craig up and down and nodded—with approval, he hoped—and then turned to Kieran. “Honey, you want some bedding for that chair?”
“It’s not necessary.”
“You might as well. You need to sleep, and we have monitors all over Mr. O’Leary. If anything happens, we’ll know at the nurses’ station.”
“In that case, thank you,” Kieran said.
The nurse left, and Craig smiled at Kieran. “I figured you’d be staying,” he said softly.
“Of course.”
“Listen, we really need to talk to him, and as quickly as possible,” Craig said. “You’ll call me if he wakes up and is coherent?”
She didn’t look at him as she nodded.
“Well, then,” he said softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
She still didn’t look up.