The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,101
your father had an uncanny knack of knowing things before they happened.” His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “He was appallingly good at betting on sports.”
Faith laughed, but it came out as a sob. She covered her mouth, and hot tears trickled down her cheeks.
He squeezed her hand. “As for what happened on Hvitmar, I had some of my contacts comb the site before the police arrived. They’ll find nothing to endanger you or Sara. I’ve spoken to the inspector, and so far, it appears he’s attributing your actions to self-defense.”
She nodded and wiped away her tears.
“You should get some sleep,” he said after a long silence. “I’ve rented a room at the bed-and-breakfast down the road. Take my keys, and go rest a while.”
“No. Not until Sara wakes up.”
“Your mother and I can stay with her.”
“I want to be here, Lamb.”
They fell into silence again. Faith heard the faint ticking of the clock on the waiting room wall, and counted the passing seconds.
Dustin entered the room. Lamb and Faith stood up. “Thomas is in a bad way,” Dustin said. “The doctors don’t think he’ll ever see again. He’s already confessed to Cameron’s...” He trailed off and wiped his sweat-beaded forehead. “He’s willing to testify.”
“Thank you, Dustin,” said Lamb. “Someone will need to call the Flintrop offices, and tell them what has happened to Michael, Luis, and Alan. If you’ll excuse me.”
When he had gone, Faith went back to staring out the window. By now, the red-sweatered man and the child had left. A pang seized her as she wondered if Hakon would ever contact her again. She hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from him since the closing of the ley line. I miss you, she thought, only now understanding how much his ethereal presence had comforted her. During all that turmoil, all that uncertainty on the island, she had always felt he was watching out for her.
Warmth spread through her body. She’d find him again. Someone, somewhere cared about her, and for now that was enough.
Dustin came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Thank you,” she murmured.
“And Sara?”
“Still not conscious,” she said.
“Would you like me to stay?”
“No, thanks. My mother is here now.”
His hand lifted from her shoulder. She heard him move toward the door, and turned around. “Dustin?”
He paused with his hand on the door handle.
“How did you know to go get Lamb before the—before it happened?” she asked.
“Lambertson asked me to keep an eye out for you.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I never trusted Flintrop, anyway.” Before she could say anything further, he left.
Faith sighed, too. Her sister hadn’t woken up since they’d brought her in.
Faith sat down and prepared for a long, restless wait.
****
Sound returned first.
The incessant drone of a television chattered away in Sara’s ear. “...Authorities are still investigating last week’s tragic events on Hvitmar, where geologists say an earthquake split the island almost entirely in two. Madeline Burgess has the story.”
“Lawrence, I’m reporting from Unst. With me on satellite is Inspector Ritchie of the Unst police. Hvitmar is the northernmost point in Shetland, unpopulated, and until now fairly quiet. It has now been closed to the public due to last week’s violent quake. Archaeologists had been excavating what was thought to be a Viking ruin on Hvitmar, and authorities say there were a number of deaths. Inspector Ritchie, what can you tell us?”
“We’re continuing to investigate at this point, Madeline. We know of three fatalities, but we have no further information at this point due to the island’s instability. We intend to keep working until we’ve fully completed the investigation.”
“Thank you, Inspector. Back to you, Lawrence.”
Lawrence buzzed on like a nagging mosquito. Sara woke fully, blinking in the glare of fluorescent lights. The hospital room came into focus, but the blind spot hadn’t gone away. Her headache had dulled to a persistent heaviness behind her eyes.
She was alone in the room with her grief.
It choked her.
She angled her head, and saw the television mounted on the wall. A polished, suit-clad news anchor glanced down at his stack of papers. The view cut to a smiling photograph of Ian. She couldn’t bear to look at the image, but neither could she wrest her eyes away. “...In related news, American biologist Ian Waverly is thought to have discovered a nesting pair of endangered Eurasian peregrine falcons on Hvitmar—”
“Thought, nothing.”
Ian’s voice. She stopped breathing for a long, suspended minute.