gunfire flashed through Harper’s mind, and she shuddered. “Yeah.”
Picking up his coffee, DJ looked around the bare, white room, with its bottles of hand disinfectant and official notices on the wall. “So, how long are they keeping you here?”
“I get out today, on good behavior.”
“I’ll tell Baxter. She’s been worried about you, even though she pretends not to care.” He paused before adding, “By the way, she told me about the layoffs.”
“Oh.” Harper gave him an apologetic look. “I should have told you. Things were so crazy.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. There’s something I didn’t tell you, too.” He looked down, his fingers tapping nervously on the chair arm. “Paul Dells offered me a job at Channel Five.”
Harper shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet she felt as if he’d slapped her. She didn’t know when, but at some point DJ had become essential to her. She couldn’t imagine the newsroom without him.
But all she said was, “He did?”
“Yep.” His eyes searched hers. “Baxter told me he offered you one, too.”
They studied each other across the pale blankets.
“What did you tell him?” Harper asked.
“I told him I already had a job.” He said it with some regret.
Relief flooded her chest with warmth. “I told him the same thing.”
“We’re such idiots,” he said.
They grinned at each other.
Maybe it was the pain medication, but suddenly she wished she could hug him.
Instead, she said, “You’re good people, DJ.”
Reddening, he rubbed his nose furiously before saying, “Right back at you.”
“Looks like we’ll be running the paper alone soon,” she mused. “Won’t be anyone left but us.”
“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “I think we can handle it.”
With a sigh, he stood up. “Well, I better let you get some rest. I’ve got about a hundred articles to follow up on. Your beat is hard work.” He patted her bed as he headed for the door. “Get back to the office soon. I can’t do this on my own.”
When he’d gone, she sagged back against the cool pillows. She would never admit it to him, but even that short visit had exhausted her. Every movement hurt. Her eyes fluttered shut.
She’d barely been alone since she got to the hospital. Bonnie had spent the night in the chair next to her. She’d only gone home a couple of hours ago to shower and change.
At some point in the night, Baxter had come in to check on her. It must have been two in the morning by then. Harper had been so drugged up, she couldn’t fully open her eyes.
The editor told her Dowell was dead. “He died before he reached the hospital,” she’d said, standing beside the bed. “The police are out looking for his son.”
It had taken effort for Harper to form words, but she had to be sure she understood. “He’s really dead?”
Her lips tightening, Baxter had rested a hand on the bed rail. “Really dead. He’s never coming back.”
The rest of the editor’s visit was a blur. At one point, she thought she heard Baxter say, “Someday, I’d love for you to write a story that doesn’t end with you in the hospital.”
By then, though, Harper was falling back into a deep sedated sleep. She dreamed that she and her mother were back in the light-filled kitchen of the little house where she’d grown up. Standing in front of an easel, her mother was painting a field of white daisies, her brow creasing with concentration as she added slender green stems to each flower.
In her dream, her mother had looked over at her and smiled; then the light in the room had blazed like a fire.
When Harper woke up, it was day, and she felt at peace.
After DJ left, she must have slept again. She didn’t know how long she’d been out before someone knocked at her door. Her eyelids were heavy, and she lifted them slowly, expecting a nurse.
Luke stood in the doorway.
“Hey.” She tried to raise herself up, but flinched when that brought a stab of pain.
He crossed the room in three steps, bending over her to straighten the pillows. He’d showered and shaved; she could smell the sandalwood shower gel he used. But it didn’t look as if he’d slept. Shadows underlined his eyes as he lowered himself onto the edge of the chair.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked.
“About a hundred years old, but I guess I’ll live. How’s it going out there?”
“Florida State Police pulled Aaron Dowell over a couple of hours