Beneath the Stetson(52)
Leaving the crew on the scene to search for any last clues, Gil and Nate headed back into town. Gil got out of the squad car and stood on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful evening. All around them traffic bustled. People smiled and waved. The world went on.
But for Gil, time had stopped.
Nate hugged him. An unusual enough occurrence that Gil was both shocked and taken off guard by the other man’s compassion.
Nate stepped back, preparing to go inside. “I’ll keep you posted, and you do the same.”
Gil nodded.
“Talk to someone at the hospital. You may be in shock. You won’t do anyone any good if you collapse.”
“I’m fine. Really.” It was true. He was encased in ice now. Nothing could touch him. He had a plan and a mission. Watch over Bailey. Find out what she knew.
Leaving a concerned Nate staring after him, Gil strode to his truck, climbed in and started the ignition. For a moment, he couldn’t remember which way he needed to go to find the hospital. Realizing that Nate still watched him, Gil took a deep breath and shifted into drive. He backed up, pulled into traffic, and rounded the corner.
Five minutes later, he pulled off into a narrow alley, put his head on the steering wheel and sobbed.
* * *
Had it been only a couple of weeks since Gil and Bailey had visited Alex? Kissing her in the parking lot seemed like a dream now...a bittersweet dream. Tonight was supposed to have been a threshold for them, a day of reckoning. Instead, anticipation had crumbled into sickening fear for his son.
Gil walked into the hospital, sparing only a fleeting thought to wonder if Alex had been discharged. Thinking about Santiago...or del Toro...or whatever his name was made Gil’s anger rise again. It wasn’t Alex’s fault that Cade was gone. Gil knew that intellectually. But it was easier to shift his fury onto Alex than to admit that he had failed his son.
The waiting room was empty. Gil approached the pleasant-faced older woman volunteering at the information desk. “Bailey Collins. Can you tell me her room number?”
“Are you family?”
He ground his teeth. “She has no family in the area. I’m her friend.”
“I’ll need to check with the nurse...”
He gripped the edge of the desk, closing his eyes briefly and reaching for patience. “Ms. Collins and I are in a relationship. Do you understand what I mean? I have to know what’s going on.”
The lady in the pink smock flushed, her eyes wide. “I’m just following rules, sir. But I will take you at your word.”
While Gil waited, the woman made a brief phone call, then hung up. She smiled hesitantly. “Ms. Collins is not in the room. She’s having a CT scan and a couple of other tests as a precaution. As soon as she’s back, they’ll let me know.”
Gil swallowed, feeling light-headed. “Thank you.” Numb and filled with a black void of despair, he dropped into an uncomfortable chair on the far side of the room. A TV on the opposite wall, thankfully muted but with closed captioning on, played old reruns of The Andy Griffith Show. Opie was small in this episode, maybe Cade’s age. He had broken his arm falling out of a tree, and Sheriff Andy was carrying him into the hospital.
Seeing the tears on Opie’s face broke through Gil’s calm, letting in a torrent of rage and terror. He dropped forward, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and prayed.
* * *
An hour later, a doctor approached him. Gil leaped to his feet, swaying when spots danced in front of his eyes. He had skipped lunch knowing that the housekeeper was preparing a big spread for tonight’s dinner with Bailey, hosted by Cade and himself.
It was after eight now.
The man stared at him with the same compassion Gil had seen in Nate’s eyes. “Mr. Addison?”
“Yes.”
“Your friend is back in the room resting.”
“May I see her?”
“Only for a moment. She’s had something to help her relax and sleep. We’re monitoring the concussion.”
“Are you aware of the situation?” Gil asked, his throat tight with a combination of frustration and dread.
The doctor nodded. “You need her to wake up. I get it. But you have to understand that her body needs rest and peace to heal. If she regains consciousness right now, she’ll have to relive everything that happened, and she’ll become agitated. At this critical juncture, I can’t allow that. I’m sorry, Mr. Addison. Hopefully if her vital signs are good tomorrow, I can reconsider.”
When the man departed, Gil pulled himself together and followed the directions back to the Bailey’s room. Standing in the doorway, he felt his vision blur. Struggling to stand up straight, he moved toward the bed.