“Will he recover, do you think?” Billie asked.
“I hope so,” the nurse answered. “We don’t have a doctor on staff here, but our local doctor has come to look at him. He’ll be back to see him soon. He’s taken quite an interest.”
They walked back to the ward where Sam was waiting, watching the boy with troubled eyes.
“Here’s the doctor now,” the nurse said, spotting the man at the same time Billie did. He was a white-coated man of about fifty with side-parted hair, a reassuringly healthy complexion considering his occupation, and a look of concern. The nurse introduced him as Dr. Worthington.
“Dr. Worthington, my name is Billie Walker,” Billie said and extended a hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. This is my colleague, Samuel Baker,” she said, gesturing to Sam.
The doctor looked at the patient and back to them. “Are you family?” he asked.
“We were hired by his family to find him.”
Billie was worried he might toss them out, but instead the doctor’s face brightened. “What a relief!” he exclaimed. “So you believe you can identify this boy? We don’t think he’s a local. He’s been here for more than a day now. We informed the police when he was found, but they’ve come up with nothing. He was in an awful state...”
“I see you have given him good care. In your opinion, will he recover, Doctor? I mean his memory, and his injuries?”
“The prognosis is good, but things will take some time. He’s been through an ordeal, the poor boy. He shouldn’t be moved until he is more fully recovered; then he can perhaps be transferred to a bigger hospital. He has a back injury, which will improve with rehabilitation. And there is a strong chance his memory will come back fully, though I can’t be sure.”
Billie thanked the doctor and she and Sam made their way out of the ward. She appeared serene, but beneath her rayon dress her heart was pounding. The photograph. It was about the size of the empty frame back at the fur shop, Billie thought. How interesting. And those wrists. Those raw red wrists. Adin Brown had not had an easy time of things since he left the family house. No, Adin had not done this to himself. There was a lot she didn’t yet understand about the boy and this case, but attempted suicide was not the missing piece of the puzzle. He wasn’t some drunk youth out wandering alone, either. However Adin had ended up here, he was alive. He was alive, and there was a chance he would talk again.
Billie, for one, was deeply interested in what the young man would have to say.
Twenty-one
“Are you sure it’s him?”Nettie Brown asked down the crackling telephone line. “Are youreally sure?”
Billie took a moment to answer her client. She was sure, the little woman in her gut was sure, and that curly hair was uncannily like that in the photograph, but it was best to exercise caution when it came to something like this. “I am very confident it is your son, Mrs. Brown,” she replied, “but I can’t positively confirm it. Only you or your husband can do that. The boy fits Adin’s description, but the timing of his being taken to the hospital is right only if he spent some days elsewhere before being found.”
“Elsewhere?”
“That’s correct,” Billie said, and did not elaborate. She looked around the nurses’ station. The staff was giving her space, but the nurse who had helped her caught her eye, her blue eyes shining with hope. Billie gave her a smile and a nod and cradled the receiver close to her ear again.
“But where?” Mrs. Brown pressed, and Billie did not answer.
“He’s in and out in terms of his memory, the doctor says. Try not to be too upset if he does not recognize you right away,” she told her client in a low voice. “He’s been through a lot, I suspect. A concussion, some abrasions and cuts, and a back injury, though the doctor thinks he will recover in time. But he can’t be moved, Mrs. Brown. Not yet.”
There were no words now, the line crackling.
Then Billie detected a wet, indecipherable sound. Her client was sobbing, she realized, and a part of Billie went to pieces at the sound of the dignified and reserved woman’s raw emotion. When she’d recovered herself, Mrs. Brown vowed to leave work immediately and drive up to identify her son at the hospital. Billie had allowed room for some doubt as to the boy’s identity, but she felt very confident indeed that they had their young man. This was a great outcome, as long as he recovered from his ordeal.
“Just one thing, Mrs. Brown,” Billie added, cupping her hand around the mouthpiece and speaking in a low voice. “I want you to listen to me carefully. Perhaps you should consider keeping fairly quiet about Adin’s identity and condition, until we know what happened to him.”
There was a pause. “What do you mean? The case is closed, isn’t it? You found him.”
“I believe so. But what we don’t know is—”
“I want the case closed if you found him. That is final.”
Billie had thought this might happen. “I understand. I’m off the clock now, Mrs. Brown, if that is what you want,” she reassured her. The Browns didn’t want any surprise expenses, she appreciated that. Her fee would be forty pounds, representing four days’ work, but she suspected the Browns were barely holding on financially. “Unlessyou want more from me or the courts come calling, my work is finished. I’m confident I have found your son, but if you find otherwise I want you to let me know. However, I daresay there may be a criminal element at work here, and the police could be interested once your son is able to recall what happened to him. For the moment, at least, I would advise that you reveal his condition and location to only those who absolutely must know,” she warned.
“But we’ve been so worried. Everyone knows we are looking for him...”
“I recognize that, Mrs. Brown. Nonetheless, that is my advice.”
Again, the line was quiet. Billie waited patiently. This turn of events would be a lot for Mrs. Brown, or any person, to absorb. “You think he is in danger of some kind, don’t you?”
Billie believed that was possible, but she didn’t want to alarm the woman needlessly. “Can I wait for you here?” she responded cautiously.
