Silas is sitting in the hard plastic chair while I’m pacing a hole in the rug in front of him. It was a scene straight out of one of those medical TV shows when we pulled up at the hospital. Whoever Frank called to alert we were on the way was more than ready for us.
Within seconds, Camille was whisked out of my arms, on a gurney, and disappearing through the sliding glass doors with at least eight people tending to her.
They’ve got her behind a closed door now, checking her out, while we wait. Frank has disappeared to God knows where. Silas hasn’t said a word, just sits with his arms crossed while he stares at the wall across from him.
Me, I can’t sit. I can’t stand still. The only thing I can do is walk back and forth and back and forth.
About half an hour later, the door opens and I grind to a stop while Silas pops up from his chair and moves closer to the doctor coming to talk to us. They shake hands and it’s clear this is “his guy.”
“How is she?” he asks.
The doctor spares me a glance then gives all his attention to Silas. “She’s going to be okay. Got hit on the head pretty hard. Needed a few stitches so we called in someone from plastics to make sure it won’t be too noticeable when it heals. She’s got a concussion. Camille was pretty foggy when she came to, but we ran some tests and don’t think there will be any lasting damage. We want to keep her for at least twenty-four hours for observation, then she can be released as long as someone is available to watch her closely over the next few days. She will have to follow concussion protocol.”
From my football days, I’m very aware of what happens after someone has a concussion. Lots of rest, especially mental rest, which means limited screen time. And after our conversation this morning, I know she doesn’t want to be at her parents’ house.
“I can watch over her.”
Silas and the doctor both turn to look at me.
I didn’t really mean to blurt it out like that but it doesn’t mean my offer isn’t genuine.
Silas turns back to the doctor. “When can we see her?”
“I can let you go in now. Just remember she needs rest and as little stress as possible.”
Silas barely lets him finish before he’s walking past him into the room. I’m close behind him.
Camille looks small in the hospital bed. There’s a bandage covering the wound on her forehead. Her eyes are closed but she must hear us enter because she says in a weak voice, “Am I dead?”
Silas lets out a relieved laugh. “No, but I should kill you for scaring me like that.” He goes to one side while I take the other. She opens her eyes, clearly surprised at seeing us both here together.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Like someone hit me on the head.”
Silas leans close, all playfulness gone. “Who did this to you?”
She licks her lips and has to clear her throat before she can manage to get the words out. “Margaret.”
This knocks me back while Silas doesn’t seem surprised his wife attacked his sister.
But he does seem to be struggling with wanting to be here with her and also wanting to track down his wife.
“I can stay with her if there’s something you need to take care of.”
He stares at me long enough that I know he’s weighing his options. Then he looks at Camille. “I won’t be long.” He squeezes her hand, then leaves the room.
Camille shifts in the bed until she’s turned slightly my way. She winces at the movement.
“Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds?” The curtains are drawn and the overhead lights are off. The only light in the room is coming from the variety of monitors next to the bed.
“No. I want you to tell me what happened. How did I get here?”
I give her a quick rundown of how I found her and the ensuing events. She takes in everything I tell her with watery eyes.
Pulling a chair close the side of the bed, I sit so she doesn’t have to look up at me. “Camille, it’s time to trust me and tell me what’s going on.”
“Oh, Hank. It’s so bad.” Once she starts, the words just tumble out. Everything leading up to last Saturday when Aubrey Price spent the day as her, the same day Ben died, then the events of this week, including Silas’s right-hand man, Frank, and the USB drive he showed up with this afternoon.
