"Got that?"
Pat backed down. "All right. If that's the way you want it."
"That's the way I want it."
"As soon as this is cleared up, I'll come out to the house."
Lucky didn't hear him. He was already headed for his car. It was only a short distance from the accident site to the office of Tyler Drilling. On the one hand, it seemed the longest drive he'd ever made. On the other, he was there far too soon, before he had found the words he must say.
Chase's car was parked out front. Lucky pushed open the door of his Mustang. It felt as though it weighed a ton. On his way into the office he met Chase coming out.
"Hey, where've you been all day? Mother said you struck out first thing this morning and hadn't been seen since." He was obviously in a hurry, and didn't give Lucky time to answer.
"George Young called and wants to know when we plan to make that note payment. That s.o.b. is still putting pressure on us, fire or no fire. I heard from somebody at the courthouse that Little Alvin and Jack Ed both pleaded guilty to arson today and will be sentenced sometime next week. I also met with the guy from the insurance company for two and a half hours. Thank God we kept up those premiums. I'll tell you all about that later. Right now I'm late. I'm supposed to meet Tanya at—"
"Chase, wait a minute." He laid his hand on his brother's shoulder, stopping him halfway down the steps. His lips began to
tremble, and Chase's image blurred because of his tears. Lucky's voice faltered. He unsuccessfully cleared his throat. "Chase—"
God, how did one tell a man that the woman he loved and the child she carried were dead?
* * *
The following morning Marcie Johns was moved out of intensive care and into a regular room at St. Luke's Methodist Hospital. She had suffered a concussion, a broken arm and collarbone, and trauma, but none of her injuries had been critical.
She was considered fortunate, since the driver of the other vehicle involved in the accident, a Texas Tech student home for the summer, and Marcie's passenger, Tanya Tyler, had been fatalities. The student had run a stop sign and hit Marcie's car broadside. Most considered it a blessing that he and Tanya had died instantly upon impact.
Lucky had wanted to hit anybody he overheard saying such a thing, and was only glad that, so far, nobody had said it to Chase.
His brother wasn't himself. He was acting like a crazy man. A little unreasonableness was justified, but when he had announced that he was going to the hospital to speak with Marcie, the other members of his family had been shocked and had pleaded with him to reconsider. No amount of persuasion could change his mind, however, so Laurie had instructed Lucky to go with his brother and "take care of him."
Together they walked down the corridor of the hospital toward the room assigned to Ms. Johns. "Why are you so bent on seeing her?" Lucky asked quietly, hoping that even now Chase would change his mind. "If anybody catches us with her, they'll throw us out of here. She's still in serious condition, and not supposed to have visitors."
Chase was walking with the determined tread of a prophet on a mission. He pushed open the door and entered the shadowed room. Lucky, after a quick glance over his shoulder, went in behind him. He vaguely remembered Marcie Johns from high school, and knew her now only by sight. She was an attractive woman, but one couldn't tell by looking at her now.
In spite of the fact that she had been wearing her seat belt, she'd been thrown against the windshield with enough force to bruise and abrade her face. Both eyes were ringed with bruises. Her nose and lips were grotesquely swollen. On her shoulder was a cast designed to keep her broken arm elevated.
Lucky was moved to pity. "Chase, for godsake, let's get out of here. We shouldn't bother her."
He had spoken so softly that the words were barely audible, but she heard them and opened her eyes. When she saw Chase, she moaned and made a move as though she wanted to reach out to him.
"Chase, I'm sorry," she wheezed. "So sorry."
Apparently she had been advised that her passenger hadn't survived. She would have had to know sooner or later, of course, but it seemed to Lucky that later would have been preferable. The additional mental anguish couldn't be good for her body's healing process.
"We … we never even saw him." Her voice was thin and faint. "It was just … a racket … and…"
Chase lowered himself into the chair beside her bed. His features were distorted by grief. Lines seemed to have been carved into his face overnight. The area beneath his eyes was almost as dark as Marcie's. His dark hair was a mess. He hadn't shaved.
"I want to know about … Tanya," he said, his voice tearing on her name. "What kind of mood was she in? What was she saying? What were her last words?"
Lucky groaned, "Chase, don't do this to yourself."
Chase irritably threw off the hand Lucky placed on his shoulder. "Tell me, Marcie, what was she doing, saying, when … when that bastard killed her?"
Lucky lowered his forehead into one of his hands and massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger. His insides were twisted. He couldn't even imagine the hell Chase was going through.
Or maybe he could. What if Devon had been killed yesterday? What if, after he had angrily left her, she had gone out and needlessly been killed by a driver running a stop sign? Wouldn't he be acting just as unbalanced as Chase? Wouldn't he be damning himself for not telling her one more time that he loved her no matter what?