18

“It’s her,” Harris said, standing at Weezy’s bedside and staring down at her. “It’s really her.”

His devastated expression convinced Jack that he was the real deal. The question now would be: Would he believe Jack and Eddie were the real deal?

The guy had already turned out to be a royal pain in the ass . . .

First, back at the house, he’d started questioning the accident and if there’d really been one. Jack had shown him the police report but that hadn’t convinced him because it was all about a Jane Doe.

Harris had wanted to take the subway—more public. Jack hadn’t—too public. Before getting into the cab Harris had demanded some ID from Eddie and had questioned why he and “Louise” had different names. Eddie had patiently explained that she hadn’t changed back to her maiden name since her husband’s death.

Harris had reluctantly accepted that as a possibility. Then he’d asked Jack for ID.

Like, yeah, he was going to see something. In his dreams.

Jack had pushed Harris into the cab and he was a twitchfest the whole trip, asking the driver over and over if he was really a cabby and if he was really taking them to Mount Sinai Hospital.

But now . . . seeing was believing.

“Is she ever going to wake up?” he said, his face full of angst as he turned to them.

“The doctor’s not sure,” Jack said quickly, before Eddie could speak. “It’s touch and go. She might enter a persistent vegetative state.”

This earned a questioning look from Eddie that Jack ignored. He’d pulled the term out of his store of unwanted coma lore.

“Like that lady in Florida?” Harris said.

Jack nodded. “Exactly. Terry Schiavo all over again.” He hoped Eddie would stay clammed.

Harris turned back to the bed and stepped closer to Weezy. He shook her shoulder as he leaned over her. He spoke in a low voice but Jack caught the words.

“Wake up, Louise. You’ve got to wake up. I think I’ve found him. I think I know who he is.”

“Found who?” Jack said.

Harris jumped and turned. “Nothing. A private matter.” He suddenly looked scared. “I don’t care what the report says, I’ll bet this wasn’t an accident. They found her and got to her. They’ve finally silenced her.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Jack said, flicking a glance at Eddie. “She mustn’t be silenced. I think she knew they were closing in, and that’s why she came to her brother here. To continue her quest for the truth.”

Eddie cleared his throat. “Yes. I, um, run a small security firm—”

Harris stiffened. “Securities?”

Jack wondered why that word would cause a reaction.

“No,” Eddy said. “Security—as in building security. You know, hospitals and such.” He nodded toward Jack. “This is one of my employees.”

Swell. Now I’m working for Eddie.

Jack said, “Yeah. She told us she thought she might need some protection.”

Harris snorted and looked back at the bed. “Some protection.”

“She was just bringing us up to speed,” Jack said. “She was worried about endangering her brother, so she was very stingy with her information.”

Harris nodded, a little more enthusiastic now. “Oh, yeah. That was Louise, all right.”

“You said it.” Jack looked at Eddie. “Like pulling teeth, right, boss?”

Eddie turned away. It looked like he might be fighting tears but Jack was sure he was fighting off a smile from the “boss” line. When he turned back he was composed.

“Sorry. This is very hard.”

Jack said, “Let me be blunt here: I’m thinking that she thought someone wanted her dead. Am I right?”

Harris nodded. “Permanently silenced, yeah.”

Jack pressed his case. “Well, it’s not permanent, not as long as she’s breathing and has a chance to come out of this coma. So that means someone might try again. We can’t protect her very well if we don’t know who we’re protecting her from. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

Jack was already winging it, so he decided to push it a little further.

“She told us about someone special, someone close to her that she trusted, but she wouldn’t give us a name.” Jack narrowed his eyelids and fixed a B-movie stare on Harris. “I’ve got a feeling that trusted guy is you.”

He nodded. “Well, I was—I mean, I am.”

“Then you need to fill in the blank spaces she left us—for her sake.”

“I don’t know . . .”

Eddie said, “I told you: I can’t protect my sister if—”

“—if you don’t know who to protect her from. Right-right-right. But you need to know that she didn’t tell me much. Only just enough to help her find what she was looking for.”

“We’ll take whatever you can give,” Jack said.

He chewed his lip. “Okay. Is there someplace private we can talk? You know, where we can’t be overheard?”

Jack thought about that. Julio’s was out—didn’t want anyone tailing him there. Then he remembered that they were right across the street from Central Park.

“How about down by the reservoir? We can find an isolated spot in the open where no one’s in earshot and—”

Harris made a face. “Ever hear of a parabolic microphone? Someone could be listening in from a hundred yards away. We’d be better off in a bar or a restaurant.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s way before the dinner crowd. We should have no problem finding an isolated table in a midscale place.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that. He’d always linked paranoia to longevity, though Harris was taking it a bit far.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

But no way Harris was picking the restaurant.