Part 20 (1/2)
Ridiculous, my little voice of reason whispered. Do you see any cops?
Not a single one. I took a breath and slipped inside. A large man lay beneath a blue hospital blanket, tubes in his nose and mouth, an IV in his hand, and a heart monitor behind him making slow blips across the screen. The top of his head was swathed in bandages, and his eyelids were purple and swollen, yet he did bear a striking resemblance to Harding, who was a big man-craggy-featured, thick-bodied, ham-handed, and intimidating, with eyes that were cold and a gaze that was remorseless. I'd never forget his piercing stare, or how I'd gotten entangled with him in the first place.
Through a series of events, the main one being the purchase of a box of what I thought was fertilizer, I had been able to tie Harding to a murder-make that a murder and an attempted murder (mine)-that got him sent to prison for a very long time. I knew he'd been sent away. I was in the courtroom when the sentence was read and he was led out in handcuffs. Thus, the man in that bed could not be Harding. Still, he bore a strong resemblance. Could he be a brother?
I slid his bedside chart from the holder, flipped open the cover, and focused on the name at the top. Patient: Thomas Harding.
I gripped the chart, staring at the name in disbelief. Tom Harding!! Why wasn't he under guard? Where were the police to keep him from escaping?
I heard footsteps coming toward the room and quickly slid the chart back in place. As I turned to go, I glanced once more at the huge form lying so deathly still.
Harding's eyes were open.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
Ifroze, unable to draw a breath. Wide-eyed, all I could do was stare back. Where was my bodyguard when I needed him?
A sudden recollection flashed into my mind-the two detectives quizzing me about possible enemies.
”Anyone else you can think of who might have reason to want to harm you?”
”Not off the top of my head, but I did help put a few felons behind bars.”
”How many are we talking about? Two? Three?”
”More like seven.”
”You helped convict seven felons?”
”Make that eight. And they were all involved in murders.”
One of those eight lay right in front of me.
Harding's puffy eyelids fluttered shut. I watched him for a moment longer, then filled my lungs with air. Had he recognized me? Was he even conscious?
I ran from the room straight into Marco's arms. ”It's him,” I said breathlessly. ”It's Harding.”
”Are you sure?”
”I saw his name on the chart! Why is that man here without cops?”
Marco ushered me away from the doorway and said quietly, ”I don't know what he's doing here, but I sure as h.e.l.l intend to find out.”
As we started toward the central nurses' station, I said, ”The nurses won't be able to tell you anything unless you're family.”
”Okay, I'll call Reilly. There's a lounge on this floor somewhere, isn't there?”
He pulled out his cell phone, but I pushed his hand down before a nurse saw him. ”You can't use that in here.”
”Then let's go outside.”
We did a quick walk to the elevator and rode down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Outside the back entrance, Marco made his call while I paced, s.h.i.+vering in spite of my warm coat. Seeing Harding was like being caught in a bad flashback, making me relive the terror that man had caused me.
Take it easy, Abby, my little voice of reason said. If Harding is hooked up to all those tubes, with no cops to watch him, the man must be near death. He can't hurt you. So forget about him. Stay focused.
”Sean,” Marco said, jolting me out of my musing. ”Hey, man. I have a favor to ask. Abby and I just delivered flowers to the hospital, and who should we see but Tom Harding. Yeah, formerly of Tom's Green Thumb. Right. That's what I thought. He seems to be a patient here but he doesn't have any guards. Yes, I'm serious. Will you look into it? Thanks, man.”
Marco closed his phone. ”Done.”
”When will he get back to you?”
”As soon as he can. Are we finished here now? Can we head back to Bloomers?”
I nodded, my heart still racing. Wasn't there something I'd wanted to do after making the deliveries?
”Are you okay?” Marco asked, glancing my way as we headed toward the minivan.
”A little rattled.”
”Don't worry about Harding. He's obviously not a threat.”
”That's what I've been telling myself, Marco, but I'd feel a whole lot better if I knew for sure Harding wasn't going to wake up tomorrow, throw back that blanket, and leap out of bed crying, 'It's a miracle! I'm alive. Now I have a score to settle with that meddlesome florist.' ”
”Abby, come on. You saw the guy. He's got tubes in every orifice.”
Still, as we headed back toward Bloomers, I couldn't stop thinking about Harding. ”When the detectives interviewed me, they asked about enemies, specifically the ones I'd helped put behind bars and whether any had been released. Now I can't help but wonder whether Harding was behind the kidnappings. Remember the death threats he shouted at me after I testified against him? Maybe he's trying to make good on them.”
”Harding didn't look like he was in any shape to mastermind anything.”
”Yeah, now. But how about before he was admitted? I'll have to ask Nikki to take a peek at his medical chart.”
”Are you sure an X-ray tech has open access to medical records? You don't want her to get into trouble.”
”She won't if she's careful.”
At Marco's skeptical glance, I said, ”It's what girlfriends do for each other, remember?”
”How about leaving Nikki out of this and letting me worry about your safety? That's why I'm here. Or don't you trust me on that, either?”
”Marco, I trust you! I know I'm overreacting. It's just not often I run into a man I hoped I'd never lay eyes on again-and vice versa.”
Marco reached over to squeeze my hand. ”Forget about Harding, babe. Let it go.”
As if it were easy to forget that the man had tried to kill me.
Remembering one of Grace's stress-buster tips, I drew in a deep breath while imagining Tom Harding inside a big balloon. Then I let out all the air in my lungs with a whoosh, sending the balloon with Harding in it up to the sky to be carried off by a strong breeze.