family to you? If these show up on the news, someone’s gonna—”
“Junior has sores like that?”
“This is Junior’s back, right?”
“That’s Danny’s back. The medical examiner took those shots at Danny’s autopsy. He couldn’t figure out what caused those wounds and wondered if you could provide any insight. The ME speculated that Danny could have done that to himself with acid or maybe he’d contracted some strange flesh-eating bacteria. He took samples to analyze. But he says that if he didn’t know that Danny had been a healthy, twenty-two-year-old man, he would have assumed he had been bedridden, because these wounds are consistent with…” Auburn took a spiral notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped the pages. “Decubitus ulcers or pressure sores. The severity ranges from stage one to stage four, which these appear to be.”
“Bedsores,” Sylvia said. “What did you do to yourself, baby brother?”
Auburn reviewed his notes. “Was Danny weak, feverish, coughing, having trouble breathing?”
Sylvia gaped at him.
“Did Danny complain of lower back pain, blood in his urine, dark urine, headaches?”
“What are you saying now?”
“Danny had pneumonia and his kidneys were inflamed.”
Sylvia covered her face with her hands. “I can’t deal with this right now. Please go.”
“The bloody gauze pads, painkillers, and antibiotics we found in Danny’s room suggest that he was treating himself for something. You weren’t aware that Danny was ill?”
“No. Please go.”
Auburn gathered the photos and began walking down the side yard.
“Henry.”
He turned.
Sylvia looked beaten down. “Did Danny die from the bullet or the fall?”
“Bullet. Straight through his heart.”
27
Rory was sitting up in bed in her private hospital room, intently writing with a pencil on a sheet of pink stationery, turning the pencil lead onto its side and rubbing it against the paper. Other marked-up sheets of stationery were scattered around the bed. Startled when she heard the voices of two of her best friends in the hallway, Rory began grabbing the papers and stashing them beneath the bedcovers.
“Hello, you. Oh my gosh. You look great.” Victoria and Hannah spoke at the same time as they entered the room carrying gift bags, adorned with ribbons and balloons, and a bouquet of flowers. There were hugs and kisses.
Rory beamed. “What a surprise. Thanks for coming by.”
“Are you kidding?” Hannah put the vase of mixed flowers on a table that was covered with bouquets and potted plants. “We could hardly wait until we got the okay to see you.”
“Can I sit here?” Victoria hoisted herself onto the end of the bed and faced Rory. “Open the gifts.”
“You didn’t have to buy me anything.” Rory took chocolate truffles and bottled margaritas from the first bag. “I’m gonna enjoy these. Thank you.” From another bag, she took out lotions, lip balm, and scented hydrating mist. “Thanks! I can use these in this dry hospital air.” She spritzed some of the mist over her face. “Mmm…lavender. Heavenly. Try it.”
The girlfriends leaned in and Rory spritzed them.
“We miss you in spinning class,” Victoria said. “We dedicated a class to you.”
“The music was all girl singers.” Hannah was looking at the dozens of floral arrangements. “Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus…It was super fun.”
“I would kill to go to spinning class,” Rory said. “No exercise for me until the doctor says it’s okay. The only workout I get now is twice a day when an aide helps me walk a few times around the nurses station.”
“You can walk that far?” Victoria asked.
“I’m dizzy as hell, and if I turn my head the wrong way, I’m about to lose my lunch, but I’m walking.”
“That’s great, Ro,” Hannah said. “Are there any other restrictions on what you can do?”
“A laundry list. No bending, lifting, or straining. No overdoing anything. No driving until the
“Junior has sores like that?”
“This is Junior’s back, right?”
“That’s Danny’s back. The medical examiner took those shots at Danny’s autopsy. He couldn’t figure out what caused those wounds and wondered if you could provide any insight. The ME speculated that Danny could have done that to himself with acid or maybe he’d contracted some strange flesh-eating bacteria. He took samples to analyze. But he says that if he didn’t know that Danny had been a healthy, twenty-two-year-old man, he would have assumed he had been bedridden, because these wounds are consistent with…” Auburn took a spiral notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped the pages. “Decubitus ulcers or pressure sores. The severity ranges from stage one to stage four, which these appear to be.”
“Bedsores,” Sylvia said. “What did you do to yourself, baby brother?”
Auburn reviewed his notes. “Was Danny weak, feverish, coughing, having trouble breathing?”
Sylvia gaped at him.
“Did Danny complain of lower back pain, blood in his urine, dark urine, headaches?”
“What are you saying now?”
“Danny had pneumonia and his kidneys were inflamed.”
Sylvia covered her face with her hands. “I can’t deal with this right now. Please go.”
“The bloody gauze pads, painkillers, and antibiotics we found in Danny’s room suggest that he was treating himself for something. You weren’t aware that Danny was ill?”
“No. Please go.”
Auburn gathered the photos and began walking down the side yard.
“Henry.”
He turned.
Sylvia looked beaten down. “Did Danny die from the bullet or the fall?”
“Bullet. Straight through his heart.”
27
Rory was sitting up in bed in her private hospital room, intently writing with a pencil on a sheet of pink stationery, turning the pencil lead onto its side and rubbing it against the paper. Other marked-up sheets of stationery were scattered around the bed. Startled when she heard the voices of two of her best friends in the hallway, Rory began grabbing the papers and stashing them beneath the bedcovers.
“Hello, you. Oh my gosh. You look great.” Victoria and Hannah spoke at the same time as they entered the room carrying gift bags, adorned with ribbons and balloons, and a bouquet of flowers. There were hugs and kisses.
Rory beamed. “What a surprise. Thanks for coming by.”
“Are you kidding?” Hannah put the vase of mixed flowers on a table that was covered with bouquets and potted plants. “We could hardly wait until we got the okay to see you.”
“Can I sit here?” Victoria hoisted herself onto the end of the bed and faced Rory. “Open the gifts.”
“You didn’t have to buy me anything.” Rory took chocolate truffles and bottled margaritas from the first bag. “I’m gonna enjoy these. Thank you.” From another bag, she took out lotions, lip balm, and scented hydrating mist. “Thanks! I can use these in this dry hospital air.” She spritzed some of the mist over her face. “Mmm…lavender. Heavenly. Try it.”
The girlfriends leaned in and Rory spritzed them.
“We miss you in spinning class,” Victoria said. “We dedicated a class to you.”
“The music was all girl singers.” Hannah was looking at the dozens of floral arrangements. “Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus…It was super fun.”
“I would kill to go to spinning class,” Rory said. “No exercise for me until the doctor says it’s okay. The only workout I get now is twice a day when an aide helps me walk a few times around the nurses station.”
“You can walk that far?” Victoria asked.
“I’m dizzy as hell, and if I turn my head the wrong way, I’m about to lose my lunch, but I’m walking.”
“That’s great, Ro,” Hannah said. “Are there any other restrictions on what you can do?”
“A laundry list. No bending, lifting, or straining. No overdoing anything. No driving until the
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