Free LCole 07 - Deadly Cove by Brendan DuBois Page A

down again, she offered me a tired smile.
    â€œThat … that felt so good.”
    â€œGlad I could help,” I said. “How are you doing?”
    She took a deep breath. “I … I didn’t sleep well. The doctor came in, a nice Pakistani woman, and I didn’t have much to say to her … seems like … oddly enough … I suffered a trauma yesterday, seeing what happened to Bronson, feeling what happened…”
    Her eyes teared up, and I handed over a tissue box, and she dabbed at her eyes. “I … I guess I can go later today. Which would be great—but after that, I just don’t know … I just don’t know.”
    I took her free hand, squeezed it. “Then worry about that when the time comes.”
    Her face colored. “You don’t understand. You’re not listening to me.”
    I squeezed her hand. “I’m listening now, and I’m trying to understand.”
    Another deep breath. “What I’m saying is that the Paula Quinn from yesterday is gone, all right? The journalist Paula Quinn. The assistant editor Paula Quinn. The tough-as-nails reporter who loved crime stories, the bloodier the better … I thought I could be above it all, until yesterday, when Bronson was murdered next to me.”
    She shifted in her hospital bed so she could look at me better. “Something just snapped, Lewis. Snapped hard—and I was scared, and I was terrified, and more than that, I was ashamed. I remembered all the stories I had done before, about arsons, murders, and rapes … and other violence … and all I cared about was getting the story first, and getting it right.”
    â€œThat was your job.”
    â€œI know,” Paula said, the tears coming back, “and I was damn good at it … and I thought about the fishing co-op, with that union guy giving a speech, and then that mini riot breaking out. Some kids trying to make a stand in the lion’s den, and for their bravery and their troubles, guys twice their weight and twice their ages tried to break them into pieces … and all I cared about was taking a good photo.”
    The woman in the next bed, separated from us by just a curtain, coughed and moaned again. “The same thing yesterday … I saw those other kids, up on the stage, challenging Bronson, and I wanted to get up there, too, to get a good photo if and when the punches started being thrown. They weren’t real. None of them were real. They were just props for my tales, that’s all … that’s all everyone has been, from my very first news story, back in college…” Another moan from Paula’s neighbor. “Now … I don’t know. I don’t think I can do this anymore, Lewis. The old Paula … she’s gone … and I don’t know what the new Paula is going to be like … and that scares the shit out of me.”
    I took her hand in both of mine. “Well, you won’t be alone, I guarantee that.”
    I felt her hand squeeze back. “I’m glad to hear that. That’s about the only cheerful thing I’ve got going for me.”
    I looked around the sparse room and said, “Your Mark been by yet?”
    She pursed her lips. “No.”
    â€œOh.”
    Paula said, “He said he’d be along shortly … but that he had a court hearing he absolutely, positively couldn’t miss. So I’m sure I’ll see him later today.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œLewis, my boy, it’s permissible to say more than ‘oh.’ Got it?”
    â€œGot it.”
    So we talked again for a while until one of the overworked nurses came in and checked her vitals, and Paula yawned and said, “You know, I just might take a nap.”
    â€œGood for you,” I said, and I got up to kiss the top of her head, and she moved a bit, so that my lips touched her cheek