Free Pursuit by Gene Hackman

coma.”
    â€œWhen will she recover; come out of it?”
    Julie knew that voice, someone close, a person she loved. She wanted to respond.
    â€œMom? Ma, open your eyes. It’s Cheryl.”
    â€œIn school. Why aren’t you—”
    â€œMrs. Worth, I’m Dr. Jacob. How are you feeling?”
    â€œCheryl?”
    â€œShe’s right here.”
    Julie felt her daughter’s arms around her neck.
    â€œI love you, Mom, you okay?”
    Julie wanted to see her daughter. She forced her eyes open and tried to smile. Cheryl’s face was close to hers. She saw a hand caressing her daughter’s cheek. A faraway voice echoed as if coming from a cavern.
    â€œShe’ll be fine. It will take time and rest.”
    That seemed like a good idea to Julie. She slipped away, feeling only a slight dampness on her hand that held her daughter’s cheek.

    â€œMrs. Worth. Wake up.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou were having a bad dream. Heard you all the way down at the nurse’s station. Do you need anything? Something for pain?”
    â€œOkay, but no, I mean I’m not in pain. It was just a—”
    â€œI’ll change that damp pillowcase. You’re perspiring a great deal.”
    â€œMaybe a glass of water. How long have I been sleeping? Have I been here awhile?”
    The woman checked the chart at the end of the bed. “Says here you were admitted day before yesterday, so about thirty-six hours, give or take a few.”
    â€œThank you. What’s your name again, please?”
    The nurse came closer to the bed and pushed her badge pinned to her chest. “Mary Ann. If you need anything, buzz me.” She waited while Julie drank her water and then slipped out of the private room.
    On her nightstand, the clock flashed three thirty. She dreamt of loud noises pounding in her ear, a dizzy roller-coaster ride, and a sharp pain under her ribs. A man withwet pants and a grin. Julie pulled her legs to the edge of the bed and tried to stand, her left leg bandaged in the same place where she had been sprayed with a shotgun. No real pain, just a dull ache. Her left arm and shoulder similarly swathed in white dressing.
    A little rocky, she made her way to the bathroom. When she turned on the light, the image in the mirror above the sink startled her. A welt on her left cheekbone darkened her eye and the bridge of her nose. A bandage around her head kept a bulging compress above her ear in place. She was alive, if nothing else. Shuffling back to bed, she stopped at the window. Her room seemed to be at least five stories up. A bright neon hotel sign was to the east. Beyond, blinking lights of an all-night Walgreens.
    Again, the image of a man came to her, defying a reaction. “Shoot me,” he said. Her days had been so affected by guns, living each day strapped to a three-pound metal death piece. It had become her ambivalent life.

H ey, Sarge. Did I wake you?” Todd looked freshly scrubbed, his white shirt set off by a slim reddish tie. His hair, a modified brush cut.
    â€œNah, I’ve been awake off and on since three. What’s up, Mr. Military?”
    â€œMilitary? Please, those days are over. How you feeling?”
    â€œPretty good. Slept a lot in the last few days. In and out.” Mostly out. Julie used the remote control to raise herself to a seated position. “Thanks for coming by. What you been doing?”
    â€œChecking on that pickup truck.” Todd pulled a chair up close to the bed.
    Julie wracked her brain for a connection.
    â€œWe recovered it parked behind an all-night gas station on Central. All messed up on the right side, with paint from your Charger.”
    She tried faking it until she could catch up. “Was it—”
    â€œYeah, stolen. No prints. Belonged to a kid who worked in a body shop.”
    â€œDid he check out?”
    â€œYou have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Todd walked over to