Hidden in the Blood: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 5)

Chapter Thirty-Three: Al, Thursday

Once they were gone, Carl came by for another session. This time, Al followed behind him with the walker to a room where he was asked to try walking on his own, between parallel bars he could grab if he felt unsteady. He'd seen this scene in countless TV shows, the hero battling back from disability with a grimace on his face, but for him it wasn't so dramatic. He went a whole five steps at a time without having to grab the bars. Carl made him do it over and over again, and from time to time made him stop and stand still without grabbing the bars. He explained, "Just standing straight and still without aid is a monumental feat of balance and strength, something we take for granted when we're well. You're getting stronger, but it will take some time before you're getting around without the walker, and then you'll graduate to a walking stick."

After about an hour of physical therapy, Carl walked him back to his room at the ICU, where he was surprised to see he had a visitor. "Agnes!" he said, unable to suppress a smile.

When she saw him, she gasped. "You're walking!"

"That's right, you didn't see me walk, last time."

"And your bandage is off!"

"Yeah, they just took out the stitches today. Do I look like Frankenstein's monster?"

She shook her head, and to Al's surprise her face crumpled, and she strode forward and wrapped her arms around him. Carl cleared his throat and excused himself.

It was an awkward hug, but he let go of the walker and did his best to return it, hoping she'd be able to hold him up if he lost his strength. He heard her sniffing and said, "Hey, what's wrong, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she squeaked. "It's just so nice that I can give you a hug, now. You've been in bed every time I've visited."

"Oh, honey," he said, then kicked himself for his stupid mouth. He often called her honey when they were together. It must have been the feel of her in his arms, the muscle memory it sparked, that reset his head to the late Nineties. She was his everything, once, and she felt just as good now as she did then, so he might have held her longer than was decent for a man married to another woman. Of course, he'd left decency in the rear view mirror years ago when he welcomed Lauren into his bed, at Rachel's invitation, yes, but a couple of times without. What was one hug for an old friend and former flame?

"Thank you," she said. "I really needed this."

"Are you okay? Really?"

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "Yeah. I officially filed divorce papers today, and gave a lawyer testimony that could be used against Patrick."

"Oh. Wow. This is going ahead, then."

"Yeah." She looked deep into his eyes and said, "I'm going to be a free woman, soon."

Oh, fuck. He needed to deflect, because he knew what she was implying, and he didn't want to break her heart. "This other lawyer," he said, "was his name Mandeep Randhawa?"

She blinked in surprise. "That's right. How did you know?"

"He got me out of jail, once."

She gasped. "You were in jail? Why?"

"Speeding and fleeing the police."

Her mouth dropped open. "What the fuck? Why did you do that?"

"I was racing to help Lauren. She was doing a stakeout over in Aldergrove, and a man she was watching had something of hers, and she'd confronted him. I didn't know at the time that she had the situation in hand, that I didn't need to hurry so recklessly, but my little stunt actually had the effect of drawing the police right to where Lauren was struggling with the guy, and by arresting the guy they actually broke open a case we were working on."