Three Little Words. Carrie Alexander
light turned green. She tapped on the gas and drove through the intersection. Then what about his other books? Those cases had also involved ugly crime, real people and grieving families.
On the other hand, who was she to be judgmental?
Tess skirted the town, finding Three Pines easily enough, as she’d visited before, delivering books to a longtime library patron who’d been in residence the previous winter. The nursing home was a horizontal structure, formed from a central hub with four wings that spoked out in a crooked H formation. She spotted Connor in the parking lot outside of Wing D, leaning against the bumper of a dusty Jeep.
Her heart gave a little jump as she pulled in beside him.
It was early evening yet, but the sun had lowered far enough to send slanting rays through the tall Norway pines that surrounded the facility. Sharp-edged shadows stretched across the paved lot, casting his brooding face in an appropriately murky light.
Tess got out of her car. “Hi!”
Connor nodded. “Thanks for coming.”
“Beautiful evening,” she said, compelled to combat her doubt with chirpiness. “You’re looking well.”
“I slept for a couple of hours.”
“And shaved.”
He touched his chin. “Just for you.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She maintained a cheery smile while attempting an unobtrusive evaluation. He’d changed, too, into a fresh white T-shirt and belted khakis. But he still looked sad and withdrawn.
Her heart went out to him, even though her head kept asking questions. Was Connor Reed heartless? Greedy? Or merely an average guy stuck in a bad situation?
“So you found the place okay,” he said.
“Yesiree. I’ve been here before.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re Mary Sunshine.”
“Is that wrong?”
“Just weird.”
She cocked her head. “How so?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s the Midwestern in you.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“No, not bad. Not bad at all. Just makes me think I’ve been hanging out with the wrong people.” He reached to take her arm. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Without thinking, she withdrew, crossing her arms over her front.
Connor stopped. Looked at her for a long minute, his face darkening. Finally he shook his head.
“Suit yourself,” he said shortly, and walked toward the paths that bordered the different wings in wide gray outlines. He took the one that led to Wing D, not even looking back to see if she’d followed as he made a sharp turn and was swallowed by the shadows beneath the wide eaves of the entrance.
Tess hesitated for another moment before hurrying after him. “Look,” she said, trotting to catch up to his long strides. “I’m not—I didn’t—”
He’d stopped at the door next to an outdoor aluminum ashtray overflowing with butts. “You know who I am,” he said without looking at her.
She let out a soft sigh. “Yes.”
“You can leave right now if you don’t want to be associated with me. I understand.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
He threw a glance over his shoulder. “How come? I’m generally acknowledged to be a pretty despicable guy.”
She moved a little closer. “Maybe general knowledge isn’t what it’s cracked up to be?”
“Are you asking me a question?”
“I might be.”
“Well, now’s not the time.” He opened the door and stood aside to allow her through. “Your choice.”
She marched inside. She’d made a promise, after all.
They entered into a small reception area. An attempt had been made to improve on the sterile concrete-block look of the facility, with hunter-green paint, a couch, buffalo-plaid curtains and accessories that included duck decoys and wildlife prints. A predictable decor, but better than austerity.
A long hallway ran down the middle of the wing, with residents’ rooms on either side. There was an unstaffed reception desk near the lounge, and an empty wheelchair and a gurney parked outside one of the rooms. The place seemed deserted, except for a uniformed attendant turning a corner at the other end of the hall.
“This way,” Connor said. “Sonny’s three doors down on the left.”
An old woman with a walker poked her head into the hallway as they passed, looking both curious and eager for visitors. Tess would have stopped to chit-chat, but Connor was already disappearing into his grandfather’s room. She smiled at the woman and said hello before hurrying to catch up again.
She arrived in time to see Connor giving his grandfather a careful hug. “So you came back, eh?” the old man said.
“Told you I would. And I brought a visitor.”
A gnarled hand waved dismissal. “Bah. Visitors.”
“You might like this one.”
Tess stepped forward. “No, please, sit,” she said, when Connor’s grandfather saw her and started to rise from his chair by the window.
He didn’t listen, and straightened slowly with one hand clenched on the head of a cane. His forehead pleated with a deep scowl.
Connor steadied his grandfather’s stance. “Grandpa, this is Tess Bucek, from Alouette. Tess, my grandfather, Addison Mitchell.”
“Mr. Mitchell.” Tess offered her hand, hoping the lighthouse keeper wouldn’t bite it off.
The old man clasped it briefly, but with a strong pressure. He peered at her with eyes that were sharply blue beneath eyebrows like fuzzy caterpillars. “Bucek? Don’t recall any Buceks in Alouette.”
“Right now, I’m the only one left. My parents were Tony and Annabel Bucek. I doubt you’d remember either of them, sir.”
“Good people?”
She blinked. “Acceptable, sir.”
“Sir?” He snorted. “I s’pose you can call me Sonny. Take a seat if it suits you, there.” He lowered himself to the padded chair, letting out a rusty chuckle as Tess sat and crossed her legs. “Still a ladies’ man, eh, Connor?”
“Tess is—” Connor shrugged, looking to her for help.
“Just a visitor,” she said, smoothing her skirt. No need to embarrass the old man by baldly pointing out the reason for her visit. “I met Connor today in the library. I work there.”
Sonny grunted.
Connor excused himself and went out to the hall to find another chair. His grandfather stared out the window, ignoring Tess. She looked around the room. Besides a hospital bed, there was a TV bolted near the ceiling and a small desk with a few framed pictures on it and nothing else. No reading material.
She cleared her throat.
Sonny’s eyes swiveled to her.
“Connor asked me for help,” she confided, leaning toward the old man. He was probably the prideful type who’d need reassurance that she could be discreet. “Just between us.”
Sonny’s speckled bald head wavered with a nod. “Fine by me. The boy’s been on the rocks.”
“Oh. Actually, I didn’t mean his, um, dilemma.”
“Dilemma?”