It's all got a bit serious – sorry about that! A huge thanks for all the reviews. Bee
Chapter Four
Back at the party, Mel and some of the others were already discussing possible choices for next year's production. It was only when Clem came over looking for Virgil that she realised he'd been gone for twenty minutes. It should only have taken him half that time.
"Poor Virg," Clem laughed. "He'll have been cornered by Neil's mom. She'll keep him talking half the night."
Mel laughed too and went back to her conversation. It was another ten minutes before she really started to worry. Virgil surely wouldn't have taken this long – he'd promised to hurry back. Okay, he was ridiculously polite – that was one of the things she loved about him - and she knew he would have put up with Mrs Kennedy's chatter for a lot longer than most people, but surely even he would have excused himself after thirty minutes. He really should have been back by now, she thought. Slipping away from the others she headed off to find Dylan. Pulling out her phone she called Virgil but there was no answer and that really got her worried.
"Dylan!" Not caring that he was deep in conversation with one of the girls, Mel grabbed his arm and pulled him away.
"What?" Dylan asked in exasperation as the girl looked at them in surprise and walked away. "Jane, wait..." He moved to go after her but Mel pulled him back.
"Have you seen Virgil? He took Gordon down to Neil's a good half hour ago. I don't know if he's come back yet."
"What?"Dylan was surprised. "Did you call him?"
"No answer." Mel looked out of the window. "It's not exactly the best night for a stroll. You don't think something's happened to him, do you?"
"Of course not." Dylan refused to entertain the idea. But then where was Virgil? He knew his friend too well to even consider the prospect of him having been sidetracked by another girl. A nagging worry began to grow as he remembered McCauley's earlier threats. Surely he hadn't come back to make good on them?
"Come on," he said, pulling Mel towards the door. "Let's walk down to the Kennedy house and see what's going on. Gordon wasn't in the best of moods when they left; Virgil's probably trying to talk him round."
They stepped outside and Mel would have happily run straight back into the house if it wasn't for her concern for Virgil. Picking her way through the puddles on the drive she was thankful that at least the rain had stopped. That explained it, she thought – Virgil was just waiting for a break in the rain before he came back. He'd be there at any moment. Hugging her arms around herself to keep warm, she followed Dylan down the drive, fully expecting to see Virgil making his way back.
It was Dylan's frantic cry of "Virgil!" which snapped Mel out of her reverie and got her running. As she reached the gate she came to a dead stop as she tried to comprehend the scene in front of her. Dylan knelt in the road beside the twisted body of his friend. Virgil lay motionless, and she didn't think it was just rainwater that pooled around his head.
For a moment she couldn't do anything except stare at Virgil. Then, as Dylan began to yell at her to get help, she was suddenly able to move, running back towards Clem's house. By the time she got inside she was screaming for someone to call an ambulance. The music was turned off and people were running out to the street before she could get her breath back. Her legs gave way and she collapsed into a chair. Jane stayed with her, though she kept looking anxiously towards the door. But no one came back to let them know what was happening.
"I need to see him," Mel said suddenly, pushing Jane's arm away and heading shakily outside. Now the street was full of people and she couldn't see Virgil who was hidden by the group of onlookers. In the distance she heard the sound of sirens and a moment later a police car pulled up alongside them.
The commotion had alerted the occupants of the nearby houses to the trouble and people were beginning to come outside to see what was going on. As an ambulance turned into the street Mel felt a moment's relief before she suddenly heard running footsteps. She knew just who had come charging over to find out what the problem was even before she heard Gordon crying out for his brother.
"Gordon!" Reaching out for him she tried to hold him back, but at that moment the police had managed to get everyone moved back so that the ambulance could get close. As the group of onlookers parted Gordon was able to see his brother for the first time.
"Virgil!" Mel lost her grip on Gordon as he charged forward, nearly knocking over one of the paramedics. He was grabbed by one of the policemen before he could reach his brother.
"Get off me!" he yelled, struggling to get out of the man's grasp. "That's my brother. Let me see him."
"Your brother, huh?" the man asked. "Well, how about you give us a few details while the paramedics see what they can do for him?"
Gordon suddenly realised he had no idea what had happened to leave his brother lying unconscious in the road, but he knew straight away who was responsible. "What happened? Was there a fight?"
"Looks like a car hit him," the officer said. "Why would you think there was a fight? Is there something I need to know?"
Gordon turned to stare at him. "James McCauley. That's all you need to know. He did this."
"Why makes you say that?" the man asked, getting out his notebook. "You didn't see anything, did you?"
"No, but he hates Virg, he's been out to get him for ages."
"But you didn't actually see anything?"
"No, but he did it. I know he did." Gordon had never been more certain of anything in his life.
"Alright, kid," the man said sympathetically, "We'll look into it. We'll talk to all the people here and we'll get someone over to this McCauley fellow, okay? Now in the meantime, how about you give me your brother's details? You live round here? We need to let your parents know what's going on."
"Parent," Gordon said numbly, "My mom's dead." Ignoring the policeman's startled look he stared across to where the paramedics were still working on Virgil. He wondered why they didn't get him off the road and into the ambulance. He must be so cold lying there on the ground. Were his injuries really so bad that he couldn't be moved somewhere more comfortable? Gordon had to fight to hold back the panic which was threatening to overwhelm him.
"Okay," the officer said slowly. "How about your dad?"
On autopilot, Gordon recited his father's contact details and told the officer what he needed to know about Virgil. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on his brother as the paramedics continued to tend to him, eventually becoming aware that Melanie had come to stand beside him.
"How is he?" she asked.
"I don't know. What happened?"
"He didn't come back after he'd taken you to Neil's. We thought he was talking to Neil's mom. It was only when he'd been gone half an hour I started to worry." Then a terrifying thought cut through the numbness and she caught his arm.
" Gordon, please tell me he wasn't lying there all that time."
Gordon turned to look at her, an expression of horror crossing his face as he took in what she was saying.
"He went straight back. I wasn't talking to him. I didn't want him to come inside. It's my fault." His voice was small and shaken. If only he'd done as he was told and gone straight to Neil's, Virgil wouldn't have had to escort him there. He'd be safely at the party now, not lying unconscious and bleeding in the road.
"No it's not. You didn't do this to him."
"You know who did though, don't you?" Gordon said bitterly.
"Well, the only person who'd want to hurt Virgil is James. Was he hanging around when you left?"
"No, of course not. Do you think I'd have let Virg go back alone if I'd known he was there?"
"No, I guess not." A thought struck her. "Does your father know?"
"The police are calling him. I should have done it, but..." Gordon didn't want to speak to his father right now, knowing that if he did he'd have to describe the scene in front of him. The paramedics finally seemed to be ready to move Virgil – he'd been lifted up onto a stretcher, an IV in his arm and an oxygen mask covering his face. Gordon felt sick at the sight.
The policeman was back.
"Okay, I've spoken to your father. He says to meet him at the hospital. Can you get a ride over there?"
"I'll drive." It was Dylan.
"How is he?" Mel whispered.
"I don't know. Not good."
All three watched the paramedic shut the ambulance door before the vehicle set off, quickly picking up speed as it headed off to the hospital. As it rounded the corner the sirens began to wail.
Jeff Tracy usually walked into a room calmly, the force of his personality instantly alerting people to his presence. He was confident, assertive and downright impressive – the kind of man you'd trust implicitly, whether it was with a rocket to the moon or a major investment. But when he ran into the Emergency Room that night, all his usual self-control was gone. It was a shocked and frightened man who approached the receptionist, failing to even see his other son sitting anxiously at the other end of the room.
"Dad!" Gordon spotted his father and left his seat to run over to him just as Jeff attracted the attention of the woman at the desk.
"My son, Virgil... Virgil Tracy. He was brought in here earlier. He was hit by a car." Saying the words aloud brought a vivid image of his son flying through the air to land in the road. He cursed himself – he wasn't usually that imaginative, why did he have to start now?
As the woman searched for the information, Gordon reached his father and threw himself at him in a way he hadn't done for years.
"Dad, you're here."
"Gordon? It's okay, son. What have they said about Virgil?"
"Nothing. They won't tell me anything. They took Virgil away in the ambulance and I haven't seen him since." He was close to tears and Jeff hated to think what he'd had to witness. He closed his eyes for a moment in distress, once again picturing his son lying in the road.
Hugging his younger son, Jeff turned back to the woman at the desk.
"I'm sorry, I don't have any update for you. The doctors are with him now. As soon as they've finished their assessment they'll let you know what's going on. You'll need to fill out the paperwork, I'm afraid."
Jeff tried to contain his frustration. He didn't want to fill out the paperwork and he didn't want to wait. He wanted news right there and then. The helplessness which he felt at that moment was a strange and unwelcome sensation. Most of the time he got what he wanted pretty much instantly. This was one of the times when it didn't matter that he was a billionaire. Throwing his weight around would achieve nothing, he would just have to wait. He prayed that the doctors would be out soon with good news. Okay, Gordon looked like he was in shock, but then he had seen his brother hurt. Surely things couldn't be that bad.
"Come on, son," he said. "Let's sit down and you can tell me all about it."
Gordon lost what little colour he still had and Jeff steered him over to a quiet corner. He'd registered Dylan and Melanie across the room, but right now he needed to talk to his son. Laying the hospital forms to one side, he turned to face Gordon.
Gordon told him everything – how he'd lied about going straight to Neil's, his last angry words to Virgil. He waited for his father to explode in fury at his behaviour, to blame him for what had happened to his brother. He knew he deserved it. But his father was silent. And to Gordon that was far worse. He started to apologise again but Jeff just held up a hand.
"Don't. Gordon, just... don't." He couldn't deal with anything other than Virgil right now.
Gordon was silent for a moment. Finally he spoke again.
"The police came. I told them it was McCauley. Who else could it be?"
Jeff had been well aware of the simmering feud between Virgil and James McCauley, but he hadn't expected things to escalate like this. When he'd spoken to Virgil his middle son had played down the issue, telling him McCauley wouldn't be foolish enough to cause any real trouble. But like Gordon, he didn't see who else could be responsible. It was too much of a coincidence that someone else should have hurt his son.
"We'll find out what happened, I promise," he told Gordon.
He studied Gordon quietly. He knew he should be angry with him but he could see how upset he was and how hard he was trying to hold it together. The flat tone of his voice plus the slight shake of his hands told him that the boy was close to breaking point. He took Gordon's hands in his.
"How are you doing, Gordon?" he asked. "You're in shock yourself by the look of it."
"I'm alright. I just wish they'd hurry up and tell us something about Virgil. Dad, there was so much blood and he wasn't moving. I thought he was dead at first... It was horrible. The paramedics were working on him and all I could do was watch – they wouldn't let me near him."
His voice cracked with the emotion of it all and Jeff hugged him closely, glad to be able to do something for at least one of his boys. It didn't sound good, he thought and he looked once again at the door to the ER, willing someone to come out and tell him just what was happening with Virgil.
Someone did come over, but it was Dylan, followed at a distance by Melanie.
"Uh, Mr Tracy, have you heard anything?"
"Not yet, Dylan. We have to wait for the doctors to check him out. They can't be much longer." I hope , he thought. He was beginning to think if it was taking this long for the doctors to give him some news, then things must be bad.
"Why don't you two tell me what happened?" he suggested, wondering if they would support Gordon's theory. But Dylan and Mel, whilst agreeing that no one other than James could possibly be responsible, were equally unable to provide any solid evidence. Jeff knew that unless the police could find proof, mere suspicion wasn't going to be enough.
Excusing himself he headed off to call Grandma. Alan had been asleep when the police had called and they'd decided not to wake him. He knew his mother would be waiting anxiously beside the phone and he wished he had some news for her.
It was almost an hour later when the doctor came out to give him news of Virgil. The waiting had been bad, but the panic he felt upon seeing the man come through the door and head over to them after a quick consultation with the receptionist almost made Jeff's heart stop.
"Mr Tracy?" the doctor asked. "I'm Doctor Flynn, I've been treating your son."
Jeff stood up, steeled himself for the news and looked the man in the eye. He kept a hand on Gordon's shoulder, feeling his son tremble as they listened to the doctor.
"We've managed to stabilise Virgil. Thankfully it looks as if the car which hit him wasn't going terribly fast, but he has some nasty injuries all the same."
Jeff felt Gordon flinch and gripped his shoulder even tighter. The doctor went on,
"Our major concern is the head injury. He has a severe concussion and he's still unconscious. His leg is broken – it would have taken the initial impact before he was thrown onto the car. In addition, he has numerous cuts and bruises, but it's the bruising to his back that's causing us some concern. We can't rule out a spinal injury at present. I've ordered some scans - for his back and his head - and we're taking him up shortly."
"Is he going to be okay?" It was Gordon who asked the question, his voice little more than a whisper.
"We're doing everything we can for him," the doctor said. "Once the scans are completed we'll have him moved to the ICU."
That wasn't really what Gordon wanted to know. What he really wondered was whether his brother would be paralysed or brain damaged, but to say the words aloud might make it real, so he let his fears go unspoken. He guessed the others felt the same way when no one else pressed the doctor further.
"Can we see him?" Jeff asked.
"Just you," the doctor said, much to Gordon's frustration. "And only for a little while – he'll be going for his scan in a few minutes."
Jeff looked at Gordon anxiously. "I have to go to Virgil. Will you be okay? You'll be able to see him later."
"I'll be okay," Gordon said resignedly, sitting back down along with Dylan and a quietly sobbing Mel.
This wasn't the first time Jeff had stood at Virgil's bedside in a hospital, but it was by far the worst. Although the doctor had warned him about the various pieces of medical equipment attached to his son, actually seeing them was a shock. The sounds of the various machines should have been reassuring, proving to him that his son was alive, but each beep was a reminder of just how badly hurt he was, how dependent he was on all this equipment. Jeff placed a shaking hand on his son's shoulder. Virgil looked so pale, his head wrapped in bandages, dried blood covering his face. Jeff felt a desperate pity for his son, mixed with a terrible fury as he wondered who had done this. Was it James McCauley who had deliberately run his son down? Or was it an accident? Just some random motorist who had hit Virgil then panicked and driven off? As he whispered words of reassurance to his son, wondering if he could hear them, he promised him he'd find out what had happened.
"I don't know, Virgil," he said wearily. "Why is it always you who ends up in situations like this? Your brothers have caused me plenty of problems over the years, but you... you may be the quiet one, but when you decide to do something to get my attention you outdo the lot of them. You've put years on me, you know that?"
An orderly entered just then, ready to take Virgil away, so with a final few words of comfort to his son Jeff returned to the waiting room trying to decide what to tell his mother and dreading the calls he'd have to make to Scott and John.
It was another hour and a half before the doctor returned. Jeff couldn't gauge anything from the neutral expression on his face. As the man suggested he accompany him into his office, he pulled Gordon to his feet, ignoring the doubtful look on the doctor's face as he looked at the boy.
"Okay, Mr Tracy," the doctor began once they were settled in his office, "The results of the scans are back and we have a better idea of Virgil's condition. He was lucky."
Lucky? Jeff thought, remembering how dreadful his son had looked. He'd never seen anyone look less lucky. But the doctor at least seemed positive and his fear lifted a little.
"Fortunately there's no serious damage to his spine. There's some severe bruising, but no fractures. His leg is broken, but that will heal without any major problems. It's the head injury which is still our main concern."
The relief Jeff felt at the news that Virgil wasn't going to be paralysed vanished at this comment.
"Hasn't he woken up yet?" he asked, sensing Gordon tense up beside him.
"Not yet. He has a severe concussion. It's likely he'll be out for some time and when he does wake up he's going to be in a lot of pain. It won't be pleasant for him."
"But he will wake up?" Gordon's anxiety was evident in his low, frightened voice.
"I'm hopeful of a full recovery. We need to keep a close eye on him though, just in case. I've had him moved to the ICU if you'd like to see him, Mr Tracy."
"What about me?" Gordon asked.
"I'm sorry. We don't allow children up there." The doctor's voice softened as he looked at the distraught boy. "Your brother's in safe hands. We'll take good care of him."
Jeff stood up and shook the doctor's hand. He needed to get to Virgil, but he knew he had to take care of Gordon first.
"Come on, son. I'll get Dylan to take you home. Grandma could do with some company and you look like you need some sleep. I promise you'll be able to see Virgil just as soon as he's awake. Okay?"
Gordon thought about protesting, but what was the point? Dad and the doctor had obviously made up their minds. And he was exhausted. Not that he was likely to sleep, of course. The image of Virgil lying in the road was going to haunt him for a long time and he wouldn't rest until he knew McCauley had been caught.
Settling himself into the chair beside Virgil's bed, Jeff readied himself for a long night. He'd called his mother after sending Gordon home and wished he could have done more to reassure her. But all he could do was wait. Looking across at his son, deathly pale with deep purple smudges under his eyes, he felt a momentary panic, before the regular beep of the monitors assured him that Virgil was still with him.
"It's alright, son," he murmured. "You're going to be okay, Virgil. Just rest now. Scott and John are on their way back and you need to be awake by the time they get here. You'll be fine, son."
John was the first to make it back to Kansas, early Saturday morning. Hoping for some news, he went to the house before the hospital. As much as he wanted to see Virgil he needed to check in with the rest of his family too. As he opened the door he was struck by how quiet it was. He obviously hadn't expected to hear the sound of the piano, and the lack of music was depressing. But there were no voices, no TV, none of the usual sounds which would have told him everything was okay.
Calling out,
"Hey, I'm home! Anyone around?" he was relieved when Alan wandered out from the kitchen. The kid looked anxious, still in his pyjamas, his hair sticking up in all directions as though he'd only just got up.
"Alan! Any news?"
Alan shook his head. "Nothing. Dad's been at the hospital all night. Grandma left about ten minutes ago. They wouldn't let me and Gordon go. Gordy's really mad."
He sighed. He didn't really want to see his brother lying in a hospital bed, but it was worse to have to imagine what might be going on. Gordon hadn't really told him much and his brother's reticence just made the younger boy even more concerned. It must have been bad for Gordon to have reacted like this, just staring grimly into space, lost in the memory of the night before. He'd never seen him like this before and it made him nervous.
"Oh," John said. He guessed there would be some kind of age restriction on the intensive care unit, but he could understand his brothers wanting to see Virgil. "I'll go and talk to him."
He found Gordon in the lounge.
"How are you doing?" John asked, eyeing his brother thoughtfully. Gordon was as far from his usual cheerful self as it was possible to be, slumped on the couch, a magazine crumpled underneath him. He sat down next to Gordon, surprised when his brother suddenly rested his head against his shoulder.
"Gordy?"
"They won't let me see him! They say I'm too young and that it would upset me. Like the sight of my brother lying bleeding in the road didn't upset me! How could anything be worse than that?" Gordon was raging now. "Dad and Grandma will get to see Virg as often as they want. So will you. But I just have to sit here and wait and be treated like some kind of kid. I just want to see Virgil!" He ran out of steam just as rapidly as he'd started, then turned away. It wasn't hard for John to realise that he was desperately close to tears.
"I'm not too young to cope with it," he gasped. "I'm not..."
John just put an awkward arm around him and let him cry. It all came out: Alice, the fight with McCauley, the way he'd parted from Virgil on such bad terms. And of course, all his suspicions of McCauley.
"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. "I'll talk to Dad. And if he still says no I'll see what I can do about sneaking you in, okay?"
Gordon looked at him in surprise.
"You will?"
"Sure. Just don't tell Alan. "
"Thanks." Gordon sniffled a little, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I thought you'd be on their side."
John smiled. "I'm not Scott. And I don't think Dad's always right."
Gordon almost let out a gasp at this heresy, waiting for a bolt of lightning to strike his brother dead. When, after a full minute, John was still breathing, he relaxed a little, wondering if he'd found an ally in the most unlikely of his brothers.
John felt bad about leaving his young brothers, but in the end Gordon had insisted that he go to the hospital. His brothers had often joked that he was a pessimist – he preferred to think of himself as a realist – and right now he was full of dismal thoughts. He'd never actually been inside an intensive care unit before, though he'd read about such things in novels and seen plenty of medical dramas on TV. He was in no doubt that the reality was going to be much worse. And as usual he was right. Virgil looked terrible and the sight of him just made John want to cry. It was a strange feeling for the usually composed John and if it hadn't been for Grandma's comforting presence he might just have turned round and walked out. He could well understand why his father wanted to keep Gordon away and he wondered if he'd been a little hasty in promising Gordon a visit.
"John!" Grandma must have realised his distress because she was out of her seat and holding him tightly. He found it comforting and hugged her back for a moment. His father got up and came over too.
"How are you son?"
"I'm okay," John said. Of course he was – he wasn't the one who'd been mown down by a car.
"How's he doing?"
"No change," Jeff said with a sigh.
"I called into the house," John said when they were all settled around Virgil's bed. "Gordon's not handling this too well."
"I know," Grandma said, sounding guilty. "I shouldn't really have left him, or Alan, but I needed to see Virgil. I'll go back soon."
John had been debating whether or not to criticise his father and grandmother for leaving his younger brothers alone, but seeing Grandma's distraught expression as she looked back at Virgil he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even so, someone would have to go back to them soon. Gordon couldn't cope with sitting at home waiting all day. And it wasn't as if Virgil would notice if one of them left.
"He's convinced McCauley was responsible," John eventually said, only for his father to shake his head.
"The police spoke to me earlier. This McCauley boy was apparently at home when Virgil got hurt."
"And you believe that?" John asked. "It's a bit of a coincidence isn't it? Gordon's not going to accept that. He seems determined to prove that it was McCauley."
"I don't care what Gordon says," Jeff snapped, all the stress of the last few hours suddenly coming out. "He's to stay out of it. The police will look into it and if they don't find anything out then I'll put my own people onto it. But I don't need to be worrying about another one of you boys. I mean it, John, I expect you to keep him in line. He-"
He was cut off when his mother called his name sharply. Looking over at her he expected a reprimand for losing his cool, but to his surprise she wasn't even looking at him. Instead she was on her feet leaning over Virgil. He heard a low moan and saw his son's hand moving. To his joy and relief he saw Virgil open his eyes and he reached for the call button as his mother continued to call to her grandson.
"Virgil, sweetheart, can you hear me?"
His eyelids fluttered but he didn't seem able to open them properly. He moaned again, obviously in pain, and Grandma gently took his hand.
"It's alright, Virgil. You're in the hospital. You're going to be okay."
There was no response for a moment, then came a faint, tired whisper,
"Momma?"
Grandma drew in a sharp breath. Hiding her distress at his confusion and her own pain at not being recognised - she'd raised the boy since he was six years old - she bent over Virgil again,
"No, sweetheart, it's Grandma. Your father's here. John too."
"Hey, Virg," John called gently. "It's okay, everything's going to be fine."
Jeff placed a hand on his son's shoulder, watching anxiously for some reaction.
"Virgil? Can you hear me? How are you, son?"
There was no response. Virgil had drifted back into unconsciousness. But the watchers by his bed felt a lot more hopeful than they had done a few minutes earlier.
Doctor Flynn was pleased at the news. Reassuring a distressed Grandma that Virgil's confusion was only to be expected, he examined his patient and declared himself optimistic that there would be more lengthy spells of coherence as Virgil woke up.
Scott arrived an hour later, charging into the room and making everyone jump.
"How is he?"
"He's going to be alright," Grandma told him. "I know he looks bad but the doctor thinks he's doing well."
Scott wasn't entirely convinced – 'bad' was an understatement as far as he was concerned - he'd need to see Virgil awake before he'd really believe he was okay, but he managed a smile for his grandmother before taking a seat next to Virgil. Grandma could see he wanted some time alone with his brother.
"Come on," she whispered to Jeff and John, "We'll go for a coffee."
Maybe Scott would be able to rouse his brother, she thought as she ushered the others out of the room. Meanwhile, she'd try to persuade Jeff to go home. He'd been at the hospital all night and he was exhausted. Plus Gordon and Alan needed someone to take care of them. She'd go back later and make sure they were okay, but right now she couldn't bear to leave Virgil.
Light and colour had always evoked powerful responses in Virgil. But never before had they physically hurt. Opening his eyes he was confronted with a blurry kaleidoscope of images which made no sense. A booming voice accompanied them, a voice he thought he knew, but again, there was no sense to be made of it. A horrible feeling of sickness swept over him and the resulting nausea was enough to send him spiralling thankfully back into oblivion.
Scott looked at his brother in consternation as he reached for the call button. When Virgil had opened his eyes he'd been delighted, jumping up and calling out to his brother. He'd prayed for more of a reaction than the others had got earlier and he'd got it. It just wasn't the one he'd hoped for. Virgil had been violently sick before drifting back into unconsciousness.
The nurse who answered his call wasn't surprised, reassuring him that all this was perfectly normal for someone suffering a head injury before gently pushing him out of the room so she could clean up. Even so, Scott was shaking as he took a seat outside his brother's room.
He was still sitting there when John came back. He'd finished his coffee quickly, hoping for time to talk to his brother before his grandmother and father returned. Seeing Scott outside the room, he immediately knew something had happened.
"What's wrong?"
"He came round," Scott sighed. "Then he threw up and passed out again."
"Well, it's a step in the right direction, I guess," John reassured him. He glanced inside the room and saw that the nurse wasn't quite finished so he took a seat next to Scott.
"I need to talk to you about Gordon."
Scott looked at him in surprise. "Gordon? What's going on with him?"
John explained the situation. "It's killing him that he can't see Virgil."
Scott thought for a moment. "I can understand how he feels, but Dad and the doctors have got a point you know. It wasn't exactly pleasant just now. And I guess Virg would like to keep some shred of dignity too. You said yourself he's getting better. Gordon can see him in a day or two."
John shook his head. "You haven't been home, Scott. You haven't seen the state he's in. Plus, he's got this idea that McCauley's responsible and nothing is persuading him otherwise."
Scott's expression darkened. "If McCauley is responsible then he'd better hope the police get to him before I do."
"You and me both," John agreed. "But the police don't seem to think he is involved."
"And what does Gordon think?"
"He doesn't know. Dad's going back home now – he'll have to tell him."
Jeff pulled up outside the house and sat in his car for a moment. There were very few occasions when he hadn't felt a sense of relief or comfort when he arrived home, but that afternoon he really didn't want to be there. He'd recognised the force of his mother's argument when she'd pointed out that he'd had no sleep the night before and that he couldn't go on like this. She'd gone on to remind him there would be three people to tend to Virgil and that he had two other sons who needed him. He'd objected, of course, but John had taken her side and he'd been too tired to fight them both. After a final visit to Virgil, quiet and still once more, he'd given in. But he didn't think there would be much rest in store for him. As if sleep wouldn't be hard enough to come by with all his concerns about Virgil, he thought Gordon was probably going to give him even more to worry about.
He'd been right to be nervous. As soon as he'd walked through the door Gordon had launched himself at him with questions about Virgil and accusations against McCauley. Jeff could barely get a word in. He let Gordon rant away for a moment, knowing that the boy was feeling guilty about his behaviour and frustrated that he hadn't been allowed to see Virgil, but finally he decided enough was enough.
"Gordon, sit down!" he snapped. "I've told you, Virgil's doing well, all things considered. As for McCauley... The police came to see me this morning. James McCauley has five witnesses prepared to swear that he was with them at the time Virgil got hurt."
"They're lying!" Gordon raged. "You don't know what his friends are like. They're all as bad as him."
"Maybe so," Jeff said, trying to be patient. "But that's not all. Gordon, what kind of car does he drive?"
"Some kind of Ford. Black, battered. Nothing special," Gordon muttered.
"A black car," Jeff agreed. "The car which hit Virgil was red."
Gordon looked at him. "How do you know? Did someone see something?"
Jeff swallowed nervously, already regretting broaching this subject. "No son, but the nurse spent an hour cleaning Virgil's cuts and scrapes. As well as bits of glass she found flecks of paint... red paint. It couldn't have been McCauley's car."
Gordon looked at him in horror as he thought this through. Then he shook his head. "It was him. I know it was. Dad, you have to do something."
"There's not much I can do. I'll have my people look into it, but no one saw anything and there are no cameras on that road – it's just a quiet residential street."
Yeah," Gordon said bitterly. "That should be proof in itself. It's not like there are cars up and down all the time. That's why Virgil was lying in the gutter for half an hour in the rain and the cold. It's just too much of a coincidence to think that McCauley threatened Virg then someone else just happened to run him down."
Jeff knew that if he was fourteen he'd be reacting in exactly the same way. But he was considerably older and wiser and he didn't want Gordon to do anything rash.
"I'm sorry, Gordon," Jeff put a hand on his son's shoulder and was hurt when he shook it off. "I want whoever did this to be caught just as much as you do. But there's no point trying to put the blame on McCauley without any evidence. Look, hopefully when Virgil wakes up he'll be able to tell us something more. We can only wait."
Retreating to his room, Gordon reflected on this. Maybe his father was right. Maybe it was just some horrible coincidence, the kind Virgil seemed to attract so readily. After all, his brother had managed to get himself taken hostage twice in a year. But he couldn't bring himself to believe it. And if his father and the police didn't want to find out the truth then maybe he would.