"Don Eppes?"
The agents clustered close to the doctor, but were careful to allow Alan a clear path. Alan planted himself directly in the doctor's line of sight. "My son. How is he? Is he all right?"
"The bullet wound to the shoulder was through and through," the doctor answered. "Nothing serious. The second bullet entered near his carotid, ricocheted off his collar bone, passed through his right lung and exited the front of his chest. He lost a lot of blood, but we managed to get to him in time. Don is resting comfortably in Recovery, and as soon as we move him to his own room, you can go see him."
"So he's going to be okay?" Alan asked, hardly daring to hope.
The doctor smiled and nodded. "Don's going to be just fine. He should make a full recovery in about a month."
Warm, wonderful relief swept through Alan. He closed his eyes and nodded, then returned to his chair. Leaning forward, he rubbed his face and took several deep breaths.
He felt someone take the seat beside him, and he opened his eyes and looked over at Terry. She was smiling faintly, relief plain on her face. Alan returned the grin, causing Terry's smile to widen.
David moved closer to them, drawing their eyes. "Now that we know Don't gonna be okay, some of the guys want to get back to work processing the scene. We want to nail the rest of these assholes that survived."
Terry nodded.
"Oh, David," Alan said suddenly. "Has there been any word on Charlie?"
David shook his head. "I haven't heard anything."
Alan frowned, his concern for his youngest starting to increase. He was starting to worry about Charlie's whereabouts, but until he saw Don with his own eyes, he still didn't want to leave.
"I'm going to give Larry a call," he decided finally. Bidding David goodbye, Alan moved down the hall towards the payphones. Dropping in his pocket change, he dialed Larry's number. Receiving no answer except the voicemail rattling off a cell number, Alan hung up and tried the cell. Larry answered on the second ring.
"Larry, have you seen Charlie?" Alan demanded.
"Mr. Eppes, no, I haven't," Larry replied. "I've searched his office, the math building, checked with Amita . . . he's nowhere on the entire campus. Do you know of anyplace else he might be?"
"He might be at home, working on that p thing," Alan told Larry. "Could you go over and look? He really should be here."
"Of course, Mr. Eppes," Larry replied. "And how-how is Don?"
"He's going to be fine," Alan answered. "Thanks, Larry, I really appreciate the help."
He hung up in the middle of Larry's stammered response and moved back into the waiting room. Suddenly, the pale walls seemed much warmer.
It was quiet. Peaceful. Deserted. Perfect.
Charlie looked around, hoping to find the right direction. He hadn't been here in nearly a year. He was relying on his memory to find it.
The smooth, concrete road was more forgiving on his tired, aching soles than the gravel he had traveled on for the last few miles. The grass was a brilliant green, kept neatly trimmed and even. Flowers in colors echoed in a million rainbows surrounded the tall gray stones that lined each walkway like obedient soldiers. Charlie hesitated on one path, then moved on.
After nearly fifteen minutes, Charlie finally reached his destination. He fell to his knees before another tall stone, running his fingers longingly over the words etched delicately on it.
Mary Elizabeth Eppes
Beloved Wife and Mother
1947-2004
Tears poured down Charlie's cheeks as grief tore into his heart. Bending down so low that his nose nearly touched the ground, he finally let his sobs consume him.