"He's not quite right, is he?" Stephanie observed Gary as soon as the door was closed.
"No," said Jane. "I can't wait to meet Steve…"
"I already have," Stephanie said. "I know who they are now. Steve and Gary Suarez. I met Steve, I'd only heard about Gary."
Jane climbed the stairs to get a better look at the door. "So tell me about him," he said.
"A real nut job," said Stephanie.
The hinges were on the other side of the door. "Runs in the family, does it?" The doorknob didn't have a lock so there had to be a slide bolt on the other side. Jane went down a step and got down on his knees to look under the gap between the door and the floor.
"Runs in the town. I interviewed him up in Berrywood a few months ago…" She stopped when Jane suddenly scrambled back down the stairs at the sound of footsteps.
The chair was pulled back and the door opened again. Gary's smiling face appeared. He was carrying a first aid kit and a couple of towels. "You thought I forgot, didn't you?" he beamed.
"I knew you wouldn't," said Jane. "Thanks." He approached the stairs.
"Not too close," Gary warned, showing that he had the gun still in one hand. "I'll leave it all here for you." He put the towels and the first aid kit on the landing. "Bye again," he said cheerfully and closed the door.
"Bye," said Jane and Stephanie.
"Interviewed him?" asked Jane. He retrieved the kit and the towels.
Stephanie nodded. "For Benson. He was doing a piece about aliens."
"If it was for the 'Truthfinder' I'm guessing you mean E.T. aliens, not illegal aliens."
Stephanie pulled a couple of folding chairs and a folding table out of a corner and set them up. "Let me take a look at that," she told Jane.
He looked at her distrustingly, but gave her the kit and towels and sat down. "Little green men. Right up Bowman's alley."
"Little grey men," Stephanie said as she took a towel to the sink in the corner and dampened it. "Didn't you watch the X-Files?" She approached Jane, and snapped on a pair of gloved from the first aid kit. "Now sit still and do everything the nice doctor tells you," she grinned.
Jane stared straight forward, not appreciating the humor. "So Suarez wasn't happy with the way the story came out?"
"He loved it." Stephanie put one hand on Jane's head to steady it for a better look. "Nice hair," she said ruffling through it to find the source of the blood. "And a lot of it. You don't have to worry about going bald." She frowned at the bad lighting. "Turn," she said. "I need more light."
Jane scooted the chair a bit to the left.
"More," said Stephanie.
He scooted again.
"More," she said.
He looked at her, annoyed.
"Your head is here, the light is there," she said pointing to the florescent fixture. "I can't see. Do you want me to do this or not?"
"Not," Jane said.
"Turn," Stephanie insisted. Jane turned again. Finally satisfied, Stephanie parted Patrick's hair to get a better look at his injury. "It was tough to put together, all of Acosta's "evidence" – photos and statistics and graphs to sort through, but it came out alright. Acosta finally felt someone would believe him. Then the story was cancelled. A-hah!" She found the cut, about an inch long right above his left ear.
"Ow!" he said.
"It's not too bad," she said. She used a corner of the damp towel to clear away some of the blood.
"It wasn't until you started poking at it."
"Be still."
Jane tried to distract himself. "Why was the story cancelled?"
"Old man Hurst didn't want it. The paper had run three UFO nut job pieces in the past two months."
"Already met their quota." Jane surmised. He watched as Stephanie picked some gauze out of the first aid kit and a bottle of alcohol. Patrick grabbed her arm in alarm. "What are you going to do with that?"
"I have to clean it up," she said. She picked his hand off her wrist and opened the bottle of alcohol and poured some onto the gauze. "You're married," she observed.
"Yes," he said.
"I knew you weren't gay…" Stephanie again parted the hair around Patrick's wound.
"You did?" he said skeptically. He knew things about other people. Other people didn't know things about him.
"Yeah," she said. "If we'd spent another minute on that couch my virtue might have been compromised." Stephanie smiled at his reaction. "You're blushing," she said. "Another involuntary response."
"Can we get on with this?" Patrick said, annoyed.
"Slow down, big guy," Stephanie grinned. "No need to rush." She used one hand to pull back his hair and hold his head still and the other to try and swab the wound but Patrick kept inching away from her. "What are you – Nine?" she asked. "Be still!" Patrick scrunched his eyes closed and braced himself. Stephanie let out a little laugh. "That's a nice look for a grown man…"
"Just do it," he said
"Is that what you say to your wife?" Stephanie teased. She dabbed the gauze lightly onto his wound. Patrick hissed and stomped one foot. Stephanie removed the gauze and had a second look. "You've got quite a knot but it's more of a bump than a cut. It won't need stitches." She released her grip to put the cap back on the bottle of alcohol. Patrick started to get up. "Stay!" she commanded. "You need some antibiotic."
Jane was determined to change the subject. "So that's what Suarez wants. What every UFO nut wants. He wants to be vindicated. Hurst killed his big story so Suarez killed Hurst."
Stephanie finished her nursing and fluffed Patrick's hair to cover the wound. "Good as new," she said, standing back to admire her work. She frowned and reached out for one more touch up but Patrick stood and moved away to pace as he continued his summation.
"He drops our friend Gary off here to keep an eye on Bowman while he drives into the city to kill Hurtz. Gary is supposed to take Bowman hostage and when Steve gets back he alerts the media and puts on TV to read the story on the news. It makes perfect sense."
"But you're not Bowman," Stephanie pointed out.
"Steve's never met him, has he?" Jane seemed suddenly very sure of himself.
"No," Stephanie said.
Jane stopped in front of Stephanie and looked directly at her. "Does he know that you're the real writer?"
"I'm not…" she began.
Jane smiled at her. "When that computer upstairs is booted up the only thing anyone is going to find on it is porn and fantasy football statistics. Benson Bowman isn't a hack. He's a front. For you."