Her eyes sparked angrily again. He was gifted in ways to make her angry. In a tight voice, she
said, "Berry is a lot like me in many ways."
"Dandy. The world can be grateful for that. What's the problem?"
"The problem is..." She hesitated, then said the one thing that she knew would make him stay. "She's even more like you."
Berry was leaning against the wall of the hospital corridor, staring into near space, when out of the corner of her eye she saw Ski Nyland.
He was consulting with a nurse at the central desk. The nurse inclined her head in Berry's direction. He turned and, holding Berry's gaze, absently thanked the nurse and started toward her.
Every time he looked at her, she felt exposed and under scrutiny. What were those razor-sharp gray eyes looking at, looking for? Defensively, she fired the first volley.
When he was within earshot, she asked, "Any progress?"
"Like what?"
"Has Oren been spotted?"
"No, ma'am. At least no spottings have been reported."
She didn't miss his tongue-in-cheek tone, and it annoyed her. "Why do you do that?"
"What?"
"Patronize me."
He didn't deny it. In fact, he seemed about to answer when he changed his mind and motioned at the hospital room's closed door instead. "I'd asked them to notify me as soon as Lofland was moved from recovery into a regular room."
"They just brought him up." She called his attention to the empty metal bracket on the door. "They haven't even had time to get his name card in place."
"Have you talked to him?"
"Not yet. A nurse is helping him to get settled."
"Where's his wife?"
"Her name is Amanda. She's in there, too."
"Let's have a chat."
It wasn't a suggestion or an invitation but an order. However, Berry figured it best not to make an issue of it. He ushered her halfway down the corridor to a small waiting room. As she entered it, she remarked on his familiarity with the hospital.
"My mom was a patient here for a couple of weeks. I catnapped in this room the night she died."
Berry stopped and turned to face him. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it.
"Thanks."
She looked into his face, expecting elaboration. None was forthcoming. He indicated a love seat that turned out to be as unyielding and uncomfortable as it looked. But it was the largest piece of furniture in the room, and she wondered if it was what he'd napped on that night.
He caught her looking at him speculatively. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You were going to say something."
"Just that ... I'm sad for you."