“He went to check in on Detective Reinhardt. Both of them are fine,” Kristina said, before Lyra could ask. “Detective Reinhardt was very lucky. The knife missed all his major organs.” She smiled. She looked very tired, but she was still extremely pretty. Lyra thought she was a little bit like the rose in The Little Prince. She’d been sheltered behind glass for a long time. But she was loyal. She knew what love was. “I want to thank you,” Kristina went on. “You found Gemma. I can never repay you.”
“You don’t have to,” Lyra said. “Gemma found me once. We’re even.”
To Lyra’s surprise, Gemma’s mother reached out and took her hand. Her skin was incredibly soft, and Lyra was shocked to recognize the scent. Lemon balm. Her expression changed, too. When she smiled, it was like light passing into a room through an open door.
“I want you to know I’m your friend,” she said. “You can trust me to help you however I can. Do you believe me?”
Lyra nodded. She was overwhelmed by the tightness in her throat, and by the feeling, at the same time, that paper birds were winging up through her chest.
The door opened, and Lyra turned to see Caelum and Detective Reinhardt. The detective moved slowly, and a bulk of bandages was visible beneath his shirt, wrapping his abdomen. But he was smiling.
“You shouldn’t be up,” Kristina said, releasing Lyra’s hand with a final squeeze.
Detective Reinhardt waved her off. “I’m good as new. The surgeon said so himself.”
Caelum came right to the bed. “Hey,” he said. He put a hand on Lyra’s face, and she turned so she could kiss his palm. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said. For once, it wasn’t a lie. “Much better.”
“I’m going to go check on Gemma,” Kristina said. She picked up her purse and hugged it.
“I want to see her,” Lyra said, sitting up a little straighter. “Can I come and see her?”
“Of course.” Kristina smiled. “She’s just down the hall. You were the first person she asked about—you and Caelum, both.”
After she had left, Detective Reinhardt moved to the window, parting the blinds with a finger. Lyra thought he was giving Caelum time to lean forward, quickly, and kiss her.
“You get some sleep?” Reinhardt asked, and Lyra nodded. “Incredible how different the world looks on the other side of a nice sleep, isn’t it?”
She wanted to tell him about her dream, but she was too embarrassed. He eased into the chair in the corner, wincing a little.
He waved off Caelum’s help.
“I’m okay,” he said. But he sat for a long time with his chin down, eyes closed, breathing hard. Lyra even began to think he’d fallen asleep. Then, at last, he looked up. “I’m afraid I have some news about your father.”
Lyra knew just by looking at him what he was about to say.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” He looked her directly in the eyes. She liked that about him. That he wouldn’t look away, even though she was sure he wanted to. “Found at home, at the trailer park, only yesterday. Looks like an overdose.”
“That’s impossible.” Caelum’s voice leapt almost to a shout. “It’s a trick.”
“Caelum, please.” Reinhardt sighed. “I’m on your side, remember?” Caelum wheeled away and went to stand by the window. Lyra wondered whether he was thinking about how he and Rick had fought. She knew he would be sorry he had never had the chance to apologize.
She was surprised that she was the one who couldn’t make eye contact with Detective Reinhardt. She looked down, blinking back her tears.
“I promise you, Lyra, I’ll make sure your father gets his justice. I’ll make sure you do. Do you believe me?”
She nodded. For a long time, he said nothing. She liked that about him too: he wasn’t afraid of silence. He had learned to find comfort in it.
“They’ve still got those vultures by the main entrance, waiting to pounce,” he said. There had been a crowd at the hospital when they arrived: police officers but also men and women holding phones, video equipment, cameras that went flash-flash. “I don’t imagine any of us are getting off easy.”
The nurses had sworn that no one would be able to get to Lyra so long as she was in the hospital—she’d been worried, initially, that Geoffrey Ives or one of the other Suits would simply creep in and murder her while she was sleeping. There were even police officers monitoring every visitor to and from this portion of the hospital. But what would happen once they left?
Detective Reinhardt seemed to know what she was thinking. “They’re going to want to ask you questions,” he said. “There’s going to be a lot of nosing around. I expect a department inquiry. Well. I asked for a department inquiry.”
Lyra had worried that Detective Reinhardt might be disappointed when he found out she had stolen from Dr. O’Donnell’s desk drawer. But instead, he had hugged her. He had lied for her, too, and told the state troopers who found Calliope’s body that he’d been the one to shoot her, after she rushed him with a knife.
There’s no hiding this anymore, he told Lyra on their way to the hospital, as she drifted in and out of consciousness. There’s no covering up.
“I don’t blame you,” Detective Reinhardt went on now, “if you had other things on your mind. Things you wanted to do, for example.”
Detective Reinhardt was looking intently at his cuticles. That was how Lyra understood: he was giving them a way out. He understood she didn’t have much time left.
“I like buses,” she said. Caelum took her hand. “I wouldn’t mind riding some buses again.”
Detective Reinhardt heaved out of his chair, using both arms for leverage. “Amazing things,” he said. “You can go coast to coast on the Greyhound bus line, from Maine to Santa Monica. Did you know that?” He started limping toward the door. “’Course, they won’t discharge you yet. Not without wanting to know your story. And the front entrance is crawling with press.” He paused by the door, turning back to smile at Lyra, and she saw in his expression love, actual love, the kind she’d felt for him in the woods. She barely knew him at all, but he was family. “Of course that’s the problem with hospitals. Always have to be a million exits, because of fire regulations. You can’t cover them all. I saw a stairwell right by the ladies’ room, led right down into the parking lot and not a single person standing guard.”
“Thank you,” Caelum said.
Detective Reinhardt nodded. Then he turned around and fished something from his pocket. “Oh,” he said. “I had one of the nurses run out and pick this up. Thought it might come in handy. Pay-as-you-go. No code.” He tossed a cell phone in the air and it landed at the foot of Lyra’s bed. “Don’t worry. My number’s already in there.”
It was brand-new, made of plastic, and had little numbered buttons. It had a fake-leather case, which snapped closed and could hook to a belt.
Lyra’s throat closed up entirely.
Thank you, she tried to say. But she couldn’t get the words out.
Detective Reinhardt seemed to understand. He touched his fingers to his forehead, once—a kind of salute—and was gone.
Lyra didn’t need to ask where Gemma’s room was; all she and Caelum had to do was listen for the babble of April’s voice. Though Lyra didn’t know April well, she knew her voice right away.