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chest.
    We continued toward the viewing window down the hall. “One of yours?”
    â€œBig Easy.”
    â€œHe from New Orleans?”
    â€œNo, he’s just big and easy—he’d drink my bathwater if I let him.”
    I made an attempt to change the subject. “You think your son needs a bodyguard?”
    â€œBrady thought they might come back and try to finish the job.”
    â€œBrady Post, the guy that says
bud
a lot?”
    â€œYou’ve met.”
    I nodded. “Momentarily. He seemed like someone who would be hard to get along with.”
    She shrugged. “If you’re not one of us, I’d say yes.”
    You couldn’t see much of the kid behind the glass, but from what you could, I’d have to say he was one of the handsomest young men I’d ever seen. His long black hair was splayed across the pillows, and his face was unmarked by the accident. Bodaway’s features looked like they’d been cut with diamonds; he could’ve been a model for one of those bodice-ripper romance novel covers. “Handsome kid.”
    â€œYes.” She stood at the glass, her fingertips touching the cool, smooth surface. “Twenty-eight years old.”
    â€œWhat’s the prognosis?”
    â€œTraumatic brain injury, contusion type. We’re lucky it wasn’t a hematoma type because—”
    â€œI know all about it—my daughter was assaulted in Philadelphia; she had the hematoma injury, and they had to cut part of her skull to allow for the swelling.” I studied the young man. “She was out for the better part of a week.”
    She turned her face and looked up at me. “How is she now?”
    â€œAn assistant attorney general down in Cheyenne with an eight-month-old, who is named after you, well, in a way.” She continued to stare at me. “Remember, she’s the one who named my granddaughter after the car that is named after you?”
    â€œI like her already.” She smiled. “Anyway, that gives me hope.” Her eyes were drawn back to the unmoving face and the array of EEG electrodes. “They had to shave some of his head; he’s not going to like that.”
    I now noticed where they had removed the hair from his temples. “I don’t suppose he was wearing a helmet?”
    â€œNo.”
    I struggled to think of something positive to say, knowing from experience how she was feeling. “It’s good that it didn’t mess up his face.”
    â€œAnd he’s so totally unaware of how good-looking he is.” Her hands came off the glass, and she stuffed them in her jeans. “You should see the girls hanging off of him; it’s obscene.”
    â€œLike mother, like son?”
    I wasn’t sure, but I was willing to bet that she blushed just a bit. “More like father; he was really handsome—an asshole, but a handsome one.” She studied her son a bit more and then, glancing at a fancy gold watch with a turquoise face, stepped away from the glass. “They’re going to open the room up for an hour in about ten minutes and that’s when I go in there and hold his hand and talk to him. I’d invite you, but they say that too much stimulation can agitate him and raise his blood pressure, so . . .” She reached into a pocket and handed me a set of keys. “I didn’t mean to strand you, so just take the Caddy and do whatever you need to do. I’m staying at the Hulett Motel, too, so you can just leave the car there when you’re done.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    She nodded toward the Buddha in the waiting room. “BigEasy or somebody can give me a ride. Just leave it at the motel with the keys in it.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    She took my hand and forced the keys on me. “I like you, you seem like the real deal.” Then she added. “Don’t let me down.”
    â€¢ • •
    When I got back to the