“Okay, that’s good,” I said. Then I remembered that Manfred had suspected someone had killed his grandmother during the night. Maybe it wasn’t so good that Manfred was in this hospital after all. Shit. More to worry about.

So when we got back to the cabin, we packed everything—just in case—and put it in the car—just in case. We put out the fire. We hung the cabin key from the rearview mirror so we wouldn’t forget to return it to Twyla—just in case. Then we drove back into Doraville. We’d taken the opportunity to freshen up, since we’d had so little time that morning, and we felt better now. My arm was aching because I’d been more active that day than I should, and I took a pain pill. I felt almost ashamed to pop one, there were so many other people who were suffering far worse than I; but the only pain I could ease was my own.

“Can I just keep driving?” Tolliver asked as we came to the major intersection in Doraville. Straight ahead would take us out of town. Turning left would take us to the hospital.

“I wish,” I said. “But I think we have to make sure Manfred and his mom are okay. Don’t we?”

Tolliver looked stubborn. “I bet Manfred’s mom is tough. She’d have to be, with Xylda for a mother. I bet they’re fine.”

I gave him a sideways look.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and took the left turn.

Twelve

MANFRED’S mother, Rain Bernardo, was a younger version of her mother. The resemblance was only physical, I discovered. Rain was not the least bit psychic, and she hadn’t had any special rapport with Xylda. Rain worked in a factory and had risen to management level. She was proud of that. She was proud of being a single mom. She was dismayed that Manfred had followed in Xylda’s footsteps and not hers. But she loved her son, and she’d loved her mother, and she was pretty subdued at Manfred’s bedside. “Subdued,” for Rain, meant she only talked fifty words a second instead of a hundred.

She had the family red hair, and she had the curves of her mother, but in Rain’s case they weren’t nearly as generous. In fact, Rain was a very attractive woman, and I was pretty sure she hadn’t seen her fortieth birthday yet.

We were there when the first of the usual callers came in. Barney Simpson was more solemn than I’d ever seen him, and I wondered if he was a friend of Tom Almand’s. After Barney had asked his usual questions about his patient’s comfort and contentment with the treatment he was receiving in the hospital, he lingered. I wondered if he was admiring Rain. After all, he was a divorced guy.