“Wal y met with someone. They didn’t know I saw them together, but I did. In a coffee shop near campus two Fridays ago.”

“And?” Slidel .

“There are certain things you justknow.”Looper inspected his bare toes.

“Know?” Slidel ’s voice was like razor wire.

Looper’s gaze came up and locked on Slidel ’s.

“It didn’t look like a business meeting.”

“Were the two of them holdin—”

“Can you describe the man?” I cut Slidel off.

Looper sniffed, and his brows arced upward.

“Pretty.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Hunky build, salon tan.”

“Tal ?”

“No.”

“Glasses? Facial hair? Tattoos?”

Continuous head shake.

“Hair?”

“Hugh Grant with a black dye job.” Sniff. “Looked like he was done up for aGQshoot.” Looper gave an eye rol that made Katy look like a tenderfoot, recrossed his legs, and went back to picking at his thumb.

“You didn’t know this person?”

Head shake.

“Have you and Dr. Cagle been having difficulties?” I asked gently.

Slidel sheeshedair through his lips. I ignored him.

Looper shrugged and popped the flip-flop. “Some. Nothing ghastly.”

“Is there any chance at al that Dr. Cagle might be able to speak to us? To communicate?” Looper rose, walked to a credenza, picked up and dialed a phone. After a pause he asked about Cagle’s condition, listened, thanked the other party, said he’d be by shortly, and disconnected.

Keeping his back to Slidel , Looper ran his right palm across each cheek, and breathed deeply. Then he squared his shoulders, wiped his hand on his cutoffs, and turned.

“He’s stil comatose.”

Slidel ’s face registered nothing.

“What hospital?”

Looper bristled slightly.

“Palmetto Health Richland. He’s in cardiac intensive care. His doctor’s name is Kenneth MacMil an.” Slidel moved toward the door. I rose and approached Looper.

“Are you going to be al right?”

Looper nodded.

Digging a card from my purse, I scribbled my name and cel phone number, handed it to him, and squeezed his hand.

“If you come across the missing file, please let me know. And please cal when Dr. Cagle wakes up.” Looper looked down at the card, flicked a glance at Slidel , came back to me.

“I wil definitely cal you.”

He turned to Slidel .

“You have a real y special day.”

Looper’s left hand stil gripped the phone so tightly his wrist cords bulged like the live oak’s roots.

Slidel lit up as soon as we hit the sidewalk. At the Taurus, I opened my door and waited out his Camel moment.

“Think there’s any point to swinging by the hospital?” I asked.

Slidel flicked his butt, ground it with the bal of one foot.

“Can’t hurt.” Blotting his forehead with one wrist, he yanked open the driver’s side door and jammed himself behind the wheel.

Slidel was right. It didn’t hurt. Nor did it help. Walter Cagle was as dead to the world as Looper reported.