She looked up at me and her eyes were luminous with tears. She laced her fingers together, making a steeple of her two index fingers, which she rested against her lips. "I thought he was dead. I thought they'd come to tell me he'd died. I felt a spurt of ice, like I'd been stabbed. It started in my heart and spread through my body 'til my teeth chattered. He was at St. Terry's by then. All we knew at that point was he was still alive, but barely. When we got to the hospital, the doctor didn't give us any hope at all. None. They told us there were extensive injuries. Brain damage and so many broken bones. They said he'd never recover, that he'd be a vegetable if he survived. I was dying. I died because Bobby was dying and it went on for days. I never left his side. I was crazy, screaming at everyone, nurses, doctors..."

Her gaze flattened and she lifted an index finger, like a teacher who wants to make a point very clear. "I'll tell you what I learned," she said carefully. "I understood I couldn't buy Bobby's life. Money can't buy life, but it can buy anything else you want. I'd never used money that way, which seems odd to me now. My parents had money. My parents' parents had money. I've always understood the power of money, but I'd never wielded it with quite such effect. He had the best of everything. The best! Nothing was spared.

And he pulled out of it. Having endured so much, I'd hate to think someone did it deliberately. To all intents and purposes, Bobby's life is ruined. He'll be all right and we'll find a way for him to live productively, but only because we're in a position to make that happen. The losses are incalculable. It's miraculous he's come this far."

"You have any theories about why someone might try to kill him?" She shook her head.

"You said Bobby has his own money. Who benefits if he dies?"

"You'd have to ask him that. He has a will, I'm sure, and we've discussed his leaving his money to various charities... unless of course, he marries and has legitimate heirs of his own. You think money might be the motive?"

I shrugged. "I tend to look at that first, especially in a situation like this when it sounds like there's a lot."

"What else could it be? What could anyone have against him?"

"People murder for absurd reasons. Someone gets into a rage over something and retaliates. People get jealous or want to defend themselves from a real or imagined attack. Or they've done something wrong and they kill to cover it up. Sometimes it doesn't even make that much sense. Maybe Bobby cut someone off in a lane change that night and the driver followed him all the way up the pass. People go nuts in cars. I take it he wasn't in the middle of a hassle with anyone?"