Tom is looking at him with concern. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah. Just a charley horse.”

“Or maybe a deep vein thrombosis. You’re no kid anymore, Bill. You ought to get that checked out. If anything happened to you while you were with me, Pete would never forgive me. His sister, either. We owe you a lot.”

“All taken care of, got a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” Hodges says. “Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s freezing.”

He limps the first two or three steps, but then the pain behind his knee lets go entirely and he’s able to walk normally. More normally than Tom. Thanks to his encounter with Brady Hartsfield in April of 2009, Tom Saubers will limp for the rest of his life.

13

When Hodges gets home, his stomach is better but he’s dog tired. He tires easily these days and tells himself it’s because his appetite has gotten so lousy, but he wonders if that’s really it. He’s heard the pane of breaking glass and the boys giving their home run cheer twice on his way back from Ridgedale, but he never looks at his phone while driving, partly because it’s dangerous (not to mention illegal in this state), mostly because he refuses to become a slave to it.

Besides, he doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know from whom at least one of those texts came. He waits until he’s hung his coat in the front hall closet, briefly touching the inside pocket to make sure the lens cap is still safe and sound.

The first text is from Holly. We should talk to Pete and Isabelle, but call me first. I have a Q.

The other isn’t hers. It reads: Dr. Stamos needs to talk to you urgently. You are scheduled tomorrow at 9 AM. Please keep this appointment!

Hodges checks his watch and sees that, although this day seems to have lasted at least a month already, it’s only quarter past four. He calls Stamos’s office and gets Marlee. He can tell it’s her by the chirpy cheerleader’s voice, which turns grave when he introduces himself. He doesn’t know what those tests showed, but it can’t be good. As Bob Dylan once said, you don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

He bargains for nine thirty instead of nine, because he wants a sit-down with Holly, Pete, and Isabelle first. He won’t allow himself to believe that his visit to Dr. Stamos’s office may be followed by a hospital admission, but he is a realist, and that sudden bolt of pain in his leg scared the shit out of him.

Marlee puts him on hold. Hodges listens to the Young Rascals for awhile (They must be mighty old Rascals by now, he thinks), and then she comes back. “We can get you in at nine thirty, Mr. Hodges, but Dr. Stamos wants me to emphasize that it’s imperative that you keep this appointment.”

“How bad is it?” He asks before he can stop himself.