Shadow of Doubt by Terri Blackstock Read Free Book Online Page B

set with the sound turned low. It was as if they watched out of politeness, since it was there and they didn’t know what else to do with themselves. Hannah’s mouse-brown hair was mashed flat on one side, as if she hadn’t teased it back into shape since being awakened in the middle of the night. Bart hadn’t shaved.
    Hannah sprang up when Celia came through the door. As if she’d been holding back her tears just for Celia, her mother-in-law began to cry and hugged her fiercely. “How is he?” Celia asked.
    â€œThere’s been no change, Celia. Where have you been? Allie said you were filling out a police report, but we didn’t know it would take all night.”
    A police report. Good for Allie, Celia thought. “I didn’t expect it to, either.” She went to the bed and leaned tentatively over Stan. “Has he been awake at all?”
    â€œNo,” Bart said. “Celia, if they kept you that long at the police station, you must know something. Do you know who could have poisoned Stan?”
    Her eyes were misty as she looked up at him across the bed. “Bart, if I knew…oh, if I only knew…but I don’t have a clue.” She touched Stan’s face gently. His stubble was thick. It surprised her. It seemed to her that all of his body functions should have stopped out of respect for his state. Hair growth had no place on a face as pale as death.
    Tears came to her eyes. “He’s not doing well, is he?”
    â€œNo, he’s not. Tell us what happened,” Bart said. “Last night, before they brought him in.”
    She raked her hair back from her face, wishing for a shower. “He was just really sick. Throwing up, his throat was hurting, he was really weak. I thought he just had a virus or something. But then he got really sick, and he passed out, and I called an ambulance…” Her voice trailed off in fatigued defeat.
    â€œStan, wake up, honey,” she said close to his ear. “Wake up. Please, honey. It’s my birthday. All I want is for you to open your eyes.”
    Hannah was still weeping, and she pulled a tissue out of the box on the table. “Happy birthday, Celia,” she said softly.
    Celia wiped her eyes. “Thanks.” Distressed, she breathed in a sob. “Why won’t he wake up? Haven’t they done anything for him? Shouldn’t it be working by now?”
    Bart came around the bed and pulled both women into a strong hug. “We don’t know,” he whispered. “The doctor isn’t sure how bad this is. It may have been a lethal dose.”
    â€œHe’s not gonna die,” Celia said, pulling back and looking into her father-in-law’s face. “Bart, he’s not. They caught it in time. They just had to.”
    They all held each other and wept for a long time, until finally Celia urged them to go to the cafeteria and eat breakfast. They hadn’t left Stan’s side since he’d been brought to the room. Reluctantly, they agreed and left her alone with him.
    When they had left, she sat beside Stan on his bed, talking to him and praying over him, stroking his chest and his face. But there was no response.
    She tried to imagine his eyelashes fluttering, his eyelids opening, color coming back into his face. But the image was elusive. The fear of his death was so great that it couldn’t be overridden. She thought of Nathan lying dead on an emergency room gurney, how she’d flown into hysterics until they’d had to sedate her. Finally, before the coroner had taken him, they had allowed her a few moments alone with him.
    People said it was easier to cope when you had closure—when you could see the death and experience the finality of it. But it had all come too soon, too unexpectedly. There was no such thing as closure. Even the shock and the sedatives hadn’t helped.
    Now she clung to the sound of the heart monitor testifying to the life