Chapter 50

He couldn’t worry about them. Not now. Not when he had Karen to keep afloat until he could get her, too, out of town.

* * * *

Uncle Ian was hooked up in what seemed like half of the equipment in the hospital. Karen sat next to his bed in a chair, holding his hand that looked too normal, too much like the hand Quinn had shaken just days ago.

Quinn leaned over Ian and whispered Arthur’s message to him, then pulled another chair and sat there with Karen. She held onto Ian with one hand, the other occupied by the beads, silent tears rolling down her face.

Quinn stayed awake only because of the intermittent visits from nurses and the doctor. They were always kind and polite, sympathetic to a point that told Quinn more than he wanted to know.

“Quinn?” Aunt Karen nudged him sometime in the evening.

“Huh?” He jerked upright, startled as hell. “What is it?”