Not that the man at her side would be willing to explain any of it.
At the entrance, the automatic whirring doors paddled in their glass-and-steel corral like a bread mixer, and she was glad that the man fed her into them. She was struggling with focus, although not because of any head injury. At least she didn’t think it was a concussion.
Nah, it probably is a concussion, she thought as she touched the bandage at her temple.
Oh, wow. It was raining lightly and things had gotten chilly in the way spring could sometimes.
“Jesus. Took you long enough.”
Anne blinked. Off to the left, a maroon sedan was parked at the curb and running, its taillights glowing red, a little drift of exhaust curling from its tailpipe. The driver from before was leaning out his window, his thick neck straining as he looked back at her like she was a pickpocket who’d taken his wallet. His tufts seemed even more frizzy, as if he’d been rubbing his head with a static balloon.
“Will ya get in already? He gave me a hundred-dollar bill, not ten of ’em.”
Anne turned to her mystery man. “What is—”
“You can trust him.” The man went over and opened the rear door. “He’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
As a way to buy time, she took a quick inventory of her assets, which included such high-flying extravagances as one shoe, clothes with blood on them, and absolutely no money or ID on her—
“Look,” Danny DeVito-esque said, “I got a daughter ’bout ya age. I ain’t gonna do nothin’ but take ya home. I swear.”
The driver made the sign of the cross, kissed his fingertips, and motioned to heaven. “My motha would kill me. Okay? Okay.”
“Go,” the mystery man said softly. “You’ll be safe with him.”
Anne looked up, way up, at the stranger who had been there for her more than anybody else had in a very long time. “What about the bill.”
Her words were quiet, and had nothing to do with what was really on her mind. She had spent most of the last two hours trying to get rid of the guy, but now that the time to go their separate ways was here? She couldn’t believe she didn’t even know his—
“What’s your name?” she blurted. How could she not have asked this before?
“He’s frickin’ Santa Claus, whaddaya want. Are ya coming or going?”
“Call me St. Nick,” the man said with a small smile. “And take care of yourself.”
This was it? Really? She might have just met him, but she felt like she’d known him for years.
Definitely a concussion, she decided.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For hitting you with my car?” He lifted his hand, like he was going to touch her—maybe on the shoulder or to brush her hair back. But then he dropped his arm. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Anne glanced at the driver, who was drumming his fingers on the top of a steering wheel covered with a fuzzy grip. Then she looked back at the man.
“Thank you,” she said. “I mean, okay. I mean… goodbye.”
She put her palm out.
“Goodbye,” the mystery man said as he took a step back from her.
As it was impossible for things to get any more awkward, she rubbed her hand on the seat of her skirt and turned away. Getting into the backseat, she reached for the handle to pull the door shut, but the man closed her in himself.
Her last image of him was as Not-Danny DeVito hit the gas and shot them away from the curb. Cranking around, she looked through the back windshield, through the rain-streaked glass. The man stayed at the entrance and watched the car go with arms crossed over his chest, seemingly unaware, or uncaring, that his hair was getting wet. His jacket, too.
“So where to, sweethaht.”
Anne pivoted around and met the driver’s eyes in the rearview.
“Listen, I’m a licensed driver.” He popped a piece of gum in his mouth. “So don’t worry about the storm. Now where ya live?”
He seemed a little more relaxed—well, that wasn’t the word for it. Polite, maybe? Okay, fine, at least he wasn’t biting her head off.
“Do you know that man?” she asked.
“The one with all the bright ideas? Nope. But I recognize Ben Franklin’s face anywhere.”
As they came up to the traffic light that governed the inflow and outflow of the hospital site, she forced her head to get with the program.
“I need to…” She cleared her throat. “I have to stop somewhere first on the way.”
“Of course you do,” the driver griped as the light turned green.
“To the left,” she cut in before he could make the demand. “And I’ll direct you.”
“Greeeeat.” He put a pack of Wrigley’s over his shoulder. “Gum?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said as she took one of the foil-wrapped lengths. “Oh, it’s my favorite flavor.”
“Mine, too,” he announced. “You need some heat back there?”
“No, I’m fine. And I really appreciate you taking me home. Your daughter’s lucky she has a father like you, willing to help a stranger.”
His eyes whipped up to the rearview and narrowed. After a moment, he grunted and shrugged. “Ya know what. You and me? We’re gonna get along fine, girl.”
Her hands shook as she slid the strip of gum from its green sheath. “Thank you.”
She just needed to get her purse back. Then… it was all over, the whole nightmare was done. No more ties, no more reason for contact.
Staring out the window, she put the gum in her mouth and started to chew. She took little note of the streetlamps or the few cars that traveled with them on the road. The image of that mystery man standing outside the emergency room’s entrance was like a filter brought down between her and the rest of the world.
Of all the things that had happened tonight, he felt like the most important.
Which made no sense at all.
CHAPTER FOUR
It’s this first building,” Anne said as she sat forward on the seat. “Here.”
The driver turned into the development’s shallow cul-de-sac. “This one?”
“Yes, on the right.” Anne took her one shoe and slipped it on her foot with a grunt. “I won’t take long.”
The ring of multi-unit, three-story apartment buildings orbited a common area of porte cocheres. Glancing over the lineup of cars and trucks, the sight of a brand-new white Datsun gleaming in the security lights made her stomach roll.
At least he wasn’t parked outside her house.
“This won’t take long,” she repeated as she glanced to the second floor.
His lights were on. God, could she do this?
As she popped her door, she glanced to the rearview. “You won’t leave, will you?”
The driver met her eyes and opened his mouth like he was going to say something “smaht.” Then he frowned. “You want I go witchu?”
“No. It’s better if it’s just me. You know.”
“Okay. I ain’t leaving. Don’t worry. And if you need me, you just hollah.”
“Thank you.”
When he nodded like they had a pact, she decided that she was going to have to recast her dim opinion of the human race.