next to the sheriff’s office the night Roy Johnson went missin’. Said his truck was facing Gladestown Road with the lights out when he saw this car make the turn and head down the road. From the lights of the car, he saw a man on the road and he saw the car hit the man and the man went flyin’ into the swamp.”
“Are you sure you heard this right?” Carlisle asked.
“I’ve been listenin’ in on kids’ conversations for years, Carlisle. I know what I heard.”
Carlisle’s brain was churning. “That means old Roy Johnson didn’t get snatched by a gator or fall into the swamp.”
“Nope,” Rosie replied, a serious frown on her face. “It sounds like a hit-and-run.”
Just then Rosie witnessed an event she had never seen before. Carlisle Buchanan rose and walked out of the restaurant, leaving a half-dozen gator fritters still on his plate.
Chapter Fifteen
K evin arrived at the hospital at eleven thirty the next morning and was told at the reception desk that Tom Wylie was in his room, which surprised him. He figured his father would still be in ICU.
Hospitals were not his thing. The indefinable smell and sight of the sick permeated every floor. As he emerged from the elevator, Kevin saw two patients lying on gurneys against the wall, their IVs in place, waiting to be taken somewhere. Others were walking up and down the halls half-naked in their hospital gowns as the nurses flitted from room to room.
Kevin checked the room numbers as he walked down the hallway. He had learned long ago never to ask for directions in a hospital. There would always be some rule he was breaking. Either he was too early or too late or the patient was not allowed to have visitors—something. His father’s room was at the end of the hall. He took a deep breath and walked in.
It was a private room. Tom Wylie was lying in the bed with his eyes closed. His hair was grayer and he didn’t appear to be the giant Kevin remembered from his youth. His face had a lean, healthy glow even though Kevin had been told that he was dying.
There were two other people in the room. One, a plump, red-faced man with white hair, Kevin recognized right away, although he had no idea why Florida Supreme Court Justice Ray Blackwell was at his father’s bedside. The other man was a complete mystery. Both of them looked at him as he walked in. Kevin addressed the face he recognized.
“Justice Blackwell?” he asked to be sure, extending his hand.
“Only at the office,” the judge replied good-naturedly, shaking his hand. “And you are?”
“Kevin Wylie.”
“Tom’s son. Why, of course. I should have recognized you. You look just like your dad.” Kevin bristled at the statement. He didn’t see the resemblance at all.
The judge took the opportunity to introduce the other man in the room. “Kevin, this is Billy Fuller. He’s an old friend of your dad’s too.”
Billy stood up and shook Kevin’s hand. He was a tall, thin, balding man who had the look of an athlete and a strong handshake, although he had dark circles under his eyes and appeared to be very tired.
“I remember you, Kevin. We used to play catch at your dad’s house when you were a little boy.” Kevin had no memory of that and he wondered if Billy was mistaken. Billy saw the question on his face.
“I was a lot older than you,” he said. “Your dad was kinda looking out for me at the time, so I was hanging out at your house.”
It was coming back to Kevin slowly. There was an older boy lurking in his memory somewhere, and they did play catch and fish together out at the lake. He had never known before that moment whether those images in his mind were real or not. He smiled at Billy as he shook his hand.
“I remember,” he said. “We used to go fishing together too.”
“That’s right. You always had to have Matty come along in the boat.”
Kevin caught a brief glimpse of himself, Billy, and his dog, Matty, in an old rowboat out on the lake. “Wow, that was
“Are you sure you heard this right?” Carlisle asked.
“I’ve been listenin’ in on kids’ conversations for years, Carlisle. I know what I heard.”
Carlisle’s brain was churning. “That means old Roy Johnson didn’t get snatched by a gator or fall into the swamp.”
“Nope,” Rosie replied, a serious frown on her face. “It sounds like a hit-and-run.”
Just then Rosie witnessed an event she had never seen before. Carlisle Buchanan rose and walked out of the restaurant, leaving a half-dozen gator fritters still on his plate.
Chapter Fifteen
K evin arrived at the hospital at eleven thirty the next morning and was told at the reception desk that Tom Wylie was in his room, which surprised him. He figured his father would still be in ICU.
Hospitals were not his thing. The indefinable smell and sight of the sick permeated every floor. As he emerged from the elevator, Kevin saw two patients lying on gurneys against the wall, their IVs in place, waiting to be taken somewhere. Others were walking up and down the halls half-naked in their hospital gowns as the nurses flitted from room to room.
Kevin checked the room numbers as he walked down the hallway. He had learned long ago never to ask for directions in a hospital. There would always be some rule he was breaking. Either he was too early or too late or the patient was not allowed to have visitors—something. His father’s room was at the end of the hall. He took a deep breath and walked in.
It was a private room. Tom Wylie was lying in the bed with his eyes closed. His hair was grayer and he didn’t appear to be the giant Kevin remembered from his youth. His face had a lean, healthy glow even though Kevin had been told that he was dying.
There were two other people in the room. One, a plump, red-faced man with white hair, Kevin recognized right away, although he had no idea why Florida Supreme Court Justice Ray Blackwell was at his father’s bedside. The other man was a complete mystery. Both of them looked at him as he walked in. Kevin addressed the face he recognized.
“Justice Blackwell?” he asked to be sure, extending his hand.
“Only at the office,” the judge replied good-naturedly, shaking his hand. “And you are?”
“Kevin Wylie.”
“Tom’s son. Why, of course. I should have recognized you. You look just like your dad.” Kevin bristled at the statement. He didn’t see the resemblance at all.
The judge took the opportunity to introduce the other man in the room. “Kevin, this is Billy Fuller. He’s an old friend of your dad’s too.”
Billy stood up and shook Kevin’s hand. He was a tall, thin, balding man who had the look of an athlete and a strong handshake, although he had dark circles under his eyes and appeared to be very tired.
“I remember you, Kevin. We used to play catch at your dad’s house when you were a little boy.” Kevin had no memory of that and he wondered if Billy was mistaken. Billy saw the question on his face.
“I was a lot older than you,” he said. “Your dad was kinda looking out for me at the time, so I was hanging out at your house.”
It was coming back to Kevin slowly. There was an older boy lurking in his memory somewhere, and they did play catch and fish together out at the lake. He had never known before that moment whether those images in his mind were real or not. He smiled at Billy as he shook his hand.
“I remember,” he said. “We used to go fishing together too.”
“That’s right. You always had to have Matty come along in the boat.”
Kevin caught a brief glimpse of himself, Billy, and his dog, Matty, in an old rowboat out on the lake. “Wow, that was
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