Bard lay partially upright in a hospital bed, sky-blue sheets resting over his lap.
Calypso sat beside him in a chair pulled close to the bed.
They were watching Jeopardy.
It was almost midday.
Bard had woken sometime around nine with no recollection of how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was lying in the darkness, his body torn open, watching a figure move toward him.
When he opened his eyes in the hospital, Calypso had been asleep in a chair across the room.
They had spent the last several hours catching up on everything that had happened while they were apart.
When she woke, Bard had immediately seen the concern on her face.
For the first time in a long time, he felt something dangerously close to trust.
He decided to follow it.
So he spared very few details.
Neither did Calypso.
“Thanks for coming,” Bard said. “Seriously. It means a lot. Especially considering what you went through.”
Calypso shrugged.
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
Bard looked at her.
She sighed.
“Okay. It was kind of a big deal. But honestly, sitting here with you while you were unconscious wasn’t the worst thing. After everything that happened, it was actually kind of nice not being alone.”
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For a while, neither of them said anything.
The television murmured quietly from the wall.
Then Calypso looked at him.
“What do you think all of this means?”
Bard turned his head toward her.
“Do you think that man lit my trailer on fire too?”
Bard shook his head.
“There’s no way to know.”
He stared at the television without really watching it.
“At minimum, somebody really doesn’t want us asking questions.”
“About Alex?”
“Maybe.”
Calypso leaned back in the chair.
Bard continued.
“That’s the only obvious connection I can see right now. For whatever reason, both of us got pulled toward this Alex kid.”
Calypso thought for a moment.
“I’ve been thinking about that ever since I got the newspaper.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I don’t remember any connection to him. Or his family. Or that part of Los Alamos. I’ve lived here for years, but I still barely know anybody around there.”
She looked back at Bard.
“What about you? Anything from your past?”
“Not that I know of.”
Bard shifted carefully against the pillows. His ribs immediately reminded him why that was a bad idea.
“The only really strange connection I have is that text message.”
Calypso frowned.
“What text message?”
“The one from Ernie.”
She stared at him.
“Wait. What?”
Bard realized there were still several pieces of the last few days he hadn’t exactly volunteered.
He explained the police stop.
The confiscated electronics.
Following the officers through the storm.
The strange building in the forest.
The garage door.
The blue light.
The empty room.
And finally, the evidence bag.
Calypso’s expression changed.
“You mean you took the evidence bag with Ernie’s cell phone?”
Bard made a sharp hissing sound through his teeth and waved one hand downward.
“Keep your voice down.”
She leaned closer.
Bard lowered his voice.
“It was, like, half an accident.”
Calypso stared at him.
“Half?”
“Honestly, those guys were so fucking weird I didn’t even feel like I was committing a crime.”
The door opened.
A doctor entered carrying a chart.
Bard and Calypso immediately stopped talking.
The doctor glanced between them, then looked down at the chart.
“The stitches seem to be holding nicely.”
He stepped closer and examined the bandages crossing Bard’s chest and face.
“You’re lucky you didn’t get caught in the eyes by that bear. Was it trying to cook you on a campfire?”
He gestured to Bard’s burn along his side, already covered with bandages.
Bard looked at Calypso.
Then back at the doctor.
He chuckled.
“That was no bear.”