“I think you’re confused, Poppy,” he started and looked at me with a piteous expression. “Danny Clemmons is dead.”
“But,” I started and shook my head.
“You slipped and whacked your noggin and then you passed out, so Marty called for an ambulance. And now here you are.”
“I know Danny’s dead,” I said, and couldn’t help the agitation that crept into my voice. The heart monitor picked up its pace, reporting the rising tempo. “Why do you think I was there with Bailey and Marty? We were trying to make contact with him.”
“Why?” Roy asked, frowning.
“Well, eventually to cast him out.” I took a breath. “Except, I don’t think he can be cast out. His wasn’t an ordinary death.” I shook my head as I looked up at Roy and found him studying me.
“Wasn’t an ordinary death?”
“No,” I said and shook my head again. “He was frightened to death.”
“I thought he had a heart attack?”
“That’s the story, but it doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”
“And what do you believe the truth is?” Roy asked, leaning back in his chair as he continued to stare at me.
“Um… what are you doing here again?” I asked, not meaning to sound rude, but there it was.
Roy inclined his head to me, something flickering in the back of his eyes that I couldn’t quite read. “I came here to warn you to leave this whole… case alone.”
“Leave it alone?” I repeated, shaking my head because I didn’t understand. Why would he care about this case? Apparently he did—enough to come visit me in the hospital. Or maybe it wasn’t the case he cared about...
He nodded. “You’re in over your head, Poppy.”
“What does that even mean?”
One of my hands seemed to be bound by wires, so I raised the other to knead my temple. My head throbbed in time with my heart, and even the low light trickling in from the hall hurt my eyes.
“There are certain… things going on in this town that should be left well enough alone,” he said.
“Things as in murder?” I demanded, getting defensive and angry all at the same time.
“Things,” he finished and then just studied me for a few seconds. “I came by once I heard you got hurt because I wanted to warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
“Not to put your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I glared at him. “And why are you getting yourself involved in this?”
“Because I want to be involved… I don’t want to see anything… bad happen to you, Poppy.”
“Something bad happen to me?”
“Haven Hollow isn’t like other towns,” he started.
“You know about what happened to Danny, don’t you?” I demanded, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I don’t know what happened to Danny, other than he died from a heart attack. What I do know is that strange things happen to people in this town who ask too many questions. And I would hate for you to become one of those statistics.”
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure if he was warning me or threatening me. “Where’s Marty?” I asked. “Or Bailey? Or Finn?”
Roy nodded. “Your son is here. Marty took him to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”
And it was then that I wanted to turn to the next question in my mind. “What are you doing here, Roy?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I eyed him narrowly. “How did you even know to come to the hospital to begin with?”
Roy shrugged. “Haven Hollow is a small town. News travels fast. You can expect an avalanche of get-well cards in the next few days. People like you, Poppy. I like you.”
He pressed his palms flat against the arms of the chair and pushed himself free of the chair, inch by inch. “But, if you’d rather I go…”
“Don’t go,” I said, almost on instinct. “The soup was thoughtful. Thank you.” Heat crept into my face. The look in his intense gray gaze stoked a fire in me. A fire that hadn’t been stoked for years. Maybe it was the concussion, but, when I looked at him, I didn’t second-guess the feeling. I liked Roy, and he seemed to like me. “Did you at least bring me a spoon?” I asked.
Roy smiled and produced a plastic spoon from the interior pocket of his jacket, then handed it to me.
I ate a few bites of the soup in silence. The soup settled, even on my queasy stomach, and I had to admit it was probably the best thing I’d tasted since the brisket I’d had at his restaurant.
“Can you tell me about what happened?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Apparently, I’m in the hospital after a ghost tugged me off a ladder with intent to splatter my brains on the floor.”
I was just scraping the bottom of the styrofoam cup when Marty sidled into the room. My first thought was of the x-rated dream I’d been having, and I immediately started to blush. When he saw me awake, his expression brightened into something joyful, like watching sun break across the horizon. The enthusiasm dimmed a little when he spied Roy in the bedside chair.
“Roy?”
“Marty,” Roy said, his greeting just as terse. “How’s Finn?”
“He’s calmed down,” Marty said with a grimace as he faced me. “Finn was really worried about you, Pops.”
It was the way he said my nickname—like he wanted Roy to know we were on a familiar level. Or maybe that was just in my head?
“Can I see him?” I asked, wanting nothing more than to assure my little boy that his mama was going to be just fine.
Marty nodded. “He’s downstairs with Bailey and RJ, eating a snack.” He looked at Roy and then at me again. “I… uh… I can go get him.”
“No,” Roy said, again pushing his way from the chair inch by inch. “I’ll go grab the gang from the cafeteria and then I need to dash. Have to get back to the restaurant,” he said with a shrug. “Get well soon, Poppy. I’m glad you’re alright.”
He waved a hand airily over his shoulder as he left. Marty tracked him until he disappeared around the corner and waited until his footsteps had faded entirely before he spoke.
“What did Roid want?” he asked mildly.
“Roid?”
“Yeah. Like hemorrhoid?”
I nodded. “I got it.”
“Not funny?”
I sighed. “Roy’s a decent guy, from what I can tell. He’s been very nice, and he brought me chicken soup.”
“He’s part of the Haven Hollow Cult.”
“Council,” I corrected him. “At least that’s what Roy called it.”
“Council, cult… what’s the difference?”
“I think there’s a pretty big difference,” I said, shaking my head. “Regardless, I hardly think Roy is plotting to induct me into some… society.”
Marty visibly deflated, sinking into the chair Roy had vacated. He scrubbed at his eyes, age seeming to pile onto him before my eyes. So often he looked younger than his actual age. He was so boisterous and boyish, it was easy to forget he was actually older than I was.