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it?”
    â€œNot without the boys. They want to be the ones to give it to you.”
    â€œOkay. But be sure to bring them in the morning. I want to see them.”
    â€œFor sure. But since it’s just the two of us now, maybe I should climb in the sack with you.”
    Tom opened his eyes again. “Now you’re talking.” A smile flickered on his lips. And then he was asleep again.
    For a long moment, she laid her head on the bed, then got up as the nurse tiptoed back in. “Doesn’t he lookfantastic?” Catherine asked brightly as the nurse put her fingers on Tom’s pulse.
    She knew that even slipping into sleep, Tom might hear her. Then with a last glance at her husband, she hurried from the room, down the corridor and to the elevator, then through the lobby, and into the waiting police car.
    The plainclothesman answered her unasked question: “No word so far, Mrs. Dornan.”

5

    â€œI said, give it to me,” Jimmy Siddons said ominously.
    Cally tried to brave it out. “I don’t know what this boy is talking about, Jimmy.”
    â€œYes, you do,” Brian said. “I saw you pick up my mom’s wallet. And I followed you because I have to get it back.”
    â€œAren’t you a smart kid?” Siddons sneered. “Always go where the buck is.” His expression turned ugly as he faced his sister. “Don’t make me take it from you, Cally.”
    There was no use trying to pretend she didn’t have it. Jimmy knew the boy was telling the truth. Cally still had her coat on. She reached into the pocket and took outthe handsome Moroccan leather wallet. Silently she handed it to her brother.
    â€œThat belongs to my mother,” Brian said defiantly. Then the glance the man gave him made him shiver. He had been about to try to grab the wallet; instead, now suddenly fearful, he dug his hands deep in his pockets.
    Jimmy Siddons opened the billfold. “My, my,” he said, his tone now admiring. “Cally, you surprise me. You run rings around some of the pick-pockets I know.”
    â€œI didn’t steal it,” Cally protested. “Someone dropped it, I found it. I was going to mail it back.”
    â€œWell, you can forget that,” Jimmy said. “It’s mine now, and I need it.”
    He pulled out a thick wad of bills and began counting. “Three hundred-dollar bills, four fifties, six twenties, four tens, five fives, three ones. Six hundred and eighty-eight dollars. Not bad, in fact, it’ll do just fine.”
    He stuffed the money in the pocket of the suede jacket he had taken from the bedroom closet and began to dig through the compartments in the wallet. “Credit cards. Well, why not? Driver’s license—no, two of them: Catherine Dornan and Dr. Thomas Dornan. Who’s Dr. Thomas Dornan, kid?”
    â€œMy dad. He’s in the hospital.” Brian watched as the deep compartment in the wallet revealed the medal.
    Jimmy Siddons lifted it out, held it up by the chain, then laughed incredulously. “St. Christopher! I haven’t been inside a church in years, but even I know they kicked him out long ago. And when I think of all the stories Grandma used to tell us about how he carried the Christ child on his shoulders across the stream or the river or whatever it was! Remember, Cally?” Disdainfully he let the medal clatter to the floor.
    Brian swooped to retrieve it. He clutched it in his hand, then slipped it around his neck. “My grandpa carried it all through the war and came home safe. It’s going to make my dad get better. I don’t care about the wallet. You can have it. This is what I really wanted. I’m going home now.” He turned and ran for the door. He had twisted the knob and pulled the door open before Siddons reached him, clapped a hand over his mouth, and yanked him back inside.
    â€œYou and St. Christopher are staying right here with me, buddy,” he