Beau's hand became still.
"I need you to bring him here."
"I need to thank him personally."
"He rode in from Indianapolis."
"He should be one of the first men to see the boy."
Beau did not speak for a long moment.
Then he said her name.
"Maggie."
She heard it in his voice.
They had been married 22 years.
She heard everything in that one word.
She turned and looked up at him.
"Tell me."
Beau looked at his wife.
The bandage at her shoulder.
The bruises on her face.
The exhausted will in her hazel eyes.
He told her.
What Vega had said.
The man with the scar.
The voice.
The way of moving.
The club colors under the coat.
He told her he had not wanted to believe it.
That he told Cyrus to stay silent.
That he spent the afternoon hoping they were wrong.
Maggie listened without expression.
When he finished, she turned her face back toward Eli.
For a long time, she said nothing.
Then:
"Tank."
Beau closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"He never forgave you."
"No."
"He has been with us every Christmas for three years."
"Yes."
"He carried Daniel's coffin."
"Yes."
"Maggie, he's here in this hospital right now."
She was quiet.
Her good hand remained wrapped around Eli's small fingers.
His chest rose.
Fell.
Rose.
Fell.
The monitor beeped.
Outside the door, Wexler stood watch.
"Beau," Maggie said.
"Yeah?"
"Go find Cyrus."
"Bring him here."
"And Beau?"
"Yeah?"
"Do not confront Tank."
"Not yet."
"Do nothing until we know what he came here to do."
"Bring Cyrus to me."
"Then you go sit in the chapel on the second floor and wait for me to call you."
"Do you understand?"
Beau looked at her.
"Maggie."
"He came here for the boy."
"The boy is the loose end."
"He has been waiting all afternoon for the right moment."
"The corridors are full of riders."
"People are coming and going."