But that was the problem. She couldn't allow Jonathan to be the thread that made the rest of her unravel.
"We're going to get you," she promised Toby's attacker.
Hearing a noise at the entrance, Zoe turned. Mr. and Mrs. Simpson were coming in, carrying a bag of takeout. The smell of Chinese food filled the room as they slipped around the foot of the bed to the other side.
Zoe didn't want to intrude on their privacy. She started to apologize for stopping by unannounced, but at Mrs. Simpson's twinkling eyes and wide smile, she stopped in midsentence.
"What?" she asked curiously.
The other woman exchanged a glance with her husband. "Lyle didn't want me to call you, but now that you're here, I'm telling you anyway."
"Theresa--" he began with a note of admonishment, but she ignored him.
"Toby squeezed my hand this morning!"
The breath whooshed out of Zoe's lungs. "He what?"
"He squeezed my hand!"
"Honey, you know the doctor told us not to get too excited. It could've been a reflexive action. That's why I asked her not to call you," he added apologetically to both Zoe and Jonathan. "I didn't want you to...get your hopes up if...well, you know."
"I know." Zoe understood completely. But adrenaline, triggered by his wife's excitement, was already pouring into her bloodstream.
"I don't believe it was reflexive," Mrs. Simpson argued. "Our boy's mind is clicking away in that slumbering body. He was trying to tell me not to give up on him. I said, 'It's Mother's Day, baby. Come back to me." Her voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and forged on. "And he gave my hand a squeeze. I swear it happened at that very moment. The timing couldn't be a coincidence, whether the doctors believe that or not."
"Honey, we spent over an hour trying to get him to repeat the action or to respond in some other way, but...nothing," Mr. Simpson said.
Just the possibility made Zoe's heart beat faster. But...did they dare read more into that than the doctors suggested?
Taking the boy's hand between her own, she leaned close. "You're going to be fine, Toby. You have a family who loves you, and they're waiting for you. They're right here," she told him and, unlikely though she knew it was, she couldn't help wishing he'd squeeze her hand--or give her some other small token on which to hang all her hope.
He didn't move. It wasn't until hours later, after she and Jonathan had returned from creating a new flyer--one advertising the reward sponsored by Franky Bates--that they received a call from the hospital.
"He just opened his eyes!" Mrs. Simpson screamed into the phone.
"Can he talk?" Zoe asked, but that was all the news she could get because the poor woman was crying too hard to say more.
"I've met Sheridan."
Jonathan glanced over at Zoe, who was walking beside him, and guided Kino away from the neighbor's yard so they could cross the street.
Except for a few streetlights, it was dark and colder than it had been for the past week or so. Zoe was wearing one of his sweatshirts to ward off the chill, but she wouldn't let him touch her. He'd tried a few times. He didn't know why.
"At the victim support group?" he said, but only because it seemed like the most innocuous response. He didn't want to talk about Sheridan, especially to Zoe. Considering he'd made love to Zoe last night but admitted his feelings for Sheridan this morning, it wasn't the most comfortable topic.
"Yeah."
He was hoping they could let it go at that. But Zoe spoke again. "She's a nice person, Jon. And very pretty."
She was no prettier than Zoe, but he knew Zoe wouldn't believe him if he said so. He tried to change the subject. "I'm so relieved that Toby's out of his coma."
Turning back the sleeve of her sweatshirt, which hung down to her knuckles, she checked her phone for missed calls. Never mind that she'd been holding it ever since she'd talked to Mrs. Simpson and would've heard it ring if someone had tried to reach her.
"I wonder if he'll be...you know, all there," she said, her voice worried.
They hadn't received a full report. Mr. Simpson had called back to say that Toby recognized his name, and that was the last they'd heard from the family. To avoid bothering them repeatedly, Jon had called Detective Thomas, and Detective Thomas had contacted the doctors at the hospital.
But they were being typically cautious. The official word was that it would be a few days before they'd know how well Toby would recover.
That didn't stop him and Zoe from wishing it would be much sooner, however. And Jonathan had an extra reason to be glad of this positive turn of events. Earlier, Zoe had mentioned that they needed to get home in time for her to move into a motel. He'd expected her to leave as soon as she had the chance, but so far she hadn't acted on that comment. She was preoccupied with waiting. It was easier to wait with someone than to wait alone.
"I saw a Dateline once that featured a girl who'd been in a coma for five weeks," he said. "It took some time, but she recovered completely."
"I hope Toby can do the same...."
Kino did his business on a tree and sniffed a gopher hole before they headed down the sidewalk on Jonathan's usual circuit. "Even if that happens, it might be touchy getting information from him about what he suffered," he said, concerned that she might be hoping for too much.
Zoe frowned but nodded, and they walked in silence until they came to the corner, where Jonathan held Kino on a tighter leash so another dog and his owner could pass without an overenthusiastic greeting.
"So how long have you known Sheridan?" Zoe asked when they resumed their walk.
Stifling a groan, Jonathan kept his gaze on the sidewalk in front of him. "About four years."
"Did you ever date?"
"For a while."
"What went wrong?"
He blew out a sigh. "She liked me, but I broke it off because I wasn't all that into her. Then I liked her, but she broke it off because she wasn't all that into me."
"Sounds like you've been involved with her for a long time."
He shot her a quick look. "Do we have to talk about this?"
"Aren't we friends?" she asked.
It was tough to think of her as a friend when he kept imagining her soft body pressed up against his, kept replaying that moment last night when she'd moaned his name. But what could he say? "If that's what you want to call it."
"I was hoping that two or three orgasms moved me out of the 'just another client' category, at least."
He grimaced. She was striking out, but he deserved it. "You're not just another client. You never were."