Inside the room, Bill Henson lay in the hospital bed with gauze wrapped around his forehead, looking frail and pathetic. Louise sat at his bedside, her eyes swollen to the size of walnuts from crying.
When I walked in, Ivor Sullivan's face darkened, but he said nothing. Ann shot me a look dripping with contempt and let out a heavy, derisive snort.
Bill flinched, shrinking back against Louise as if terrified. She rubbed his back soothingly.
"You wanted to see me?" I looked at Ann, my expression blank.
"You have the nerve to ask?"
Her voice spiked to a shriek. She snatched the cup from the bedside table and hurled it straight at me.
"Julian Gilbert—look at what you've done! Look what you've reduced him to! He's shaking!"
"My daughter must have been blind to marry a violent thug like you."
"Do you have any idea—Louise was so traumatized she cried the entire night!"
Ann was hysterical, unleashing a torrent of accusations without pausing for breath.
Right on cue, Louise let out a couple of pitiful sobs, the picture of a woman who'd suffered some unforgivable wrong.