by E J Kindred
On my way, I went to Dad’s shop, what was left of it. The shell of the building still stood. We all knew it would have to be demolished, but none of us had been able to face it. On the other hand, the new construction next door, where the auto body shop had been, was a hopeful sign that someone was willing to start anew, and I wondered what Joe and I could do with Dad’s property. The space was, after all, a good-sized corner lot in a busy area of mixed residential, retail, and light industry. I decided to talk with him about it.
I pulled into Grandma Natalie’s driveway to find the garage door closed and the curtains drawn. I’d left her a message earlier in the day that I wanted to see her, but maybe she’d gone out and missed my call. I used my key and went inside, but she wasn’t home. Since she was probably the last human on the planet who would ever have a cell phone, there was no use trying to track her down.
I was heading back to my car when something near the garage caught my eye. When I saw what it was, I sighed. Subtle, she was not.
She’d gone to the moving place and bought what looked like thirty boxes, still flattened and tied with plastic bands. Taped to the top was a slip of paper with my name on it, written in my grandmother’s lacy script.
“Message received,” I muttered. I considered leaving them there, to let her know that I wouldn’t be bullied, but I’d never won a battle of wills with Natalie Lindberg. I loaded the boxes into the back of my car and left.
I made a couple of stops on the way home. By the time I’d unloaded bags of groceries, including the all-important cat food and kitty litter and Grandma Natalie’s stack of boxes, I was ready for a hot bath and a beer. Shadow claimed the packing boxes as his own and sat on top as if he owned them. Typical cat.
I’d also stopped at the take-and-bake pizza place for my favorite pie. The oven was heating, and I was guarding the pie against Shadow’s paws when the phone rang.
“You have a talent for calling at dinnertime,” I said. “Are you sure you weren’t a telemarketer in a previous life?”
As much as I disliked spending time around cops, I liked Dean and rather enjoyed teasing him. Patrick wouldn’t have been at all amused.
“Do you want me to call back later?”
“No, I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m waiting for the oven to heat so I can put a pizza in.”
“I’ll be right over,” he said, laughing.
“I thought cops only ate doughnuts. When I buy some, you’re the first person I’ll call, but you’re not getting any of my double pepperoni and mushrooms.” I nudged Shadow off the counter and, holding the phone between my chin and shoulder, slid the pizza into the oven. “What can I do for you? I haven’t been to the Wentworths’ for a few days now, so I don’t have anything else to talk about.”
“I do, though.”
His voice went from light-hearted to serious in a moment, and a frisson of dread ran up my spine.
“What’s going on? Did you find Mo?” I almost dreaded the answer.
“No, we didn’t. But—” He paused too long for my comfort.
“But what?”
“We found her car.”
I sat down at the kitchen table. “Where?”
“Portland airport, long term parking, way out at the far end of the lot.”
I stared into space, seeing nothing.
“Looks like someone parked it and walked away, as if they had a plane to catch. No damage. Nothing unusual inside. Dirty windows and leaves on it, which you’d expect for a car parked for—”
“A month.”
“I’m sorry, Annie. You asked me to keep an open mind about Mo, and I’m trying, but how else could her car be at the airport? I mean, sure, someone else could have driven it, but without any evidence to the contrary, I have to assume she parked there herself. We’re checking for fingerprints other than hers, but she had a fabric steering wheel cover, so I don’t expect much.”
I took a deep breath. “Is there any way to find out if she took a flight?”
“We’re checking on it. With almost twenty airlines and over two hundred flights out of PDX every day, it’ll take time. And it’s not just that. She could have taken the parking lot shuttle to the terminal and walked to one of the nearby hotels or taken transit away from the airport. She could be anywhere.”
“Or someone else who drove her car could have done the same thing.”
“True.”
I’d been so sure about Mo’s innocence but now doubts were creeping in. Maybe I didn’t know her as well as I’d thought. “Thanks, Dean. I appreciate that you’re keeping your part of our deal. I truly don’t know what to think, but thank you for telling me.”
“I wish I had better news.”
“Me, too.”
That night, I hardly slept at all. I couldn’t bring myself to believe Mo was capable of stabbing a man, not once, but twice. On the other hand, I’d told Dean she was a private person. Maybe I wasn’t the only one in the Wentworth house with secrets.
The morning brought sunshine. I scowled at the bright blue sky. How dare the world contradict my dark mood?
I tried calling Grandma Natalie again to no avail. I was definitely getting the electronic cold shoulder. She’d always been my greatest fan, but she knew how to pile on the disapproval when she felt it was warranted.
The stack of flattened packing boxes stared back at me in defiance.
I had to get out of the house.
I wheeled my bike out and rode away, not paying much attention to where I was going, wanting only to feel the cold breeze on my face.
I rode fast, head down, pedaling as hard as I could. I refused to gear down on the hills and crested the steepest one standing on the pedals. I cleared my mind of as much thought as possible, taking my grief and stress and anger out on the road. The sweat running down my back and face was my reward.
After a time, I looked around and realized I’d ridden most of the way to Portland. I laughed out loud for the first time in days. I was glad to have a bike computer that showed route and distance; otherwise, Joe would never believe I rode twenty miles in one direction.
I turned around and stopped on the side of the road for a drink of water. I took a deep breath, feeling the air expand my lungs in a way I hadn’t felt since before I went out the back door of the Wentworth home and saw the doctor’s inert form on the wet grass.
“Well, hell,” I said out loud and laughed again. I’d never ridden more than twenty miles in one day. Maybe anger and insomnia were the motivators I needed.
Or maybe not. In my rush to leave the house, I’d neglected to grab my phone. I couldn’t call Sharon or Lupe to rescue me. I’d always prided myself on being self-sufficient. Idiot.
After another few minutes and more pulls at the water bottle, I pushed off again.
On the ride back, though, I took my time. The hard push I’d made on my way out had taken its toll on my legs, so I set an easy pace on my way home. The sunshine was welcome and warm on my face. The breeze wasn’t as cold, either. I made a point of admiring the scenery and calling out to the horses and cows occupying the occasional pasture. A dog barked at me from the shelter of his porch but couldn’t be bothered to chase me. I listened to birds singing and dodged a particularly suicidal squirrel who ran across the road in front of my tires.
I was over halfway home, my pace lagging as my legs threatened to give out, when I realized I was on the road fronting the Wentworth home. I hadn’t known it was also a route from Charbonneau to Portland.
As I went by the gate, I glanced up the driveway. For the first time since Doctor Wentworth’s memorial service, I saw no cars that didn’t belong to the occupants of the big house. Maybe things were calming down at last.
I paused long enough to drink the last of the water in my bottle and kept going. Now in familiar territory, I knew which horses would look up when I called out, I knew which hill was next and where I’d see the old barn, and I knew I was almost home.
Familiarity let me take my min
d off my ride and consider my life instead. I decided to quit the Wentworth job right away. I had no desire to step foot in that house again. Elise and her Lady-of-the-Manor mood swings would have to find someone else to torment, and to hell with my budget. With everything that had happened, especially the murder of her husband, she still found time to whine about her missing necklace. How shallow could a person be?
I also had to find a way to get back into Grandma Natalie’s good graces. Of course, the fastest way would be to show up in a car loaded with a grumpy black cat and boxes packed full of my household belongings. As much as I’d argued with her about helping to clear Mo’s name, I had to admit she was right about the risks. So was Patrick.
I sighed.
I wanted to move back to Portland anyway, so what was I waiting for?
Sometimes being stubborn was a damn lot of work.
My musings got me home. I almost fell getting off my bike. Joe would have laughed at the bad case of rubber legs I had. Maybe he’d help me train for long rides once I moved home.
Home.
The word came to me unbidden, and its appearance decided the issue right then and there.
I parked my bike and made a beeline to the shower. When I came out, I made myself a mug of coffee and only then did I think to check my phone. The blinking light told me I’d missed a call, and when I checked, I found I’d missed more than a dozen calls.
“Annie, it’s me.” Joe’s voice sounded strained. “Grandma Natalie’s in the hospital. She was hit by a truck.”
Chapter Seven
I’ll never know how I made it to the hospital without acquiring any speeding tickets or running anyone over. More than once on the way, I thanked Grandma Natalie for the new car. My old truck would never have made the trip so quickly.
Joe was pacing the floor in the emergency department waiting area. I ran up to him and hugged him as hard as I could.
“What happened? How is she?” I heard my voice rise to a near shriek and made myself stop and take a deep breath.
He put an arm around my shoulders and drew me to a nearby chair.
“She’s in surgery, Annie, and it’s bad. She was out for a ride with a friend and some yahoo in a truck ran a red light. Totally broadsided them. The bastard kept going, but two guys chased him down. I heard they hauled his ass out of his truck and taught him a lesson in responsibility that involved several well-placed punches and maybe a broken nose.” The smile he tried didn’t reach his brown eyes, which looked worried enough for both of us.
I tried to digest this through the adrenalin making my head spin. “Where were they?”
“East Powell, I think. She said something about wanting to take her friend to a new restaurant she’d heard about. I called you a million times, Annie. Where were you?”
I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to think.
“I went for a ride. I forgot to take the phone with me. I’m so sorry.” And then something clicked. “Who’s the friend she was with?”
He hesitated for a moment as if he didn’t want to tell me. “Ada Brownlee.”
“Oh, no, not Ada.” An image of her face came to mind, always cheerful and kind, and her defiance at having decided to step out and go for a motorcycle ride. “How is she? Please tell me she’s all right. Does Hal know?”
“He’s with her right now. She has a broken leg and scrapes and cuts. Somehow, Grandma Natalie turned the bike and protected Ada from the worst of it.”
“She would. She always protects everyone.” A sob escaped me, even though I made an effort to contain it, and Joe pulled me into a hug. After a long moment, I sat back in my chair and held Joe’s gaze. “How long has she been in surgery?”
“Since I first started calling you, maybe three hours? She has internal bleeding and a bunch of broken bones. The docs didn’t think she had any brain damage, but she was unconscious, so we won’t know until she wakes up. Her helmet wasn’t even scratched, which is a good sign.”
Only when Joe handed me a tissue did I realize tears were running down my face.
“Where the heck did you ride? You’re usually not gone for so long.”
“What?” The mundane nature of his question caught me off guard. “I took off without thinking about it.”
“Obviously, if you left your phone behind.”
“I know.” Another broken promise I was sure to hear more about. “I’ve been worried about my argument with Patrick and Grandma Natalie being mad at me, and all the stuff in Charbonneau with the doctor being dead and Mo missing, and the Portland police investigating me. I needed to get out and clear my head. You won’t believe it, but I went almost twenty miles before I realized where I was. Talk about checked out.”
“Did it help?”
“Yeah, it did, but I missed your calls. I should have been here a lot sooner.” Another tear slid down my face. “Good thing I’ve decided to move back. I’m still worried about Mo, but I’m not doing her any more good in Charbonneau than I am here. Grandma Natalie was right.”
“Patrick was, too.”
“Yeah, but if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”
“You can’t. I heard it for myself.” Patrick loomed over me and wrapped me in a bear hug. “How’s she doing?”
Joe said, “we’re waiting for the surgeon to come out and tell us. They said it could be a while.”
We sat together for another hour, mostly staring into space or trying—and failing—to concentrate on whatever show was on the TV that was bolted to the wall. My stomach roiled from too much vending machine coffee. Every time the door between the waiting area and the emergency department opened, we all looked up, hoping for news. Finally a nurse stepped through the door and called for the family of Natalie Lindberg. I’m not sure what she thought when she was met by a woman who looked Hispanic but had blue eyes, a tall black man, and a white guy in a silk suit, but she seemed to take us in stride.
“Natalie is still in surgery. The surgeons said things are going well. Her internal injuries were worse than expected, so the surgery is taking longer than originally planned. But she’s holding up fine. Her vital signs are good. She’ll be in the intensive care unit after surgery. You might want to go home and get some rest and come back in the morning.”
“Can we see her in the ICU?”
“Yes, for short visits, but the doctors might keep her sedated for a short time while she starts to heal. They do that sometimes for patients with serious trauma. The doctor will tell you more about that. You’re still welcome to visit.”
After she left, I was able to breathe a little better. “I’m not going home. It’s too far. I’ll stay at Grandma Natalie’s until we know how she’s doing.” I called Lupe and told her what was happening and apologized for putting the burden of the Wentworth household on her. She assured me that she could handle Number Four and agreed to take care of Shadow in my absence.
After Joe and Patrick left, I went up to see Ada. Hal was sitting by her bed, holding her hand. Her right leg was encased in a plaster cast. She had bandages on one arm and bruises and scrapes on her face and forearms.
I tapped on the door, unsure of my welcome, but they waved me into the room when they saw me. Hal came to the door and gave me a hug and insisted I take his chair. Ada held out her hand for me to hold.
“I’m so sorry, Ada. I feel responsible.”
“Nonsense,” she said. “All you did was introduce me to a new friend. I decided to go for another ride with Natalie. It’s not your fault at all.”
“Another ride?” Hal was surprised.
“I don’t have to tell you everything, old man,” Ada said. “Once I’m back on my feet, I’m going motorcycle shopping.”
With that, I knew she’d be fine.
She squeezed my hand. “How’s Natalie?”
“Still in surgery, but the news so far is encouraging. How are you doing?”
“I have a bump or two, but I’m going to be fine. I think they’ll send me home in a couple of
days. Good thing I held on to that damn wheelchair, huh?”
On the verge of tears, all I could do was nod. Ada gave my hand another squeeze.
“Look, hon,” she said. “Natalie will be fine. She saved me, did you know that? She saw that jerk run the light, and I don’t know how, but she turned that big motorcycle or swerved or something, and she took the worst of the collision. I have a broken leg, that’s all. It could have been a lot worse.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out.
Hal said, “The cops told us a tow truck driver and another guy caught the driver who hit them, and they pretty much sat on him until the police arrived.” He sounded pleased about that turn of events. “I saw him for a moment in the emergency room sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. The police had him in handcuffs. I’m not usually one for vigilantism, but anyone who can run down two old ladies and keep going needs a dose of his own medicine.”
“Who are you calling an old lady?” Ada beamed at him with such love in her eyes that I felt that I was intruding on a private moment.
“I’ll ask Patrick to check on him,” I said, “to see if any charges will be filed. Having a lawyer for a friend can be useful sometimes.”
Hal laughed and patted me on the back.
Just then, the nurse poked her head in the room and told us that visiting hours had ended. I gave Ada a careful hug and Hal a more vigorous one and left the room. On my way out, I checked with the surgery nurse, who told me Grandma Natalie was out of surgery and in the recovery room. Since it was late and we wouldn’t be allowed to see her until morning, I breathed a sigh of relief and headed to her house for the night.
The next morning, I went back to the hospital. Grandma Natalie had been moved to the intensive care unit, so I went up there to check on her.
