by Jeff Nania
Dinner was delicious but we didn’t talk much. Although no one said it, the visit from the two agents unnerved everyone. The killer was still out there. He or she could or would kill again. Murderers say the first one is the big one; all the rest are free.
Bud and I washed dishes and cleaned up. Julie sat in the living room and picked up where she left off looking through students’ papers. Occasionally she laughed. Sometimes she frowned. She gave each project all her attention.
We called it an early night, and Bud took off for town. While I was nearly feeling like my old self, I still lacked my former Cabrelli stamina. Julie went upstairs and I heard her door close. I went into my room, but as tired as my body was, my brain could not stop. I stretched out on top of the covers and picked up my latest copy of the Wisconsin Outdoor News and tried to read. I couldn’t concentrate and sleep wasn’t coming, so like I had done many nights before, I walked outside to sit on the boat dock. I listened to the lapping water and felt it soothing me. The night sounds had become like old friends.
I heard a crash near the shop loud enough to make me jump. There had been a bear roaming the area, and we’d seen tracks a couple of times. The leftovers from dinner were probably too much of a temptation for Ursus Americanus. To scare him off before he destroyed every trash can and the shop, I made as much commotion as I could rounding the corner of the building where the noise came from. There was nothing there. I could see the glass panel on the shop door had been shattered. What I didn’t see coming was a crushing blow that knocked me to the ground. I was stunned, then hit by another blow and another. The last one struck me in the back. The pain was so intense I almost lost consciousness. The attacker rolled me over; I couldn’t even resist. I had to lay there and take whatever the bear dished out. I looked up and saw a silhouette holding something—a pipe, maybe a club—raised overhead. I was so stunned I couldn’t move my hands to block the blow that was sure to kill me. But it never came. Instead I heard an explosion followed rapidly by another. My attacker was gone, and I passed out.
Red and blue lights were swirling around me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Julie was holding my hand tightly. The lights caught the glistening of tears running down her face.
“Julie, I think I got attacked by a bear,” I mumbled. “I heard him in the trash, and when I went to scare him off, he beat the hell out of me. I should have known better. I figured he’d run off … never thought …”
“Hush now, John. Lay there quietly. We are going to the hospital. You are going to be fine. Don’t move any more than you have to,” she said in her calming voice.
I was too out of it to say anymore, and as I lapsed into unconsciousness, I swear I heard her say, “Please don’t leave me, John. Please don’t, I—”
3
The next morning, I came around to some semblance of being back among the living. Trying to move was rewarded by a sharp pain. One thing I was quick to grasp was that I was in a hospital bed—again. I am sad to say it didn’t even seem strange. I turned my head to take in my surroundings. It took me a while to realize, however, that I was in a different hospital. I only had one tube attached, and in a chair next to my bed was Julie sound asleep. Bud was sprawled out on a couch about two feet too short for him.
“Julie? Hey, Julie, wake up,” I said.
She jumped with a start. “John, you’re awake. How do you feel? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Bud, Bud wake up. Go get the nurse. Tell her John is awake.”
He lumbered off half asleep down the hall to do as he was told and came back with the nurse.
“Mr. Cabrelli, how are you?” she asked.
“I actually don’t know. You probably have more information on that front than I do. I know when I tried to move just now, some bump, bruise, or break got my immediate attention.”
“Mr. Cabrelli, you have several different injuries that might have caused that. The doctor is on the floor and wants to see you right away, so I will let him fill you in. I need to check a couple of things before he comes.”
She busied herself with my IV and checked the monitor readings.
“Everything looks good, Mr. Cabrelli. Is there anything I can get for you?”
“Nothing right now, thanks,” I replied.
As the nurse got to the door, she stopped and turned around to face me. “Mr. Cabrelli, I want to tell you how brave it was for you to save those children last summer. I can’t imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t … how terrible it would have been. One of those kids was my niece. She was in the room when you got shot. She still has nightmares, but as time passes, she’s getting better, and she’s alive thanks to you. If you ever need anything that my family or I can help with, all you need to do is ask. Feel better, Mr. Cabrelli. You take good care of him, Miss Carlson,” and she left before anyone could respond.
The kid still had nightmares and probably always would. When bad people do bad things, the list of victims is much longer than what you see at first glance. Those kids in the cabin that day would never forget what they saw. No therapy, no drugs could erase that horrific scene from the recesses of their minds. The bad guys always leave a legacy of hurt and pain.
The doorway filled with a guy in a white coat. The name Dr. May was embroidered on the pocket.
“Hello, John Cabrelli. I am Dr. May. I’m sure you’re a little sore right now. Do you have any sharp pain that is increasing anywhere?”
“I’m not exactly sure, Doc. I haven’t been moving around much. But this spot on my hip all bandaged up is sure sore. Did the bear bite me there?”
Dr. May gave me a quizzical look, then looked at Bud and Julie. No one spoke and no one met my eyes either.
Good old Bud couldn’t hold it in, “Jeez, John, you didn’t get in a fight with a bear. You were jumped by someone trying to break into the shop. He whacked the hell out of you with a broken piece of a canoe paddle. Julie heard all the noise and came running out with the shotgun. She said you were lying on the ground, and the guy had raised the club above his head to hit you again. She let go with both barrels, and the guy took off.”
“Julie, you shot the guy?” I asked.
“I know I should have, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I shot up in the air. Thank God it was good enough because he took off running.”
“No bear?” I asked again.
“No. No bear, John,” Julie answered.
“Here I thought I was fighting a bear, and instead, it was another bad guy. I must have really been out of it,” I said.
“Not so hard to believe, Mr. Cabrelli. You sustained at least three separate blows to the head, any one of which could have caused a concussion and a loss of cognitive function. However, while I am sure your injuries are painful, they do not appear to have caused severe damage, at least for the most part. We haven’t done a thorough enough workup on your back yet. Today we will do an MRI to find out if there is any further damage. Based on your previous injuries, we don’t want to take any chances. I have been on the phone with Doctors Árnason and Jónsdottir, and they would like you flown to Madison as soon as you give consent. It seems they are of the opinion that you may not receive the best care in a small-town hospital in northern Wisconsin. I really can’t disagree with them; they are the best, and it will not be an issue if you want to be transferred. So if that is what you want to do, we will make the necessary arrangements.”
“Give me a minute to process this, will you, Doc? I am still not quite hitting on all cylinders.”
“Mr. Cabrelli, take all the time you need. If I could make a suggestion?”
“Sure, Doc.”
“The MRI is set for early this afternoon. The results will be looked at immediately. It will give everyone an idea of what is going on. If you go to Madison, they will need an MRI anyway, so why don’t we do the scan, see what’s up, and proceed from there?”
“That works for me, Doc.”
“Good. I think it’s a wise choice. Now I hate to tell you, but the sheriff�
�s office wanted me to call as soon as you were awake. They are out in the hall waiting to talk to you. Do you feel like you can talk to them? If not, I will send them on their way until you do.”
“Send them in. They have a job to do. Not to mention, I would very much like them to catch the guy who clobbered me.”
The doorway was filled by former deputy, now recently elected sheriff, Jim Rawsom, one of Namekagon County’s finest. I had become acquainted with him over the last several months. He had shown himself to be a competent professional, at least from what I had seen.
“John, how are you doing? That was a stupid question. You’re lying in a hospital bed with a couple of huge purple knots on your head. If you are up to it, I’d like to hear about what happened,” Rawsom said.
“It’s pretty straightforward,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep so I went outside to sit by the lake and look out at the water. It’s good therapy. I heard a crash over by the shop. I thought it was a bear getting into the trash. There’s been one poking around for the last couple of weeks. I went to scare him off and made plenty of noise on the way. Next thing I know, I’m getting a beating. To tell you the truth, I thought a bear attacked me. I kind of still do. The doctor said I probably have a concussion, and that may be why I am a little confused. It’s too bad in a way. I mean, any idiot can get the crap beat out of him by someone with a club, but who gets to fight a bear and lives to tell about it? Anyway, the guy hit me hard across the back. He must have hit the right spot because it hurt like hell, and it put me down for the count. That’s pretty much all I remember. Maybe snippets, but nothing really. Next thing I knew, I was being loaded into the ambulance, and Julie was there. That’s pretty much it, Sheriff.”
“Can you give me a description of your assailant?”
“Sorry, Sheriff. It may come to me later, but right now I’m going to have to stick with black hair, small round ears, claws, and big teeth.”
“We processed the scene and there was not much to be found. The EMTs beat us there and pretty much tromped over everything. We were all at a bad accident on the other end of the county when the call came in. I broke right away, but I was still twenty miles out. We did find what appears to be the weapon—an old canoe paddle with only half a blade. You were lucky. Canoe paddles are made out of strong but light wood. No doubt he inflicted plenty of pain, but next to that old paddle was a piece of steel pipe. If he had grabbed that instead … well, who knows? Anyway, the glass panel on the door was smashed, and it looks like the perp reached in and turned the lock bolt. Do you always keep the shop locked?” asked Rawsom.
“We try to, but I’ve got to admit that sometimes we leave it unlocked,” I answered.
“Unlocked doors are pretty common around here. Most folks don’t see the need. Things are changing, though. Truth is, locks only keep the honest people out. Anyway, it looks like you surprised him or her before he gained entry. The canoe paddle is on its way to Madison for processing, but it probably won’t be much of a priority for them. I called in a canine unit, and the dog picked up some ground disturbance and tracks going down an old deer trail behind the building ending up at the county road. There we found tire impressions in the soft soil at the road edge. Looks like that might be where he parked. We cast the tracks and got a fair tread pattern. Local tire shop says without a doubt they are Goodyear Wranglers, the most popular kind of tire they sell. Judging by the tread depth, they were about halfway gone. The tread width indicates it was a truck or large SUV. We canvased the houses on the county road, but no one saw or heard anything. We have no real suspects. I could name a dozen or so locals who would be up to the task, but nothing that points to anyone specific. The drug problem around here is growing like crazy, and that always results in more theft crimes. I can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t look like anything is gone. You’ll have to take a look and let me know. I don’t think the assailant brought a weapon, that’s why the paddle. Probably some whacked out junkie looking for something to turn into cash.”
I knew this was the most likely scenario. Stealing things to convert them to cash to buy drugs happens every day, everywhere. Cities, villages, and rural areas all deal with the problem. The shop would be a good target. It is out of the way and contains tools and electronic gear that are easy to sell with no serial numbers to track them. It was most likely that the perp was, as Rawsom suggested, a whacked-out doper who dished out the beating to keep from getting caught.
“John, here is my card with a cell phone and office number. If anything else comes to mind, give me a call. I also need a list of anything that’s missing. I’m going to hit the street and jingle-jangle a few potential suspects to see if any of them may have found their way out to Spider Lake. I’ll keep you up to speed on my progress. Bud, Julie, I hope to see you next time under more pleasant circumstances. John, I hope you get better soon. The fish are really starting to bite. See you all later.”
Rawsom left the room and was immediately replaced by hospital personnel waiting to take me for the MRI. Two burly nurses, one male, one female, picked me up in a blanket and slid me over to a special cart. One nurse asked several questions about whether or not I worked with metals or had any metal implants. The ones in my back from my previous bullet wound were safe, but anything magnetic would cause me to be sucked into a black hole—something I truly wanted to avoid.
They wheeled me down the hall into the elevator. When we arrived at radiology, I was whisked through double doors, and my cart was lined up to the edge of a large tube. Able, competent hands slid me over onto a table and centered me.
They made several adjustments to my body position, and when they were satisfied, the technician explained, “Mr. Cabrelli, you are going to be moved inside the machine. It is a tight fit in there, and some people get a little claustrophobic. We have earphones for you to put on that will play some music. You should close your eyes, listen to the music, and sleep if you can. The test is going to take about forty minutes.”
Then she put a squeeze ball in my hand and continued, “This is the emergency bulb. If there is any reason that you need us to pull you out, squeeze the bulb, and we will stop the test immediately. That is what the ball is for, so don’t hesitate to use it if you need to. Any questions, Mr. Cabrelli?”
“No, I am good to go. Do I have a choice in music?”
“Name it,” the technician said.
“I feel like a little Sinatra, if you have it,” I replied.
The headphones were placed on my ears, and a few moments later the “Chairman of the Board” was singing “Fly Me to the Moon.” The table moved into the tube. The machine started and soon I was surrounded by whirling, clicking, and clacking.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew the table was moving backward, and I was out of the tube.
“How did I do?” I asked.
“Perfect, Mr. Cabrelli. You are all done. We’ll be taking you back to your room in a minute,” the technician replied.
Julie was waiting in my room when I returned. Bud had promised to help a guy put his dock and boat lift in and had taken off. Her smiling face was exactly what I wanted to see. Then I was hit with the reality of the situation. Here I was again lying in a hospital bed, at the moment the future unknown. What if I needed more surgery, more rehab and recovery? Poor sweet Julie. How could I put her in this situation again? People tire of being caretakers; it’s a tough job. Julie had seen me through the worst, but I couldn’t expect her to drop everything and bear the burden of caring for me yet again.
“Julie, I’m all done with the test. The doc said they would get back to me with the results before the end of the day. I am feeling better already. Matter of fact, I feel like going fishing. Crank up the motor and pitch a few casts at muskies. Is the weather nice outside? Sure seems like a nice day …” I was babbling.
“John, please stop. Don’t worry. Whatever happens next, we will handle together. Things will work out, and you will be out in the boat before you know it.
But right now, easy does it.” said Julie.
“I am such a pain in the butt, Julie. I can’t even keep myself out of the hospital. You’ve got a whole life to live, and it sure as heck shouldn’t involve taking care of me. I mean, first I’m shot, then I let some whacked-out junkie jump me and beat the hell out of me with my own broken canoe paddle. I believe this is clear evidence of a downward spiral. You should step away before you get caught up in my life and can’t escape. I attract trouble and that means collateral damage,” I said.
My mind raced back to the most horrible moment of my life: the day I killed little Angelina Gonzalez and saved the rapist she was trying to kill—the rapist who deserved to die. Angelina had been caught in the swirling vortex of my life and had not survived, on earth anyway. She visited me often in dreams. So vivid were the nocturnal remembrances, I often woke up screaming in the night. No more, please, God. Don’t let any more innocent lives perish because of me.
“John!” Julie raised her voice. “Stop. Shut up. I am not going anywhere. You are not going to chase me away. However, this attitude of yours is starting to irritate me. Let’s see what the doctor says and go from there. Okay with you?”
She was clearly not happy with me, and it showed in her eyes.
“Julie, I’m sorry. It’s just that I …” I started to respond but was saved from swallowing my entire foot by none other than Agents Street and Chandler, the two last people I wanted to see. They walked in as Julie announced she was going to get a cup of coffee, leaving a chilly wind in her wake.
“Boy, you sure have a knack for pissing people off, don’t you, Cabrelli? They teach you that in the academy, or did you learn that all on your own?” mused Agent Chandler.
I couldn’t even muster a response.
