Unintended Witness

by D. L. Wood

“Still asleep,” Tyler droned, sounding annoyed. “She never gets up early.”

  “Most teenagers don’t,” Chloe agreed.

  Holt slapped a plate down in front of Tyler. “Here you go, dude. Yours will be up in a second,” he said, cutting his eyes at Chloe and winking.

  “This is really nice of you.”

  “No problem.”

  “You know, I can take it from here, though. I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”

  “Nah. I’m good for a bit.”

  They ate spaceships and aliens with syrup and bacon and orange juice. Emma eventually wandered down and joined them. She was quiet, only speaking to tell Holt thanks. Finally Tyler piped up.

  “How’s dad?” he asked, shoveling an alien head in his mouth.

  “He asked earlier,” Holt explained. “I said it was too early to know more.”

  “We don’t know yet, buddy,” said Chloe. “We’ll go see him this morning.”

  Holt stood, slid his plate in the dishwasher and motioned to Chloe. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He inclined his head towards the dining room.

  “Sure,” Chloe answered and followed him.

  “Look,” Holt started once they were out of earshot. “I actually do need to get some things under control today. I’ve got to talk to the police about Sims and Reese and take a look at what we’ve got going on over the next weeks. I’m going to have to handle Reese’s caseload until he’s back on his feet, and I need to wrap my head around what he has coming up and figure out how to work it all in.”

  “Of course. You’ve done plenty. More than enough,” she said. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

  He rubbed a hand over his head. “It’s gonna be quite a mess. And I need to talk to Sims. I want to see if he knows anything more. Maybe pressure him a bit. The more I think about it, I’m not sure handing his case over to a public defender is the right thing to do now. I want to get a better sense of what’s going on first. See if maybe we can find a connection to what happened to Reese.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  Holt eyed her wearily. “I wish you could. I think it’s going to be pretty hectic for a while.”

  “I want to help if I can. Whatever you need. I want to help you get to the bottom of this.” She said it resolutely, hoping he understood how determined she was.

  He nodded. “I’ll call if I find anything out. In the meantime, just hang tight with the kids. Go see Reese. Oh, and I’ve already called the security company Reese uses here. They’ll be by later to reset the codes. Just in case,” he added, as if not wanting to worry her too much.

  “Good idea. Thanks,” she said.

  After a quick see-ya-later to the kids, Holt headed out, leaving Chloe to marshal the kids for their return trip to the hospital. She gave them a half-hour departure time warning, then headed upstairs. Her plan was to shower here, then run by the inn on the way so she could change clothes. But that all changed when she checked her phone. Jack had called again. And sent her a text.

  If I don’t hear from you in an hour, I’m calling the cops. I’m so worried. CALL ME.

  Her heart plummeted. She missed him. And she was angry. And she felt alone. She needed him, his strength, his encouragement. But he had lied to her. Or not told her the truth. Or both.

  It was time. Sucking in a deep breath, she dialed him back.

  * * * * *

  “Where have you been?” Jack’s voice came over the phone, apprehensive and direct. “I’ve been trying to reach you since late Friday night! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Chloe lied. “It’s just been crazy here. Reese got hurt and I’ve been dealing with that and the kids, and I haven’t had a moment to really sit down and talk.”

  “Hurt? What happened?”

  So he’s not going to even mention “the wife,” she thought bitterly, before plunging into an explanation. “Someone broke into their house. After the thing with the box on the porch. They attacked Reese. Shoved him down the stairs. He’s in the hospital. We’re headed over in a little while to see him.”

  “Is he going to be all right?”

  “I don’t know yet. There was a blood clot. He was still unconscious as of last night.” Her voice was deadpan, unable to muster any liveliness as she waited for him to come clean.

  “Why didn’t you let me know? Why didn’t you at least text? I was scared to death something had happened to you. I nearly jumped on a plane. I started thinking that someone from Inverse had come after you. Honestly I didn’t know what to think, I just—”

  “I called your phone two nights ago,” she interrupted. “Late. Your wife answered.”

  A heavy silence met her revelation. She let it linger, awkward and pregnant, waiting for him to break it. He didn’t.

  “She said you were in the bathroom. In your hotel room.”

  She heard him exhale. “I was going to tell you.” It was a lament, an admission ripe with regret.

  “Was it Lila? I don’t understand, Jack. Help me understand.”

  “Look, it’s not what you think. Lila came to me a few days ago. Her life’s fallen apart. She felt like maybe I could help her. She didn’t know what else to try. I agreed to talk to her. We had a late dinner, I went up to change and she waited in my room. She just sort of followed me, I didn’t ask her up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know you’d called. Lila didn’t tell me. I don’t know why—”

  “How long have you been seeing her?”

  “I’m not ‘seeing’ her, Chloe. Not like that. She’s staying out here, and I’m just, I don’t know, encouraging her. I felt obligated to try to help. I know she was awful to me, but she’s finally asking questions about faith and I didn’t feel right not trying.”

  “You could’ve told me.”

  “I was going to tell you. I just wanted to understand what was really going on first.”

  “You’re keeping secrets.”

  “What? No—”

  “We said no more secrets. You know how I feel about that. First Tate with the money-laundering thing, and then Reese keeping Emma and Tyler from me and now you—”

  “Wait a minute. Don’t lump me in there with them. I am not keeping secrets. This is just a matter of timing, not a matter of me hiding things.”

  “She didn’t tell you I’d called, did she?

  “No.” He paused. “I don’t know why she did that.”

  “Yes, you do. We both do. She said she was your ‘wife,’ Jack. Not your ex-wife. She said wife.”

  “I’ll talk to her. I don’t know what she was thinking. She shouldn’t have answered the phone anyway. Look, I know Lila may be completely snowing me, but I felt like I had to make an effort. Chloe, I love you. You know that. This isn’t anything for you to get worked up about. Seriously.”

  “Seriously?” she echoed sourly.

  She didn’t want to do this. Not with him. He meant well. She truly believed that. But his judgment on this…it was just wrong. Why didn’t he get that? “I love you, too, Jack. I do. But this—we’ve talked about this. You swore you’d never keep anything from me again.”

  “Chloe, you know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. Believe me when I say I was going to tell you.”

  “But that’s the thing. You didn’t. Not even just now. Not until I brought it up.” She sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t need this on top of everything else. But I can’t talk about it anymore right now. We’re heading to the hospital to check on Reese.”

  “Chloe, this isn’t okay. I’m not okay. We need to talk about this.”

  “Jack, right now I’ve got two kids waiting downstairs for me to take them to see their potentially brain-damaged father. I can’t do this. Can we talk later?”

  He paused, blowing a bit of breath out. “Yeah, sure. Of course,” he said, his voice soft. “Do what you need to do.”

  “Thank
you. I’ll call you—”

  “Wait, before you go, the break-in—did they catch the person?

  “No,” she said. It was so unfamiliar, this feeling that she didn’t want to talk about something with him. But talking about it would have meant prolonging their conversation and right now she just didn’t know what to say. Plus, if she gave him specifics about the threat on the wall and the murder and everything else he would want to get on a plane right then.

  “I don’t like this at all,” he insisted.

  “We’re fine. There’s a burglar system. They’re changing the codes out today.”

  “You should stay somewhere else—”

  “We’re fine, Jack. Besides I can’t uproot the kids like that.” She pulled the phone down to glance at the time. Her thirty minutes was disappearing fast. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  “Call me, or at least text me later. Let me know what’s happening with Reese.”

  She glossed over his request, too focused on asking her next question. “Are you seeing her again?”

  “Do you not want me to?”

  She could feel her lips drop into a frown, as she shook her head. Do I really have to answer that?

  Yes, she believed that Jack was telling the truth about wanting to help her. Yes, Jack was a rescuer and, according to his description of his ex-wife, if ever there was a person in need of rescue, it was Lila. And, yes, she knew that if the woman was actually seeking hope—though Chloe had her suspicions about that—Jack was doing the right thing by pointing Lila in the right direction. But even so, did it have to be him?

  “Do what you need to do, Jack. I’ll talk to you later,” she said and hung up.

  * * * * *

  It was after ten in the morning by the time they actually stepped inside Reese’s hospital room. Somehow he looked so much smaller in the hospital bed than when Chloe had met him on his front porch just three days earlier. His face seemed drawn, almost gaunt, and his body, less, under the thin white sheet that failed to cover the multitude of tubes and wires stretching from his arm to equipment suspended over the bed.

  “How long will he be like this?” Emma asked, her face ashen. It was the first thing she had said since they had been allowed a short, ten-minute visit. That was all hospital policy permitted since Tyler was under the age of twelve.

  Chloe took stock of the teen, wondering whether the pallor of her skin was due to fear, anger, frustration, or an inexplicable combination of all three and more. “The doctor said it just depends on how he progresses—how long he needs to be in a medically induced coma to help him heal. At least a couple of days.”

  Tyler stood by the bed, holding Reese’s right hand, the one free of any IV lines. A fat tear dropped from the boy’s jawline onto the sheet. He too had been quiet. Probably trying to be brave, Chloe thought, as they stood around Reese waiting for the ten minutes to tick down.

  According to Chloe’s private briefing by Reese’s nurse, there had been no significant change overnight, which was a good thing. His vitals had remained stable and he seemed to be resting comfortably. Due to the extent of the head injury, they had opted to keep him in a state of medically induced unconsciousness to reduce the stress on his brain and to get him through, what would likely be, the most painful hours of recovery. Assuming all went well, they hoped to bring him out of it within several days, perhaps a week at most. But they had made no promises.

  The pings and whirring of the machines in the room made a disconcerting backdrop to their short, silent vigil, until finally the nurse stepped inside to politely inform them that their time was up. Putting an arm around Tyler, Chloe followed Emma out the door.

  The path to the parking lot took them past a set of double doors on the first floor with large plastic letters over them that read “CHAPEL.” Chloe paused for a moment, and for half a second almost turned inside, but then considered Emma and Tyler. She couldn’t leave them outside, and she didn’t know how they would feel about it. In the end, she continued walking.

  “So who could eat?” she asked, once they were in the car and pulling out of the lot. “I think there’s a Steak ’n Shake nearby.” From the rear view mirror she eyed Tyler in the rear seat, his head still hanging low. “Chocolate shakes? My treat.”

  “Cookies and Cream?” he asked, his chin lifting slightly.

  “Whatever you want,” Chloe said, smiling, as even Emma’s lip curled up at one corner.

  Thirty minutes later, deep into a huge basket of fries and shakes thick enough to defy the stoutest straw, Emma turned towards Chloe, a shadow of seriousness covering her face.

  “So what now? I mean, Dad’s in the hospital for who knows how long. There’s Mrs. Brinkley, but she can’t stay with us overnight—”

  “Who’s Mrs. Brinkley?”

  “Tyler’s babysitter when I’ve got to work after school or whatever.”

  “She’s not my babysitter,” Tyler protested, half a fry falling from his mouth.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “She picks him up from school sometimes and stays with him till somebody gets home. But like I said, she never stays overnight.”

  “And you don’t have any family—grandparents or aunts or anyone that can stay with you? Just till your dad is better?”

  “We have you.” Her words carried no emotion, just fact, her eyes cold-locked onto Chloe’s. “There is no one else.”

  “You could stay with us,” Tyler proposed innocently, dipping another fry in ketchup.

  The noise of the little burger joint with its plates clanking and food sizzling, and the greasy scent of frying hamburgers surrounded Chloe as she considered this. She could stay. She could grab her stuff from the inn and move into the little guest room upstairs until Reese was better. She could.

  But did she want to?

  Yes.

  She might still have her issues with Reese, but these two were not part of that. They were her at age eight and age seventeen. And they needed her.

  “Would you really want me to?” Chloe asked.

  Emma’s features lightened, a mixture of disbelief and something like hope stealing over them. “Are you serious? You would do that?”

  “Of course I would.”

  Emma turned her head so that she was facing away, brushed something from her eye and nodded.

  “So it’s okay if I move in for a while? Just until your dad is back on his feet.”

  “It’s more than okay. It’s awesome!” Tyler grinned and took a long, slurpy drag on his milkshake.

  Checking out of the inn was a painless process, and within the hour, Chloe was dropping her dark red suitcase on the hardwood floors of Reese’s guest room. The kids were somewhere else in the house, doing who-knew-what, but she had told them she was going to take a quick nap and would be out in a little while.

  The truth was, she needed a moment to process what was happening—with Reese, with Jack, and with these two siblings that she had now charged herself with protecting. The hospital chapel had been appealing, but this room was just as good.

  Hoping for some guidance, Chloe laid down on the bed, closed her eyes and started to pray.

  * * * * *

  Chloe realized she must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she knew, she was roused by screams of “Chinese food!” coming from downstairs. She dragged herself up, groggy from the unplanned REM sleep she had obviously been enjoying, and toddled down the stairs in her T-shirt, yoga pants, and fuzzy green socks.

  “Nice,” Holt said jerking his head towards her feet as he stood over the kitchen island, popping open a silver-handled take-out carton embossed with a red Chinese pagoda.

  She smirked and rolled her eyes. He was dressed down in dark jeans, a tailored black-checkered button down, and comfortable but expensive looking loafers she was fairly certain were the same Ferragamos she had considered for Jack before realizing they were nearly five hundred dollars a pair.

  “Who wants Chicken Lo Mein?” Holt quizzed, the kids hovering by eit
her shoulder.

  “Me!” Tyler replied enthusiastically, raising a cornflower blue plate towards Holt. “But take out the carrots,” he admonished, turning to Chloe who had sidled up to him. “I hate carrots.”

  Chloe started to comment that Tate—the brother Tyler had never known—had hated carrots too, but instead she choked back the words as a burning rose in her throat. Tate had always made her pick the carrots out whenever they had ordered Chinese food. She wondered how many more similarities she would discover between her two brothers and when, if ever, they would stop shocking her system.

  The kids moved to eat in front of the television as Chloe fixed her plate. It was early, only just shy of five o’clock, but she was surprised to find her stomach rumbling in response to the tantalizing aroma heavy with ginger and garlic.

  “Chloe and I are headed out front for a minute, guys,” Holt told the kids, and received a silent, two-fingered salute of acknowledgement from Emma that she gave without taking her eyes off the episode of American Ninja Warrior they were watching.

  Out on the porch the late afternoon sky was turning golden, the hazy rays illuminating dust particles floating benignly through the air. A breeze ruffled the ragweed that covered the horse pastures behind Reese’s neighborhood, just visible between the houses on the opposite side of the street.

  “Thanks for sending the text update on Reese earlier,” Holt said, setting his iced tea on the small table between them. “I’m sorry he isn’t doing any better.”

  “At least he’s not worse,” Chloe said, taking a bite and swallowing. “I feel like we ought to be there, but I just don’t think it’s good for them to sit there all day, wondering when he’s going to wake up.”

  “No. You’re right. They’ll let you know if there’s a change.”

  “And thanks for this,” she said lifting a fork laden with rice noodles and chicken. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “It’s nothing. I needed to bring you up to speed anyway. And you’ve got news for me too, I hear. They said you’ve moved in.”

  “It’s just temporary. I don’t know how long I can stay and who knows how long it’ll be before Reese is back home and on his feet. Eventually we’ll have to make other arrangements.”