“In small towns, any news is big news,” one of the paramedics says to me as they lift me into the ambulance.
Mr. Fulton appears in the ambulance doorway. He’s in full police uniform. “How is she?” he asks Dad.
“Looks like she’ll be okay. Possibly cracked or broken ribs. Maybe a concussion. They’ve got to run tests and make sure there’s nothing internal to worry about.”
They both look at each other a moment longer, communicating something in silence. Mr. Fulton nods briefly at Dad. Then he says to me, “I had to make Isaac leave. It was too much to see you knocked out. Still, he wouldn’t go home. Just to let you know he’s waiting at the hospital.”
I smile. It hurts, so I stop.
“Glad you’re okay,” Mr. Fulton says. “We’ll talk later, Ginnie, but I promise we’ll find out what happened and take care of it.”
He glances again at Dad and then leaves.
The paramedics shut the ambulance doors.
“Why did his eyes look like they were threatening you?”
Dad is sitting beside me as the ambulance takes off. He takes my hand again, chuckling to himself. “Let’s just say when I heard from Cassie about someone running you off the road, I vowed that I would find that person and take care of the situation myself. Ted overheard it.”
“Don’t do anything crazy. I don’t want to have to visit my father in prison.”
“Did someone really run you off the road?”
“It was the same truck from Gran’s house. The truck came out of nowhere and plowed right into us. Kept at it until we were barreling down that bloody hill. Stupid truck. He did it on purpose.”
“There, there, leave the vendettas to me. That way, only one of us goes to prison.”
“Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“When we get to the hospital, can I not have any visitors? At least until morning? I need to collect my thoughts.”
“Of course. I’ll keep everyone at bay. Even Isaac.”
“Well, he’s already there. He can see me.” Then again, I think of what I must look like, and say, “You know what? Just tell him I’m doing fine, and I’ll see him tomorrow.”
With a sigh, I close my eyes and tune everything out. I need to think. Without any interruptions or questions or curious glances. This is something I have to sort out myself. Why would that man want to hurt us? Meant to maybe even do more. I shudder at the thought. Who would shove Cassie and me off the road? What kind of person would want us dead?
But someone did. Someone who must be getting annoyed at my picking around some swept aside secrets. The more I think about it, the more I agree with Mitchell Hunt. There is no curse on that land or on the tribesmen. No, what I’m dealing with is much worse. I’m dealing with a murderer. One who has no hesitation to murder again.
28
I feel something flick my nose.
“Psst, Ginnie. Wake up.”
My eyes peek open to see Cassie’s face inches from mine. “I’m sleepy,” I say before I drift off to sleep again.
Another flick at my nose.
“Stop,” I murmur and try to turn over. But I’m strapped to a few machines, which makes turning over complicated. Plus, Cassie’s sitting on my covers. I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I was sleeping without any weird dreams.” I open my eyes and glance around. “Where’s Dad? He was supposed to protect me from people like you.”
“I told him he could go get a cup of coffee. I had to promise not to disturb you.”
“Go figure.”
“We have to talk.” Cassie’s voice lowers. “Someone tried to kill us.”
I sit up, knowing my night of sleep is over. The sun shines brightly in the room, so I must have slept for several hours, but I’m still annoyed at being woken up. “Looks that way.”
“When I looked over and saw you knocked out, I thought you were dead. I was yelling your name, shaking you, but nothing.” Cassie looks down, her voice shaking.
Okay, so I’m not so annoyed now. I reach out and hug her. “I’m fine. I’m right here. You’re stuck with me.” After I release her I notice the cuts and bruises on her face. “Oh my word, Cass…” I touch her face.
“It looks worse than it feels. Laura and the other doctors said that it won’t leave any permanent scarring, so that’s good. And no offense, but you are the one everyone’s worried about.”
“Why? I feel okay. My head is kind of sore.”
“Yeah, but you were out for a long time.”
“How long?”
“At least an hour. After the accident, you were unconscious and our legs were pinned under the smooshed dashboard. You should see the car. The front half smacked a tree, and even though I slammed on the brakes just before we hit it, the car is totaled.”
“So, what happened after that?” I prod her along.
“Luckily, your phone was within reach. I grabbed it and called the first number I found, which was Uncle Sam. I was hysterical, of course, because I thought my only cousin was dead, and he took care of everything else. He told me to sit tight and say a prayer for you. Next thing I know, not five minutes later, I hear sirens. Which was good because being in the car with what I thought was a dead body was weirding me out.”
“How bad do I look?” I ask. I touch my head and feel the bandaging around it.
“Not horrible. You have a cut right here by your left eye, must have been glass from my window.”
“My window didn’t bust?”
“Nope, just mine. Anyways, you’ll probably have bruising on your forehead, maybe even a goose egg.”
“Thank God.” I breathe in and out, trying to calm my nerves. Just talking about it makes me nervous. “That guy tried to kill us. The same one who threatened Gran.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say. Mr. Fulton’s going to want to talk to you, but I told him and the other police officers everything I remember. It’s a big mystery. Why would that man purposefully want to hurt us?”
“I wonder if it’s the same person who hit Mitchell Hunt and left him for dead? Whatever the reasons, Gran might know about why he’s targeting us.”
Cassie’s eyes widen. “I never thought about that, but it makes sense. Do you think he’s trying to get at her?”
Before I can answer, Dad walks in with a cup of coffee in one hand, a cell phone in the other, and Laura beside him. “You woke her up?” he asks Cassie.
“She was already up.”
His look reveals his disbelief. “Yeah, right.” He comes over to me and kisses my cheek. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m alive.” I hear someone on the other end of his phone. “Is that Mum?”
“Your mother’s on the phone, having a panic attack. Are you up to talking to her?”
I reach my hand out.
“You sure?” he asks again.
I nod and take the phone. “Hello, Mum. I’m all right.”
“Oh dear sweet Jee-ssuuss, Mary, mother of God, I’ve been worrying like a cat without a tail! How’s my love? What happened, dear?”
She’s still loud, but the emotion in her voice touches me. “It was a car accident…”
“You weren’t driving, were you? Those American cars can be a bit tricky.”
“No, Cassie was, but it wasn’t her fault. Some truck smacked into us.”
Mum throws out a slew of profanity. I have to hold the phone away from my ear. Dad takes the phone. “Let me have her call you back. She just woke up. Yes, Melinda, I will have her call you. Thank you.” He sighs in annoyance. “Yes, I realize that if she would have got on the plane, none of this would have happened. It was her choice.” He pulls the phone away and blinks. “She hung up on me.”
“She’s prone to tantrums,” I say.
“No one knows that more than me.” Dad looks over at me. “Want some coffee?”
I take the cup and sip. That’s when I notice Laura at the end of the bed with a clipboard. She’s shuffling through some papers, making notes.
<
br /> “How does it look, Doctor?” Dad jokes. “Will the patient live?”
Laura smiles and looks up, giving him a wink. “More than likely.”
“Oh, spare me,” Cassie says and pushes herself off my bed. “That’s enough middle-aged flirting this girl can handle.”
“I’m not middle-aged,” Dad argues.
“You’re forty now, aren’t you? That makes you—”
“Oh my WORD!” I shout, interrupting Cassie. “Happy Birthday! I can’t believe I forgot!” I look at Cassie. “We didn’t go to the store last night! I forgot to get him a present!”
“Relax.” Laura comes up next to me. She checks my bandages, then my eyes. “Follow my finger,” she says. Once she’s done, she adds, “You’ll be released soon. Thankfully, the concussion is healing nicely. I’ll check up on you at the house, but I know you’d like to be with your Dad today. Plus, there’s the party, which I can tell Rose not to cancel. How’s that sound?”
“Thanks for letting the cat out of the bag,” Cassie says annoyed.
“I found out last night when your grandmother slipped and said you were supposed to go to the store to get supplies for the party. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, Cassie.” Dad turns to me. “What do you say? Want to get out of this joint in a little bit?”
“Yes, but I have to stop by the store.”
“No, you don’t. You being alive and well is enough of a gift for me.” Dad kisses me again on the cheek. “I don’t need anything more.”
For some reason, this gets me emotional. I swallow back the tears.
“I’ll go let the nurses know,” Laura says, looking from Dad to me. “It might take some time, but you should be out of here in the next hour or so. Come on, Cassie. Didn’t you say you were leaving?”
Both Cassie and Laura leave the room.
“Happy Birthday,” I say quietly.
Dad sits beside me on the bed and leans his head next to mine. “Thank you. And thank you for not dying. That would have made today a horrible birthday.”
We stay quiet for a few minutes. “Thanks for keeping everyone away.”
“It’s been difficult, but they wanted to respect your wishes. Other than Cassie.”
I stifle a laugh. “She’s a slithery one.”
“That she is.”
“She’s wanting to be my roommate at Michigan.”
“Really?” Dad tries to mask his interest, but I can tell he’s hopeful. “Does this mean…?”
“I don’t know just yet, but I’m leaning toward it. If you’re over here, I can’t see being in London without you. And Cassie, well, let’s just say she’s more than a good cousin.”
“She’s a good friend?” Dad adds.
“Yeah. We’re thinking of doing some kind of criminal justice program. I’m thinking I might be able to find something that has a focus on detective work with photography. I don’t know. Do you think that’s kind of cheesy?”
“I think it’s a great idea, and what a great birthday present to know my daughter might move to the states for me.”
“And Cassie.”
“Of course.”
“And for myself.”
“Even better.”
Someone knocks at the door. Mr. Fulton sticks his head in. “Is now an okay time?” he asks Dad.
“They’re needing a statement,” Dad says to me. “Should he come later?”
“Now’s fine.”
Mr. Fulton enters the room. He’s intimidating even when he’s not wearing his uniform, but with it on, he’s quite the looming presence.
“You’re staying here, right?” I ask Dad.
“I’m not leaving, hon.”
Another officer enters the room, and I see that it’s Pete from before. He nods in my direction and says hello to Dad. It’s clear though that Mr. Fulton runs the show.
“Cassie provided a lot of information last night, so we shouldn’t take too long,” he starts. “Before I go through what she said, I will ask questions of you to verify the information we received from her. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“Where were you yesterday at 11:50 at night?”
“I was driving back to Gran’s house with Cassie. She was driving actually. I was the passenger.”
“Where were you coming from?”
“Pellston, or just outside of it. I’m not sure of the exact directions.”
“Were you going north or south on 27?”
“We were going south. I remember commenting on how dark it is up here and how bright London is at night. We were in the middle of nowhere, but a sign said that Pigeon Forest was only five miles away.”
Mr. Fulton nods. “Why were you in Pellston?”
I swallow and glance at Dad. “We were visiting a man by the name of Mitchell Hunt.”
Now Mr. Fulton looks up from his notes. “You were?”
He acts surprised, and I start to panic. Isn’t that what Cassie said? Did she say we were visiting her friend? Why would she say that without telling me?
“Virginia, Mr. Fulton asked you a question.”
“Cassie made it sound that you were visiting a friend more your age.”
I bit my lip. Wow, this complicates things.
“We need the truth.” Mr. Fulton taps his pencil on his small notepad.
“We only said that to my father because we didn’t want him to worry. Yesterday I had talked with a man named George Hodgens, and he said that the guy who was Barbara Blackstone’s fiancé at the time of her death was still alive. This was different from what we heard earlier.”
“What had you heard earlier?”
“That he had been hit by a car and died.”
“That’s what I had heard, too,” Mr. Fulton says.
“Who told you that? Wouldn’t you investigate it?”
“It was out of my jurisdiction. Still, he has quite the troubled past, I can understand why he wanted to fade into the woodwork. So, are you sure you met with him?”
“Yes, I think so. He lives in the deep woods, but he knew a lot about Barbara Blackstone, which is why we went out there. We had questions.”
“Okay,” Mr. Fulton puts his hand up like he wants me to pause. “One thing at a time. Let’s discuss the accident first, then we will discuss…Barbara.”
I can see why Cassie decided to lie about where we were at. It certainly would have been easier to explain!
“Do you remember what happened on the road last night?”
“Cassie and I were talking about schools. Headlights appear behind us out of nowhere. Really bright. They smash into us from behind. Hard enough that Cassie swerves. It comes up to the side of us. That’s when I realize it’s this enormous truck. The ones where the tires come up to here.” I indicate with my hand how tall the tires are. “It’s the same one that was on our property the day I found Gran. It rams into us and doesn’t let up. We were virtually at its mercy.”
“Did you get a glimpse of the driver?”
“The tires were huge,” I say again. “But I couldn’t see that high up. The next thing I know we’re flying down a hill.”
“Did Cassie upset anyone on the road? Was she driving crazy? Could it have been road rage?”
“No. Like I said, this truck appeared out of nowhere. It’s that guy. I’m sure of it. He told Gran ‘All bets are off.’”
“Did you get a clear look at the make and model of the truck?”
“It was a dark color because it matched the night.”
Mr. Fulton glances at Dad. “All right, Ginnie. That’s enough for now. If I can talk to your father outside—”
“Wait!”
He stops.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing I can disclose right now.” He looks at Dad and motions to the door.
As they leave, Mr. Fulton says, “Oh, Isaac insisted on coming. He doesn’t have to come in, but he wanted me to ask if he could see you.”
“Of course. How’s Ian?”
“Good. We haven’t told him about you and the accident. He’s taken a liking to you, and we didn’t want to alarm him.”
“Won’t he know eventually? I mean, look at me.”
“Yes, but it will be easier for him to handle when he sees that you are okay and that the bruises will heal.”
They leave, and I’m alone again. I sigh and lean back. The thought crosses my mind—again—that maybe I should have gone back to London, but I don’t let it stay. The more I discover and find out about the mystery behind Barbara’s disappearance and death, the more determined I am to figure it out. Going back to London is a safe thing to do. It’s my comfort zone. But if I’m honest with myself, the more I’m here, the more a part of it I become. There’s a history here, a history that is a part of me. Still, with someone out there who is determined to take me out of the picture, it definitely takes this up a notch.
There’s a knock at the door.
“It’s open,” I call out.
Isaac walks in and watches me before moving closer. He doesn’t speak, only takes my hand in his. He can barely look at my face.
“It probably looks worse than it is. I’m doing much better this morning.”
“I stayed up all night. I couldn’t sleep, not until I saw you.” He reaches down and hugs me. His arms are strong, and he smells of soap, which does a number to me, which makes me conscientious on how pathetic I must look at the moment. “Is it true? Your father said that some truck knocked you off the road?”
“Yes. It’s true. The question is why?”
“No, the question is how am I going to find this person and beat them senseless?”
“You’ll have to get in line.”
He smiles, but not for long. “Ginnie, it could have been worse. Do you have any idea who it could be?”
“That man who threatened Gran has a monster truck. It has to be him. Who else do I know? I’ve only been here a week, and Cassie arrived after I did. It’s not like we know people.”
“Did the man you visited offer any clues?”
“He thinks Bonnie Blackstone might be involved somehow, but I don’t see how.”
Isaac shakes his head. “No. I’ve known Ms. Blackstone since forever, and Mitch is my friend. I’ve spent the night over at their house a couple of times. That just doesn’t make sense.”
Lake of Secrets Page 23
