“No,” she whispered out loud, and got a mouthful of water and choked. Shit, don’t cough, and don’t start having some kind of flashbacks. Not now. They’ll find you.
Calm down. Calm down. You can stay here until daylight if you have to. They won’t hang around that long. Someone will find the crashed van unless they move it. Someone will find the car on the road to the museum; they’ll have to leave to move it. Just stay calm and wait them out.
Sudden footfalls resounded across the wooden bridge and echoed across the water. She almost screamed, but remained quietly bobbing up and down behind the piling. The footsteps pounded overhead and turned toward the feeding dock, a walkway perpendicular to the bridge with a deck for watching the swans.
It was too dark to recognize anything but outlines. The flashlight beams searched for her like silent hounds on the hunt. They darted across the water, and she ducked under the surface as they sniffed under the bridge. She held her breath for as long as she could. She was pretty good at holding her breath. One of those fantastic esoteric talents, like being able to guzzle a quart of beer at once, that served no useful purpose other than to impress her friends when she was in college-until now, and now it might save her life. She stayed underwater to the count of 120. Two minutes. She forced herself to let her eyes come up slowly to make sure. . Good thing she was a caver. It made her strong. She needed physical strength right now. Emotional strength too. That was a lot harder.
They crossed the bridge again and again. Searched the toolshed, broke in its door. She waited. The water was cool and seductive. She could see how easy it was for people to drown themselves. Just slip under and breathe, let the water fill your lungs and take you to a place where there’s no pain or grief. But not me.
Diane never wanted to die, even in the depths of her grief for Ariel, cursing God and man, throwing up until her ribs ached, crying until her eyes were so swollen she could hardly see. All that, but she never wanted to die. She didn’t want to die now, and she wasn’t going to. She would kill before she would die. She waited.
She knew patience. Anyone who could take weeks to excavate a mass grave of murdered innocents, map miles of unexplored caves, take eight hours to climb twenty feet up a rock face was patient. She could wait.
He, the raspy voice, knew about the missing skull. The thought had struck her as he said it, but now she had time to think about it. How did he know? It wasn’t a secret, but he had to be close to her investigation to know. Who was the secret enemy in her camp?
The cool, soothing water was feeling colder, but she didn’t think she was in danger of hypothermia. She pretended she was in a cave. She’d traversed many a water-way colder than this. There was nothing more serene and lovely than an underground lake. Cave ethics dictate that you remove your dirty clothes and stuff them in a waterproof bag to keep the pristine waters of an underground lake or stream as unpolluted as possible. She thought about how the cool cave waters felt on the skin, how she felt like an otherworldly creature slipping through the still waters of a deep, dark chamber. She pretended the piling was a stalagmite, one she could touch-another principle of caving is to not touch anything that has taken eons to form and could be destroyed by careless touching, but this one she could touch. This one was life-giving.
She’d have to do a cave exhibit at the museum. Take visitors on an underground adventure beneath the earth, give them a new view of nature. She could do that in the basement-create a cave environment. She wondered if Mike Seger, the geology student, knew anything about caves. She planned the entire project in her head as she waited and listened, trying to hold at bay the feelings of terror inside her.
No more light hounds, but can’t trust them to be predictable. They may have been crouched in the dark, waiting for her to move. She’d wait all night until her staff arrived, until the groundspeople arrived. In the meantime, she’d continue planning exhibits and try to figure out who might be doing this.
Korey thought Frank’s attacker was a racist. She didn’t think so. He just wanted to look the opposite of what he is. People would see the dreadlocks, the dark face, and think African-American; they wouldn’t think white. But where did that get her? She had already guessed that.
Better to go back to planning exhibits. She could handle concepts, but her brain was having a hard time with deduction. What she would really like to do is sleep. Perhaps it might be safe to move now, to get out of the water. She quietly moved away from the piling and scanned the distance around the pond. No lights; everything was quiet.
Something, perhaps fear, told her to stay with her plan. She felt physically unable to deviate from it. She went back to her place just as a flash of light swept through the woods. The hounds were still there.
She began planning an attack on Jonas’ chess pieces, forcing her brain to plot moves, anticipate responses. By the time the sun was beginning to show through the trees she’d planned a campaign against his black king, and designed an underground adventure exhibit for the museum. Perhaps all she needed to be able to get her museum work done was to become stranded overnight in the swan pond with murderers on shore searching for her.
When the road noise picked up and she saw the movement of the groundskeepers, she swam out from under the bridge for shore and climbed out, frightening one of the gardeners, a young Hispanic man, heading for the toolshed. She must look like the swamp creature.
“Lady, what you doing in the lake? You shouldn’t be there. You hurt?”
“What’s your name?” Her words came out in a hoarse whisper.
“Hector Torres, ma’am.”
“Hector Torres, I’m very glad to meet you. I hired you. I’m Dr. Diane Fallon, the director of this museum. I know that appears unlikely at the moment, but could you help me get out of here?”
“Hector? What’s going on?” Luiz Polaski, the head groundskeeper, was driving down the trail in a golf cart.
“This lady says she’s the director of the museum. She walked out of the lake.”
“Dr. Fallon, what happened to you? My God, sit down.”
Diane let them lead her to the golf cart.
“I was attacked.” She didn’t want to get into the details. It would take another night.
“Again?”
“Yes, again. Will you take me to the museum, please?”
“Of course.”
“Dr. Fallon, thanks for the job,” yelled Hector Torres as they drove off.
“How is he working out?”
“So far he’s found you, so I guess he’s doing pretty good. He says his mother is a women’s guard at the jail?”
“Yes. She said her son was looking for a job.”
“I know there are some interesting stories here,” he said as he drove the cart up to the rear of the museum. “Can I help you inside?”
“If you don’t mind walking with me. I’ve been in the water all night.”
“All night?”
“I know this must all sound incredible, and when I can I’ll tell you all about it.”
They walked down the hallway past the restaurant to the mammal exhibit, where she cut through to the Pleistocene room and to the lobby just as Andie, Korey and Mike Seger entered through the large double doors.
Chapter 44
“Dr. Fallon. Oh, my God, what happened to you!” Andie came running and grabbed her around the waist just as her knees were giving way.
Diane could only imagine what she must look like, not to mention smell like. She felt like a wet cat, standing in her bare feet, dripping water onto the marble floor. The initial relief of getting out of the lake was wearing off, and now she felt herself sinking against Andie, unable to stand. Several more staff arrived and they all gathered around, some helping Andie support her, others mumbling and asking questions. She felt suffocated-and afraid.
Donald was among them. He elbowed his way through the crowd, his features tight and his face pale. “Diane? What happened?”
“You need to go to the hospital,”
said Korey. “I’ll take you.”
“You need to take care of our arriving guest. Andie, you’re in charge for a while-and I need you to get me another cell phone.”
“I’ll take you to the hospital,” said Mike.
“I can drive.”
“No, you can’t,” they all said simultaneously.
“You’re right-my car’s at the hospital,” she said.
Mike picked her up. “My SUV’s just outside.”
Diane didn’t remember ever being carried by a guy. Even as a child, she didn’t remember her father picking her up. It was an odd feeling, a very vulnerable feeling.
“I’ll call the hospital and tell them you’re on the way,” Andie called after them.
Mike put her in the passenger’s side, got in and drove her to the hospital.
“Thank you,” she told him.
“I owe you.”
“For what? Not unjustly firing you?”
“No. Melissa told me something a while ago. Things seemed to be all right and I was in my usual mind-my-own-business mode, so I didn’t mention it. But now I see I should have.”
Diane had been about to drift off to sleep, but she was now wide awake. “What was it?”
“It happened at that party you had.”
“The contributors’ party?”
“I suppose. The one where the quartet played. They saw some woman in a slinky red dress switch drinks with you.”
“What? Signy Grayson? She did what?”
“Alix saw it, and she and Melissa switched them back. Not because Alix was feeling righteous. The woman was hitting on Dylan and it pissed her off. Melissa said they made quite a show of it. She said neither of you suspected a thing.”
Diane remembered talking to Signy at the giant short-faced bear exhibit. Signy spilling, then catching her drink, before the whole glass spilled. Diane had turned her back to clean it up as Alix and Melissa came over, talking to each of them-distracting each of them. Slick. And the next day, finding Signy disoriented upstairs, having slept all night on the sofa in the boardroom. So Signy had tried to slip her a Mickey. She must have guessed right away she’d gotten the wrong drink and went somewhere where she wouldn’t be discovered. What was the purpose? To make Diane pass out? What would be the point?
Perhaps the point was to make a fool of her. They could have slipped her something like Rohypnol-odorless, tasteless, metabolizes in forty-eight hours. A small amount mixed with wine, and Diane could have seemed drunk or worse. She could have made an absolute fool of herself and wouldn’t have remembered a thing. At the contributors’ party, that would have gone a long way toward ruining her credibility. Those sons of bitches.
“Thanks for telling me, Mike.”
“I should have when Melissa told me. I’m sorry. I really thought it was probably nothing.”
“Dylan came to see me the other day. He said Melissa is hurting herself. Alix is her protector.”
“Some of that’s probably true. Melissa can be self-destructive, but I’ve also seen Alix hit her.”
“That’s so odd. Why is Melissa friends with her?”
Mike shrugged.
They arrived at the hospital. Mike parked, went around and picked up Diane when she got out.
“I can walk,” she said.
“And I can carry you. You really don’t look too good, Dr. Fallon.”
“I don’t imagine I do. Do you know anything about caves?”
“Caves? Yes. In fact, I’m an experienced caver.”
“So am I. I’ve got this idea for an exhibit.”
“You can tell me about it as soon as you’re fixed up.”
He carried her into the emergency room, where they immediately took her into the examining room. Diane asked if Dr. Linc Duncan was in the hospital. She had to explain that he was a visitor of Frank’s, but he was also a doctor and she wanted him.
After she changed into the dreaded bare-butt hospital gown, she lay back on the bed and drifted off to sleep. She was awakened by someone taking her hand. She jerked it back and tried to jump off the bed.
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Linc. Thanks for coming down. How’s Frank?”
“Better than you at the moment. Are Henry and I going to have to move down here and watch the two of you?”
“Looks like we need some kind of keeper. Someone attacked me here in the hospital parking lot as I was getting in my car.”
“Last night? Where have you been? They told me your clothes were all wet.”
“In the lake behind the museum.”
“In the water all night? They threw you in the lake?”
“No, they didn’t throw me. I escaped from them and hid there.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Yes. My head hurts, so do my back and abdomen.”
“Did you get hit in the head?” He looked at the chart where the receiving nurse recorded her blood pressure and pulse.
“Yes.”
“Were you ever unconscious?”
“Briefly-I’m not sure. If I was, it couldn’t have been but for a few seconds.”
“Any nausea?”
“A little.”
“Vomiting?”
“No.”
“Let me know if this hurts.” Linc lifted her gown. Diane groaned and put her arm over her forehead. “Are you in pain?” he asked.
“Just embarrassed. I should have thought of that before I called you.”
“Is this the first time you’ve ever been examined by a doctor?”
“By one that I knew.”
“What? You change doctors after you see them once? That must get tiresome.”
“You know what I mean.”
He smiled. “Tell me if this hurts.” He palpated her abdomen. “Any tender spots?”
“No. Yes, there.”
“How about when I release pressure?”
“A little.”
“And your shoulders?”
“No. I’m sore, but no specific pain. Why?”
“Organ injuries sometimes cause referred pain in other areas of the body. OK. I’m going to ask them to order some tests. And I want you to listen to me very carefully, not like you did before, when you didn’t take my advice at all.”
“All right.”
“You could have an injury to your spleen, liver, or reinjured a kidney. The thing about organ injuries is that they can bleed slowly or stop-only to bleed again days or weeks later. This is serious. You are going to have to rest.”
“How’s Frank?”
“I answered that. Don’t avoid the subject.”
“I’m not. I was just thinking, maybe you shouldn’t tell him.”
“He’ll find out.”
They wheeled Diane for yet another series of X rays and scans, to the surprise of the X-ray technician, who was the same one she had before. He admonished her to be more careful. When she came out, Linc was waiting for her.
“Can I go home now?” she asked.
“No, you may not. You’re going to stay here at least for tonight.”
“I’m feeling much better, and I’ve got a lot to do.”
“Did you think that by asking for me I’d stick on a Band-Aid and send you home?”
“No. Not at all, I. .”
“Good. I’ve reserved you a room across from Frank. That way, Henry and I can keep an eye on the two of you. That’ll be much easier on the two of us.”
“I didn’t realize you’re so tough when I asked for you.”
“You’re pretty tough yourself.”
Diane’s first visitor was Frank, wearing a dark green-and-navy plaid robe and smelling of cologne. He came in under his own power, looking pale but better than he had in several days. Diane was so relieved to see him up, she almost cried.
He leaned over and kissed her mouth gently.
“Smells good. Is that for me?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s hard in a place like this, but I’m trying to make a good impr
ession.”
“You’ve already made a good impression.”
“I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
It pained Diane to see the worried look in his eyes.
“I’m not. This is no one’s fault but whoever’s doing this. We must be really close for them to take these kinds of chances.”
“What exactly did happen? Linc only knew you’d been attacked.” He pulled up a chair by her bed and sat down, making a pained face as he settled on the chair.
“I hate being in bed,” she said. “It makes me feel weak.” She found the controls for the bed and put herself into a sitting position.
“I know what you mean. I’m ready to go home.”
He took her hand as Diane told him her story, from the time she was dragged into the van at the hospital to Hector Torres’ surprise at finding a woman walking out of the pond. When she finished, Frank sat openmouthed.
“Diane. Damn. Diane, I had no idea. I thought it was something like the other evening-not that that was a piece of cake, but damn. You spent the night in the water? You must have been terrified.”
“It kept my heart rate up.”
Frank shook his head in amazement.
“I didn’t want them to kill me.”
He caressed the top of her hand with his thumb. “So the attack was about the bones.”
“Yes, definitely. Their entire focus was on getting them.”
“Have you talked to the police yet?”
Diane rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Frank, but I’m so tired of hearing that they can’t do anything.”
“You need to tell them about this. This is assault and kidnaping.”
“I think the hospital called. Someone will wander in in a few hours, or days, and take my statement and that will be it.”
“No, it won’t. I’ll see to it. Have you called your family?”
“No.”
“You want me to call them?”
“No. My family isn’t like yours. We aren’t speaking at the moment.”
“I’m sorry, but they might be a comfort if they know you’re injured and in the hospital.”
“I don’t think so. My father would say something like, ‘Well, what do you expect,’ and my mother’s a lot like Crystal McFarland.”
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