“I’m okay,” she tried to tell them, but they weren’t listening. She unsnapped the seatbelt and reached down, grabbing her purse off the floor. Her hands shook so badly that it took three tries to get the right speed-dial number. When Sheryl answered, she burst into tears. “Someone tried to kill me,” she sobbed out. “He tried to run me off the bridge.”
“Where are you?” Sheryl barked into the phone. When Allie told her, she said, “Don’t move a muscle.”
About thirty seconds later, a sheriff’s car came screaming up behind her. Then, another. A rescue unit was seconds behind. Allie would have laughed if she hadn’t been crying so hard. The paramedics checked her over. Then, they gently extricated her from the car. Every patch of skin she could see was turning blue. Her face hurt where it had smacked the driver’s side window. She was glad she didn’t have a mirror.
Sheryl arrived only moments after the paramedics determined she would live. She came at a dead run until she saw Allie standing beside the Jeep. Then, she checked her speed and power walked the rest of the way. “You okay?” she asked Allie, reaching out and touching Allie’s arm as if to make sure it was really her.
Sheryl was shaking almost as badly as Allie. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Sheryl turned to the paramedics, all cop now. “You going to take her with you?”
One of the guys shrugged. “She said no.”
“You sure you don’t want to go with them?” she asked, turning back to Allie. “They give really good drugs at the hospital.”
Allie laughed half-hysterically. She wanted to say that she wanted to go home, but what came out of her mouth was, “My poor Jeep.” The back was crushed in on both sides. All the paint was scraped off the passenger side, and three of her four tires were flat. The airbag hung down on the front seat like a discarded parachute.
“It’s just a car,” Sheryl said gruffly. “What happened? You said someone tried to kill you.”
“It was Sidney,” Allie said, as the full memory of the last terrifying minutes became clear in her head. Then, she swayed on her feet.
Sheryl led her over to the side of the road and lowered her into a sitting position.
“I thought it was Rand,” Allie said, tears filling her eyes. “Not the killer, because I knew he didn’t, but I thought it might be him trying to scare me. I should have known better, especially after that first day. He’d already done it once. Threatened, not shot. Not Rand. Sidney.”
“You’re babbling,” Sheryl said sharply.
“Huh?” Allie said, peering up in her direction.
Sheryl squatted beside her. “Now, start at the beginning. What are you talking about?”
“Sidney. He shot out my tire.”
Sheryl narrowed her eyes. “Sidney Finch? You sure?”
Allie nodded.
“You saw his face?”
“No, he wore a mask and wig like the last time. But the bracelet. I saw the bracelet.”
Sheryl didn’t look convinced, but she motioned for Allie to stay put. She walked over to an officer in uniform, and Allie heard her say, “Keep your eye out for a bullet. We think a tire was shot out.” Then, she came back and helped Allie to her feet. She led her to the Honda and helped her into the passenger seat. “OK, what’s going on?”
Allie told her, beginning with Sidney’s behavior the day at the sheriff’s department and then when he’d stopped her on US 1. Then, the finger gun incident, seeing the dark sedan behind her tonight. “I knew someone was following me around and harassing me, but I didn’t think he’d really do anything.” She gulped.
She told Sheryl how the black car had glided to a stop beside her. The window slowly going down. The gun pointed at her head. “I saw the glint of light on metal. I thought it was the gun, but when he pulled up beside me, I saw that the gun was black. It was the bracelet.”
Sheryl still didn’t look completely convinced. “It could have been a watch or—”
“Or?”
“Or hell, I don’t know. Anything.” The look on Sheryl’s face was terrifying, though Allie knew it was on her behalf and not aimed against her. “We need that bullet.” She left Allie and walked back to the officers huddled around the back fender of her car. Allie could see her gesturing, but she couldn’t hear a word. After a minute, one cop nodded, and Sheryl walked back and slipped into the driver’s seat. “OK, they’re towing it to the impound yard.”
“You’re impounding my car?”
“For evidence. I don’t want anything to disappear from it. Like a bullet inside a tire.”
“Sidney can’t get into the impound yard?”
Sheryl looked at her without expression. “Shit,” she said, climbing out of the car. A few minutes later, she was back. “They’re taking it to this mechanic I know. He has a locked garage, and Sidney doesn’t know him.”
She turned the key in the ignition. “Put on your seatbelt,” she ordered.
Allie reached over, but her arm dropped to her side. “It’ll hurt.”
“It’ll hurt worse if we have a head-on, and you aren’t wearing it.”
Allie shuddered. She started to reach for it, but Sheryl made a disgusted sound and reached across her, snapping it in the lock. Then, she drove with very un-Sheryl-like caution to Allie’s house. She had to help Allie inside. Everything was stiffening up now. She could barely put one foot in front of the other.
“Sit there,” Sheryl ordered, depositing her on the couch. She disappeared down the hallway. A moment later, Allie heard water running in the tub. She heard the medicine cabinet open and close. “Where are those pain pills the doctor gave you when you cut your foot?”
“Kitchen cabinet,” Allie said. It came out a squeak. She cleared her throat. “Kitchen cabinet,” she said again.
Sheryl came out of the back. “Who the hell keeps medicine in the goddamn kitchen cabinet,” she snarled.
“Sheryl.”
Sheryl stopped and looked at her.
“I’m alive.”
Sheryl froze for a minute. Then, she spun around and kicked the wall. She was wearing boots, and Allie could see there would be sheetrock work in her near future.
When Sheryl turned around again, her face was fuchsia, and Allie could see tear tracks down her cheeks. “When I got your call, all I could think was oh, please, God, not again. Not again. I know it’s selfish, but I don’t think I could live through it again, Allie. Not again.”
Allie held her arms open, and Sheryl collapsed into them. Allie almost fainted from the pain. Sheryl sobbed, gasping for breath and hiccupping, until Allie feared she would be sick. . After a while, the sobs subsided until they were little more than whimpers.
Finally, Sheryl pulled away and sat upright. She wiped her face on her sleeve. “So, maybe you could stay off bridges for a while?” she asked, wiping her eyes.
“Right. Like I can live in Cape Canaveral and do that.”
Sheryl disappeared into the bathroom. Allie heard the water shut off—oh, my God, how long had it been running?
A minute later, Sheryl came past her, carrying a load of wet towels. “You want to be careful in the bathroom,” she said over her shoulder. “The floor’s still a little wet.”
Allie started to laugh and couldn’t stop.
Chapter 19
She wasn’t laughing when she tried to crawl out of bed the next morning. Sheryl had stayed for hours. She fed and walked Spook, who was too frightened to come anywhere near Allie. Then, she fixed chicken noodle soup and toast, which Allie promptly threw up, with her pain pill. Undaunted, Sheryl fixed her tea and practically forced another pill down her throat. Allie was floating in codeine-induced stupor when Sheryl finally left, promising to come back this morning to feed and walk Spook. Maybe she should give the dog to Sheryl. At least he’d have someone to take care of him regularly.
Her first order of business was to get a rental car. Allie pushed herself to a sitting position, groaning as every muscle in her body protested loudly
. Spook jumped up on the bed and sat watching her. After a minute, he walked over closer and licked her hand. Allie scooped the puppy up and held him against her face. Maybe Sheryl could get her own dog.
She forced herself to her feet. One look in the mirror had her groaning. One side of her face was black and purple, with undertones of red. That was the most visible damage, or it would be if she wore long sleeves and slacks, which she fully intended to do.
Surely, no one in his or her right mind would rent her a car. She shouldn’t be driving. She shouldn’t even be standing, but the thought of being stranded at the house with no transportation while at the mercy of a lunatic with a gun propelled her into the shower. Sheer determination and much teeth gritting got her dressed.
She was in the kitchen debating taking another pain pill when Sheryl arrived. The first thing Allie noticed was the dark circles under her eyes. The next, that she was wearing the same clothes as the last time Allie had seen her. “Have you been to bed at all?” Allie asked as Sheryl brushed past her and headed for the coffeepot.
“I’ll grab a couple of hours this afternoon.” She gulped down a cup of yesterday’s cold dregs and then poured herself another cup. “No bullet,” she said, cutting her eyes to Allie, “but there’s a hole in the back tire that’s consistent with a bullet hole. They’ll have to test more to be sure.” She put the cup down on the counter with a bang. “I drove over to Sidney’s and talked to his parents. He didn’t come home last night, and he didn’t show up for his shift today. I’ve alerted the sheriff, and he’s plenty pissed.”
Allie groaned, and not entirely from the pain coursing through her body. She hadn’t given a thought about how all this would affect Cord. His protégé shooting at Louise Smith’s niece. Any way you looked at it, Sidney was the loser, which meant that Cord lost as well. More than anything, Allie didn’t want to be responsible for Cord feeling any more pain.
It would be tidy if they could prove that Sidney had killed Jean Arbutten, but only if Cord hadn’t known. It would clear Cord’s name. He would still have his job—and his reputation. But during the long night of tossing and turning, that earlier scenario began taking shape in Allie’s mind, one even more horrible. She hoped she was wrong. If she wasn’t, she was about to cause a whole lot of pain to someone else who didn’t deserve it.
She let Sheryl drive her to the car rental agency. The clerk did a double take when he saw her face, which looked like those drawings of dark moon, light moon, but apparently, he was used to seeing accident victims. He even held the paper steady while she signed. The vehicle they gave her was a Jeep enough like her own that she felt tears burn the back of her eyes. Her poor car. It was the only thing worth having that she’d gotten out of her marriage. Would it ever be back to normal?
Sheryl followed her home and told her to stay put while she grabbed a few hours sleep. Allie gave it an hour, just long enough for Sheryl to watch her house for a while, and then give up and go to sleep. Then, she headed out.
She was only a few feet outside the front door when Frank Gray raced toward her from the construction site. He skidded to a stop when he reached her, his normally florid face a near white. “I didn’t do it, lady. Whatever happened to you, I don’t know nothing about it. It wasn’t them tires. The boys fixed them right. They know how to fix tires.”
Allie held up her hand. “It’s all right, Mr. Gray. Someone ran my car off the road, and we know it wasn’t you.”
She turned back toward the rental Jeep, unable to suppress a groan. Frank Gray took her by the arm. “Let me help you, miss. You look like you ought to be in the hospital.”
Allie sighed. “You’re probably right, but I have work to do.”
His eyebrows came together. “Whatever it is you do for a living, I’d think about a safer line of work if I was you.”
With his help, she crawled slowly and painfully into the Jeep. Was her own seat this high? It felt like she was climbing a mountain, but finally she was in and seat belted. With a wave at the foreman, she took her cell phone out of her purse and laid it on the console after punching in 9-1-1. She would only have to press the talk button to be in contact with the police.
She kept one eye on the rearview mirror, but no dark sedan appeared behind her. Neither did Sheryl’s Honda. She was relieved on both counts.
She arrived at Bayview at noon. She knew Janet French might refuse to see her. After all, she hadn’t brought a “gift.” Still, she had to take the chance. She had no choice.
The patients, or maybe they were called residents, were at lunch in the dayroom when she arrived. It differed from the last time she saw it, in that they had set up three more card tables in the middle of the room, and the place reeked of food fried in old grease. Allie almost gagged until she remembered to breathe through her mouth.
Janet French sat at the furthest table, comfortably ensconced in her wheelchair. Now that Allie knew she could stand up and maybe even walk, she felt like the wheelchair was a prop. Janet’s eyes widened when she saw Allie’s face. She immediately dropped her fork and rolled over to her. In that instant, Allie made a decision. She fumbled in her purse before withdrawing her hand.
“What happened,” Janet said.
“Auto accident,” Allie said succinctly.
Janet sagged in her chair. “Thank God,” she said grabbing her chest. “No,” she said when she saw Allie’s expression. “Not thank God that you had an accident. Thank God my grandson didn’t do that to you.”
Allie’s mouth fell open. “Rand? I didn’t even see Rand after I left here.”
Janet gave a little laugh. “And here I was trying to figure out if I could walk far enough to go beat the hell out of him.”
Allie didn’t feel like she had time for niceties. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” She looked uncertain.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” Allie said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She had been bribed and shot at and nearly run off a bridge. Now, she was essentially running for her life, and her patience was at an all-time low.
“That’s not it,” Janet said, “although a bottle now and then would be nice, if it’s no trouble. No, I was trying to figure out where we could go for privacy.”
Allie looked around. All the women in the lunchroom were staring at them. So were the ones sitting around the TV. “Your room?” she suggested.
Janet looked ready to refuse. Finally, she nodded. She led the way down the tacked-on hallway. The walls were painted institutional gray and minus prints or any other homey touches. There were no curtains on the windows. Allie’s spirits dropped with every step she took. How could someone choose to live here? It had to be depressing to wake up every morning knowing that the first thing you faced was this prison-like hallway, and the rest of the place wasn’t much better.
When she stepped into Janet’s room, she caught her breath. The bed was a cast iron four-poster that dwarfed the room, the duvet even puffier than Allie’s own. An armoire was in the corner, antique if Allie’s eyes didn’t deceive her. It was open, and inside was a huge, flat-screen TV and a stereo system that looked like it could bring in Mars without breaking a sweat. The walls were painted a soft green; the curtains pale yellow. She felt like she’d stepped into a particularly classy garden.
Janet watched her face. “Cord Arbutten is responsible for every damn thing in this room,” she said, getting up from the wheelchair and struggling over to the bed. “He either bought it for me,” she waved her hand at the bed and armoire, “or they were things that belonged to his mom and dad. You can’t blame me for being grateful to him, can you?”
Allie was still looking around the room. She turned back to Janet. “Why did you refuse to go someplace else? There are much nicer retirement homes than this. Cord has already said he’d pay for it.”
Janet sat down and motioned for Allie to sit in the only chair in the room. Queen Anne, if Allie remembered her furniture styles. “And let him spend more blood money? Don�
��t you think the man has paid enough?” She looked around the room. “I couldn’t refuse any of this stuff. It would have hurt his feelings. When I told him I wouldn’t move, he came and painted it himself, bought me the curtains. Then, I told him enough. He’s paid all his life for what my daughter did to him. I couldn’t take anymore from him.”
Allie finally sat down. “Will you tell me now? Do you know what happened?”
Janet’s eyes kept moving around the room. Allie could tell she was in turmoil. What she wasn’t sure of was the cause. Still, she had to take a chance. “Do you mind if I record this?” When Janet looked at her suspiciously, she said, “I want Rand to hear it. I think he needs to know.”
The woman hung her head. Finally, she looked up.
Allie pulled her tape recorder out of her purse and pushed two buttons. She put it on the table between the chair and the bed. “OK, tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened,” Janet said, her unhappiness ripe in her voice. “Not for sure. I know what I was afraid of happening. I was scared to death that she would try to kill him. I even warned him. You know what he said?” Her voice had risen to a near screech. “He said it probably served him right. Can you believe that? I don’t think he would have lifted a finger to help himself. That’s how guilty he feels about her. Now, he’s in trouble with the department. They’re pushing him to retire,” Janet said at Allie’s surprised look. “Oh, he didn’t want to tell me that. I knew he was upset—even more upset than he’s been—and I asked him what was going on. He said he was thinking about retirement. Well, I knew that was bullshit. The man will retire when he’s voted out of office or when a bullet finds him, and not a moment before. I nagged him until he finally told me the truth. If that tight-ass governor forces him out of office, I don’t know what’s gonna happen to him.”
Because Allie’d had the same thought, she didn’t argue.
LIVE Ammo (Sunshine State Mystery Series Book 2) Page 19
