by Sharon Sala
By the time he got to the hospital he had a knot in his stomach. Hospitals made him antsy anyway, and having his sister in critical condition made it worse. Last night’s rain had left puddles in the parking lot, and from the look of the sky it appeared more rain was imminent.
He was walking toward the hospital when his phone signaled a text. It was Trey.
I’m just leaving the high school. I’ll be there soon. Lee will fill you in. He’s Trina’s boyfriend.
Sam frowned as he reached the entrance. Damn it to hell but he hated hospitals. He took a deep breath, walked inside like he owned the place and headed for the information desk.
A uniformed volunteer smiled at him as he approached.
“Ma’am, how do I get to ICU?” he asked.
She pointed down the hall. “Take the elevator up to the third floor, take a right and go all the way to the end of the hall.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, and headed down the hall. Three women were already waiting at the elevator when he walked up. They turned out of curiosity. While he didn’t recognize any of them, they obviously knew who he was.
The elevator opened, and he followed them on, pressed the button for the third floor and then moved all the way to the back of the car.
A thin brunette was the first to speak. She was clutching her purse against her chest like a shield as she turned around.
“You have my sympathies,” she said.
An older woman nodded. “And mine,” she added, while eyeing him from head to toe.
The third woman was a buxom blonde whose gaze was more intent and less into consolation. “Long time, no see, Sam,” she said.
“I’m sorry, you ladies have me at a disadvantage,” he said.
“We’re Harpers,” the blonde one said. “Wilma is our mother, Wilda here is my younger sister and I’m Wynona.”
He had a vague memory of skinny kids running wild along the creek.
“You lived across the creek from my parents’ farm,” Sam said.
Wilma nodded. “We still do. We’re so sorry to hear about your mama. This whole killing business has been horrible. Just horrible. I haven’t had one good night’s sleep since they found Dick Phillips hanging in his barn.”
Sam flinched. Obviously one of the details Trey had yet to fill him in on.
The elevator stopped on two and the women got off.
“It was good to see you again,” Wynona said, and then winked.
Sam’s phone rang just as the door closed between them. He noticed it was from the office and let it go. He’d already told his secretary to cancel his appointments until further notice. Whatever was happening, it could wait.
He got off the elevator on the third floor and headed down the hall just like the lady had said, following the signs to ICU.
The nurse on duty at the desk looked up.
“What room is Trina Jakes in?” he asked.
“What’s your name, please?” she asked.
He frowned. “I’m her brother Sam.”
“Could I see some identification, please?” she asked.
His frown deepened as he handed his license to her.
She checked it against a list, then handed it back with an apology.
“I’m sorry, but we’re under orders from the chief of police to limit her visitors to immediate family only, and I’m new to Mystic and don’t know anyone.”
Good call, little brother. “It’s okay. I appreciate your diligence.”
“She’s down that way in 12B. There’ll be a guard at her door who will probably ID you, as well.”
Sam heard her, but he had begun to hear what was going on in here, as well, and when the skin tightened on the back of his neck, reminding him of all the time he’d spent in ICU, he knew it was going to be a hard visit to make.
He lengthened his stride and saw a man standing guard by a door. Room 12B.
“Sam Jakes. I’m here to see my sister,” he said and flipped open his wallet, letting the guard see his private investigator license as well as his ID.
The guard looked closely at both before he gave the okay for Sam to go in.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Jakes. I’m Mike Cantrell with Embry Security. Visiting will end at noon and resume again at 2:00 p.m.”
“Thanks,” Sam said and entered the room.
As he did, the young, dark-haired man sitting beside her bed suddenly stood.
“I’m guessing you’re Lee,” Sam said.
The man nodded.
“I’m Sam Jakes. Nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too, sir,” Lee said. “I’m going to step outside and give you some time with Trina. She’s in a drug-induced coma, so don’t worry about her not responding to anything you say. The doctor said she’s holding her own. That’s the update.”
He eyed Sam curiously as he left the room, and Sam could only imagine what he was thinking—probably something along the lines of Where the hell did he come from?
Four
Sam’s hand was shaking as he reached for Trina’s arm. This was a slap-in-the-face wake-up call to point out what he’d been missing. She’d grown up and nearly died before he could get his ass home, and right now he couldn’t remember even one good reason why it had taken him so long.
“Hey, little sister. It’s me. Sam. I don’t know who did this to you yet, but I promise we’ll find him. Just get well and know we love you very much.”
During the time he’d been in the hospital he’d gotten good at deciphering the readings on the various pieces of medical equipment, and from what he could see Trina appeared to be stable, so she was doing her part. But being back in this hospital made him remember all the times his mother had come to see him. All the nights she’d stayed at his side, the tears she’d shed listening to him scream as the doctors began to debride his burns. His family had been there for him. All this time he’d thought he was protecting them by isolating himself, when it appeared he’d hurt them much more with his absence. He swallowed past the knot in his throat, determined not to cry, and was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him. Then he felt the pat on his back, and his vision blurred.
He turned, saw the weariness and the grief in his brother’s eyes, and in that moment their mother’s death was finally real. “I am so sorry,” he said.
“So am I, Sam,” Trey said, and hugged him, taking comfort from the strength in his brother’s grip.
“You have hell on your hands, don’t you?” Sam said.
“Yes, and I don’t know why,” Trey said. “It’s noon, which means they’re going to run us out of here for a couple of hours. I need to swing by the precinct to pick up Dallas, and then we can go to lunch and catch up.”
Sam looked back at Trina, and then leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Be strong, little sister.”
“We’ll be back,” Trey added.
They walked out together with a nod to the guard, and left the hospital.
* * *
Dallas was on the computer in Trey’s office when he and Sam walked in.
“Hey,” Trey said.
She looked up, then smiled when she realized Sam had arrived.
“Sam. I am so glad you’re here,” she said, and got up to give him a hug. “It’s been a long time. You look good,” she added.
“Not as good as you,” Sam said, and hugged her back. “I understand congratulations are in order.”
She turned the engagement ring on her finger.
“Thanks.” Then her eyes welled. “Betsy was so happy Trey and I were together again. She kept talking about weddings and grandchildren and—”
Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad someone made her happy, because it damn sure wasn’t me,” he said.
Trey frowned. “Don’t do that, Sam. She wasn’t unhappy with you. There’s a difference. She accepted your reasoning as sound, figured you knew yourself better than anyone else, and none of us ever heard a complaint about it from her.”
It didn’t change the fact that Sam felt as if he’d let her down, but it was good to know his mother had understood his fears.
Dallas shoved the hair back from her face as she sat back down. “I’ve begun working on the list you gave me,” she said to Trey.
Trey showed Sam the 1980 yearbook from Mystic High School.
“I borrowed this from Will Porter. He was in the class of 1980, too. We’re going through the list of graduates, trying to find out where they all are, so we can start eliminating them as possible suspects.”
Sam sat down on the other side of the desk as Trey started pacing. He’d done that ever since he was a kid. When he was thinking something out, he paced.
“My first question is, why do you think the killer’s someone from their graduating class?” Sam asked.
“Something we found after Paul Jackson was murdered. When we went through his lockbox in the bank, he left a letter and a bloody tassel in an envelope for his son. The tassel came from a 1980 graduate, but it didn’t belong to any of the four who were involved in the wreck.”
“Okay, so if no one else is murdered, then we can assume that it does have something to do with that wreck they were in, right?” Sam said. “Otherwise, if more people are targeted, that would remove the wreck aspect.”
Trey nodded. “Yes. We believe Trina was shot only because she would have been a witness the killer couldn’t afford. Mom thought the murders had to do with something they saw the night they graduated. Once she mentioned dreaming about seeing a body. I asked her if she thought she’d been a witness or an accessory to a killing.”
Sam flinched.
“You actually asked Mom if she’d killed someone?”
Trey’s chin jutted defensively.
“More or less. Yes, she was my mother, but I’m also the chief of police, and I was trying to solve Paul Jackson’s murder. She told me she dreamed the four of them saw a body. She thought they were on their way to report it when they wrecked. She gave me a journal she’d been keeping of the dreams. A couple of times she wrote something about the four of them seeing someone die, and then being chased.”
“My God,” Sam said. “All those years, and that was locked inside her memory.”
“Apparently,” Trey said, and then glanced at Dallas. “How’s it going?”
“Slow. About half the class moved away.”
“I want to know where all of them live now,” Trey said.
“What about the ones who live here?” Sam asked.
“What about them?” Trey asked.
“You should confront them when they’re together. I’ve found that once you get a bunch of people together, if they have something to hide, one of them will say something that opens a floodgate.”
Trey glanced up at the clock. “The paper goes to press at three,” he said. “I just might have time to get a request in for tomorrow’s issue.”
“Tell me what you want said. I’ll take it over there myself,” Sam offered.
“Wait,” Dallas said. “Let me pull up a blank screen and I’ll type it for you.”
“Tell me when you’re ready,” Trey said.
She nodded. “Ready.”
“Chief Trey Jakes requests the presence of every graduate of the class of 1980 still living in the area at City Hall day after tomorrow at noon. They will be interrogated regarding the night of their high school graduation. Anyone who doesn’t appear will be brought into the precinct for questioning at a later date. As a reminder to all, there is a ten-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the person responsible for the murders of Dick Phillips, Paul Jackson and Betsy Jakes.”
Dallas’s fingers were flying over the keyboard as she typed. Then she finished and read it back to him. When he okayed it, she printed it out and handed it to Sam.
“The paper is still in the same place,” she said.
“I saw it,” Sam said, and settled the Stetson a little more firmly on his head as he left the room.
His stride was long, his steps sure as he left the precinct and headed down the street. He could have driven the three blocks, but it felt good to be walking somewhere.
Trey had filled him in on the details of all the murders, even the condition of his mother’s body when he’d found her. He was still reeling from the knowledge and imagining his brother’s horror.
He paused at a stop sign before he crossed a street, and saw the look of recognition on a driver’s face before he honked and waved.
Sam nodded and kept on walking.
A few minutes later he entered the newspaper office and recognized the man behind the desk.
“Afternoon, Mr. Sherman. I have a notice that Chief Jakes needs you to run in tomorrow’s paper.”
Glen Sherman frowned. “We’re about ready to put the paper to bed.”
“It’s important,” Sam said. “It concerns the murders.”
Sherman’s expression shifted. “Let me see it.”
Sam handed it over and watched the changing expressions on the editor’s face.
“Tell him I’ll run it on the front page. My headline didn’t amount to shit anyway.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
“You’re Sam Jakes, aren’t you?” Sherman asked.
Sam nodded.
“I’m real sorry about Betsy. She was a friend. I heard your sister came out of surgery okay. How’s she doing?”
“So far, so good,” Sam said. “I’ll pass the message on to my brother, and thank you for the placement. Maybe it will rattle a few memories.”
Sherman grimaced. “Most likely skeletons,” he said. “They’re always around if people care to look, and ten thousand dollars makes for a lot of incentive.”
Sam was still thinking about that comment as he walked back to the precinct. Rattling skeletons. Maybe he could rattle some nerves tomorrow while they were at it.
* * *
That evening Sam was in the lobby of Cutter’s Steakhouse waiting on Trey and Dallas to come in from the farm.
Nearly everyone who entered did a double take, recognizing him as the hometown boy who had gone away to war and never come home.
Many of them spoke. A few of them just stared and passed him by. He felt their judgment and knew it was fair. He should have come when Betsy was still alive, not waited until it was time to bury her. There was nothing he could do to change what was, except to help his brother find who killed her.
He’d just received a text from Dallas telling him they were on the way when a family walked in. The man nodded cordially but without recognition before looking at him again.
“Sam Jakes?”
Sam stood and shook the banker’s hand. “Evening, Mr. Standish.”
“It’s been a long time. Our condolences on the loss of your mother. It’s a tragedy. A true tragedy,” Standish said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And how is your sister?” Mrs. Standish asked.
Sam remembered the wife’s face but not her name, and assumed the young girl with them was their daughter. “She’s holding her own.”
“That’s wonderful news. I’ll make it a point to visit her soon.”
“Thank you for the thought, but Trey has her under guard, with a no-visitation order. I’m sure you understand.”
Gloria sputtered a bit, as if shocked that she’d been refused in any way.
“Of course we do,” Standish said. “Her survival has put the killer on notice.”
Carly Standish had been politely quiet while
the adults spoke, but she hadn’t missed a thing about Sam Jakes’ appearance. She thought he was good-looking for an older guy, except for the scars she could see on the back of his neck.
Sam caught her staring, which made her flush.
“I think our table is ready,” Standish said. “Ladies...”
They had no sooner walked away than the door opened again, and Marcus and T. J. Silver walked in.
Marcus Silver was about to walk past Sam when T.J. saw him and stopped.
“Sam Jakes, right?”
Sam nodded.
“Dad. It’s Trey’s older brother.”
Marcus’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”
“No problem,” Sam said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home.”
T.J. frowned. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your mother and sister.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
“Yes, our sympathies are with all the family,” Marcus added.
The door opened again, and this time it was finally Trey and Dallas who arrived.
“Sorry we’re late,” Trey said, and nodded toward the Silvers. “Marcus, T.J., it appears we all had the same idea tonight.”
“Yes, it does. Enjoy your meal,” Marcus said, and then headed for the hostess desk with his son.
“Everything okay?” Sam asked.
Trey shook his head. “The digital version of the newspaper is already up, and I’ve been getting phone calls like crazy. Everyone in town wants to come to the meeting day after tomorrow,” Trey said.
“What did you tell them?” Sam asked.
“I told them unless they had specific knowledge and information to share, it was only for the members of that class.”
“Good call,” Sam said.
“Let’s go eat, guys,” Dallas said. “Tomorrow is going to be crazy, but tonight we can just be family.”
There was a knot in Sam’s throat as they were being seated. Dallas’s innocent remark about just being family had gone straight to his heart. All these years while he was living on the edge of life, they had been completely immersed in it—joys, heartaches, rejections, accomplishments. Now, thinking about what he’d lost, Lainey Pickett was at the top of the list.
