Betrayed

by Sharon Sala

  "I saw that. Much appreciated. Oh, I need to call Caitlin and ask if she can come back," Logan said.

  Wade retrieved the pad with the number and then moved the hospital phone to where she could reach it.

  She quickly put in a call to Caitlin's number.

  Caitlin answered on the second ring. "Hello? Logan? Are you okay?"

  Logan grinned. "Hello to you, too, and yes, I'm good. If you can, I'd like for you to come back to the hospital after you eat lunch. There's something I need to tell you."

  "Is it about all this?"

  "Yes."

  "Johnny just came home for lunch. I'll be there as soon as we've eaten."

  "Okay. See you then," Logan said, and disconnected.

  "Feeling better?" Wade asked.

  She allowed herself the freedom to look—really look at his face before she answered, and even then, it was just a nod.

  Wade's heart skipped. Something was different. An awareness that hadn't been there before. And then the door opened and a nurse came in with one tray, and the officer guarding the door carried in the other.

  Logan eyed the officer.

  "Do you have food to eat, too?"

  He smiled.

  "Yes, ma'am. I brought my lunch, but thank you for your consideration."

  The door closed behind them, leaving Wade and Logan alone to eat.

  "Nurse said it was chicken and dumplings," Logan said, as she lifted the cover from the food.

  Wade was already eyeing his.

  "If she says so," he muttered, but then took a bite and perked up. "Tastes way better than it looks."

  Logan sighed. "I am not nearly as convinced as you are. Did you eat all the doughnuts Caitie brought?"

  He grinned sheepishly.

  "That's why I brought you the candy bar. Penance for poaching your treats."

  She laughed.

  Wade watched her settling into a comfortable spot to accommodate the sling before digging into her food.

  "You're getting better with your left hand," he said.

  She nodded, and forked up a bite of the dumplings.

  "Needs salt," she said, took another bite, then made a face at Wade to let him know she knew he was staring.

  He grinned, then settled in to eat.

  She watched him when he wasn't looking, wondering why she'd never noticed how handsome he was. Maybe it was true what he'd said. Maybe she hadn't seen him before because she'd never looked.

  She took a quick sip of sweet tea, thinking it was strange how much better the world seemed when she wasn't in it all alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Caitlin was on edge as she hurried down the hall to Logan's room. She didn't know what prompted her sudden need to confess all, but was grateful Logan trusted her enough to share.

  The current officer on duty looked up from the book he was reading and recognized her.

  "Afternoon, ma'am."

  "Hi, Stuart. What are you reading?"

  "A book on family law. I'm taking online classes."

  "Good for you," she said.

  He smiled, then went back to reading as she knocked before entering.

  The television was on. They were watching the game show Wheel of Fortune, where contestants spun a wheel for prizes while trying to guess a phrase slowly being revealed by how they answered. Wade quickly hit mute when Caitlin came in.

  "Hi," Caitlin said, glanced at the screen, saw the blank spaces in the phrase being revealed and said, "Oh, Family Jewels. It's Family Jewels."

  "Aagh, Caitie!" Logan said, and then laughed out loud at the look on Wade's face. "Wade, you should have gotten that," she said, which made Wade grin as he stood and stretched.

  "Afternoon, Caitie. I'm gonna leave you two ladies alone to visit. I'll be outside if you need me."

  Logan watched him leave, and then turned her focus to Caitlin.

  "I saw that look," Caitlin said.

  Logan shrugged.

  "He's an old friend. Come sit with me like we always do," she said, and patted the side of the bed as she turned off the television.

  Caitlin scooted onto the mattress to sit at Logan's feet, and Logan started talking, beginning with the phone call Damon got in the middle of the night to her driving out of Bluejacket the next morning.

  By the time Logan's story ended, Caitlin was crying.

  "It breaks my heart to think of you out in that swamp all alone. How sad and scared you must have been, and burying Damon all by yourself. Oh honey, I don't know what to say."

  Logan shrugged. "I won't lie. It was a nightmare. Chief Evans is talking to everyone in the area who owned a late model Chevrolet Silverado in 2008. Since I can't identify the killer on sight, that's about all we have to go on at this time."

  Caitlin wiped her eyes and then blew her nose. "Are there a lot of names on that list?"

  "Not a lot," Logan said.

  "Maybe something will pop up soon."

  "I sure hope so," Logan said. "I want this over with."

  "What about Damon's body?" Caitlin asked.

  "I don't remember the location. We're going to search for it after I'm better. I want the killer caught, then I'll deal with recovering Damon's body."

  Caitlin started crying all over again. "I'll say prayers," she said.

  Logan nodded. "Good idea. If you have any friends on a prayer chain, let them know what's going on and ask them to pray, too."

  Caitlin's eyes widened. "You don't care if other people know all this?"

  "No," Logan said. "I should have been upfront from the start, but I wasn't sure who I could trust. I was afraid if I told the whole story outright that the killer would just disappear, and I'd never know who did it. Now this has happened, and I have to take the chance that someone else knows something that might help."

  Caitlin got up and hugged her gingerly, careful not to hurt her. "I will get the word out. That much I can do."

  Logan nodded. "Much appreciated. Just tell them to contact Chief Evans if they have information to share. And on another note...you and Johnny have fun tonight."

  Caitlin arched an eyebrow. "I intend to make sure we do," she said, and left with purpose in every step.

  Wade returned within a couple of minutes of Caitlin's exit.

  "Everything okay?"

  Logan nodded. "It's as good as done. I have to admit I am so heart-weary I can't think. This is how I felt the first six months I was in Dallas. I knew what happened, but I had no way to fix it. What if I can't find his killer?"

  "Then we'll recover your brother's remains and have them sent to Dallas. At least you can have a proper burial and let God take care of the killer."

  Logan drew a deep, shaky breath and blinked away tears.

  "Yes, I think I could live with that outcome," she said.

  "Then let it be for today, and we'll see how this plays out. I'm not going anywhere until you do."

  This time there was no blinking the tears away.

  He sat down on the bed beside her again and opened his arms. She leaned in, rested her cheek against his shoulder, longing to feel the weight of his arms as he held her. She didn't have long to wait.

  Caitlin called the woman who was in charge of the prayer chain at their church, then called her three sisters-in-law and the friend who babysat her boys, then Johnny.

  The woman with the prayer chain spread the news to the twenty-five women on it, who told their husbands, who told their friends.

  Her sisters-in-law told their neighbors, who told their neighbors.

  T-Boy heard it at the gas station while he was filling up and was shocked by the story, unable to imagine the strength and fear that Logan had endured that night. He was the first to spread the news on the southside, and it finally became apparent to the residents in their old neighborhood why Logan and Damon had disappeared. They were indignant on Logan's behalf, and a little ashamed that she hadn't felt safe enough with any of them to ask for help and had been so scared she'd run away to save herself.


  Everyone who heard the story told it to someone else, and by nightfall, it was the news on everyone's lips. They were talking about it over dinner at Barney's, talking about it at every business, and talking about it on the streets.

  Big Boy was putting gas in his car when he heard two men on the other side of the pumps talking about it. It made his gut knot to the point of nausea. His hands were shaking as he finished fueling up. When he pulled away from the pumps, instead of going straight home, he drove out to the bar at the edge of town.

  The lot was filling up fast as he parked and went inside. A few customers looked up. A couple of them said hello, a few more waved and offered him a seat at their table, but he wanted to be alone and took a seat at the bar.

  "Whiskey...neat," he said.

  The bartender poured the shot and pushed it toward him.

  Big Boy downed it like medicine and tapped the empty shot glass on the bar. The bartender gave him a refill and a bowl of pretzels, the only hint to take it slow he was going to get.

  He took the suggestion and popped a pretzel in his mouth, trying to decide what his next move had to be. If he hadn't missed his shot at the motel, none of this would be happening.

  The only good news he'd gotten from what he'd learned was that while Damon's sister overheard the whole meeting, she hadn't seen his face. Since she couldn't identify him, he should be safe.

  He reached for another pretzel and was slowing down on the drink when he overheard a conversation at the table behind him, and learned there was one more facet to the story that made his blood run cold. She'd seen what he was driving.

  Then his phone signaled a text.

  Where are you? We're going to be late for dinner. And don't tell me you forgot.

  * * *

  Big Boy groaned. Oh shit! The Lowry's shrimp boil! He sent her a text right back.

  I'm on the way home right now. Be there in ten minutes.

  She sent back a heart emoji.

  He slapped a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar and walked out, unaware that the entire evening would be more conversation about what he was trying to forget.

  Logan's surgeon, Dr. Silas, finally got around to making rounds as they were serving the evening meals. His nurse was beside him as they moved from room to room, and when they arrived at the room Logan Talman was in, he noted the guard on her door, which made what he'd heard today a little clearer. They nodded at each other as he and his nurse walked into the room.

  Dr. Silas noted Wade's presence as he reached his patient's bed.

  "Good evening, Logan. You are looking much better today. How do you feel?"

  "I feel pretty good. When will I be able to leave?"

  Dr. Silas smiled. "What? You aren't happy with the accommodations?"

  She said nothing as he began using his stethoscope to check her heart. He eyed her latest blood pressure reading, checked her heart rate, then turned to the nurse.

  "Carol, I'd like to check the wounds."

  Carol untied the hospital gown at the neck, revealing both the front and back dressings at her shoulder.

  "No fever to speak of," he said, as he pulled the dressings down both front and back to check the wounds, then left it to the nurse to replace the dressings.

  "Both wounds are looking good. No appearance of infections. The stitches will dissolve. If you are still doing this well tomorrow, I'd consider letting you go home if you won't be alone."

  "Home is Dallas, Texas," Logan said. "I'm at the Bayou Motel."

  "But she won't be alone," Wade said.

  Dr. Silas glanced at the man across the room. "I don't know that a motel will be the best place to recover."

  "It's all I have access to here. It will be fine," Logan said, and then looked at Wade. "And as he said, I won't be alone."

  Finally, Dr. Silas nodded. "Yes, well, if you haven't developed any more issues, I'll sign your release papers this time tomorrow."

  "Thank you," Logan said.

  He nodded, and then he paused, eyeing her carefully. "I heard quite a story about you today. Is it true?"

  Logan was glad to know it was already spreading. Good job, Caitie. "Not sure what you heard, but I am here to find my brother's killer."

  "So, you did witness it?" Dr. Silas asked.

  "I overheard it," Logan corrected. "I never did see his face."

  "Amazing," Dr. Silas said. "I wish you success and no more injuries."

  "I wish that, too," Logan said.

  And then they were gone.

  She looked at Wade. The intent expression on his face was telling. "What?" she asked.

  He heard the anger in her voice. He'd heard it countless times before, but it had usually been directed at someone on a job site who'd just challenged her authority.

  "There is no ‘what’," he said.

  She sighed. "Then why are you looking at me like that?"

  He folded his arms across his chest.

  "Because if I looked at you in the same way as I think of you, you might have me arrested."

  Shock rolled through her in waves—turning her whole body hot, then cold, then scared.

  "See," Wade said. "Scared you senseless." The door opened and a nurse came in carrying a tray of food. "Ah...and supper is served."

  He pushed the tray table across Logan's bed to accommodate her food tray, then went out with the nurse to carry his own tray into the room.

  "Need anything? Help opening something? Something cut up?" he asked.

  She took the lid off her food, saw baked fish, macaroni and cheese, and green beans cooked to a mush with a small bowl of red Jello.

  "My compliments to the chef," she muttered.

  Wade chuckled.

  She looked up, arched an eyebrow, and then smiled. "You disagree?"

  "I'll let you know later," he said, eyeing his yellow Jello. "I'll trade you yellow for red," he said.

  She nodded.

  He made the trade, then used up the one packet of salt on the fish and the pepper on the macaroni and cheese.

  "Want my salt for the green beans?" she asked.

  "There's no amount of salt, or anything else for that matter, that will help them one bit."

  “I hear that,” she muttered.

  He grinned.

  And the uneasy moment between them was gone.

  Big Boy couldn't decide whether he was suffering indigestion or having a heart attack. The evening at the Lowry's shrimp boil had turned into a nightmare. Listening to people he'd known most his life talking about the poor kid who’d witnessed her brother's murder. One man made big claims about what he would have done - how he would not have hidden when he realized someone he loved was about to be killed. Then others laughed and jeered at the man for making such a claim.

  Big Boy felt obliged to comment, if for no other reason than to not call attention to his silence.

  "How would you have defended yourself?" Big Boy sneered. "Jumped out from beneath that tarp and yelled ‘Boo’? You're a dumb ass, Frank. She didn't have a weapon. And she was just a girl."

  Big Boy's wife dug a piece of crushed ice from her glass and threw it at him.

  "Just a girl? On behalf of women everywhere, I resent that," she said. "She was a warrior. Buried her brother's body, then drove herself back home and had the strength of will to get herself out of Bluejacket before the killer came looking for her."

  They all laughed, and Big Boy laughed with them, then leaned over and kissed his wife's cheek.

  "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean that like it came out."

  She giggled, and kissed him back, and the moment passed.

  One of the other men added some information that Big Boy hadn't heard.

  The chief had a list of names of people in the area who'd owned late model Silverado pickups back in 2008, and he was interviewing all of them. The hair crawled on the back of Big Boy's neck. That could be bad—really bad for him.

  Later, as they were on their way home, his wife gave him a curious look.
>
  "Hey honey?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You said that girl 'jumped out from beneath a tarp'."

  "Yeah, so what?"

  "I never heard that part about a tarp," she said.

  The heartburn hit boil as he managed to shrug off her comment.

  "So? The version I heard did. Gossip is alive and well in Bluejacket, I guess."

  She laughed.

  "I didn't think of that. No telling how many versions of the truth are happening tonight."

  "That's for sure," he mumbled, and then pointed. "We're home sweet home. I had a good time, but I need something for heartburn. It's been killing me all night."

  "Probably that cayenne I saw Jeannie Lowry put in the water before she dumped in the corn and potatoes. I thought they were a bit spicy myself, but I like things hotter than you do."

  "Lord," he said, rubbing the front of his chest as he pulled up beneath the portico and parked.

  He unlocked the door and then helped her up the steps and into the house, still rubbing his chest.

  "Poor baby. I'll go make you something for it right now."

  "Thank you, Sugar. You are the best."

  Logan was asleep, dreaming of the ride out to the bayou.

  She heard the night sounds, felt the heat, and lived the fear of what was happening all over again.

  She could hear the man telling Damon to kill his wife and how much money he would earn. She had to stay still. Stay quiet. It was dark beneath the tarp, and she felt spiders running up her arms, then realized it was just sweat running down them. Then in the dream, Damon was refusing the money and the job, and she was thinking, now we can go.

  Because logic has no place in dreams, she never expected what came next. She heard the man telling Damon that he couldn't let him go now. That's when she realized what was about to happen. She had to save her brother.

  In dreams, events can often fix what life could not. She could hear some small animal in the throes of a death squeal as she rose from the back of the pickup like an avenging angel—a double-barreled shotgun aimed at the man with a gun.

  Enraged by her abrupt appearance, the killer swung his gun toward her just as she pulled both triggers. The blast of the barrels threw him backward, obliterating his face.