LC 02 - Questionable Remains

by Beverly Connor

  "I wasn't on duty then, but Gary was. He could tell you this evening. He comes on duty at six."

  "Thank you. Do you know if I had any calls?"

  "Let me see-yes, a guy named Derrick Bellamy. He called three times."

  Lindsay smiled. "Thanks."

  Derrick-she would call him. After a shower.

  Lindsay checked her purse. Everything was there, her motel key, her car keys, her billfold, her money. They hadn't taken a thing, apparently, except her sense of peace. She went back to her motel room with her purse, still dragging her backpack behind her.

  She was tired. The first thing she wanted to do was sleep. She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. An absolute stranger looked back at her. Her face was swollen, she had two black eyes and a fairly deep scrape on her forehead and cheek. Her hair did not look much different from the five hundred-year-old head of hair she had seen in the cave. It was dusty-the color was lost-and was disheveled beyond belief. She had wanted the sheriff to see how she looked coming out of the cave, so she had not cleaned up. A look in a mirror would have changed her mind. Maybe they would have taken her more seriously if she had cleaned up. Lindsay shook her head. As tired as she was, she was going to take a shower.

  Lindsay started peeling off her clothes. Another shock. She had scrapes, scratches, bruises, and dried blood all over her body.

  She grabbed a brush and brushed the tangles from her hair and stepped into the warm shower. Her body stung when the water hit the cuts and scrapes. She squeezed shampoo out into her hand and massaged it into her scalp. After her hair was clean, she soaped up her hands and gently washed her body. A washcloth would be entirely too painful.

  She didn't look much better cleaned up. The wounds were redder and the bruises more vivid. But she felt a little better. She applied Neosporin to the wounds she could reach, put on a fresh pair of panties, and was headed into the bedroom for a nightgown when someone knocked at the door.

  "Lindsay, it's me, Derrick."

  "Derrick." She grabbed a towel and rushed to the door.

  He stood in the doorway a moment looking at her face, shocked, then came into her room, shutting the door behind him.

  "Lindsay." He put his arms around her and hugged her. She flinched in pain.

  "I'm sorry. Lindsay, what happened? Your face!" He cupped her face in his hands. "I just came from the sheriff's office. They said you had made a complaint to the sheriff about being kidnapped and in a cave. It didn't make much sense. I got here late last night and have been looking everywhere for you." He hugged her again, more gently this time.

  "I'll tell you the whole story when I'm rested. Right now, I need you to put antiseptic on some of the cuts I couldn't reach," she said.

  "Cuts?" He followed her into the bathroom.

  She took off the towel and Derrick gaped at her cut and bruised body.

  "Lindsay! My God." He put some of the antiseptic cream on his fingertips and applied it to the scrapes on her back. "Lindsay, I had no idea-have you seen a doctor? You need a tetanus shot."

  She shook her head. "I'm exhausted. Will you watch over me while I sleep?"

  "Yes, but do you expect someone will come back?"

  "I don't know."

  "Sure, I'll watch over you. When you wake up, I'll take you home."

  "I haven't talked to the guy who identified the skeletons yet."

  "Lindsay, walk away from this. Look at what you've been through. I've just spent a frantic night wondering what happened to you."

  "No." Lindsay's voice came a little too loud even to her own ears. "You don't understand what they did to me, what they took away from me."

  She put her hands on his chest. For the first time, he saw the condition of her hands. They were scratched and bruised, and her nails were broken past the quick. They looked as if she had clawed her way out of solid rock to the surface. He took her hands in his own and kissed them.

  "You're right, perhaps I don't," he said.

  "I almost died a hundred times. I've almost been trapped between rocks, with only a drawn out death to wait for, I've almost fallen into a pit that I couldn't even see the bottom of, I was almost stuck in a tunnel with no room even to breathe. I've had to do things that I wouldn't have thought possible I could do. I have to find out who did this to me, and I'm going to start where I left off before I disappeared. I want you to help me."

  "Will you at least see a doctor first?"

  "Yes, I'll do that."

  Lindsay put on a nightgown and combed her hair into a ponytail on top of her head and climbed into bed. Derrick tucked her in and kissed her cheek.

  "Sleep well. I'll be here when you awaken," he said.

  She closed her eyes and went immediately to sleep.

  Lindsay awoke with a start, reaching for the flashlight she had forgotten to turn off. She felt panicked. How long had the light been on that bright?

  "It's okay, I'm here."

  Derrick. He had come looking for her. She was safe.

  Lindsay raised up in a bed. She remembered now. She was safe. "What time is it?" she asked.

  "Nine o'clock." Derrick sat on her bed and gathered her up in his arms.

  "You mean I've only been asleep five hours?" She rested her cheek against his chest. It felt safe.

  "No. Seventeen hours. It's nine in the morning."

  "Ten hours more than usual, so I should be well rested." She pushed away from him and swung her legs over the side. Everything about her ached. "I'm so sore," she groaned.

  "I found a doctor in town. He said I could just call when you awoke, and he'd fit you in."

  "Thanks. I think I'm up-to-date on the tetanus."

  "It won't hurt just to let him have a look."

  She gripped the edge of the bed and started to rise. Pain shot through her hands. "I need a manicure," she said, looking at them. "They look pretty awful. I'll take a shower and get dressed. You can call your doc."

  Lindsay showered and dressed. With her hair clean and brushed, and bandages covering the deeper scrapes on her face, she didn't look quite as bad, but her face was still swollen. She put on a pair of khaki pants and a brown blouse and surveyed herself in the mirror. Not half bad, but she wouldn't want her parents to see her like this. She opened the door and walked out of the bathroom.

  "You have a visitor," Derrick said.

  "Well, I see Little Rabbit had a time with the old tarman." John West rose from the chair, holding a gray stuffed animal under his arm.

  "Hello, John." She held out her hand. He took it, and looked at it in his hand, much the same way he had before.

  "I see you did have a bad time," he said again. "Here, I brought you something. A cute cuddly rabbit didn't seem to fit. I thought Bugs more suitable." He handed her a stuffed Bugs Bunny.

  "Thanks." She caressed the soft coat on the rabbit.

  "I'll go and order breakfast," interrupted Derrick. "Come to the restaurant when you are ready. John, why don't you join us?"

  "No, I have to get back. But thank you."

  Derrick left and closed the door behind him.

  "Your boyfriend is very trusting. I'm not sure I'd leave you alone with another man," said John.

  "You wouldn't trust me?" asked Lindsay.

  "I wouldn't trust the other man."

  "Derrick is a pretty good judge of character."

  John smiled. "Other than some scrapes and bruises, you seem to be all right."

  "I am now. But I need to find out who did this." Lindsay looked down at her hands, then back at John.

  "Why don't you let the authorities find out who did it?"

  "You as well as anyone should understand that I can't depend on them to get to the bottom of this," she said. "I appreciate the gift. Does this mean we are friends?"

  "No, we are still enemies. The gift is sort of an apology."

  "Apology for what?" she asked.

  "For not believing my father, I suppose. I can't apologize to him, because he doesn't know I didn't b
elieve him."

  "About what?"

  "Father goes to bed early and gets up early. Yesterday morning at five o'clock after he arose, we were having coffee, and he said that an ancestor had come to him in a dream that night and told him you were trapped in the earth, that the ancestor heard your cry on the wind and saw your struggle to get out. Father wanted me to get in touch with you or tell someone." John paused. "See, I had told him of your problems and about the dead men in the cave," he continued, "I thought that was where his dream came from, and it may have been. But I should have honored his request. Later, when your friend Derrick called me, asking if I mentioned any place you might have gone, that he couldn't find you, I ... well, perhaps if I had called him earlier-"

  Lindsay shook her head. "No one could have helped me where I was."

  "Nevertheless, I dishonored my father by not doing what he asked, by assuming that he didn't know where his own dreams came from."

  "I may have seen one of your ancestors in the cave," said Lindsay.

  John raised his eyebrows, and Lindsay explained what she had stumbled across.

  John was silent for a moment, surprise evident in his voice. "So you were in the cave of the Uktena?" he said.

  "It seems so."

  "Interesting. The cave of the Uktena is a myth, I had always thought."

  "Myths and legends often have some basis in fact."

  "The conquistador held the Ulunsuti in his hands? What did it look like?"

  "It was very large, bigger than an ostrich egg, and crystal clear," she told him. "I would have liked to have gotten a better look, but-

  "I understand," he said.

  Lindsay got up and fished in the backpack.

  "Give this to your father. He'll appreciate having a scale of the Uktena." She put a crystal in his hand.

  John stared at the clear-faceted crystal in the palm of his hand, then at Lindsay. "Thanks, he will appreciate it."

  "I believe one of your ancestors may have led me out of the cave," she said. John raised his eyebrows again, and Lindsay explained about the smoked markings she followed. "They may have been from someone else, I don't know. But they led me out of the cave."

  "You've had an interesting adventure, Rabbit. I'll tell my father and see what he makes of it. You'd better go eat. Your boyfriend is waiting."

  "Thanks again for coming all this way to give me the rabbit, even if it was for your father."

  "You're welcome." He kissed her cheek, looked into her eyes for just a moment, then backed away.

  "I lost the hat you gave me," she said. "It fell off when they kidnapped me."

  John went out to his truck and came back with a cap with the West Builders logo. "This is mine," he said. "If you don't mind wearing my cap, you can have this one."

  When Lindsay went to the restaurant where Derrick had ordered her eggs, bacon, pancakes, and orange juice, she wore John West's hat.

  "You don't seem to have any serious injuries," the doctor told her. "If you have any intestinal or gastric distress for any length of time, we might need to check for any parasites you may have picked up. But I imagine water that deep underground is probably cleaner than the water we get here. You may have some scarring on your face."

  "A little dermabrasion will fix it," his nurse said quickly. "I had a friend with bad acne scars. She got a little abrasion, and now she has the prettiest skin."

  "That's true," said the doctor. "There's nothing wrong that can't be fixed. And there's a chance you will have so little scarring you won't need anything done to it."

  Lindsay thanked them for seeing her on short notice and for their kindness. Derrick was in the waiting room of the small clinic. "Fit as a fiddle," she told him. "I just need aspirin, plenty of water, and rest."

  "Good. Can I take you home?"

  "No. I also need peace of mind, and I'm going to get that before I leave town. I'm going to see this Dr. Olin Ballinger, the orthopedist who thinks he can identify bones." Lindsay saw Derrick's jaw tighten. "I have to do this," she said.

  "Yeah," he answered.

  Dr. Ballinger's office was in a new medical complex. The recently planted trees and shrubs hadn't had time to take hold yet. They looked frail. The entranceway smelled like new paint. Lindsay found the office number on the directory at the front entrance. It said Olin Ballinger, M.D., Sports Medicine and Orthopedic Surgery.

  "Great," she said. "He treats jock injuries and does forensic anthropology in his spare time."

  Derrick cast Lindsay a sideways glance. They took the elevator to Ballinger's second-floor office.

  "You're a little tense, aren't you?" Derrick said.

  "Why shouldn't I be? You don't see me doing knee surgery in my spare time, do you?"

  They entered Ballinger's office. The waiting room was plush, done in light blues and salmon pinks-soothing colors, Lindsay supposed. The receptionist was behind a sliding window.

  "Just sign your name," she said, looking sympathetically at Lindsay.

  "I don't have an appointment today." Lindsay said.

  "Dear, I don't think we have-"

  "I did have an appointment late Monday afternoon." The woman's friendly smile was fading. Lindsay could tell she put a high value on promptness. "However, I was delayed by my kidnapping and attempted murder." A look of surprised horror came over the woman's face. "I'm Dr. Lindsay Chamberlain, and I was hoping you could fit me in. I don't want to get in front of these people who've been waiting. I'll be glad to wait until Dr. Ballinger has a few minutes."

  "Oh, yes, I remember, Dr. Chamberlain. It's about those, uh ... We wondered what happened to you. We called Dr. Prescott-he said-well-"

  "Dr. Prescott? Is he using that title?"

  The woman looked surprised. "I just assumed-I mean, he is the coroner."

  "I see. Regardless of what Mr. Prescott may have told you, I'd like to talk to Dr. Ballinger."

  "Please take a seat. I'll go see if he's free."

  Lindsay and Derrick took a seat directly in front of the receptionist's glass room.

  "A little hard on the woman, weren't you?" said Derrick.

  "Was l?"

  "Are you sure you're up to doing this now?"

  "I'm fine." She hadn't meant to sound so sharp. She reached for his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly.

  Lindsay and Derrick waited an hour. Lindsay flipped through magazines without much interest, always fighting the feeling that she had to be constantly on the move, oror what? Die? She sighed.

  Finally, the nurse called them into the office. Dr. Ballinger was a large man, relatively slim, with dark receding hair, an expensive suit, Rolex watch, and gold-rimmed glasses.

  "I'm not sure what I can do for you. This business," he waved his hand as if the business were there somewhere in the office, "is an official matter."

  Lindsay ignored his claim to official secrecy. "How did you identify the bones found in Hell Slide Cave?"

  "I did surgery on Mr. Hillard. I know my work. I had dental x-rays for Mr. Darnell. The other, I forget his name, was identified by his driver's license, found with the body, I believe. The coroner was satisfied. The circumstances were very clear."

  "Did you examine the bones for any other cause of death?" asked Lindsay.

  "They were caught in a rock slide."

  "Do you have the x-rays?" she asked.

  "I'm not sure you have the authority to view them," he answered.

  "Do you know that you comingled the bones?"

  "I what?"

  "Comingled the bones. You do know what that means, don't you?"

  "Yes, I know what comingling is." His tone was decidedly unfriendly now. "However, I dispute that allegation."

  Lindsay took out the photographs of Blaine Hillard's remains and laid them out on the table, pointing to Hillard's two left ninth ribs. Dr. Ballinger refused to look.

  "Dr. Ballinger, why are you afraid to examine these photographs?" asked Lindsay.

  "I don't need to. I remember working with the
bones. No comingling took place."

  "Dr. Ballinger. Every competent bone expert in the world would identify both of these bones as left ninth ribs. Unless you contend that Blaine Hillard wore one of his ribs upside down. This petulance you are showing is childish and unprofessional." Derrick quietly reached for Lindsay's arm and gently squeezed it.

  "Dr. Chamberlain, I've given you enough of my time-"

  "Did you know that Blaine Hillard may have been hit with a tire iron before he was covered with rock?"

  "I didn't find-"

  "You didn't know how to look."

  "I assure you, I'm competent to deal with bones."

  "Then you can't have failed to notice that the rates of decomposition among the skeletons are not the same. Why didn't you report that to the authorities?"

  Lindsay had caught him totally off guard. He stared at her. "What?"

  "I could see that in these photographs. It would have been very evident in the bones. I can't understand why you kept this from the sheriff."

  "I didn't-" He struggled to recover himself. "I think you had better go. I'll not sit here while you impugn my integrity."

  Lindsay rose. "Dr. Ballinger, I just spent the last day buried in a cave fighting for my life. I believe that wouldn't have happened to me if you'd been more competent in dealing with these bones. I can show you on the skull where I think the tire iron fracture is, and I can point out the inconsistencies in decomposition, but I am unable to persuade you to look at the photographs. However, you can be assured, with reasonable people I can be very persuasive." She gathered up the photographs, turned, and walked out, leaving Olin Ballinger staring angrily at her.

  Derrick escorted her to the car. He said nothing until they were outside.

  "That's the last time I loan you my copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People. You were a little hostile in there, weren't you?"

  Lindsay leaned against the car. "I am so angry."

  "I see you are. That's why you need to let the authorities take care of this."

  "I will, but I have to show them the way first. When a death has been officially closed, it's hard to get it reopened. Look," she said when she saw the hard set of Derrick's face. "I need your support."

  "I've always given you my support. But I'm having a hard time dealing with this desire for detective work you've suddenly acquired. It's like you've become addicted to danger."