The Empty Chair ~ Murder in the Caribbean

by Penny Goetjen

  Glancing up, Olivia noticed Sarah had slipped into the guest room she had so graciously offered. Hovering just inside the door, she seemed to understand from the one-sided conversation it was a grim situation.

  “I’ll drive you to the hospital. Get some clothes on and then we’ll go.”

  Olivia looked down and realized she was scantily clad in a cami and short shorts for sleeping. After she took a few minutes to put on something more appropriate, they piled into Sarah’s car and started out toward Charlotte Amalie. Few words were spoken on the twenty-five minute ride. Sarah inquired about, and Olivia repeated the side of the conversation Sarah had not been privy to.

  In the silence, Olivia tried to process her father’s fate. She dreaded going into the morgue for a third time. Of course, this time, she would actually be able to recognize the body on the cold examining table or inside the metal drawer. Shivering in anticipation, a lump formed in her throat and her heart grew heavy. She tried to shake off how alone she felt. Had it really come to this? Orphaned at twenty-three. She knew his drinking would do him in.

  Sarah turned into the main entrance and pulled her car into a visitor’s slot. The clock in the car read 4:12. It seemed odd to Olivia to be arriving at the hospital in the middle of the night. The sky was still dark but clear with stars twinkling above. As the two ladies exited the car, Sarah extended her arm in a maternal gesture around Olivia’s shoulders. The night air was cool and refreshing, not giving away any hints of the heat soon to arrive with the daylight.

  As promised, the detective was waiting for them just inside the main entrance. He was hunched over, engrossed in a conversation on his cell. Who else was he waking up? As soon as he saw them walking through the front entrance, he ended the call and straightened his posture.

  After Olivia and the detective exchanged pleasantries and she introduced Sarah, the three padded toward the elevators. There was an odd, astringent smell hanging in the air, though not nearly as bad as the pungent odor of the morgue. As they waited for the elevator to arrive, she realized the morgue was on the first floor, yet they were waiting for the elevator that traveled to the floors above.

  She opened her mouth to question their destination but the sound of the doors opening caught her before she could utter a sound. The three entered and Olivia watched Benson push the button for the third floor.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Room 333. They just got him stabilized down in emergency and were able to move him up to a room.”

  Relief flooded through Olivia’s body. “How is he? Was the accident bad? Was it his fault?” Oh, she prayed it wasn’t. How much had he had to drink after she left Izzies? “Was there anyone else involved? Is everyone else okay?” She was anxious for answers.

  “Looks like it was a single vehicle accident. He’s pretty banged up. Probably was unconscious for a while. I think it took some time for anyone to notice he was there, and once they did, it took a while to reach him and . . . extricate him.”

  Olivia blinked her eyes a few times, trying to picture what her father had endured. She wasn’t sure what to ask.

  “So . . . is he going to be okay?”

  Benson paused. “I’ll let you talk with the doctor.”

  Olivia did her best to control a flinch. The detective didn’t sound very positive. A tear caught her by surprise and she brushed it away.

  The elevator doors opened and they entered the third floor directly across from the nurses’ station and turned left to head down the hall. It was relatively quiet except for a couple of nurses who were conversing and referring to a clipboard one of them was holding. They looked up and paused their discussion as the threesome passed.

  Anxious to get to her father’s room, Olivia walked next to the detective but scanned the room numbers as they went. Sarah followed along respectfully, a few feet behind them.

  When they reached Room 333, Sarah clearly understood the delicateness of the situation and excused herself, heading to the floor lounge to grab a cup of coffee. Detective Benson opened the door and moved to the side to let Olivia go in first. Barely breathing, she stepped into her father’s room. Her feet came to an abrupt halt.

  Dressed in a loose white-with-navy blue-print hospital gown, her father lay motionless in the bed with the top half of the mattress raised halfway up. Olivia barely recognized him. He looked thin and pale. His head was wrapped in white gauze bandages and a bag with clear liquid hung from an IV stand next to his bed with a line connecting it to the back of his left hand. Bloody scratches and cuts etched his face and arms. His right hand was also wrapped in the same white gauze bandages and rested alongside his still body.

  There was another bed in the room, closer to the window, but it was empty. Olivia let her eyes wander away from her father for a moment. She observed how neatly the empty bed was made up, ready for the next patient, and was struck by how completely flat it was with the sheets and blanket tucked in tightly. A pillow rested at the head. Both beds had a small bedside table next to them and fluorescent lighting above. A narrow rollaway table in the shape of a large squared “C” loosely framed three sides of the empty bed. Her father’s rolling table had been pushed up against the wall parallel to his bed. He didn’t need his at the moment.

  Olivia stood a few feet away, longing for him to say something. The stillness in the room was deafening. She couldn’t tell if he was conscious or not. Please be okay. Wake up. Be happy to see me. Taking a few steps closer, she could feel the detective inching into the room behind her. Her feet froze. It was hard to see her father in his condition. Weak. Defenseless. Dependent. They were entering unfamiliar territory. He had always been incredibly strong. Powerful. Resilient. In-your-face obnoxious at times. She questioned if it was really him.

  The silence was broken by a voice behind her.

  “Miss Benning.”

  Olivia swung around to come face-to-face with the same doctor whom she had met during her brief stay at the same hospital a few days before. Under different circumstances, she would have been amused, but she just didn’t have it in her.

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he hesitated and examined her face but then let it go, moving on to the matter at hand.

  Olivia appreciated his professionalism.

  “Thank you for coming in.”

  “Of course. How is he? Is he going to be okay?” Olivia was getting impatient. She needed to know his prognosis.

  “Your father suffered a fairly significant concussion in the collision. Contusions and abrasions over a good portion of his body. He got quite a beating inside the vehicle going over the side. Fortunately underbrush and trees stopped him from going any farther than he did. Poor guy was so far off the road and in such treacherous terrain it was difficult for the fire department to reach him. Took a while. By the time they got to him, he was pretty dehydrated and suffering from heatstroke. He’d been baking in his car in the afternoon sun. The windows were all rolled up. He probably had the air-conditioning on but, of course, once the car crashed and the engine cut out, there was no A/C.” The doctor paused, gauging Olivia’s reaction. “It took us a while to get his body temperature down to a normal range.”

  “Good Lord,” she murmured. She knew how much her father hated the heat on the islands anyway. It must have been torturous for him.

  A loud but shaky voice rang out behind them.

  “Oh, I hope you’re not believing all of this. Don’t let him paint such a nasty picture for you.”

  They all turned toward the pale figure lying on the bed. He sounded somewhat like her father but barely resembled him even though he was awake.

  “Dad!” Relieved he was conscious, Olivia hurried to his side. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just need to get out of here and I’ll be a lot better.” His voice sounded strained and gravelly as he brushed aside the severity of his condition.

  Sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, Olivia l
eaned closer to him, looking deeply into his face. His eyes held the proof he had suffered a trauma. They were bloodshot and the lids were red around the edges. Never having seen him look so physically injured before, she needed to feel the warmth of his hand but didn’t dare touch him, afraid of hurting him. Feeling uncomfortable being close to his fragile body, she slid off the bed and resumed her position next to the doctor.

  The doctor stepped closer and continued. “We’re going to keep him here for the next few days. I’ve ordered some tests. We’ll see what those results are.”

  “Doc, I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need to be here.” In one rapid motion he tossed the bedspread aside with his left hand and swung his feet around to meet the floor, pulling the IV line taut. The plastic bag with clear liquid sloshing inside swung precariously from its hook.

  Both Olivia and the attending physician lunged toward the bed with outstretched arms to keep him from advancing toward the door.

  “Dad!”

  “Mr. Benning, please stay put. You need your rest.”

  “Oh, really. In this place? If you can bring a wonderful glass of Scotch, then I’ll be able to rest. I don’t suppose you have anything like that around here, do you?” He chuckled to himself.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Of course not. Just stay put. You are seriously hurt and we need to keep an eye on you for a while. You’re not going anywhere for the time being.”

  Cringing at the doctor’s last statement, Olivia knew how much her father hated to be told what he should do. Fearing their encounter was not going to have a positive outcome, she watched as her father stared into the doctor’s eyes, held his gaze for a moment and then, unexpectedly, seemed to give in. He leaned back onto the raised portion of the bed. Taking a few steps closer, Olivia gently pulled the covers over him as he pulled his legs up onto the bed. It was clear he was not happy but at least he was acknowledging a level of uncertainty. Perhaps he already had an inkling.

  Standing in the background, the detective broke his silence. “Miss Benning, we should let your father get some rest.”

  Olivia was relieved she had an out. “Absolutely.” She turned to her father. “You take care. Get some sleep. I’ll be back later.” She leaned close to him and kissed him gently. The bristle on his cheek brushed roughly against her delicate, young skin causing her to wrinkle her nose and close her eyes in response. She tried to clear her reaction from her face as she raised up and backed away from him.

  He had a characteristic twinkle in his eyes, which worried her. Fighting the urge to admonish him, she whispered so only the two of them could hear.

  “You stay put. You hear me?” She held onto a stern look to make it clear her message was unequivocal.

  “Yeah . . . of course.” His words were barely audible.

  She glared at him and then stepped away. He was a grown man. He was going to have to make his own decisions. She shuffled toward the door and then turned back.

  “Good night, Dad. Or . . . good morning?”

  “Good night, Ollie.”

  Olivia and Detective Benson re-entered the hallway, and he closed the door behind them, leaving James with his doctor.

  Turning to the detective with an expectant look on her face, she needed to have a word with him.

  “Benson, what the hell is going on? Did someone do this to him?” She glared at him intently, demanding an honest answer.

  He looked like he was unsure how to respond.

  “We can’t be sure. My men are still investigating. It’s too soon to tell.”

  “Not for me. Those thugs that have been after me had something to do with it. I just know they did. Although I don’t know how they could have figured out this quickly he is connected to me.”

  “I don’t know yet. It could be. I have to consider all the possibilities. And given the type of people your mother, and now you, have gotten mixed up with, anything’s possible.”

  She shook her head. “Who are these people?”

  “Olivia, they’re not anyone you should be wrangling with. They’re dangerous.” His tone turned stern. “They have no respect for life. They’re running a very lucrative operation and anyone who stands between them and their profit . . . let’s just say they won’t hesitate to get rid of anyone who does. But then again, you saw firsthand what these people are like, didn’t you?”

  Clearly he had made the connection as to why she had been parked near Landfill Road the evening of the dog fight. Olivia bristled at what her mother had taken upon herself and now she was tangled up in.

  “I know,” she reluctantly admitted.

  “I’m serious, Olivia. Don’t think you can take on these people. They’re ruthless.” His words were firm. His eyes were stern. “I’m going to post a uniformed officer outside your father’s door to be on the safe side.”

  Olivia inferred the sentry would be as much to protect her father as to keep him from leaving.

  “Detective, look, I know showing up at the landfill wasn’t the brightest idea. I’m just trying to find my mother. I need your help. I know she’s out there somewhere. I think she’s still alive. I can feel it. She and I are close. We have a connection. I know she’s still out there.”

  “I understand your desire to find her. Believe me, I do. And I can assure you we are doing all we can. Please let us do our job. Stop putting yourself in danger.”

  “It’s just not happening fast enough. Her life could depend on how quickly we get to her.” She felt the volume of her voice rising and tried to bring it under control.

  “I understand. Listen, Olivia, tell me this. Is there anything, any information your mother may have mentioned to you or left behind at her place that would give us a better idea of who these people are or where we might find them, which would help us to find her?”

  Struggling to maintain a poker face, she was afraid her expression revealed she was holding back. She remained pensive, trying to decide if she should mention the disc before she had a chance to take a look at it. Finally she concluded she should see it first. Convinced her mother had left it for her to find, Olivia would need to find a computer she could use.

  “Nothing comes to mind, Detective.” She looked defiantly at him, then tried to appeal to his softer side. “You’ve got to find my mother. I miss her so much.”

  Detective Benson looked deeply into her eyes, as if searching for the right response.

  “We’ll do our best.” He reached out with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should think about staying here tonight. I can’t guarantee your safety if you don’t.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on your invitation. Thanks all the same. I’m not real keen on hospitals.”

  They both looked up as Sarah approached them from down the hall, sipping steaming hot coffee from a paper cup in her right hand. She looked from Olivia to the detective and back again.

  “Hey, guys. How’s it going?” Her tone was upbeat, almost lyrical.

  “We’re good.” She gave Sarah a glance to show her how ready she was to get out of there.

  After bidding farewell to the detective, Sarah reached out, extending her arm around Olivia and escorted her toward the elevator.

  Olivia traipsed alongside Sarah willingly. Her body ached from her concern for her father on top of everything else. Too much to think about. Hoping she had made the right move by not giving the detective the disc from her mother’s refrigerator, she needed to take a look first. She patted her back pocket to make sure it was still there, only to remember she had left it sitting on the bedside table at Sarah’s house so she wouldn’t lose it or damage it in some way.

  Sarah and Olivia practically skipped on their way to the elevator, leaving Benson behind. The detective called down the hall to them, asking Olivia to reconsider staying at the hospital that evening. When she waved him off, he pleaded with her to at least be careful and stay out of sight.

  Olivia had a passing thought of Colton. Where he was. If he was okay. Whose side he was on. Sh
e couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  Sarah pressed the down button and tossed her cup into the garbage can between the two elevators, distorting her face in disgust. “That tasted awful,” she grumbled. “Someone should be smacked for trying to pass that off as a cup of coffee.” As she pressed her eyes closed and shuddered, the doors on the left opened.

  Relieved to leave the hospital, Olivia couldn’t get onto the elevator fast enough, bumping into Sarah on the way in. Thankfully it was empty. As the doors closed behind them, she began to process her father’s wretched fate. The short ride down to the first floor was mercifully quiet, yet filled with the inherent tension of being in a hospital.

  The doors opened on the first floor. Olivia looked up into the hazel eyes of a dead man.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “Olivia!” His dark-skinned face appeared shocked to see her as she froze in the doorway to the elevator. He held his right arm close to his body, supported by a sling.

  Olivia’s entire body jolted at the sight of him. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

  “Carson?” She was incredulous. How could it be? She had been grateful to receive the news she hadn’t shot him, but he had, nevertheless, been shot by an unknown assailant.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Last time I saw you, you were pointing a gun in my direction.” His chuckle at her disbelief sounded forced.

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I thought you were—”

  As the elevator doors started to close both she and Carson extended an arm to block them. Sarah stood unobtrusively in the back.

  Olivia stepped forward and their faces became quite close. She reached out and hugged him. His body turned rigid inside her arms.

  “Ow! Easy there!” He stepped back, out of her hug.

  “Oh, I’ve hurt you! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” She hung onto his arm but stared at him in disbelief. “I’m glad you’re okay.” Before the elevator doors could close again, Sarah slipped out behind Olivia, forcing her to remember her manners. “Carson, this is Sarah.”