Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1)

by Menard, Jayne

  The next afternoon Ivy was released from the hospital and, guarded by Brian and Moll, went to stay in the Portland house. Early the following morning when Mathew turned away from Steve's bed, he saw or thought he saw a little fluttering in Steve's hand. The nurse came in to check his IVs, followed by a doctor to go over his incisions and his chart, and finally a physical therapist arrived to exercise Steve's limbs.

  During this time, Mathew watched Steve closely but he could not detect any voluntary movements. Once the room was quiet, he stood by Steve's bed watching him. He called his name; nothing happened. He reached down, gripped his hand and called his name. He felt a slight grip back. He gripped harder and called his name more loudly and urgently. Steve's eyes opened. He focused on Mathew, frowned and tried to speak. Mathew raised the back of the hospital bed, helped him to sit up and gave him some water.

  "Ivy, where is Ivy?" He spoke slowly in a gravelly undertone.

  "She was released yesterday afternoon. She should be here soon. Moll will drive her in."

  "What time is it? And where the hell am I?" he asked hoarsely.

  "9:45; you're at Providence Hospital in Portland."

  "I was out overnight?"

  "Steve, today is Thursday."

  Steve looked confused. "But it was Sunday when Ivy came back to Spook Hills. Is she okay?"

  "Yes, thanks to you for shielding her. She went through surgery to have the bullet removed that did get her. Her arm is in a sling and she'll have weeks of healing and recovery ahead of her, but she should be fine."

  "And me? Damn, my whole left side aches, shoulder, chest, even my butt."

  "You were hit twice. Like Ivy, you took one in the shoulder as you spun around to protect her. It passed through your upper shoulder muscles and slammed into your collarbone, making it crack. They had to operate and pin it together for stability. When you dove over Ivy, you turned the other cheek, so to speak. Luckily you are enough of a lard-ass that the bullet passed through and came back out before it hit the pelvis. As it was, you lost a terrific amount of blood. I was trying to plug up the bleeding on you and Ivy while waiting for the ambulance, but it kept seeping out."

  "You sure she’s okay?"

  "Don't worry -- she'll be fine. She's been here to talk to you and hold your hand several times a day ever since she could get out of bed."

  A little smile spread across his face. "I heard her. She sounded far away. I wanted to go to her but I was too weak."

  "Let me tell you, there was so much blood on me that the medics thought I was hit too. Likely you were weak from the blood loss."

  He nodded and moved his mouth a bit as if he wanted to say something. "Toothbrush? Mouth is like the floor of a Metro station."

  "Steve, I think I should get a nurse."

  "Not yet. Help me brush my teeth. I want to kiss Ivy when she arrives without smelling totally repulsive."

  Mathew rummaged in his backpack and brought out Steve's Dopp kit, handed him his toothbrush and toothpaste, poured more water and found a pan for him to spit in.

  Steve brushed his teeth, checked that he was shaved, fell back against the pillows, closed his eyes and appeared to have returned to his coma state. Mathew hit the buzzer for the nurse. The nurse examined Steve and shook her head, scolding Mathew for not calling her right away. She bustled off to alert the doctor on duty.

  Mathew decided not to tell Ivy that Steve had been conscious and sentient, feeling that she should be the one to wake him up. He was pleased he had been awake and seemed clear-headed. A half-hour later, Ivy walked in with Moll and frowned at Steve.

  "Why is he sort of propped up?"

  "I thought the change of position might do him good."

  She gave Mathew a funny look, then bent over and kissed Steve. Slowly Steve's eyes opened. He saw her and smiled. His eyes went from unfocused to having that warm glow they had every time he saw Ivy. Using his good arm, he edged himself closer to her and signaled for water. After he drank, he was alert again as he had been before. He held Ivy's hand, stared at her and began crying. Ivy held on to Steve as best she could -- two victims of a battle.

  This time Mathew did ring for the nurse. Outside of healing from the bullet wounds and surgery, Steve appeared to be in good shape. He did complain of dizziness and a headache, but said it was nothing much. Three different doctors came in over the next half hour. Each one appeared puzzled by how alert Steve was.

  Tests were scheduled on him for the afternoon but from that morning on, he recovered quickly. His headache became less frequent and less intense each day. He still slept a fair amount, but he did not appear to return to his coma state. Most telling in his recovery was that several times a day, either Steve or Ivy would send Mathew out for things to eat -- cheeseburgers, milkshakes, lattes, garden salad, chicken soup, cookies, muffins, pie, ice cream, more ice cream. Not only did they send him out, but Ivy had very specific shops for each item. Clearly neither of them had taken a bullet to the gut.

  ***

  On the morning after Steve woke up, Ivy was ready to talk about the shooting. Steve was half-sitting up in bed, taking most of his weight on his right side. He appeared to be both alert and interested.

  "Tell us everything you remember," Mathew said.

  Ivy thought for a moment, "How far back?"

  "Let's go back to the night before."

  "You know I had returned to Portland and sublet a studio on a week-by-week basis in the Pearl?"

  "Brian told us," Steve said. "Took all my self-discipline not to grab a car and drive to Portland."

  Ivy and Steve held each other's gaze. Mathew could see that unspoken words were passing between them in an invisible stream. He waited and then cleared his throat. Steve nodded at Ivy to continue.

  "On the fourth day I drove to the airport, returned the rental car, went to the Alaska counter and bought a ticket to Seattle. From there I passed through security, sat down, went online, canceled my flight to Seattle and booked one to Spokane that was going out about the same time. I had my boarding pass downloaded to my cell phone and then went to the gate and boarded. Since I only had carry-ons, luggage was not a problem.

  "Once in Spokane, I rented another car and drove to Walla Walla where I stayed overnight at the historic Marcus Whitman Hotel. I watched my rearview mirror closely to make sure no one was following me. I never spotted anyone. From there, I checked out at four in the morning, got into my rental car and drove back to Portland, rotating between the Oregon and Washington sides of the Columbia River whenever I came to a bridge, again checking the rearview mirror the whole way, especially when I changed sides of the river.

  "In Portland, I returned the car to Avis, went into the airport, picked up some bottled water, walked back out and rented a car at Hertz. Still checking to see if anyone followed me, I drove to Hillsboro, picked up lunch, ditched the wig and fluffed up my hair. Then I took back roads in an unplanned, circuitous way until I arrived at Spook Hills. Never did I sense that I was being followed."

  "Did you see any cars as you neared the vineyard?" Mathew asked.

  She searched her memory. "A delivery truck for bottled water turned on the Archery Summit dirt road."

  "You remember the name or brand?"

  She frowned for a moment.

  "Something Glacier. The sign was blue and white. The truck was turning as I came by."

  "Did you see anything right before the shooting?"

  "My back was to the shooters; I was hugging Steve. Hugging him and crying." They looked at each other at the memory of it.

  Mathew smiled, having watched them from the living room window.

  "Wait! I pulled back to see his face. He had on those mirrored sunglasses he wears sometimes. I saw a little flash -- a reflection in the sunglasses and then a shot. Pain, Steve pushing me down, more shots, Steve landing on top of me."

  She shook her head. "I must have passed out then."

  Mathew nodded, surprised she remembered that much.

  "Mathe
w, where were you?"

  "Inside the house. I followed Steve when we heard your car pull up, but then stopped because I thought you two should have a few moments to yourselves. Now I wish I hadn't. Once the shots started, I ran out, gun drawn and firing. They took off and I ran for you two, calling on my cell for the ambulance and the police, telling them to alert the FBI. I put the phone on speaker and tried to staunch the bleeding, but you two were making a big donation to the Red Cross. Steve had taken off his protective vest when he was working in the sun on the balcony by your master bedroom. He forgot to put the vest back on when he saw you."

  "What about the others?"

  "It was Sunday. No one was working. You remember Fred, the diligent Hispanic kid?"

  Ivy nodded.

  "He works directly for Spook Hills now. Anyway a few minutes before he stopped by and I asked him to go check on a leak we had patched in the irrigation system the preceding day."

  Steve looked a little guilty. "I ran over a valve. Mathew wanted to be sure the patch was holding."

  "Silly the things I remember -- as I stepped out of the car and saw how much the house had come along, all I could think was Steve having enough faith in our love to go on building it, even though I had disappeared. That time away taught me one thing -- it was far harder to be alone, than to be here with you." She reached out and took Steve's hand.

  "So nothing while you were gone? Nothing to make you think you were followed?"

  "Oh I was followed all right. Brian is good, but not good enough to get by me."

  "You saw him?"

  "His appealing Brian smile gives him away. He was a woman in line behind me in a Portland, Maine Starbucks. He was a beachy sort of guy in sunglasses and a cap worn backwards, pumping gas into his car and joking with a local in Bar Harbor. He was man with dark auburn hair two rows behind me, flirting with the stewardess on the flight to London. Think I spotted him a few other times. I always notice perfect eyebrows on a man too. I found it comforting to have him with me."

  Mathew thought for a moment. "I wonder what that flash was. A car door opening, reflecting the sun? A signal of some sort?"

  Steve shrugged and then said. "Sometimes working outside at the house, I felt as if someone was watching me. Once or twice I saw a glint, like from a mirror or glass, but then I thought I was just being paranoid."

  "You have that great sixth sense. Bet it was someone with binoculars or . . ."

  "A high-powered rifle sight," Ivy said, understanding someone might have stalked them for weeks.

  They looked at each other, knowing that from now on their best defense would be themselves.

  "You're a great friend, Mathew. Thank you for being here and for caring for us."

  "Oh heck, we're family, aren't we?"

  Ivy smiled at him, nodded and asked, "Where was Brian by the way? Why wasn't he following me to Spokane and back?"

  "You would have made a good agent. He lost you in the gate area at the airport, so he took a chance and boarded the plane to Seattle right when they were shutting the doors. He tracked you later, but he was always one stop too late."

  "I changed my hat and jacket in the Ladies room before going to the Spokane gate. Now I wish I hadn't. Maybe Brian would have been there to stop the shooters."

  "Or maybe he would have been shot too. Don't second-guess yourself, Ivy. You did what you thought was best."

  "How did they know I would show up at Spook Hills at that exact time?"

  "Triggerfish," Steve muttered.

  "What?" Ivy asked, looking at him a little worriedly as if he had just spoken gibberish.

  "Tracking device. I figure that they planted a tracking device or software in your cell phone, your laptop, or your iPad -- something you would have with you." A little guiltily, he added, "We did too. We call those tracking devices 'triggerfish'."

  She nodded. "When? How?"

  "I installed ours before you left. Remember when I told you I wanted to check the setups? They were in case Brian lost you on a line of sight basis. The tracker is software that transmits and logs positional data on a server. Sophisticated ones like ours can be set for how often to transmit and where. That's why you never saw Brian tailing you in the car."

  "I should have expected that -- you two will forever be FBI agents," Ivy said, shaking her head and chuckling at the same time. "But when did the bad guys do it?"

  "Were there times when you left things in your room? Like when you went out for a walk or to go shopping?"

  “Wouldn't Brian have seen the guys go in to the hotel room or apartment or wherever?"

  "Not if he was out following you."

  "Damn."

  "I'm surprised that security software on your PC didn't detect it."

  "Is that detection software on my iPhone or iPad?

  "Likely not -- I'll check. Those devices would be more suspect. If they are on, they are connected."

  "But I have passwords on them."

  "Certain devices can pick up what you key -- typically through a window. Do you store the passwords anywhere?"

  "Not those. Numerics. In my head."

  "Common numbers?"

  "My Dad's Birth Month and Day."

  Mathew looked at her questioningly.

  "Damn again. It should have been a random number."

  "Some agents do the same thing. I don't. Steve doesn't. We should have told you. I'll verify the tracking software, but that's likely how they knew when you would arrive at Spook Hills. We'll make sure it gets removed. "

  Steve spoke up then. "The other possibility is that they were tracking you by the new credit cards as you used them. Looking back on it, someone at the Bureau could have known about that ID I kept and when it went active, he or she put a trace on the money I transferred to pay your bills.”

  “You mean the mole? Mathew told me your theory.”

  “Yeah. As at the Portland house, this shooting was like a vendetta. I think El Zorro Astuto wants to make me suffer. The bastard wanted me to see you die. He wanted me to have to bury you. Then some other time, he would have me and Mathew finished off too. We must have killed a key person in his ring during the raid in Mexico."

  Ivy adjusted her sling, and then did her best to square her shoulders and appear capable. "What do we do now? Go after him?"

  Mathew regarded her with surprise, glad to see she had the spunk to fight. "First you two heal. Let the Bureau go after him and give us all protection."

  "And if they don't conclusively get him?" Ivy asked. She could only put one hand on her hip, but she still stood in the aggressive posture she used when riled.

  Steve got a stubborn look on his face. "Then we activate the Spook Hills Gang."

  "That the one you have to either limp, or have the use of only one arm, or both to get into?" Mathew asked, glancing pointedly from his own bad leg, to Ivy's shoulder, to Steve still in the hospital bed.

  "The very one -- luckily brains count the most in any operation."

  Chapter 18

  The next day Mathew wheeled Steve out to the Suburban, settled him into the back seat with Ivy and headed for the vineyard, deciding that despite everything, they should be there, continuing their work on the house, the vines and the fields. Brian rode shotgun and Moll crammed himself into the way-back, gun drawn, but on the floor next to him. When they stopped at Spook Hills, Ivy immediately struggled out of the SUV to go around and help Steve. Not only was Steve wearing a brace for his pinned collarbone, but he had his arm in a sling and he limped painfully along on a cane. Still he managed his big grin when the corgis ran to greet them. Fred came out of the new house with an equally wide smile on his face and lugging the cat, Druid. Despite feeling drained by the trip to Spook Hills, Steve wanted to give Ivy a tour of the house. He leaned heavily on his three-footed cane, trying to limp around the pain in his backside.

  As Mathew surveyed the area around the house, he realized that Fred had continued working on it, interfacing with the contractor and laborers. What
a godsend that young man turned out to be! Beds were dug for the landscaping and footings were ready for the planned serpentines of rock walls. A curving front sidewalk had been painstakingly laid out and dug down the required 14 inches, with first gravel and then sand put in place. Aware of how particular Steve was, Fred left an area exposed so the depth of the base layers could be checked. Cobblestone pavers were stacked nearby on pallets, used by the workers as they paved their way up the walk. Steve had picked the pavers out, going for natural split-granite in shades of blue-gray to make a pleasing combination with the stone for the garden walls.

  Out in the vineyard, the vines had grown since Mathew saw them the previous Monday during his quick trip back to the trailer for a supply of clothes. From behind the house, he could hear the sounds of drills and screwdrivers as work continued on the long roof deck over part of the lower level. This will be Steve and Ivy's home, Mathew thought smiling to himself, and it will be mine as well for a time. His eyes shifted over to the site that would be his house one day. A couple of carpenters were restoring the old barns. While he was eager to see the work completed, he was all too aware that they still had to contend with El Zorro Astuto.

  As they walked into the house, the Director of the Bureau called Steve on his cell phone, asking how he and Ivy were. When he said he would check back in a week, Steve wondered what he had in mind. Maybe he wanted only to see how their recovery was progressing. After all, he had long been one of Steve's supporters. Somehow Steve doubted it would be that simple.

  The day was warm and the air smelled of summer. Mathew noticed that both Ivy and Steve were taking in big lungfuls of the fresh country air, as if trying to get the hospital smells out of their nostrils. Ivy found it unbelievable how the house had taken shape in the weeks she had been away. The wood siding was on, the rock facing was in place on the front of the house and on the chimneys, the roof was on and the windows and doors were in. What had been an empty shell was starting to look like a home. She reached over and kissed Steve on the cheek as they moved through the house, gingerly stepping along the temporary boards that made a path out to the roof deck where Steve proudly showed off the ivy-patterned railing, which both surprised and delighted her.