Brink of Death

by Brandilyn Collins

  How I wished I knew a god worth praying to.

  We reached the hospital. I jumped out of the ambulance and tried to keep out of the way. The emergency room reeked of the clean of antiseptic, the dirt of disappointment and shock. The angular-faced paramedic wheeled Erin toward a room, detailing her vital signs and injuries to the attending physician as I followed.

  “I’m Doctor Strang.” The physician held out his hand to me. “You are…”

  “A neighbor. Her dad’s out of town right now. She needed somebody.”

  He nodded. “You can stay near her as we examine her, if you like.”

  “Thank you.”

  In the small examining room, the paramedic, doctor, and nurse transferred Erin to the bed, their movements smooth efficient. The paramedic gave me a wan smile as he left. “I hope she’s all right.”

  Erin had fallen again into an eerie calm and lay staring at the ceiling. I stayed as close as possible while the doctor looked her over. He was probably in his forties. Thin lips, deep-set eyes. Small ears. My gaze fell to his hands, his scrubbed cuticles, as they gently probed and pushed.

  “Let’s see how well you can bend and straighten this.” He coaxed Erin’s left arm to move. She winced. “That hurt?”

  “Yeah.” Her voice sounded void, dead.

  A sob rose in my chest. I turned away, forcing it back down, the dull beige wall of the room blurring. I could not bear to think of the pain Erin would face from losing a parent. My own children had lost their dad two years ago, and they’d been reeling from the emotional upheaval ever since.

  But they had not lost him to death. In those two devastating years, I often thought Vic’s death would have been easier.

  How naive I had been.

  Gerri Carson slipped into the room. One look at my expression and she took me aside. “Your family’s going to be coming soon. They’ll be in the waiting area. If this gets to be too much, you should go out there with them. I’ll stay with Erin.”

  “No, no.” I firmed my lips. “I don’t want to leave her yet.”

  “Okay.”

  I took a couple of deep breaths as I studied the chaplain’s face. She wore no makeup, this being the middle of the night.

  But for some reason I guessed she wasn’t the type to wear it anytime. Her cheeks were plump like her body, her mouth wide, as if it had been stretched through smiling over the years. Something about this woman struck me. The way she stood, her face, her entire demeanor, spoke of calmness and peace. But it was not the peace of detachment, for her gray eyes were full of warmth and compassion.

  “Did Jenna talk to you about Erin’s dad?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Gerri flicked a glance over my shoulder. “The next-door neighbors—the Edinbergers, I believe?—they happened to have the contact information for Mr. Willit’s sister. Sounds like they’ve watched over the Willits’ house before, when the family’s been down to San Diego. The police in that area are being called. An officer will go to the sister’s house in person to tell Mr. Willit what happened. Meanwhile your neighbors are talking about who’ll fly down and bring him home.”

  “Good news about that elbow, Erin.” Dr. Strang’s voice brought us back to her bedside. “Looks like it’s only bruised.”

  He looked at me. “I want to do a CT scan of her head to check for concussion. But we’re waiting for contact with the father for approval.”

  “Let me see how that’s going.” Gerri crossed to the doorway. “It shouldn’t be long; the detectives are aware you need to talk with him.”

  Long minutes passed. When Dr. Strang left the room, I stood by Erin’s side and stroked her forehead. The girl lay dry-eyed, staring upward. Finally Gerri returned. She nodded at me, then spoke to Erin. “We’ve talked to your dad, honey.

  The doctor wants to take a picture of your head, and your dad said that’s okay. It won’t hurt. I can stay with you if you like.”

  No response. A single tear rolled down Erin’s temple. I wiped it away.

  “You want to go see your family now?” Gerri half whispered to me. “They’re anxious to talk to you. I’ll stay with her.”

  For a moment I fought with my conflicting loyalties.

  “Okay. Thanks.” I squeezed Erin’s shoulder. “Honey, I’m going to tell Kelly how you’re doing. Then I’ll be right back, okay?”

  With a final, tugging look at her, I left the room.

  Chapter 3

  The emergency area was quiet—an antithesis to the whirlwind I felt inside. With forced concentration I listened to the faint squeaking of my shoes against the tile floor as I headed toward the waiting room. On the way, I passed Dr. Strang talking to one of the detectives I’d seen at the Willits’. I caught the words question her and shivered. Erin was in no shape to be questioned anytime soon.

  In the waiting room Kelly was sitting next to Jenna on a worn couch, her head on her aunt’s shoulder. Stephen sprawled opposite them, his legs spread wide and one arm thrown across the back of the chair. He looked bored to tears.

  The fluorescent light cast a yellow-beige sheen on his scalp through the buzz cut of his hair, reminding me how much I hated his insistence on being nearly bald. Just because all his scurvy pals back in the Bay Area wanted to look like members of the Aryan Nation didn’t mean he had to follow suit.

  “Mom!” Kelly rushed to me, her eyes red. “How is she?”

  “She’s okay, honey, she’s okay.” I told them what had happened.

  “Those sheriff people were everywhere on our street when we left.” Stephen sniffed. “Killer’s probably hiding in the woods behind our house.”

  “Shut up, Stephen!” Kelly pressed both hands over her ears and flung herself back on the couch.

  “Thank you for your learned opinion.” Jenna shot a hard look at her nephew. “Just what we need right now.”

  I surveyed my son, aware of the accusation behind his words. His dark, closeknit eyebrows were raised as he awaited my reaction, and he flexed his jaw to one side—a sure sign of his rebellion. I had seen Stephen do that a lot lately. Somehow I’d lost him in the last year. The pain from his father’s abandonment had seeped like muddied waters into his soul. He’d stopped talking to me, turned to less-than-desirable friends and, I feared, drugs. Then I’d forced the move from the Bay Area, away from those friends. He hadn’t forgiven me for that.

  I ran a hand through my hair and turned to my sister. I had no energy to deal with my son’s testiness. “What happened with getting Dave back here?”

  “We had to find somebody who hadn’t had a drink in the last eight hours.You know Wesley Darrel, lives off the taxiway?”

  I shook my head.

  “He said he goes to the same church as the Willits. He’s got a Beech Baron that’ll get him down to San Diego fast. He took Bryan Carney, a flight instructor who’s familiar with all kinds of planes. Dave will come back with Wesley, and Bryan will fly Dave’s plane back.”

  “Mom, I want to see Erin!” Kelly scooted to the edge of the couch.

  “In a little while, honey. I’m going with her in a minute while they do the CT scan.” I placed a palm on Kelly’s cheek, reveling in her warmth, her health. Then I slipped away.

  Turning the corner outside the waiting room, I nearly ran into a detective. “Oh! Sorry.”

  “My fault.” He towered over me. I stand five feet five, so most men seem tall. But this guy had to be at least six three.

  “I’m Detective Ralph Chetterling. You came in with Erin Willit, right?”

  “Yes. Annie Kingston.” I looked up at him, that familiar feeling of defensiveness crawling up my spine. Even after his death, Trent Gerralon’s legacy lived on within me. Those who had taken the pledge to fight for the law, to wipe criminals from the streets, didn’t tend to respond too fondly when they heard my father’s name.

  “You know her pretty well?”

  “Only since we moved to Grove Landing. But she’s been over to our house a lot. She and my daughter became close friends
pretty fast.”

  Chetterling nodded. He stood with feet planted apart, toes out, one hand resting on his hip. His big face seemed cut from a block of stone. His eyes were dark brown and small, his mouth thin. Large nose. His countenance reeked with the authority of his badge.

  “Are you here to question Erin?”

  “Yes. Soon as she’s done with all her tests.”

  “Um, could I just say…I don’t think she’s up to it.”

  “I understand. But we have to do this as soon as possible.

  She’s our only witness. Our progress is going to depend on what she can add.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Ms. Kingston.” He softened his voice. “I know all this is a horrible shock to everyone involved. But in a homicide, the first seventy-two hours are crucial. Still, I can assure you we’ll do everything we can to take care of Erin. Gerri Carson, you met her?”

  I nodded.

  “She’s a great help to victims and very knowledgeable about what they need. She’ll be right with Erin the whole time.”

  “I want to be there, too. I won’t get in the way, but I think Erin needs—”

  “No problem. Anything it takes to make Erin more comfortable, we’re willing to do. Okay?”

  I crossed my arms, suddenly cold. “Okay.”

  The faint shush-shush of a rolling gurney sounded from down the hall. I turned to see an attendant wheeling Erin away for the CT scan. I hurried to catch up. Gerri came out of the examining room. “Are you going?” I laid a hand on the woman’s arm.

  “If you’d like.”

  “I wondered if you’d talk to my family. My daughter, Kelly? She could use some help.”

  “Absolutely.” Gerri gave me a firm smile.

  During the CT scan, Erin made not one sound. I shivered as I watched the girl’s brain, her life center, reduced to flat pictures on a computer screen. Medical technology could be so cold.

  The doctor said all the pictures looked normal.

  “Physically she’s okay.” He watched Erin’s face across the room as he spoke with me. “I see no reason to keep her. I know the detective wants to question her as soon as possible.

  She’s able to walk. You want to take her back downstairs?”

  I bit back my opinions about Erin being interrogated.

  “Sure.” Crossing the room to where she lay, I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Honey, you’re all done at the hospital now.

  The doctor says you can go.”

  The girl’s eyes fluttered closed. I waited, watching her face. The light eyelashes against her faintly freckled skin; the mouth that smiled so quickly, now weighted at the corners.

  “Erin?” I smoothed her forehead with my fingers. “Can you get up and walk now? I’ll take you down to see Kelly.”

  Without a word Erin sat up, then swung her legs to the floor. She let me help her stand, then hesitated for a moment, feeling for her balance. Doctor Strang followed us out of the room.

  “I want to talk to my dad.” Erin clung to my hand.

  “Okay, honey, okay.”

  “I’ll be calling him.” Dr. Strang punched the down button at the elevator. “He’s waiting to hear results of the scan.”

  Back at the registration desk, the doctor picked up an extra phone. Kelly was waiting in the hall and ran to meet her friend the moment Erin appeared. The girls hugged one another, Kelly’s brown hair crushing against Erin’s blond head. Chetterling hung nearby, talking in low tones with Gerri. Glancing at him, I felt a wave of frustration. Yes, he had a job to do, but couldn’t it wait until morning?

  “Mr. Willit?” the doctor said into the phone. “Dr. Strang here.”

  The words brought Erin’s head up. She pulled away from Kelly and surged toward the phone, snatching it from the doctor’s hands. “Daddy!” She sagged over the counter, the phone pressed to her ear, and burst into sobs. Gerri slipped to her side, patting her on the back.

  Kelly began to cry. Stephen and Jenna popped out of the waiting room.

  Detective Chetterling walked over, his face creased in sympathy. Quietly he told Jenna and me that he would now be questioning Erin.

  There was no point in arguing.

  The next five minutes blurred into colors and snippets of sound, like a movie tape forced through the reel. Gerri assured me they wouldn’t push Erin any more than she could handle. Erin sobbed into the phone. Jenna talked to the detective about taking Erin home after the questioning. Chetterling spoke to Dave on the phone, obtaining permission to talk with his daughter. Details followed—who would go where and do what. I would ride with Erin in Gerri’s car to the Sheriff Department’s North Substation, where Erin would be questioned. Jenna would take Stephen and Kelly home.

  “Lock all the doors, turn on the alarm!” I demanded. It would be the first time we’d used the alarm. Like too many homeowners, we’d planned to use it only if we left the house overnight. Apparently, the Willits had made the same horrible mistake. “And all of you, sleep in one room!”

  “I’m not sleeping in anyone’s room but my own,” Stephen declared.

  I whirled on my son. “Stephen, I’m not hearing it, you understand?”

  Minutes later I was helping Erin to Gerri’s car, trying not to think that my family was returning to a neighborhood disturbed by the sounds of investigating detectives, their slamming car doors and crackling radios.

  A neighborhood that was no longer safe.

  Chapter 4

  We sat in a cramped office at the substation, an overhead light glaring far too cheerily for the darkness of this night.

  Detective Chetterling had pulled his chair out from behind the desk and placed it before Erin’s. In his hands were a notepad and pen. Gerri and I were on either side of Erin, my hand on the girl’s knee. She slumped in her chair, focusing empty eyes on the scuffed floor as she answered questions.

  Her fingers worked at the hem of her T-shirt.

  “Okay.” Chetterling shifted his position. “You told me you heard sounds from the office, like someone was opening drawers, looking for something.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And when you peeked out into the hall, you saw a beam from a flashlight, right? When you first saw the man, was he holding the flashlight?”

  Erin picked at her shirt. “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked for clues on the detective’s face. Hadn’t they found a flashlight in the house?

  “All right.” He made a note. “I’d like you to think again about what he was wearing. Tell me what you remember.”

  Erin’s foot raised from the floor, then plunked back down.

  “Black.”

  “Black what?”

  “Black shirt.”

  “What kind of shirt?”

  Erin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Did it have long sleeves or short sleeves?”

  “Long.”

  “Any buttons?”

  “Um…I don’t think so.”

  The detective wrote in his notepad. “Was the shirt tucked into his pants or on the outside of them?”

  “Outside.”

  “Okay. What did the bottom of the shirt look like?”

  Erin seemed not to have heard. Finally she sighed. “It was all one length, like a T-shirt. But with long sleeves.”

  “Good, Erin. Now tell me about the pants.”

  “Black.”

  “Do you know what kind they were?”

  Erin frowned at the floor.

  “Were they tight or loose?”

  Fear flicked across her face. She drew back, mouth twisting. “I think they were jeans.”

  Chetterling asked about the man’s shoes. Erin faltered, three times saying she didn’t know. Then she blurted, “The shoes were black.” Minutes later she remembered something else. Whatever the reminding picture in her head, it was enough to cause her limbs to tremble. “Black gloves.”

  I slid an arm around her, e
xchanging a glance with Gerri.

  An intruder, clad all in black. Whoever he was, he hadn’t planned on being discovered.

  The detective let Erin rest for a moment. “Now, Erin,” he said gently. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened between him and your mom. I know this is hard to think about, but it’s very important. Okay?”

  Erin drew in her shoulders, then gave a slight nod.

  Prompted by Chetterling, she told them of the assault. Of a horror so unimaginable, I felt the dread of it in the pit of my soul. The detective led Erin to focus on how her mother fought back. Had she scratched the man’s face? His hands?

  Had she bitten him? Had Erin seen any marks on the man?

  She couldn’t remember.

  Finally, those questions complete, Erin looked exhausted and broken. For the first time during the interrogation, she began to cry. Gerri fetched her some tissues from the bathroom.

  One more important part of the interview remained, Detective Chetterling said. At the house, Erin had told them a little about what the man looked like. They needed to talk about it some more. So the people looking for this man would be able to find him soon.

  “No.” Erin shook her head. “No, no, no.”

  “Please try, okay? We just want you to try, that’s all.”

  Erin turned and buried her face in my chest. I held her, locking eyes with Gerri. Sorrow creased the woman’s forehead. I saw her mouth one word. Jesus. It seemed a prayer rather than a curse.

  After a minute Erin pulled back and said, “His eyes were blue! I saw them when he looked at me like he was gonna kill me. They were bright blue!”

  A startling thought sped through my mind. If Erin had looked into the man’s face, why hadn’t he killed her? It was a miracle she was alive.

  Erin threw herself back into my arms and gasped muffled words into my shirt. “He had…blond…hair.”

  “What kind of blond?” Chetterling pressed. “Light blond, yellow blond?”

  “Y-yellow.”

  “Good, Erin. What else can you tell me about his hair?”

  Erin shook her head vehemently. Chetterling looked to Gerri, defeat pulling at one side of his mouth. “Would you get Mike in here now? I think I heard him come in.”