by Sylvia Nobel
Audrey looked momentarily bewildered. “But, Kendall’s my friend. She’s only trying to help me.”
“Trust me. It can serve no purpose to dredge all this up again. What’s done is done. For your sake, for your dear mother’s sake, I hope you’ll leave it alone.”
“Or is it for your sake, Dr. Orcutt?” I cut in softly.
His eyes turned frosty and he slammed his stethoscope onto the counter. “This conversation is over.” “Please,” Audrey pleaded, grasping his arm. “I know you don’t have to tell me, but I have to know this much. Was my sister...insane?”
For a long moment he stared at her stricken face, not seeming to breathe at all before saying in a hollow voice, “In my professional opinion, I believe what she did could only be interpreted as an act of insanity.”
I thought his answer vague at best.
“Then it’s true.” Audrey said. “She really did try to kill my father.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Why?”
“She would never say.”
She pressed a hand to her lips, murmuring, “Oh, my God.”
It was easy to tell that he was still hiding something. “You’re not a psychiatrist,” I said matter-of-factly, “whose decision was it to have her committed?”
His wintry expression turned positively glacial. “I consulted with a very reputable man who concurred with both her father and me.”
“Really. What’s his name?”
“I’m afraid he passed away some years ago.” I didn’t miss the glimmer of triumph in his eyes before he turned back to Audrey. “Believe me, I did what I thought was best for your sister and for everyone else involved.”
In a barely audible voice, she said, “But it wasn’t the best thing, was it? At least tell me how old she was when she died?”
Just when I thought the man was made of stone, a genuine look of guilt-edged regret marched across his face. “Fourteen.”
She swallowed hard. “We heard there was a fire. What happened?”
He cleared his throat and seemed to be pondering how to answer. “It started late one night in one of the dorm rooms. It was very hot and windy. The facility was quite old and unfortunately had no sprinkler system. All of the children were lost.”
Audrey gasped, “How terrible.”
“There were no survivors?” I asked sharply.
“The adult staff members managed to escape but not before several of them were badly burned in a rescue attempt before authorities arrived.”
“How many kids died?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Visualizing such horror left me speechless for a few seconds. “Were all the bodies positively identified?”
“No. The flames were so intense some were burned beyond recognition. And remember,” he said, as if anticipating my next question, “that was prior to DNA testing that we have now. But, twenty-eight bodies were accounted for. End of story.”
His brusque tone conveyed a note of finality, but the fleeting shadow behind his eyes convinced me there might be more. “What’s behind the allegation that Dayln Morgan died under mysterious circumstances?”
Looking like a trapped cat, his gaze shifted around the room before settling on Audrey. “A lot of rumors circulated afterwards. It could never be proved, but one of the surviving aides claimed it was deliberately set...by your sister.”
Horrified tears jumped to Audrey’s eyes. “You mean she might have been responsible for killing all those other kids?”
“Do you understand now why your mother wanted to spare you this unpleasant news?” He patted her shoulder while firing me a self-righteous scowl that clearly said, ‘see what you forced me to do?’
I ignored him. “And where is this place?”
He hesitated then said, “Located in a small town called Coolidge. It was called the Children’s Colony, but if you’re thinking of snooping around over there you’d be wasting your time.”
“Why?”
“The entire structure was incinerated.”
“Along with all the medical and dental records, of course.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
My suspicions about him intensified. First a fire at the courthouse and then the asylum. It was just too convenient.
Just then a faint noise in the hallway caught our attention. “Who’s out there?” he called. At first only the silence of the empty building met our ears, but when Fran Orcutt suddenly appeared in the doorway, his apprehension was visible. “What are you doing here?” he asked coldly.
“I knew Anna wouldn’t be here yet, so I thought maybe... maybe you’d need some help.”
He strode over and laid an arm along her thin shoulders. “I’m fine, my dear. In fact, I’m wrapping things up now. You go on back to the house. Thank you for your concern.” The sincerity in his voice never reached his eyes and some emotion I couldn’t fathom flitted across Fran Orcutt’s face before she turned and left without another word.
The brief interlude refreshed the memory of the supplicating look she’d bestowed on me only days ago, but it also allowed Dr. Orcutt the opportunity to resurrect a professional facade. After inquiring to see if we were allergic to any particular medications, he dispensed muscle relaxants and pain pills to me and antibiotics to Audrey along with instructions for changing the dressing on her wound. Then he brought her a pair of crutches, ushered us outside and, after refusing any sort of payment, shut the door firmly in our faces.
“Man, you could drive a truck through the holes in his story,” I confided to Audrey in low tones as we started down the flagstone walkway.
Still appearing shell-shocked with the disclosure, Audrey murmured, “I don’t know what to do now. Mom said Dr. Orcutt would give me good advice. Maybe I should take it.”
I stared at her, aghast. “You didn’t buy into that load of horse pucky, did you?”
Her expression ranged somewhere between distress and uncertainty. “Don’t you think he was just trying to protect me from the fact that my sister was a...a monster?” “Baloney. I think he made your mother a death-bed promise he regrets and now he’s trying to save his own ass.”
“From what?”
“I don’t know, but think about it. Last Monday the good doctor talked about your mother, your father, your uncle, your cousins, and even your great-grandparents for heaven’s sake, but somehow he forgot to mention you had a sister? Please. Now, I don’t know what the connection is to you, but it’s becoming more and more apparent that there is one.”
Her brows clashed in a thoughtful frown and she was silent as I helped settle her into the car once more. “I was thinking about mom’s letter,” she said. “What do you suppose she meant when she said she hoped I could find it in my heart to forgive her? For what, Kendall? For what?” She gave me a look filled with such profound sorrow I knelt down beside her.
“Beats me, but like I promised you from the start, I’ll stop looking for clues right now if you want me to, even though my gut feeling is your mother really wanted you to find out whatever it is Dr. Orcutt is concealing.”
“I wonder,” she mused almost to herself. “Can we go now? My foot hurts, my head hurts and I need to eat something and take a nap before I can think about this any more.” She turned her head away and closed her eyes.
Damn Dr. Orcutt. All the self-confidence she’d displayed yesterday seemed to have vanished, so rather than press her, I shut my mouth and hoped she’d swing back in the other direction by this afternoon.
I stowed her crutches in the back seat and was heading toward the driver’s side when an urgent voice called out, “Psssst! Over here. Come quickly.”
I whirled around to find Fran Orcutt beckoning to me from behind a thick stand of mesquite and shoulder-high sunflowers sprouting from the remains of a crumbling foundation. I edged closer, almost jumping out of my skin when her skeletal fingers shot out of the shadows and locked around my wrist like bony handcuffs. “You have to help me, Miss O’Dell. We’re bot
h after the same thing.”
“And what’s that?”
She shot a panic-filled look towards the clinic door, then back to me. “The truth. For twenty years...the not knowing for sure...it’s eating me up inside.”
Her grip was so tight my hand began to ache. I pried her fingers apart and asked as calmly as possible, “What are you trying to tell me, Mrs. Orcutt?”
For a few seconds, she said nothing, but even in the soft dappled light of her leafy hiding place, the anguish imbedded in her eyes broadcast inner conflict. And pain. Old pain. “I want so desperately to believe my husband and I pray that I’m wrong…you see, I only overheard part of their conversation, but it was enough…Oh, God,” Her voice broke, so I asked, “What conversation?”
She swallowed hard. “He forbid me to ever mention it but if you should find out...”
As I fought to comprehend her rambling words the intuitive notion that had been hovering on the perimeter of my mind for days began to percolate. “Does this have anything to do with Rita Morgan?”
Bitter tears glittered in her eyes. “He stayed in touch with her all those years. I have to know about the baby…” The remaining words died on her lips as the clinic door squeaked open behind me. “Oh, mercy! He mustn’t see me talking to you.”
She sprang away as I pleaded a frantic, “Wait a minute! What baby?”
“Go to Weaverville, Miss O’Dell,” she whispered fiercely, withdrawing into the shadows, “go to the cemetery and read the dates on the gravestones.
Chapter 22
Like a specter she vanished from sight, leaving me adrift in a sea of unanswered questions. What had she been talking about and how on earth did a graveyard figure into any of this puzzle?
My heart rate pegged on high, I somehow had the presence of mind to snap off some stalks of sunflowers and when I swiveled around to meet Dr. Orcutt’s penetrating eyes, I could only hope the excitement didn’t show on my face. “Gorgeous, aren’t they?” I said, forcing a cheery smile while laboring to control the tremor in my hands. “Hope you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
But the residue of suspicion lingered in his eyes and I could feel them boring into my back when I turned to pluck a few more flowers while I searched for any sign of his wife. Was she still crouching somewhere in the dense shrubbery or had she managed to slip into the culvert extending beneath the road above?
I wanted nothing more than to stay and grill her further but, fearful of drawing attention to her, I completed my task and returned to the car uncomfortably aware that the doctor was still scrutinizing my actions.
I laid the bouquet across my lap and Audrey’s eyes blinked open when I started the engine. She stared blankly at the flowers. “Who were you talking to?” she asked, covering a yawn as I maneuvered the big car along the narrow alley while casting intermittent glances in the rear view mirror.
“Fran Orcutt.” I felt relieved when the doctor’s car finally appeared behind me and then turned in the direction of his house.
“What did she want?”
I hesitated. What should I tell her? That I now strongly suspected that Fran Orcutt was the mysterious female caller? But why would she insist Audrey was an imposter unless... A feeling of sick dread invaded my heart. What if the relationship between Audrey’s mother and Dr. Orcutt had gone beyond mere friendship? Was that the forbidden secret? Did Fran Orcutt fear that Audrey was her husband’s child?
Accelerating up Devil’s Hill I made a snap decision. Until I had concrete proof, I would relay only parts of the strange conversation to Audrey.
“Read the dates on the gravestones?” she echoed back to me in wide-eyed wonder. “But, how are you supposed to know which one to look for? Why didn’t she just tell you?”
I chose my words carefully. “Evidently that’s all her conscience will permit her to say. And it’s my guess she’s convinced herself that if I’m the one to expose this secret Dr. Orcutt is harboring, she’ll be absolved of breaking her pledge of silence.”
“I’m tired of all the stupid riddles. Let’s go back and ask her straight out.”
“Fat chance. My guess is she’s hotfooting it back to her house before hubby gets back and I doubt she’s going to risk getting caught talking to me again.”
“So...you’re going to run off and poke around this cemetery when you don’t even know what you’re looking for?”
The eager anticipation of doing just that made me feel like a truckload of cold sand had been dumped in my stomach. “Things are definitely starting to rock and roll and I’m not about to pass up a hot lead like this.” I shot a look at her wan face. “But first, let’s get you settled.”
The power was back on when we reached the house, but as I’d feared the phone lines were still dead. Now what? I hated the sensation of helplessness, of being completely marooned. What if Ginger was trying to get hold of me? My frustration level combined with the dull ache in my shoulder set my nerves on edge. I was tempted to take one of the pain pills Dr. Orcutt had given me and catch a couple of hours sleep but, besides the fact that I’d made a promise to Orville Kemp, I wasn’t about to let last night’s shenanigans go uninvestigated. Somehow, I had to think of a way to contact the sheriff’s office short of driving all the way to Bisbee.
I’d almost convinced myself I was too agitated to eat when the aroma of frying bacon lured me to the kitchen. Perhaps just a little bite of something would improve my spirits.
Audrey reverted to her usual state of morose silence and listlessly picked at her food while I managed to polish off three slices of bacon, coffee, juice and an impressive stack of blueberry pancakes.
“I can’t go with Duncan this afternoon,” Audrey announced unexpectedly, pushing her plate away.
I stopped in mid-chew. “Why not?”
“Because, that looks totally gross,” she cried, pointing with disgust at her bandaged foot. “He’s not going to want to be seen with me. On top of everything else, now I’m a...a cripple.”
That figured. Of all the sobering incidents she ought to be concerned about, including the latest one portraying her half-sister as a murderous psychopath, concerning herself with how she appeared to Duncan Claypool apparently topped the list. “Don’t be silly,” I said, “so you have a few stitches. He wants to take you to dinner, not your foot.”
For a few seconds, she stared at me blank-faced and then burst into a fit of giggles that became so infectious that Marta and I soon joined in. I was delighted that my glib remark had cheered her, but after Marta and I got her upstairs and tucked in bed, I was again struck by her abrupt mood swings.
After a quick one-handed sponge bath, I returned to my room and stood staring blankly at the closet. What to wear? Blue jeans and a T-shirt seemed too casual for Ida’s luncheon, but since I’d be tromping around Weaverville immediately afterwards, a dress wouldn’t do. I decided a gaily-flowered blouse would spruce up my plain outfit and, wincing aloud from shoulder pain, I finally tamed my unruly, static-charged curls into some semblance of order.
The finishing touch was a finely tooled leather belt complete with the stunning silver and turquoise buckle Tally had given me for my birthday just two short weeks ago. A tingle of pure pleasure radiated through me as I fastened it around my waist. What a great guy. What a sexy guy.
Entertaining myself with pleasant memories of times spent with him coupled with the giddy anticipation that we’d be together again in a few short days jump-started my spirits as I strolled back to the sunlit kitchen and accepted Marta’s offer of more coffee. I was contemplating my next move when something occurred to me. “Marta, does anyone around here have a cellular phone?”
She stopped loading the dishwasher and pushed her thick glasses back against the bridge of her nose. “I think maybe Whitey Flanigan.”
“Great.” The kitchen clock confirmed that it was barely eight o’clock and I doubted the Muleskinner opened that early. “Where does he live?”
“Behind the bar i
n the little green house.”
I downed the remainder of my coffee and rose. “Can you stick around and keep an eye on Audrey until I get back?”
“Oh, yes. D.J. comes in only a short time ago. He says he will take a shower and change before we will go.”
“Thanks.” I was back in the car and traveling through downtown streets so deserted I felt like I was starring in one of those old Twilight Zone episodes depicting the last person left alive on earth.
As I suspected, the bar was closed, so I parked the big car in the alley adjacent to it and walked the remaining few yards to a run-down cottage matching Marta’s description. I rapped on the front door.
“Hey, Irish,” Whitey’s voice boomed as he swung the door wide and stepped out onto the porch shrugging a denim vest over a faded checkered shirt. “Ain’t seen you around for a couple of days. I figured maybe you got tired of our little wide-spot-in-the-road and flew the coop.”
“Not at all. I’m planning to stick around until Monday.”
He cast a knowing grin over my shoulder. “Looks like you’re traveling in style these days.”
“Yeah. She’s a lovely lady and I’m going to miss driving her.”
“Toomey got yours all gussied up?”
“I plan to run by and get it when I leave here.”
“You’ll be pleased as punch. He does real good work...” Whitey’s little speech trailed off when the unexpected roar of machinery rumbled through the morning stillness.
I turned in the direction of Boneyard Pass and squinted into the blinding-white glare of the sun. “What’s going on up there?”
Whitey shaded his eyes and followed my gaze. “Dozers and graders. Well, what do you know? Looks like the highway crew’s finally getting around to fixing the road. Good timing. That was some storm last night. Wrath of God type stuff, huh?”
The whole dramatic event was etched in my memory for eternity. “I should say.”
