Walker Texas Wife (The Book Cellar Mysteries 1)

by Melissa Storm

  A few steps later, she found his room just where the nurse had said it would be. Still no sign of Annabeth. Where was she?

  If it had been Brian, I wouldn’t leave his side.

  Brooke took a deep breath and tiptoed in, as if being careful not to wake Marcus from his coma. This trip was so different from those she’d made with Tiara on therapy animal visits, and from the times she met with the board to plan this or that event. This visit felt sacred somehow.

  Marcus lay before her, enshrined in a chaotic mismatch of tubes, wires, and machines. He seemed so small, lying beneath the simple white covers as the heart monitor blipped steadily in the background.

  She barely knew the man, yet somehow she felt so deeply connected to him in that moment. All those tubes and wires kept Marcus alive yet also ensnared him within their clutches.

  Brooke felt that way about everything in her life—her business, her marriage, her friendships. They all kept her going but also held her down. How could that be possible when she herself was always in charge?

  “Oh, good. You found him.” The same nurse from earlier peeked into the room, smiled, then disappeared.

  Brooke shifted her weight from foot to foot wondering what to do next.

  This is ridiculous. Maybe I should just leave.

  But then the nurse was back again with that same saccharine smile that somehow made Brooke’s teeth hurt.

  “They say it helps if you talk as if nothing were wrong. He can hear you, you know?”

  “Thanks,” Brooke mumbled and turned from the door. “Oh, and excuse me?”

  “What can I do for you?” the nurse returned with an eager look on her face, not unlike a dog waiting for its favorite ball to be hurled across the backyard.

  “I need to speak with Dr. Vance. Could you send for him please? Tell him Mrs. Fischer is waiting.”

  “Sure thing. And, seriously, talk to him, okay?”

  She listened as the squeak of the nurse’s Keds made their way back down the hall, leaving her and Marcus alone in the sterile white room.

  “You want me to talk, huh?” Brooke took a step closer, then before she could change her mind, took a seat next to Marcus on the edge of his bed. “Well, I wanted to talk to Annabeth, but since she’s not here, I’ll have to tell this to you instead. I guess I should just come out and say it, right? Say that I’m sorry, because it’s true. I really am. I’m sorry I couldn’t even give you and Annabeth a chance, that I immediately jumped to spying on you, assuming that something had to be wrong. Sorry for breaking into your house, too. That was a little over the top, even for me.”

  She laughed, batting away any lingering doubts. She felt bad enough as it was without flat-out ignoring this wake up call. Was Marcus’s accident meant to be a sign that she needed to slow down, to take time to appreciate what she had rather than worry so much about possibly losing it?

  Marcus’s face remained smooth and expressionless, yet somehow Brooke felt heard.

  She continued, “That’s how I am. You’ll figure it out soon enough. I never feel at home in my own life, so I have to take over others’ whenever I can. I’m sorry about that too, but it’s just not something I can control. Which is funny really, because control is the only thing that makes me feel as if my life isn’t one colossal joke. But I guess I shouldn’t complain, seeing as you can’t even breathe without this weird machine to help you, and...”

  Things were getting too serious. Whether or not Marcus could hear her words, she could and she was embarrassed by them.

  Deep breath. Take it back to normal.

  She forced a laugh and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. “Seriously, Marcus, all that machinery really does clash with that gown they have you in. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not awake to see it.”

  Dr. Vance breezed into the room and gave Brooke a quick peck on the cheek. “Ahh, Mrs. Fischer, so good of you to stop in. Is this man...” He checked his chart. “Marcus, a friend of yours?”

  “Yes, and a good one, so you better take great care of him, you hear?”

  “Of course.” He smiled at Brooke then toward Marcus’s still body.

  “And you can start by transferring him to Herald Springs Memorial just as soon as he’s stable. His wife shouldn’t have to drive back and forth an hour each day to visit her husband.”

  “That’s easier said than done at this point. He just stabilized this morning. Things are looking very positive for Mr. Ki—”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. The more uncomfortable she could make people, the quicker they would meet her demands. “I expect him to be set up at Herald Springs Memorial by dinner time. Got it?”

  “We’ll do our best, but—”

  “But nothing. Not unless you want the Junior League to hear about this. I’m sure they won’t be so keen on supporting your next Fun Run if they find out that you were unwilling to take care of this poor man in the manner he deserves. Don’t make an enemy of me. That’s one regret you’ll never be able to live down.”

  The doctor nodded and drew a stray mark on his chart. “We’ll arrange for it, Mrs. Fischer. Is there anything else?” he asked between gritted teeth.

  Her mission a success, Brooke smoothed her face into a smile and returned her voice to its usual chipper tone. “That will be all, thank you. Oh, would you just look at the time? I better get going. Toodles.” She left the room with a quick wave toward Marcus then hurried down the hall with a renewed sense of purpose.

  Even if she couldn’t fix her own life, she could still influence those of others. Regardless of their quirks, she’d done something nice for the Kings, something only she could accomplish, and it gave her the burst of confidence she needed to move forward. She could troubleshoot all that had gone wrong with the fundraiser; she could make this party one the town would never forget. And, at least for now, these things would have to be enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Annabeth

  Annabeth awoke early the next morning to an unfamiliar snoring sound.

  What the heck? Did I go home with someone?

  Whistle—snort—blow.

  As she rolled in the direction of the sound, she made out a limp body flung across the overstuffed chair beside her bed. After three hard blinks, the person’s face came into focus.

  Vi. Why is she in...?

  Oh. Marcus.

  Just like that, the events of the night before came crashing over her like a tidal wave. She could hear the sickening thud of Marcus’s skull coming into contact with the car’s windshield, could see the halo of blood forming around his head when he fell onto the asphalt—the violent scene now burned into her long-term memory.

  An acidic mix of guilt and anger rolled around in her gut making her feel nauseous...or maybe that was just the cocktail of booze and pills she had ingested. The strangely gratifying pairing—scotch mixed with the Vicodin the doctor had prescribed for her arm—thundered through her veins, leaving her wasted and hungover at the same time.

  I should be with him. I deserve all this pain and more.

  Despite the crushing guilt, she knew she wouldn’t go to Marcus. The thought of seeing him hooked up to machines, a ventilator breathing for him, was far more than she could handle now.

  Besides, he wouldn’t want her there anyway. He’d want her working the case, not worrying over him. They had already lost too much ground as it was.

  I need to prove to him—heck, to myself—that I can handle this case. If we fail again I’m going to end up mopping floors for a living.

  As it was, this job was one thing that she could have some control over, and she couldn’t afford to fail at that. Not when it was all she had left. Especially if Marcus...

  Vi choked and sputtered as she began to wake up. Her plump lips formed a tight bow, much like they did when she was awake and on the listening end of a conversation, much like they’d been the previous night.

  Oh, no…what all did I tell h
er?

  Vi stretched and yawned. A look of concern washed over her. “Hey, Anna. How are you feeling? I was worried about you last night.” Her eyes shot toward the floor and she frowned. “You got pretty sick.”

  She could taste the remnants of this truth, but had no memory of it. Then it clicked in her mind.

  Did she just call me Anna?

  Her heartbeat quickened, her chest prickled with fear. “Vi, what... What all did I tell you last night?”

  Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose and prayed that she had not messed everything up for them.

  I am so, so stupid.

  Vi reached over and took one of Annabeth’s hands into hers. “Your secrets are safe with me. I'm a counselor so the information you shared with me is completely confidential. I’d like to think I am your friend, too. I don’t mean to be forward, but it seems like, with everything going on, that you might be needing a friend about now.” She smiled a sweet Vi smile.

  Annabeth felt the panic attack coming. She wiggled her fingers and took slow, calming breaths. “Anna, Anna, Anna.” She repeated the familiar grounding technique under her breath.

  Vi regarded her actions and she pointed to Annabeth’s wiggling fingers. “How long have you been having panic attacks?”

  She paused. Vi’s choice of words and mannerisms were more of a counselor than a friend, but, actually, she could use both those things right about now. And so she went against her better instincts and decided to trust this woman just enough to reveal a few of her more closely kept secrets.

  “Ten years.”

  “What you went through last night, with the mugging and what happened with Marcus, is a lot for any one person to handle all at once. Whatever you might be feeling or thinking is okay. I know you might not feel like it, but you are coping really well.”

  Annabeth let out a hearty laugh and dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep from breaking down. “Oh, ya think so, huh?”

  Vi’s solemn nod spoke volumes.

  Annabeth hated long silences and had been through enough therapy in her lifetime to recognize it as a drawing out technique, which irritated her. “I never should have told you all of that. I need to go. I’m sorry, I just...... can’t right now.”

  She slid off the bed and looked around for her shoes. Despite her best efforts to hold herself in check she could feel hot tears burning the corners of her eyes.

  Where are my freaking shoes?

  “Your shoes are over there.”

  Annabeth’s anger deflated when she snatched up her shoes. They had dried blood caked to the soles. Marcus’s blood...... She sank down onto her haunches and felt the sobs rack her body.

  Vi slid down onto the floor beside her.

  Why can’t she just leave me alone?

  “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital so you can see him?” Her eyes filled with sympathy.

  She shook her head. The last person she wanted to see right now was Marcus. She needed something to distract her. “No, I should be working. I can't afford to drop the ball here. Those poor girls are depending on me to save them.”

  “What kind of case are you working on? Maybe I can help? I worked as a Victims Services Coordinator for a few years with the Austin Police Department.”

  She’d tell her just enough to satisfy her curiosity. After that she’d keep her mouth shut for once.

  “I'm investigating a sex-trafficking ring, but I really shouldn't be talking to you about this. Confidential or not, this is a breach in protocol. Just forget I ever mentioned it. ”

  Vi’s face turned chalk white and her jaw dropped. “Anna, I have some information that might be useful to you.”

  Annabeth tilted her head closer. Maybe one of the victims had come forward and sought shelter. That was just the kind of break that the case needed.

  Maybe I won't end up as a fry girl, after all.

  “Did someone come to your Center?”

  Vi let out a small huff of air. “This is where I get caught up in confidentiality issues of my own.” A look of shame washed over Vi’s features. “Before I get into all that, there’s something I need to tell you. I really want us to be friends, and I can’t start this friendship with a lie.”

  Please be something stupid. I don’t have the energy for anything else.

  “What?”

  “As you probably already know, Brooke has been suspicious of y’all from the beginning. She...uh...well, she got the bright idea to break into your home and snoop around. And I kind of went with her.”

  What the heck?

  She would have expected something like that from Brooke, but Vi? Evidently that friend stuff was just a bunch of B.S. The people in this town were all-out crazy.

  We should have just lived on campus and avoided all this pointless drama.

  “I'm so sorry, Anna. I didn't want to do it, but I knew she would go for it with or without me. I thought maybe, if I went along, I could keep her from doing something really stupid—”

  Was she really that delusional?

  That’s it, I’m done. These crazy women deserve each other. I want nothing to do with either of them.

  “I think you should go now.” She jumped up from the floor and headed for the door.

  Vi stood and followed close behind her. “I'm so sorry!”

  She’d heard enough. She held open the front door and avoided Vi’s eyes. To her credit, her so-called friend said nothing more as she walked out the door.

  Annabeth slammed the door with a satisfying thud. The satisfaction though soon turned to disgust as she sidestepped a puddle of her own vomit from the night before.

  Ugh! How much did I drink?

  A text buzzed her pants pocket. Her screen lit up with Fernando’s name and number.

  Hope you are doing okay this morning. I heard about your roommate getting hit by a car. That's crazy! I'm here if ya need me.

  How had he heard about Marcus?

  I don’t have time for this. I need to meet with Amy.

  The more Annabeth looked over Marcus’s notes the more she agreed with his assessment that Amy was a perfect target. Her contact at the Bureau hadn’t called in a few days. Hopefully she could buy some time before she had to report back to him again.

  Annabeth flipped through her calendar app but then remembered she hadn’t gotten around to adding the meeting to her phone last night. She shot the girl a quick text asking the where and when before jumping in the shower.

  Despite her efforts to push them aside, angry thoughts and questions bubbled to the surface of her overworked mind. What had they found when they were snooping? What all did Brooke know? Did they see Marcus’s office? All those notes about the girls. A little knowledge was a dangerous thing...

  Annabeth shook her head.

  This isn’t an episode of Desperate Housewives for goodness sake. This is my life, my life.

  She’d already been demoted to PI. What was next? She’d rather die than be humiliated like that—again!

  The phone rang in the other room, and she shut off the water to rush for it but stopped short when she realized the other caller was probably just her nosy neighbor.

  The nerve of her calling me!

  Anger radiated off of her in rolling waves.

  Amy hadn’t texted back while Annabeth had been in the shower, either. No bother, she didn’t have any classes on Tuesday but could go to campus anyway and just drop the paper at Amy’s dorm room. She had been pretty drunk the night before, too. Maybe she was just sleeping it off.

  She might have forgotten that we were meeting.

  Annabeth threw on a pair of shorts and a threadbare Detroit Tigers T-shirt that she loved. Five minutes later with her wet hair in a tight bun, she was out the door and on the road.

  Annabeth walked through the bustling campus in a daze. No one really knew her, which meant she might as well have been invisible. No one in her department even said hello to her as she made her way in and out of the building.

&nbs
p; Screw them! Pretentious jerks.

  The gust of air from the opening door blew back a putrid smell.

  Oh man, that’s me.

  Despite the shower she could still smell the booze oozing out her pores.

  Well that’s a sure fire way to ensure no one bothers me—smell like a bum. Real professional, Anna! A drunk P.I.—how cliché can I get?

  She was so far removed from the young, promising agent she had been when she entered the Bureau five years ago. Now she was little more than a waste of a human being.

  She tried not to focus on the failure in Detroit and instead chose to focus on the fact that it had led them to Texas, where the group had their headquarters.

  This was their last hope. If the ring got wind of their investigation, they might change their system, their location, whatever it took to evade capture. They had been paid a lot of money to come through and failure just wasn’t an option.

  Over-caffeinated and wound up, she stalked across campus to the co-ed hall that Amy lived in. Because of Marcus’s research she knew the young girl lived on the third floor, so she quickly followed behind a student entering the building. Security sure sucked around here.

  Once there, she grabbed the first student she saw—a petite Asian girl with thick glasses and long dark hair wrapped in a messy bun. “Can you tell me where Amy Rangel’s room is?”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed. “I'm her roommate. Why?”

  Annabeth pulled out the essay and handed it to her. “I'm her teacher and wanted to give her this.”

  The girl gave her a look like she didn’t quite buy her story, but grabbed the essay anyway.

  “Thanks. We were supposed to meet up this morning but I haven't heard from her.”

  The roommate shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “She’s not here. She never made it home last night. Must have stayed over with her new guy friend.”

  Fin? Did she end up with Fin?

  Annabeth's heart beat painfully against her breastbone. “Do you know what dorm he’s in?”

  “No, he’s older. Your age maybe. Look, I gotta go. I'm already late for class. I’ll give this to her when I see her.”