by Judy Alter
“Water?” His voice was so faint I almost had to ask him to repeat what he said.
There was always a bottle of water in my car, and I ran to get it.
Huggles, meanwhile, had settled down on David’s feet.
“Is Huggles bothering you?”
“Keeping me warm.”
I went to the other side of the car, opened the door, and gently as I could, raised his head so that he could sip. “Just small sips,” I said.
“So thirsty.”
I took it away before he could drink much. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, like “Where are you hurt?” From the looks of him, he’d have said, “Everywhere.” Or I could have asked what I could do for him. But, what, really could I do? How did he get out of the house and into the car? I’d hear in due time, I supposed.
I called 9-1-1 again and told the emergency operator they might need directions to get to us. I’d now stay on the line. The operator said “Fine” and then the line went blank. I sat, one hand stroking David’s face and the other with a death grip on the phone. Slowly, my heart quit pounding, and I took deep breaths to calm myself. I had to be calm for David.
I talked to him in what I hoped were soft, reassuring tones, telling him he’d be fine, help was on the way, I loved him.
At that, he roused enough to ask, “Are you sure?”
I leaned my face over his to give him a sound kiss and said, “Yeah, I’m sure.”
He sighed and seemed to fall asleep, which made me frantic. I felt for a pulse, not that I was any expert. But I thought I found it. I didn’t know enough to judge whether it was weak or strong, and I was beginning to panic, alone in the woods with a man who could be dying.
Huggles never moved. He just lay on David, staring mournfully at his face. At one point, I saw David raise a hand to place it on the dog’s head.
Another time, with some effort and what looked like a wince of pain, he raised a hand to my face and gently stroked my cheek. I grabbed his hand and held it to my face until I could tell by his expression the effort was causing him pain.
All this time I held the phone, waiting for that blasted operator to come back on. How many emergencies could there be in Van Zandt County? The ambulance crew would have come out of Canton…or maybe Van. But if I could make it from Wheeler in less than twenty minutes, surely they should be here by now. It had been over thirty minutes since I’d called.
At long last, I heard, “Ma’am?” What a way to start the conversation! I bristled. “My guys are on FM 1902 but they don’t know what to look for to find the house. They’ve driven up and down for ten minutes.”
Ten minutes when they could have been treating David! “Are they coming from Van or Canton?”
“Van.”
“Okay, look for a green mailbox, with the name Clinkscales. It’s on the left side of a small, one-lane dirt road. Across the road is nothing but a pasture, and there’s thick undergrowth on either side of this lane.”
“Okay. Hold on.”
I could hear her relaying this information while I bit my nails to the quick. And then, suddenly, marvelously, there was the sound of a vehicle pushing its way through the brush. The emergency vehicle pulled into the clearing and after a moment, when the driver apparently stared at the smoldering ruins of the house, he made an abrupt turn in our direction.
“Help’s here,” I told David. I eased his head off my lap and then ran to meet the ambulance.
Without words, the two paramedics rushed to the car with its door open and Huggles snuggling on David. “What the hell is that dog doing here?”
“Keeping him warm,” I replied tightly. “Huggles, come!” The dog reluctantly crawled out of the car, casting a long look back at David.
“That dog dangerous?” the taller of the two men asked. He was young, skinny, and thoroughly incompetent-looking, as far as I was concerned. Yet when I assured him Huggles was harmless, he moved toward David with a calm efficiency that relieved me. His companion, who said, “Hi, I’m Josh,” had the same calm focus. They cared about David, not Huggles and me, and I kept Huggles back.
The two paramedics elicited some responses from David, then got a portable gurney and eased him onto it after putting some kind of collar around his neck. Then they took blood pressure and all those vital signs—whatever they did—and raised the gurney to shove it into their vehicle, which sort of was an ambulance and sort of just a county rescue vehicle.
My mind whirled, remembering the sleek ambulances of Dallas, and the big hospitals. “Where will you take him?”
“County hospital in Canton.”
“Can I ride with you?”
Josh’s companion, who finally identified himself as Abner, said, “With that dog? No, ma’am.”
I was tired of being called “Ma’am.”
Josh eased things. “You don’t want to leave your car here either. You best take the dog somewhere, and then meet us in Canton.”
Sounded reasonable, and I was ready to follow that plan when a pickup drove into the clearing. Huggles and I ran to Chester Grimes, who managed to give us both hugs at the same time. Huggles was standing on his hind legs, with his front paws on Chester’s shoulders.
The ambulance driver honked once, sharply, and I turned. Josh stood by the door. “You want to say good-bye to your friend?”
Of course I did, and I rushed to climb into the ambulance, followed by Huggles, whose entrance was blocked by Josh. “Sorry, pal, no dogs.”
Chester followed and asked what happened. Josh’s reply was simple. “Somebody beat the crap out of him.” He jerked his head toward the house. “And burned his house down. I expect they meant to burn him in it. Be interesting to hear what happened that he was in that car. She”—he motioned toward me—“probably saved his life.”
“She would,” Chester said.
Within seconds, I was on the ground, holding Huggles’ collar, while Chester put an arm around me. The ambulance honked twice and headed down the lane.
Chester turned to me, almost on the edge of anger. “And why didn’t you call me?”
“It’s not your jurisdiction, and I didn’t think it was right. Besides, when I got here I was so…so frightened. I couldn’t think straight.” I swore I was not going to break down, but Chester was so comforting I could feel tears running down my cheeks.
He put that loving arm around me again. “You okay to drive?”
“Yeah. I have to be.”
“Atta girl. You go to Canton to the hospital. I’ll take Huggles home and take care of him. No sense asking what happened. I guess neither of us knows.”
I shook my head to say I agreed. “Would you call Marj for me? Tell her what happened. I won’t be at the café.”
“You darn sure won’t,” he said heartily. “If she needs help, my Carolyn can pitch in. Best cook in five counties.”
I grinned, hugged him, and headed for my car.
Huggles was still whining. And I was crying. I never once thought about Mrs. Aldridge and her strange situation.
Chapter Three
The ambulance roared off, as much as it could roar down that skinny road, and I followed, stopping for a minute to look over my shoulder at Chester and Huggles. They both were prowling around the ruins of David’s house. Chester would stop, pick something up, and sniff it. Neither man nor dog ventured into the shell of a house—they just searched the perimeter.
A part of me wanted to turn around and ask what Chester found or to prowl with him. I heard Huggles bark to draw Chester’s attention to something, and Chester turned to pick up an object I couldn’t make out.
I turned my head and drove off with a short honk as a way of saying good-bye. Then I drove more sedately than the ambulance. I figured they saved the flashing lights and sirens for busier roads and didn’t need them on country roads. The ambulance was no longer in sight, but every once in a while I heard that blip of the siren they gave to warn someone. They made it to the hospital a good fifteen minutes ah
ead of me, and David was in ER.
“No, ma’am. You can’t see him right now. Are you his wife?”
“No, just a good friend.” How did I elaborate on the relationship?
“Just have a seat over there.” She nodded toward a row of hard, molded plastic chairs. “We’ll call you when we know something. Can you put us in touch with his wife or next of kin?”
I shook my head. “He’s divorced, no children. His parents are deceased. I’m as close to him as anyone.”
“You willing to guarantee his bill? He didn’t have any insurance information on him.”
“Should be in his wallet,” I replied, and then remembered his wallet was probably in the smoldering ruins of his house. “If I have to,” I said stiffly. “I’m sure he has insurance. Can you give me a fax number so I can have proof sent to you?”
She looked a little surprised but jotted a number on paper, and I went off to call David’s office. The new secretary screamed so loud the ER receptionist looked up, startled, and I wanted to say into the phone, “Stifle.” Abruptly, her scream turned into a sobs, and I said, “I need your help.” I told her I needed her to fax David’s insurance information to the hospital and promised to call as soon as I knew anything. As I hung up, I wished I had learned her name at some point.
It was nearly five o’clock, and I could feel myself fading. A candy bar from a machine was a poor solution but apparently the best I had. That and a cup of really bitter coffee from a pot that I suspected had sat on the burner all day. I wished I’d uploaded a new book so I could read on my phone, but in reality I was too jumpy to read. Periodically I glanced at the clock but the hands barely moved. The receptionist beckoned me over, and I went eagerly, hoping for news. She merely said they had received David’s insurance information.
A little after seven, the receptionist said impersonally, “You may see him now. Someone will be here shortly to escort you.” Almost immediately a woman in scrubs opened the swinging door and called, “Family of David Clinkscales.” She looked a little surprised but turned without a word and led me to a curtained cubicle on the other side of those mysterious doors.
David seemed to be sleeping. The nurse, if that’s what she was, had left. I was alone, still with no one to answer my questions.
“David?” Soft and tentative.
His eyes fluttered for a moment, then closed again, and he reached out a hand. “Kate?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Good.” And that was all he said.
I sat in the chair, held the hand he’d offered me, and waited while time crept again. My cell phone vibrated, and I saw that Marj was calling. I didn’t want to leave David, but I didn’t want to disturb him by talking to her. I texted, “No news. Will let you know asap. Please close.” She might check texts, and she might not. Then I texted his receptionist whose name I didn’t know. No reply, but I figured in spite of her hysterics she’d gone home for the night.
Finally, about thirty minutes later, a doctor came in, not bothering to speak in hushed tones. Indeed, he was too hearty. “Your boy here has a broken ankle, a broken rib, mild concussion, but no internal injuries that we can tell. We’ll monitor him probably for forty-eight hours to be sure. He’s lucky. Someone wanted to kill him. Fortunately, that part’s not my responsibility. Sheriff will want to talk to him, probably tomorrow.”
I half expected David to rise up in indignation from his stupor at the condescension of being called “Your boy here.” He didn’t even budge. “He’ll be in the hospital two days?” I echoed.
“Yes, ma’am. If all is okey-dokey then, we’ll let him go, but he’ll need care.”
“Not a problem. Can I stay with him tonight?”
The doctor looked at me appraisingly. “You’re not married, are you?”
What does that have to do with anything?
Before I could answer, he said, “I wouldn’t advise it. You looked bushed. In fact, are you okay to drive home? Where is home?”
He was irritating me, or maybe I was just irritable. “Wheeler. And, yes, I’m fine, but I want to stay with him.”
He shook his head. “He’ll be out all night. We’ll be sure of that. And we’ll be in and out of his room checking his vitals. You wouldn’t rest. Best thing you can do for him is go home and get some sleep. Come back rested in the morning.”
And that is how I ended up sitting in a booth at a McDonald’s in Canton, eating a sawdust hamburger at eight o’clock on a Friday night.
Chapter Four
Next morning I pulled myself out of bed reluctantly at six. Huggles, comfortable at the foot of the bed, didn’t even want to move. Wynona, my aging cat, was curled at my feet and noisily displeased when I moved. But Saturdays were busy at the café, and I had to get those sticky buns started. I fed both of them and bolted for the café.
By the time I got to the café, it was almost light—that lovely hesitation between dark and day, and I was alone in the kitchen. Not something that bothered me at all. We didn’t open until eight on weekends, so I had plenty of time. But an insistent knocking called me to the front door, and there, at six-forty-five, stood Chester Grimes, chief of police, in his spit-polished brown uniform. No day off for law enforcement, I guessed.
“I don’t have any sticky buns ready,” I said.
“And good morning to you too, Miss Kate.”
“I’m sorry, Chester. Good morning. I guess my mind is elsewhere.” Like about twenty miles northwest, at the Canton County Hospital.
“I thought you’d be here already. Just came by on a chance. Wanted to talk.”
“Did Carolyn feed you? I’ve got my sticky buns rising, and I can scramble an egg or two.”
“Lord love a duck! Do you think that woman would let me out of the house without breakfast? ’Course nowadays it’s oatmeal with bran and raisins. A man gets a mighty longing for bacon and eggs.”
“You won’t tell Carolyn?”
He raised his hand solemnly. “Swear. But I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Come on in the kitchen while I cook.”
And so Chester made himself at home on a stool while I fried bacon and scrambled eggs. “Sheriff was out to David’s place yesterday after you left. Says what Huggles and I thought—arson. Someone poured fuel on that place to help it burn. And they beat David and left him inside, thinking he’d burn up with the house. That rainstorm we had ran their plans amuck, but David is one lucky man.”
“I wonder how he got out in the shape he was in.”
Chester looked long and hard at me. “I guess he wasn’t ready to die that day.”
My heart did a little flip-flop. Was it because of me? Or because David just plain loved life so much? I’d take either one. “So now what?” I asked.
“Sheriff will talk to him today, but somehow he’s got to figure out who did this and why. I’m not part of it, but I told him aside that I wanted to be, and he said he’d keep me informed. He’ll want to talk to you too. You got any ideas?”
I shook my head. “Not one. Far as I know, David had no enemies.” To me, the idea that someone wanted to kill him was pretty extreme. “Sam Halstead still the sheriff?”
Chester nodded, his expression disheartened.
I’d crossed paths with County Sheriff Sam Halstead before when a boarder at my sister’s B&B was murdered. Rick Samuels had been chief of police—and sort of my beau—at the time, and I guess his negative attitude colored my thoughts of Halstead. But I had found him overbearing and a bit misogynistic. “Oh, Lord, I better call Donna. But she won’t be up yet.”
“No need. Carolyn called her last night. Kept her calm, and Tom helped. You’re okay on that front.”
I sighed in relief. My sister Donna could be prickly.
Chester finished his eggs and my sticky buns came out of the oven at about the same time, both just when Marj arrived for the day. I filled her in on what I knew, which wasn’t much, gave Chester a bun to take with him, and left for Canton, calling instructions
over my shoulder. The day was too far under way for me to linger at the café.
****
David was in a private room, propped up in his bed, contemplating a poached egg that looked cold and slimy, a container of orange juice, a sad-looking piece of toast, and a bowl of grits with butter floating on them. The grits were by far the best of the lot. His left leg was immobilized and both hands were lightly wrapped in gauze. He looked completely bumfuzzled about how to tackle this unappetizing meal with his hands all bandaged.
“Can I help?”
“Are you an angel sent from heaven?”
“Not quite, but I can feed you if you won’t feel like a baby.”
“Nope. I’m hungry enough to eat this, whatever it is.”
I managed to butter the toast and get the egg onto it, whereby it broke, soaked the toast, and I cut it up into bits. I fed them to him one at a time. Drinking either water or juice he could handle on his own.
I had to ask. “What happened?”
“Damned if I know. I was at my computer fairly early in the morning when these two men literally burst in the doors. If there’s anything left of them, you’ll see where they pulled the sliding doors off the track. Who thought of needing a security system in a place like my cabin?”
I was glad to see that his sense of the ironic was back, but I prodded him to continue.
“They demanded my computer. Hell, I’m no hero. I gave it to them. Everything I do is automatically backed up, so it wasn’t a big deal to me. Then they wanted my files. Told them they were all in Dallas. They didn’t like that much and began using me as a punching bag. One guy used his fists, the other his feet. I guess I’m lucky I didn’t get hurt worse.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“Nope. Ski masks. And I didn’t know their voices. But it’s got to do with some case. They wanted computer and files. At least I’m pretty sure that’s not my ex.”
“How can you be sure? Is the divorce final, the terms settled?” It was a question I’d skittered away from several times, figuring it might make me look like a gold digger or something.
