Harvest of Ruins

by Sandra Ruttan

  Dr. Alton closed the door and gestured at the chairs. He waited until they were both seated before he spoke again. “I’m afraid Evelyn’s condition is serious. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical.”

  If the white sheets were supposed to diffuse the paleness of her skin they were failing in their task. As Tom looked down at his daughter what struck him was her pasty complexion, and how tiny she was.

  As though several years hadn’t gone by, and she was still the little girl with pneumonia that he’d cared for every day, the one he’d cradled in his arms as he carried her to the bath, the one he tucked in and read to…

  She’d looked so pale then. He hadn’t seen her so pale and lifeless since.

  That was what had been the hardest. As much as he’d believed in the strength of his bond with his daughter, it was her mother’s rejection that had snuffed the light from her eyes. For the first time he’d wondered…

  He clenched his jaw. That moment, so long ago, had been when the seed of doubt had been planted, and the results had been disastrous.

  Was he wrong to think that choices made so long ago had led him directly to this moment, standing beside his daughter in the hospital, still not certain if she would live or die? He had the evidence, all he needed, to take Vinny away from her mother.

  Why hadn’t he?

  As Tom sank down into the chair beside the hospital bed where Vinny lay, for the first time in his life he felt the weight of his years, the weariness pushing him down into the seat. His hand trembled as he reached out and set it over his daughter’s.

  WE ARE LOST TOGETHER

  - Blue Rodeo -

  It was a postcard of fall, from cottage country. The leaves had started to turn shades of red, gold and orange. From a distance, the trees appeared to be on fire. A few were scattered on the ground. Against the vibrant background, Noah Wilmott was Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, wearing a dark overcoat, dark pants and dark shoes. He could have been modeling the coat, the way he moved. The few women on the adjoining paths whispered to each other and giggled in his direction.

  Under normal circumstances, Noah would have appreciated the attention, but today he didn't seem to see them.

  Hunter saw the look in her partner’s eyes as he approached the park bench. He was trained to hide his reactions, but she knew him too well.

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Say what?”

  Noah’s flippant way of avoiding the issue. He handed her a bag.

  “Tim Hortons bagels,” he said, “and hot chocolate.”

  “With cream cheese?”

  “Just the way you always order them.”

  She smiled her thanks and he set her cup down in the space between them. A few idle moments were filled with little more than the sound of the wind in the trees, and for the first time in what must have been months, Hunter ate without distraction. She was almost too tired to process the worries that weighed on her mind.

  “I was surprised when you called.”

  She glanced at Noah. “It hasn’t been easy.”

  “You know if they hang you, I’m next.”

  Hunter doubted that. This was personal. It was about two women involved with the same man, and even in the 21st century you could be branded with a scarlet letter. Not a physical sign she had to wear on her chest, but a moral verdict that swayed a jury against her.

  “You look like hell.”

  “I told you not to say it.”

  Noah turned to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s more than the trial, isn’t it?”

  How did he know that? She hadn’t said anything to anyone about the dreams.

  “If you won’t talk to me will you at least talk to Dr. Barwick?”

  Her eyes widened. “Geez, it must be worse than I thought if you’re telling me to see the department shrink.”

  Noah shrugged, took his hand off her shoulder and settled back on the bench.

  Hunter balled up the paper bag and tossed it into the trash can beside her, leaned back against the bench and took a breath.

  “It’s these dreams.”

  "Dreams?"

  Hunter raised a shoulder and let it fall, but didn't look at Noah. "It's like… Like I'm seeing things that happened, but not through my own eyes." She glanced at him then. "Go on, say it."

  To his credit, Noah didn’t say anything. She could see the widening of his eyes, the surprise. But he said nothing, and she found herself pouring out the details, about seeing things as though she was Vinny remembering what had happened, and then Rose and Tom, he stayed silent.

  He stayed silent right until the end.

  “This is why you look like hell?”

  “I can’t sleep. And when I do sleep…”

  “You’re being stalked.”

  She didn’t fight the wry smile tugging at her lips. Noah’s way of putting it.

  “I’m being haunted. By the dead and the living.” She paused. “I keep thinking about some of the things, things I know are true. Like us talking to Vinny. And then I think about Tom, and something about him having evidence, that he could have taken Vinny away from her mother…”

  Noah put his hand over hers. “You know these people, their history."

  "But I checked. He had a court order. He was going to take custody of Vinny. It was signed the day… the day of the shooting."

  "It’s just your subconscious working it all out.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  Noah stood up. “You’re a detective, Hunter. And a damn good one. Start thinking like one. Instead of thinking like a victim.”

  As she watched him walk away, she thought about his earlier restraint. It was just like Noah to save a thousand jabs and hit you with them altogether with one knockout blow.

  GHOST OF LOVE

  - Rawlins Cross -

  Hunter McKenna Testifying for the Prosecution

  - The Day She Questioned Tom Shepherd, After Vinny's Alleged Attempted Suicide -

  The same courtroom. The same blur of faces in the audience, filling the rows.

  The same indifference of her own attorney, to her far left. The same silent judge, sitting up to her left, but much closer.

  The same jury. All those faces she was trying hard not to think about, or picture.

  The same prosecutor staring at her intently.

  Asking more questions about the investigation.

  About the day she talked to Tom Shepherd at the hospital, after Vinny's alleged suicide attempt.

  ***

  Hunter took a breath before she entered the hospital room. Once inside, she released it.

  Tom was alone.

  Well, not if you counted the form of his daughter, lying in the bed, unconscious. Tom sat beside her, his hand over hers, his face almost as white as the sheets that were spread over the young girl.

  The hospital room was much the same as so many others she’d been in over the years, mainly on the job. Bland walls, lots of machines, and a sterility that rendered the space lifeless.

  She waited a moment before Tom looked up and offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

  He looked back down at the figure in the bed. “You have a job to do.”

  “So do you.”

  Tom looked up at her. His dead eyes held the question.

  “You have to stay strong for Vinny,” she said. “You won’t do her any good if you’re stuck in a room yourself on an IV drip because you aren’t eating or sleeping.” He didn’t respond, so she took a step toward him. “Come on. Let me buy you lunch.”

  “Hunter…”

  “I have a job to do, right?” She softened her voice. “Do you really want me to ask you these questions here, now? Wouldn’t you rather talk somewhere else?” Hunter reached down and placed her hand over his, and slowly lifted it from where it lay over Evelyn’s. “Let’s get you something to eat. You won’t be long.”

  ***

  The hospital cafeteria was almost as sterile as the rest of the
building. A dull hum relieved the silence, but the atmosphere maintained the tension Hunter felt throughout the hospital.

  She leaned back in the chair and took a sip of coffee as she watched Tom chew a bite of the sandwich she’d bought him. To his credit, he forced the mouthful down before he tossed the rest of the grilled cheese and ham on his plate.

  “Heard you had a bit of a scare,” she said.

  He nodded, but didn’t look up at her. “Was touch and go for a bit.”

  “She’s stable now, though.”

  Tom nodded again. Hunter watched him study his plate. He was lost inside himself.

  “How did we get here?”

  He barely whispered the words, but they echoed in her mind. His voice was filled with an anguish that cut her to the core.

  “It might help to talk about it.”

  Tom shook his head, and at first she thought he was saying no. But then he answered.

  “You think you’re doing the right thing… Vin-Evelyn was always so torn after the divorce. It just seemed easier to stop ripping her in two. When she knew her mother was mad at her, the light in her eyes just disappeared.”

  He was quiet for a while. Hunter waited. In time, she knew Tom would either talk or bottle everything up. She’d push him if she had to, but only about the case.

  What was personal between them ran too deep, and this… This struck too close to home.

  After a while, he sighed. “I thought she needed her mother more. That maybe if I wasn’t in the way, wasn’t pushing her in a different direction, things would be better between them. I stopped fighting against Rose. Stopped countering the things she said, the ideas she filled Evelyn’s head with.”

  It was understandable. Hunter thought of the choices she’d made herself. Wouldn’t it be so much easier for Audra if she didn’t feel caught between her mother and father like a rope in a tug-of-war?

  “It’s not her fault.”

  “Of course not,” Hunter said. After a moment, she took a breath and asked one of her questions. “Did you ever teach Evelyn how to use a gun?”

  Tom’s head snapped up as he stared at her, then closed his eyes. “Just… just once. It was a couple years ago. One of the last times she came for a weekend.”

  Hunter frowned. “You stopped seeing her?”

  “Not completely. But after the, the thing with the neighbor’s cat and our argument about Ivy…” His voice drifted off and he shook his head again. “I look back and I don’t even know who that person was. I stood in the driveway, grabbed her, yelled at her. She must have been so scared.”

  “It was the stress. You made a mistake.” Part of her wanted to believe that, but his actions that day had sown the seeds of doubt in her own mind, about the kind of man he was, about the issues that might lie buried deep within him.

  About why he was always so in control.

  “It was the guilt. Rose and her racist rhetoric. Rose wanting to play dress up with her daughter. Rose filling Evelyn’s head with ideas about who loved her more, and what would make her happy. At some point, Evelyn believed it all. She had to. It was the only way to survive. I disagreed with Rose about almost everything.”

  “But that friend she had, Ivy. She was bad news. Didn’t you think that?”

  “I thought so.”

  “Trust your gut, Tom. Was Ivy capable of hurting someone?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “When I see that girl, I see my ex-wife.” He stood up, took the tray to a garbage can and dumped what was left of his lunch. Hunter followed him. They rode the elevator in silence, and it wasn’t until they were half way down the hall to Evelyn’s room that Hunter took a deep breath and pressed on.

  “So you didn’t want Evelyn to be friends with this girl, Ivy?”

  Tom shook his head but didn’t break his stride.

  “And Evelyn felt conflicted because Rose encouraged the friendship?”

  He nodded, stopped outside Evelyn’s room and turned to look at her. “Her mother was thrilled she’d made friends with a girl. And there I was, arguing with her about Ivy, trying to get her to go to baseball games and teaching her how to shoot a gun.”

  Hunter followed him inside the room and watched him sink into the chair beside the bed.

  He closed his eyes as he buried his face in his hands. “What have I done?”

  “You started to see Rose in Evelyn, and you couldn’t bear it.”

  He didn’t have to answer for her to know it was the truth. “It shouldn’t have mattered. I forgave her for the farm and the ruins, forgave her for what they did to Jonah.” He was quiet, and Hunter sensed he was on the verge of letting something out that was hard for him to say, so she didn’t interrupt or push him.

  When he spoke, his words were barely more than a whisper. “I would have forgiven her anything. Anything.”

  She reached out and squeezed his forearm as Tom slumped back in his chair.

  “I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” he said after a few minutes.

  “Being here for her. It’s what parents do for their kids.”

  He looked at her and she held his gaze, then offered another apologetic smile. “Kids need their dads, too. You should be involved.”

  ***

  Hunter reached for the glass of water. Her way of distracting herself from the quiet courtroom and Grainger's waiting games.

  After a moment, he spoke.

  "That wasn't all that happened that day, was it?"

  Hunter bit back the obvious answer and glanced at her attorney. Of course it wasn't, but what was Grainger's point?

  "DS McKenna, why were you questioning Thomas Shepherd alone?"

  "It wasn't really formal questioning. Tom-Thomas used to be my partner. I would have gone to see him whether I'd been on the case or not."

  "But you did discuss matters related to the investigation into his daughter's overdose, didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  "And why didn't you take your partner with you?"

  She opened her mouth to answer, but Grainger didn't give her the opportunity.

  "You made personal plans with Thomas Shepherd that day, didn't you?"

  Hunter blinked. She thought about her last seconds in that hospital room, after she'd said dads should be involved.

  ***

  The tears that had welled up in Thomas's eyes had threatened to spill over, but he managed to hold them back as he squeezed her hand. He didn’t say anything.

  After a moment she'd leaned forward, kissed him on the forehead, named a time and place to meet him the next day and after a quick squeeze from her fingers let his hand slip from hers and walked away.

  ***

  "You made personal plans with Thomas Shepherd before you left the hospital that day; yes or no, DS McKenna?" Grainger stood up and walked toward her. "You were clearly unaware that Evelyn Shepherd was beginning to regain consciousness and overheard you."

  Before Hunter could say anything, Solomon was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is testifying on behalf of a teenage girl who isn't even present in the court."

  "I can produce other witnesses who can testify to the plans that DS McKenna made with Thomas Shepherd," Grainger responded.

  "Then do so," Judge Ackerley said. "But until then, the objection is sustained."

  Grainger paused and stood by his chair for a moment before he sat down. "I have no more questions for this witness."

  The Judge turned to Hunter. "DS McKenna, you may be excused. Your attorney reserves the right to call you as a witness in your own defense, and the prosecution may cross-examine you at that time."

  Hunter stood up, walked to her chair and sat down beside Solomon.

  "Good or bad?" she whispered.

  He glanced at her and gave a slight shake of his head.

  Hunter leaned back. Not good, then.

  SITUATION CRITICAL

  - Platinum Blond -

  “The prosecution calls Mrs. Fern Crosby, Your Honor.”

&
nbsp; Mrs. Crosby was an older lady who looked both gentle and tough. Her dark hair was swept back in a practical bun. She wore glasses, a skirt and matching jacket. The prosecutor waited until Mrs. Crosby had been sworn in and seated before asking his first question.

  “Mrs. Crosby, what is it you do for a living?”

  “I’m a teacher at Sagamo High School.”

  She looked the part. If she’d been a witness Hunter was questioning, she’d elicit trust. There was nothing showy about her.

  No theatrics.

  “And what is it you teach?”

  “English.”

  “Was Evelyn Shepherd one of your students?”

  Mrs. Crosby paused. “Yes, she had been.”

  “I see. And was that how you knew Evelyn?”

  “For some time I lived across the street from the family. From when she was just a girl.”

  “Did you know her well then?”

  Hunter watched Grainger, who was still seated as he read from a list of prepared questions, and looked almost bored.

  “No, not really.”

  “You didn’t socialize with the family?”

  “No more than the odd word with the girl’s father.”

  Grainger’s head snapped up. “Not the girl’s mother?”

  “Evelyn’s mother kept to herself.”

  “I see. And how long did you live across the street from the Shepherd family for?”

  “Well,” Mrs. Crosby paused and frowned, “I can’t exactly recall how long it was until the parents separated and the mother remarried.”

  Grainger brushed the air with his hand. “I’ll rephrase. How long did you live across from Evelyn’s home?”

  “Well, I suppose all her life, until a few weeks ago. I just moved.”

  “So it would be fair to say you’ve observed Evelyn Shepherd on numerous occasions, both at school and in the community?”