by B. J Daniels
“He changed his mind,” Mary Ellen was saying. “But, honey, I was sure he told you that last night.”
“Last night?”
AFTER OFFICER D.C.WALKER disconnected his call with Marc Collins, he had started to dial his boss when he noticed Mac was having a problem with the winch. He walked back over to the side of the mountain and saw nothing in the mist but water.
“Hook came undone,” the wrecker operator yelled to him. “Divers are down reattaching the cable.”
Walker stared at the lake with the rain clouds mirrored in it, still shocked by what he’d learned from Marc Collins. The gloomy gray day did nothing to lift his spirits. Where the hell was spring?
The news he’d received had left him angry and upset. What else was the woman in the hospital keeping from him?
One thing was for sure: he needed to let Chief Nash in on what was going on. He started to call him, but stopped as the divers reappeared below him on the shore and signaled to the wrecker operator that the car was ready again. Mac gave Walker a thumbs-up and the tow motor revved once again.
What worried Walker was how the chief had sounded earlier when he’d called. Was there some kind of trouble in Pilot’s Cove that his boss wasn’t telling him about? Or had the chief gone to the county seat to pick up the paperwork before he announced his retirement?
Walker brightened at the thought. He’d been waiting for twelve years for that job to open up. He couldn’t stand the suspense. He stepped away from the wrecker to call the Pilot’s Cove office.
“I was hoping to catch Chief Nash,” he told the woman who answered.
“Chief Nash from Shadow Lake?”
“Is there another Chief Nash I don’t know about?” He instantly regretted the sarcasm. “Sorry, it’s important I speak with him.”
“We haven’t seen Chief Nash in about four months,” she said, her voice as chilly as the lake below him.
“He was over there yesterday doing something with your department.”
“Afraid not. Maybe he was at Dam City or—”
Walker hung up when the engine on the tow truck let out an ear-piercing whine as the cable to the Cadillac began to grow taut again. The huge steel cable hummed.
Walker walked back over to stand next to the wrecker, still a little stunned. Chief Nash had lied. Walker couldn’t have been more shocked by that. He had great respect for the man. Nash was from the old school of justice, tough as nails, but fair and straight as an arrow.
There had to be another explanation.
The rear end of the overturned Cadillac broke the surface of the water. It looked like a blue turtle flipped over on its shell.
Walker stared at the path the Cadillac had taken down the mountain, a path of broken saplings, tire tracks and carnage. The same path the car would have to take this time, only on its top.
It was a miracle the woman had gotten out of the lake alive. Since talking to Marc Collins, Walker was even more convinced Anna Drake Collins hadn’t planned it that way.
Suddenly the whine of the wrecker’s winch intensified and then the cable snapped.
Walker watched the long snaking link of steel shoot like a rubber band back up the mountain—headed straight for him.
DOC STOOD IN THE DRIZZLE, unaffected by the cold and the rain while he talked to his dead wife the way he always did. It didn’t seem to matter what he talked about, just that he did.
Today he told Gladys about his latest patient.
“She’s pretty. She has hazel eyes that remind me of yours,” he said as he bent down to pull a weed that he hadn’t noticed before beside his wife’s headstone.
“I’m worried about her, but you know me,” he said with a laugh. “You always said I took on everyone’s worries because I didn’t have enough of my own.” His eyes misted over for a moment and he had to bite his lip before he could continue.
“Her four-year-old boy might have been in the car with her when it went into the lake. I’m just sick at heart at the thought. I don’t think she’s strong enough to take that news.”
He cleared his throat. “Walker is on the case.” Gladys had always been fond of Walker and his friends. She’d made them their favorite cookies and would call the boys up on the porch whenever they passed by. She liked to watch them eat a half-dozen cookies each, washed down by the homemade lemonade she kept for just such a visit. She’d ply the boys with treats in exchange for conversation.
It still hurt that he and Gladys had never been blessed with their own children. Gladys had loved children so. She would have been like a mother hen with Anna. Gladys could sense need in people. Gene had always thought it was one reason she’d married him.
“Walker’s afraid the woman tried to kill herself. I don’t believe it. Especially if her son was in the car. She wouldn’t do that. Not this woman.”
He brushed off rainwater that had puddled on top of Gladys’s stone. “I miss you.” He stopped, unable to continue. There was more he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words. Just as, for a long time, he hadn’t been able to tell Gladys she was dying.
But she’d known. She’d suspected it was cancer. Still, it had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, to tell her it was inoperable, to tell her she had only a short time left.
She’d taken it much better than he had. But then that was Gladys. She’d never worried about things she couldn’t change. He wished he could be more like her.
He looked down at his wife’s grave again. “Can you ever forgive me?” But it wasn’t Glady’s forgiveness he knew he was seeking. His wife had been the most forgiving person he’d ever known.
He brushed a hand over her headstone, tears blurring his eyes, his nose running. He made a swipe at his eyes, nose, looking to the lake. Summer felt a long way off. Doc had no plans to see it.
He cleared his throat. He needed to get on home. Soon he’d have to return to the hospital and make sure Anna was all right. She needed him. At least for a while.
CHIEF ROB NASH HAD TO take a piss. He’d lost count of the beers he’d drunk in an attempt to fight off last night’s hangover. It wasn’t working.
But as he passed the bed, he saw that he had another message on his cell phone from Walker. Nash picked up the phone, those old habits so conditioned it took everything in him not to return the call.
Walker could handle whatever it was, he told himself as he tossed the phone back on the bed and proceeded to the bathroom. He knew Walker wanted his job. And soon, he would get it.
Nash realized he should have retired a long time ago. He was past his prime and clearly couldn’t trust his instincts anymore. Marrying Lucinda proved that.
As he stood in front of the toilet, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked as if he’d aged overnight.
He was fifty-five years old. Most cops his age had quit a long time ago. He had his years in. He could retire on his pension. He’d worked hard his whole life, saved all his money, never really given retirement much thought. Because he knew he would go crazy within a week.
Standing there bent over the motel-room toilet, sick and tired and hurting like hell, he admitted he didn’t know what he was going to do. Which was strange because he couldn’t shake the feeling that a decision had been made for him the moment he saw his wife get into that car with that man.
CHAPTER SIX
OFFICER D.C. WALKER didn’t have time to see his life flash before him as the wrecker’s cable shot upward directly at him.
The cable passed so close he felt the hair rise on his forearms. The steel wrapped around one of the trees behind him, snapping off leaves and limbs like the hurtin’ end of a whip, then made a loud popping sound right next to him as the end smacked the hood of the wrecker, leaving one hell of a dent before dropping to the ground as harmless as a dead snake.
Down the mountainside the Cadillac, dragging a piece of frayed broken steel cable, slid back into the lake.
Walker let out a curse as he watched the car disappear below th
e surface again.
When Mac, the wrecker operator, quit swearing and crossing himself, he gave Walker the bad news. Another wrecker, a newer larger one with a longer cable, would have to be called in. It might have to come from as far away as Seattle, though. That was if Mac could find a towing service that could spare a rig that size.
But one thing was for certain. The car wasn’t coming out of the water today. It was too late in the day now to get another wrecker here even if one could be found within a hundred miles.
Walker swore. “Do the best you can and let me know when you find one.” He turned, still shaken as he climbed into his patrol car and headed for the hospital. He was on his own with the chief gone. It was time he had a talk with Doc Brubaker’s patient.
POLICE CHIEF ROB NASH WOKE to darkness. He stumbled out of bed and into the ratty motel bathroom. His head hurt like hell and his stomach rumbled, the taste of alcohol in his mouth rank enough to make him want to vomit.
He glanced at his watch, shocked to see that he’d lost the entire day. Lucinda was expecting him home tonight. He swore as he turned on the shower, stripped down and stepped under the stinging water.
Lucinda. He tried to force away any thought of her. He’d never known this kind of pain, let alone such fury. It left him light-headed, sent his blood pressure soaring and made him feel as if he was shaking from the inside out. The sensation had him wondering if he wouldn’t come apart at the seams. Worse, made him fear he would follow through with his first instinct and kill Lucinda.
It was why he’d called Walker and told him he was taking a few days off. He wasn’t firing on all four cylinders and he knew it. A dangerous place, given his feeling.
But Lucinda and what he’d seen last night was like a toothache that wouldn’t let him forget it. Eventually he would have to deal with it.
He’d set his wife up.
And she’d taken the bait.
That’s what a man his age got for marrying a woman too young and pretty for him, he thought as he stepped from the shower.
Just the thought of facing Lucinda with what he knew made him break into a cold sweat. He clenched his fist, slamming it into the mirror. Glass shards and blood went everywhere.
He wrapped his hand in a towel. There were only a few small cuts. He wouldn’t bleed to death.
He stared at his reflection in what was left of the mirror. Hair graying, shoulders slumped, gait shuffling and unsure. Hell, he looked just like his old man right before the poor son of a bitch blew his brains out.
ANNA DIDN’T REMEMBER DROPPING off to sleep after her call to Mary Ellen. She’d been upset and had gotten off the line, promising to call back.
Now she shot straight up in bed and reached for the call button, fumbling with it, afraid she would lose the memory that she’d dragged to the surface. When the nurse named Connie had come hurrying in, Anna asked to see the doctor.
“I’ll call him,” she said. “Eat some of your dinner while you wait.” She sounded worried. “Doc won’t be long. He only lives a couple of blocks from here.”
Anna looked over at the tray next to her bed. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She vaguely recalled a breakfast and lunch tray, but didn’t remember touching either. She hadn’t been hungry for so long.
Now, though, she felt ravenous. She dug into the food, not tasting it, but knowing she needed the nourishment. She knew that after Tyler’s death, she’d lost her will to live. There didn’t seem to be any reason to get out of bed in the mornings. No wonder Marc had felt so abandoned. No wonder he’d wanted a divorce.
Her need to remember what had happened last night was driving her not to fall back into that dark depression. Last night was like a puzzle that she needed to solve. That she could solve. Not like the alleged hit-and-run that had taken her son. The pieces to that puzzle had been lost forever.
But this accident she might be able to unravel, and she still felt as if she desperately needed to.
She was anxious to tell the doctor what she remembered. Unlike Officer Walker, the doctor seemed to believe her and want to help her remember. She didn’t need any more mysteries in her life. Any more secrets.
Her dinner was lukewarm, but she ate the roast beef and mashed potatoes and canned corn as if it was a gourmet meal from her favorite four-star restaurant. She’d downed the glass of milk after polishing off the apple crisp just before Dr. Brubaker stuck his rumpled gray head in her doorway.
She shoved the tray away. “I remember going into the lake,” she said excitedly. “I mean I remember being in the water. I remember almost everything.”
He smiled, seeming pleased as he pulled up a chair next to her bed and lowered himself into it. “That must be a huge relief to you.”
“I swerved to miss a deer and lost control of the car.” She could see it now, the darkness, the rain, the deer bolting out of the trees. Her heart began to pound as she saw the car skidding toward the small saplings in her memory, crashing down the mountainside, plunging into the lake.
Oh God, the lake. The water. She shuddered as she recalled the water.
“I couldn’t get the seat belt to release.” Suddenly her heart was pounding so hard she couldn’t catch her breath, but she also couldn’t stop. She could feel the panic attack coming on. And then she felt his hand cover hers.
“You’re safe now. It’s all right. It can’t hurt you.”
She nodded and lay back against the pillows, tears of fear blurring her eyes. “I remember being underwater, thinking I was going to die.”
“Do you remember getting out of the car?” he asked.
“No.” She made a swipe at her tears with her free hand, not wanting to break contact with the warmth of his hand covering hers. Her mother had died when Anna was nine. Her father when she was seventeen. She’d been so disappointed that neither had lived to see their grandson born. Marc’s parents were both still alive but had no apparent interest in grandchildren.
“I was trapped in the car,” Anna said, refusing to let the memory slip away again. “I remember thinking I was going to drown. I had to breathe.” She stopped, her gaze locking with his. “I heard a sound at my side window.” A slice of pure ice cut through her, but she didn’t force the memory away. “There was someone in the water.”
“Someone else was in the lake?” the doctor asked. “Your son?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Tyler is…wasn’t there. The person in the water was a man. At least I think it was a man. His face…” Anna shuddered at the memory and heard a sound at her hospital-room door. She looked up with a start to find Officer Walker framed in the doorway.
The expression on his face was almost as terrifying as the memory of being under the water and seeing something—someone—floating on the other side of her window.
“You say there was someone else in the lake?” the cop asked as he stepped into the room, his brow furrowed. “Your memory coming back, Mrs. Collins?”
Was it her imagination, or did the doctor look alarmed by the policeman’s tone?
“I need to ask your patient a few more questions,” Officer Walker said, never taking his eyes off Anna. “You’re welcome to stay, Doc, if you feel it’s necessary.”
Dr. Brubaker looked from the cop to her. “Do you want me to stay?”
She nodded even though it hurt her head. She didn’t trust her voice.
“I talked to your husband,” Walker said.
“Marc?” She wasn’t sure why the thought of Marc talking to the officer upset her, but it did. “He knows I’m here?”
The cop frowned. “Is that a problem?”
“No. Of course not. I just didn’t want him…worried.”
“Why would he be worried?” Walker asked.
She said nothing, feeling confused, head aching.
“You are still Mrs. Collins, aren’t you?”
Anna opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I didn’t know Marc hadn’t gone through with the d
ivorce until I talked to a friend earlier. I had no idea.”
He studied her openly then asked, “You don’t remember your husband telling you last night?”
“No.” Her voice sounded small, scared.
“But you were just saying that your memory has come back,” he reminded her.
“Not all of it.” Her fingers went to her scar.
“Why don’t you tell the officer what you told me,” the doctor suggested.
She swallowed, her throat dry and scratchy. Her head ached and she felt tired again, her earlier excitement about getting back some of her memory replaced by fear.
She told Officer Walker about the deer, losing control of the car, going into the lake and seeing someone on the bottom.
The cop gave her an unbelieving look. “Your husband told me you were upset when you left home last night. Can you tell me what that was about?”
So she had seen Marc last night at the house? “No. That is, I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing my husband last night or what I might have been upset about.”
The cop’s look said he found that a little too convenient. “Your husband said you might have been upset because he told you he hadn’t gone through with the divorce.”
She frowned. “Why would I be upset about that?”
“Why don’t you tell me,” he said.
She shot a look at the doctor. He looked worried as if he feared—as she did—that something had happened to make Officer Walker more suspicious of her. She knew she didn’t have to answer his questions, but she had nothing to hide. At least she hoped that was true. And at this point, Officer Walker seemed to know more than she did about what had happened last night.
“I was the one who didn’t want the divorce in the first place,” she said.
“You don’t recall seeing your husband at all last night?”
She shook her head slowly, a vague memory pulling at her. An ugly argument. But she’d had so many arguments with Marc…“I can’t be sure.”
Walker sighed and looked at the doctor.
