by B. J Daniels
She’d been doped up and drifting too long, unable to accept what had happened to her son, to her friendships, to her marriage. She couldn’t keep hiding in a daze of drugs and regret. Her son was gone. Her husband had been in the process of divorcing her. And now this.
She had nothing more to lose.
Except her sanity.
And if she was right, she might find the person who’d killed her son and destroyed her life and finally learn whether she’d somehow been at fault.
At the closet, she gripped the door frame as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She felt weak and knew she would have to move fast. If she could just get out of here…
She opened the closet door.
Her clothes were gone.
CHAPTER NINE
POLICE CHIEF ROB NASH DIDN’T go straight to the police station, although Marc Collins was waiting for him. He needed time to pull himself together so he drove to the edge of town, pulled over to the side of the road where he’d heard the woman had gone off the road. He could understand better why Walker thought it had been a suicide attempt. It was nothing short of amazing that the woman had survived.
As the night grew darker he watched a breeze feather the water’s silvery surface and rubbed his eyes, his body and mind beat, heartsick. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. The first drops of rain pinged on the roof of the patrol car, startling him.
Even thinking about Lucinda and her betrayal couldn’t kick up anything more than a dull ache now. But what he’d done to her was fresh in his mind. He’d turned into a monster and couldn’t stand himself. He could still smell her scent on him. Had he really wanted to kill her?
What the hell was wrong with him? He loved her, no matter what she’d done, and now he’d hurt her in ways he didn’t want to think about.
Rain drummed on the car roof as the storm picked up. The windows began to steam up. He kicked up the heat, chilled. He felt lost. He needed to go to the station. He couldn’t keep running.
As he looked out at the lake, he remembered that Anna Collins’s car was still down there in the rain-dimpled lake. And now her husband was in town, waiting for him at the police station, saying it was urgent.
Nash swore as he started the patrol car. Best to get it over with. He called Walker. “This is your case,” he said after he told him about Marc Collins’s demand to see him tonight. “I want you there. I’m on my way now. Can you meet me at the station?”
“I’ll be there.”
Nash hung up. He was a cop, had been a cop most of his life. And as tired, physically, mentally and emotionally wrung out and disgusted with himself as he was, Nash was still the chief of police of Shadow Lake.
But as he turned the patrol car around, then drove down the mountain to park in front of police station, he had a bad feeling tonight he was going to wish he’d retired a long time ago.
The moment he shut off the patrol car, he saw a thirty-something man in an expensive suit pacing impatiently in the reception area. So this was Marc Collins.
He watched Marc Collins pace for a few moments more, wondering what was so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning. Walker pulled in next to him as Nash shoved open his door and stepped out into the pouring rain.
Neither spoke as they entered the building.
Marc Collins stopped pacing and stepped to Nash, giving him a firm handshake and a smile that reminded him of a car salesman who hadn’t met his monthly quota yet. What was Marc Collins selling? he wondered.
“I thought I’d better see what’s happening with my wife before I go by the hospital,” Collins said as he shook hands with Walker.
Nash nodded, thinking that a husband who was worried about his wife’s welfare would have stopped by the hospital first—not the police station.
“This is my officer second-in-command D.C. Walker. He’s handling the investigation of your wife’s accident. Why don’t the three of us step into my office.”
Nash shook the rain from his coat and hat, then hung both up before lowering himself into the chair behind his desk. He motioned to the straight-backed chairs. Walker spun one around to straddle it. Marc Collins took the other one.
Nash glanced toward his office window. Rain ran down the glass, blurring the lights of the neighborhood outside. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such a dark night. He thought about Lucinda, but quickly pushed her from his mind.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Collins?”
Marc Collins pulled his chair closer to the desk and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the worn desktop. Then he seemed to change his mind and leaned back in his chair. He was nervous and Nash couldn’t help but wonder why.
“I’m going to need a place to stay tonight. Could you recommend one?” Collins asked.
Was this what was so important that Collins had gotten him down here tonight? “You might try the Pinecrest Cabin Court. It’s not open yet, but Herb will probably rent you a cabin if you stop by the place. Herb lives in the largest cabin to the east.”
Collins nodded. He looked as if he wanted to make a crack about what a Podunk town Shadow Lake was, but changed his mind.
“Would you feel more comfortable if you had a lawyer present?” Walker asked, his impatience showing.
Collins looked shocked by the question. “Why would I need a lawyer?”
“Some people aren’t comfortable talking to the police without one and the dispatcher said you’d mentioned a gun?” Walker said, cutting to the chase.
“Has my wife been charged with something?”
Another strange question, Nash thought. “Charged? Is there some reason she should be?”
Collins let out an embarrassed laugh. “Not that I know of. It’s just that last night she was so upset, making threats, and then she ends up in the lake in a town I’ve never heard of. And when I check, I find that her gun is missing. Like I need this right now. I’m a Realtor and with house sales down—”
“What gun?” Walker asked.
“It’s a Thirty-eight Special registered to my wife.”
Nash made a note on the pad in front of him. “Why did your wife have a gun?”
“For protection. We’ve been separated, actually considering divorce. She’s been a little…” Collins paused. “Paranoid.”
“Why is that?” Walker asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Maybe she was afraid of living alone,” Nash suggested.
“So did my wife tell you what’s going on, why she’s up here?” Collins asked.
“Didn’t she tell you?” Walker asked.
“I haven’t talked to her. But I thought you said on the phone that she’s suffering from some memory loss. Again.” Collins snorted.
Nash was having trouble hiding his dislike for the man and he could see that Walker was even less enamored with the man. Marc Collins was an ass and the past twenty-four hours had been a bitch. He needed to get the man out of his office before either he or Walker said or did something they might regret.
He glanced at his watch, then at Collins. “Was there anything else you wanted to tell us?”
Collins shook his head, seeming surprised that Nash was cutting this short. “So…I’m free to take my wife home?”
“That would be up to her doctor.”
“What about her car?” Collins asked.
“Still in the lake,” Walker said. “We had trouble getting it out today. A larger tow truck is coming up in the morning.”
Collins nodded and rose from his chair. “Well, then I guess I’ll go by the hospital—”
“It’s late, Mr. Collins, perhaps it would be better if you saw your wife tomorrow,” Walker said.
Collins’s look said he didn’t like being told what to do.
“The doctor said she needed her rest. She’s been through quite a lot recently,” Walker said.
“Okay, I suppose it would be best then if I waited and saw her tomorrow. I guess I’ll go talk to this Herb guy about a cabin t
hen.”
Nash didn’t get up. “Good night, Mr. Collins.”
Collins rose from his chair slowly, as if he wasn’t satisfied. He left, pulling on his coat with jerky, angry movements as he pushed out the front door of the station and darted through the rain to his silver SUV parked out front.
Nash watched him, frowning. Why had Collins got him down here tonight? To tell him about a gun? It seemed odd given that no crime had been committed. Same with Collins asking if his wife had been charged with a crime.
“Lousy son of a bitch,” Walker said. “He knows something.”
Pushing back his chair, Nash scrubbed his hands over his face. His head hurt and his stomach was giving him hell. Nash knew he should go home. Just as he knew he wasn’t going to.
He felt like a coward and a cad, but he couldn’t face Lucinda right now. He needed to get some things right in his head before he saw her again.
“Sorry you got called down for this,” Walker said.
Nash nodded and got to his feet. “It’s late. We can talk tomorrow.”
Walker had the good sense to leave. Nash waited until he saw him drive away before he closed the door, then turned to survey his office and the pile of paperwork on his desk. There was always paperwork, even in a low-crime town like Shadow Lake.
“Should have retired years ago,” he muttered to himself as he moved past the desk to drop down on the old couch at the back. He couldn’t remember ever being this drained. It was as if his life’s blood had seeped out of him and he was nothing but a walking shell.
Flopping over, he stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes, praying for oblivion.
Instead, his mind refused to rest. The past forty-eight hours ran like a tape, making him hate himself more than he thought possible.
When he finally dozed off, it wasn’t Lucinda he dreamed about. It was that trail of broken small trees that ended in the dark, deep lake and the feeling that something was very wrong. It didn’t help that the woman’s own husband suspected her. But of what? Maybe once the car was brought up out of the lake…
THE HOSPITAL WAS QUIET. Anna knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She’d been afraid the doctor would come back to the hospital to check on her. Or the nurse.
She listened to make sure she couldn’t hear anyone coming down the hall as she unhooked the IV and retrieved the money, credit card and scrap of envelope from where she’d hidden them earlier in her nightstand. She felt a little guilty for her deception, especially when she thought about Dr. Brubaker. He’d taken up for her, protecting her as best he could from the cop.
But Anna feared not even the doctor could protect her much longer. Officer Walker seemed determined to lock her up for something. And given time, she feared he would find just what he was searching for.
She had to get answers and there was only one place she knew to go for them—the Fairbankses’.
The problem, of course, was clothing other than her hospital gown. Maybe even a larger concern was the fact that she was still weak and light-headed. First the coma, then she hadn’t taken care of herself for the past two months—even before she’d gone into the lake and nearly drowned.
But she wasn’t about to let any of that stop her. For months, she’d done nothing but cry and take pills that left her in a fog but still in pain. Now she had hope that Gillian had found out something about the hit-and-run driver and that had led her to the Fairbanks family.
Anna tried not to think about what Mary Ellen had told her about Marc and Gillian. She didn’t want to believe it. And yet she feared it was true. If so, then it had been a moment of weakness for Gillian, who Anna knew would do everything in her power to make amends. And what better way than coming up with news about Tyler’s killer?
EarlierAnna had noticed that not only was she on the ground floor, but also that the window opened out. She hurried to it now, opened it quietly, then took out the screen and set it aside.
After that light exertion she had to lean on the wall for a moment before she hoisted herself up on the windowsill, then swung her legs over to drop to the ground. She hit with a thud, losing her balance and pitching forward into the wet grass.
The air felt damp and the wet grass was cold beneath her bare skin. She glanced toward the lake fringed in black pines, then hurriedly turned away from it and the memory as she crept along the side of the building.
From what she’d gathered, there were no other patients in the hospital, but there was a rest home attached to it on the other side. She ducked under windows although none of the rooms in this section appeared to be occupied. She could hear the occasional sound of traffic.
She passed an open door and caught a scent she recognized. Stopping, she backtracked a few feet to the door she’d just hurried past moments before and took a whiff, filling her lungs with the warm familiar smell of fresh laundry. Warm clothes straight from the dryer sounded heavenly and the room appeared to be empty.
She stepped in, angling toward the welcoming drone of a large clothes dryer. From the looks of the clothes circling in the dryer, they appeared to have come from the attached nursing home.
She checked the hall through the window in the laundry-room door, then hurried over to the dryer again, opened it and waited as the drum rolled to a stop.
Quickly she dug through the assortment of clothing, looking for anything that would fit and be warm. She was freezing.
She found a teal velour sweat suit that was colorful enough it was easy to find both the top and bottoms, then plucked two socks from the dryer, not taking the time to find a pair that matched, and closed the dryer door to get it going again, afraid the quiet would bring an attendant.
She pulled on the sweatpants, tucked the hospital gown in and slipped her arms into the long-sleeved matching jacket, zipping it up to her neck.
On a bench in a corner, she tugged the socks over her cold feet and eyed a set of metal lockers. One door was partially open and she could see a pair of cross-trainers inside, along with a nurse’s uniform.
The shoes were a little too large. Back at the dryer she found another couple of socks, put those on, then the sneakers.
The whole process had taken only a few minutes, but she was shaking with fatigue and fear of being caught as she slipped back out into the night. She told herself what she was doing just proved she was crazy. Why not wait until morning, check herself out of the hospital and go then?
Every instinct in her told her that by morning it would be too late. Even if Dr. Brubaker released her, she wasn’t so sure Officer Walker was going to let her go anywhere.
Lights glittered in the distance. She could make out buildings through the trees. She stayed to the shadows, working her way toward the center of what she quickly saw was a small tourist-oriented town with ice cream, candy, fishing and antique shops—now all boarded up.
The cop was right about one thing. Not much was open. Most businesses had Closed For The Season signs in their windows.
As she skirted the main street, she saw few cars and even fewer businesses with lights on.
She was thankful for that. She could make her way to the marina without attracting any unwanted attention. She angled along the waterfront, knowing she would eventually find the marina—and a boat.
A car drove past. She put the hood of the sweatshirt up and kept her head down. The marina wasn’t far from the hospital, but by the time she reached it, her legs were shaking from fatigue and her head ached.
As she expected, the marina was closed, if not because of it being off-season then the hour. She walked along the side of the building, a little shocked at what she planned to do.
She knew something about boats from growing up on a lake in Seattle. She could start an outboard and had no doubt she could drive most boats. But stealing a boat? Then again, at this point, she feared theft was the least of her problems.
As she looked out in the lake, she could see a faint light. Was that the island where the Fairbankses lived? She could only hope,
because now that she was here she was beginning to see how foolish her impulsiveness had been.
But she couldn’t turn back. Whatever fears had motivated her to leave the hospital tonight were still driving her. That and hope. If this had anything to do with Tyler…
Several boats were moored at the dock next to the floating small marina building. A couple of smaller fishing boats and one ski boat sat under a large overhead light that cast the entire area in a circle of gold.
She moved down the dock and knelt to peer in at the ski boat. Just as she’d figured, from the size of the town and the fact that it was off-season, the key was in the ignition. It would be faster than the smaller fishing boats.
“Can I help you?”
She jumped at the sound of a voice behind her.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He was young, just a kid she saw when she turned around. He smiled at her as he wiped his hands on a rag and came farther down the deck toward her.
Behind him, the door to the marina office was open. She could see an outboard motor, the cover off and an assortment of tools spread around it.
“Hi,” she said, straightening, doing her best to hide her earlier intention of stealing one of the boats. “I need to rent a boat. I know it’s late.”
He chuckled as if agreeing with the obvious. “Pretty dark to be going out.” He glanced past her. “Especially alone. You know the lake?”
She managed a smile and avoided his question as best she could. “I’m trying to get out to the Fairbankses’. I understand the only way is by boat.”
“Or helicopter.” He eyed her more closely. “If you call them, I’m sure they’ll send one or the other for you.”
She wasn’t so sure about that and not willing to take the chance. She had to do this in person and the best way was to just show up on their doorstep and wing it from there.
“I wasn’t sure what time I’d be getting here so I told them I’d just rent a boat and come out. I didn’t realize it would be so late. I feel just awful. I promised I’d be there by dinnertime and now I’m going to have to call and interrupt their meal to have someone come get me.”
