by D L Lane
“All right,” she said, not wanting to, but figuring she must if she wanted to get on with things.
“After you.” He held out his arm once he opened his office door, allowing her to step inside. “Take a seat, dear.”
Going to the chair by the window, she sat in the spot of sun, watching the man shove his hands into the front pockets of his dark slacks, his lips in a thin line as he looked at her. “I’m not sure there is any way to say this, so I’m just going to tell it to you straight.” He glanced down at his feet.
Pinpricks of anxiety started poking her. “Whatever it is, Doctor, please, tell me.”
His gray eyes came to her, sorrow swimming in the depths. “Marcus was dismissed from the hospital six months ago.”
She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. Of all the things the man could have said, she would never have guessed that. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, but… his employment here was terminated.”
“Terminated?” she asked, not sure she was hearing right or even having this conversation. Maybe she was still home, in bed, having a bad dream?
“Yes.”
“He hasn’t been here for six months?”
“I’m afraid not, dear.”
Danica shook her head, disbelieving.
Where has he been going all that time? Where was he when he called and said he was working late? When he said he was being paged?
“I-I—” Danica dropped her head into her hands.
“Mrs. Harding, I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this. But I assumed, as I’m sure does everyone else, Marcus told you he was no longer here.”
“No,” she squeaked. “I had no idea. He left in the mornings, as he always did. Sometimes he didn’t get home until late.”
“Are you alright? Can I get you some water or something?”
She looked up at the man and ignored his question and concern. “Why was he let go?”
“There was a lawsuit brought against the hospital and your husband.”
Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it. “A lawsuit?”
“Yes, but that was only one of his troubles. His focus had slipped, he’d been coming in late, sometimes under the influence of something. He failed an impromptu drug test.”
“Drugs?” She waved a hand in front of her. “I’m sorry, but are we talking about the same man? My husband, Marcus Harding? You’re telling me he was using drugs?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That’s…” She glanced down at her knees. “That’s just not possible.” Danica had the overwhelming urge to pinch herself to see if she were awake, or maybe she should bend over and vomit in the ficus.
“Mrs. Harding.” The doctor came to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so very sorry. I can see this is all a shock to you, and I wish things were different. I really do.”
~
Gage was on his way to check on Danica over his lunch hour, ready to turn into her drive when his cell phone started chiming. He hit the screen, sending the call over to his speakers and answered, “Harrison.”
There was the sound of sniffling on the other end.
“Danny?”
More sniffles.
“Danica? Speak to me!”
“Gawonii,” she said in a broken voice, small and tear-filled, making his heart hurt. “I’m just pulling into your driveway now. I’ll see you in a few.”
“I’m not home.”
That got his back straight. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Seattle, and I need you to come help me. I don’t think I can drive.”
“Why not? Are you hurt?”
“I’m-I’m—” Danica burst into sobs.
“Tell me, what is going on?” he asked, panic hitting him as he took the circular drive out, and was back on the street.
“Marcus,” she managed. “He hasn’t been at the hospital. He was let go six months ago.”
“What?”
“Ca-can, you come to get me?”
“I’m on my way. You sit tight. Are you still at the hospital?”
“I’m in my car, in his park-parking spot.”
“Okay. Hang in there for me.”
“Gage?”
“Yes?”
“I want to go home, but I ca-can’t until I go to the bank and talk to the insurance company.”
“I’ll take you to do what you need to do. Don’t worry.”
Her “Thank you” came out in a breath.
“You never need to thank me, Danny. Just hold on. I’m coming.”
You’ll need one of your guys to go with you so they can take Danica’s vehicle home.
The moment he disconnected, another call came in. “Harrison,” he clipped impatiently.
“Chief, I—”
“Dixie, I was about to call you. I need you to round up one of my officers and have him meet me at the front of the station in five.”
“Oh, all right.” She sounded surprised.
He sighed. He’d been rude and needed to apologize. “Listen. I’m sorry I cut you off. What did you need?”
“Cooper Kane called in and said someone’s been lurking around his place, and you know how he is. He won’t let anyone but you on his property.”
Gage rubbed his forehead. Cooper was a former Navy Seal, and due to the extensive burns and scarring he suffered from a mission gone wrong, he had become a recluse. The guy holed up in the big antebellum house on the outskirts of town—a place with several acres of land and a few old cabins deep within the trees his grandfather owned back in the day. But most local kids believed Land’s End to be haunted, so he doubted one of them would be sneaking around out there. Regardless though, Gage needed to see him.
“Dixie, call Coop back and tell him I’ve got an emergency going on, but I’ll come by his place when I get free. However, it might be this evening before I can get there.”
“I will.” She was quiet for a moment then asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.”
“But you’ll tell me if there is anything I can do?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Okay. I’ll round up one of the guys to meet you out front and call Cooper back.”
“Thank you, Dixie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Before
Confined to his wheelchair, Gage closed his eyes, listening to the water trickle down the column of the fountain. This private courtyard was a place he tried to come to as much as possible. The flower gardens attracted butterflies, bumblebees, and birds. There also seemed to be a constant breeze.
He took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand, recalling a memory of Danica the summer after she graduated from high school. He had come home for a few days and saw her as he drove into town. She had been across from the baseball field in a patch of wildflowers, shimmering in the sun, holding a clump of purple blooms, her head tipped back, the sweet expression on her face, his golden gift from above.
“Gage?”
Henry’s deep voice had his eyelids lifting.
“Hmm?”
With his buzz cut and square jaw, the orderly looked like a cross between a linebacker and a soldier dressed in pale blue scrubs.
“It’s time to get back inside. Art therapy starts in just a few.”
Gage groaned a protest. “I am not, and have never been, an artist.”
“Well, me neither, but that’s not the point. Painting helps improve your hand-eye coordination and your dexterity.”
Henry grabbed the handles on the back of his chair, pushing him toward the doors of the rehab hospital. “I hear you’ve been doing pretty good with your physical therapy.”
“I’m still not walking,” he grumped.
“But you’re moving those legs, something the doctors didn’t think you would be able to do.”
Gage had made it through two spinal surgeries, and a few skin grafts on his upper back and part of his neck because the hea
t of the explosion had melted his flesh like caramel in a hot pan. He had healed from a busted femur, six broken ribs, and his fractured collarbone and cracked tibia had mended as well. So, he shouldn’t be ticked off all the time. He was alive, while there hadn’t been enough left of his partner to bury. And compared to many other patients in the rehab facility, he could be considered doing well. But even though he knew he should be grateful, he was the opposite.
~
“I’ve got a surprise,” Marcus said, tugging Danica, the two of them all but jogging down the too long dock.
“Slow down. My wedges and this pace aren’t the best combination unless I want a sprained ankle.”
“We’re almost there, just-a-few-more—” her husband stopped. Danica wanted to let out a relieved breath as he dropped his hold on her hand, turned, and smiled at her. “This is it!”
She glanced around, only seeing one thing. “That boat?” she asked.
“Yes, but it’s a yacht. Isn’t she great? I bought it for our anniversary and thought we could celebrate by having our maiden voyage.”
“I thought yachts were huge?”
“Not necessarily. This is a small one. Only thirty feet.”
She blinked at the white vessel then back at her jived husband. “Do you even know how to sail?”
“I do, but I haven’t sailed since before we started seeing each other.” He looked behind him. “What do you think?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about boats.”
“Yacht.” He smiled back at her. “Boats are smaller.”
“I don’t know anything about yachts, boats, sailing in general, but it looks…nice.”
“Nice? Oh, sweetie, you’re going to love it. Come on, let’s go on board. I’ve got another surprise waiting for you.”
~
Thirty minutes into their ‘maiden voyage’ and Danica found out something interesting about herself. She and boating didn’t get along. This became evident when she tossed her cookies. Then the dizziness joined the party, leaving Marcus no choice but to turn around and take the yacht back to the slip.
As he helped her off “The Rising Dawn,” which was his second surprise—he’d named the thing after her—she’d never been happier to be back on solid ground.
“I’m so sorry, Danica. I didn’t know you suffer from motion sickness.”
“Neither did I.”
“Aw…sweetheart.” Marcus kissed her forehead. “I didn’t mean to ruin our anniversary.”
She patted his arm. “Look at it this way. It will be an anniversary to remember.”
Her husband chuckled.
Picking up the cloth napkin from the bistro table where they sat outside the café he took her to, Marcus carefully dabbed at the corner of her eye. “Your mascara is smudged.”
“Is that you, Danny?” someone called.
She turned to the sound of her name, seeing Mrs. Harrison coming her way, dark hair in an elegant updo, a smile on her symmetrical face.
She waved. “Hi. How are you?”
“My dear.” The woman leaned down and gave her a quick hug. “I’m doing well. How about you?”
“I’m afraid I flubbed up,” Marcus interjected.
“How so?” Mrs. Harrison asked straightening and glancing at Danica’s husband.
“I thought it would be a good idea to go sailing for our anniversary, and—”
“It appears I get motion sickness,” Danny said, “who knew?”
“Aw… I’m sorry. I’ve never had it, but I hear it can be pretty awful.”
“You’ve heard right.”
Gage’s mother took her in, gently eying her. “Are you feeling better now?”
Danica nodded. “Much. Being able to sit still has done wonders.”
“That’s good news, at least.”
“Do you want to have a seat with us? We are going to order something. Well, Marcus is, I think I’ll go light.” Danica moved her ice water aside.
“I’d love to join you, but I’m meeting a couple of colleagues, so I’ll be heading inside.”
“Oh, all right. But before you go”—willing her heart to calm, she asked the question weighing on her—“how is Gage doing?”
“He’s improved, though he’s still in the rehab hospital, overall he’s leaps and bounds above the point his doctors thought he would be. Sean and I will be flying out next week to see our boy, and I’m hoping for even more improvement.”
A small wisp of relief started, then grew. “I’m so happy to hear that. I pray for his full recovery every day.”
“Keep praying, dear.” She pointed her manicured finger skyward. “He’s listening.”
~
Holding the thin paintbrush between his fingers, Gage stared at the same blank canvas from the week before, wondering what he was supposed to do. He could put a few strokes of paint across all that white and call it good, he supposed.
“Mr. Harrison,” the woman, Lindsey, said as she came up beside him, leaned down, bracelets jingling, and whispered, “I want you to picture a special memory. Something that stands out. Something that, when you saw it, made an impact. Now, close your eyes and picture it.”
He figured why not, and did what she asked.
The memory of Danica dancing on stage at WSU that white dress flowing, her movements graceful as she twirled across the floor, her feet disturbing the fog, came back to him in vivid full-color motion—a picture show of sensuality and sheer perfection.
For a moment in time, Gage smiled.
“What do you see, Mr. Harrison?”
“Gravity. I see Gravity.”
“Then paint that for me.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Harding?” the president of the bank asked as Danica took a seat in front of his large, walnut desk, his gaze shifting to the imposing man in uniform standing behind her. “And… Officer?”
“Harrison. Police Chief Harrison.”
“Police Chief Harrison,” Mr. Monroe echoed.
“I’m here as support for Danica.”
“I see,” he said, his dark eyes coming back to her.
“I’m not sure if you are aware,” Danica said, trying to mash down her nerves, “but my husband passed away.”
“I had heard. May I give you my condolences.”
“Thank you, Mr. Monroe. His death has come as quite a shock for me, so I’m sorry if I seem scattered.”
“I’m sure it was a shock, and you have nothing to apologize for, Mrs. Harding.”
“Yes, well.” Danica fidgeted in her seat until Gage’s warm palm rested on her shoulder. “I realize I’ve never been involved with our banking business, leaving everything for Marcus to handle, but out of necessity, I will be changing that.”
The man nodded his graying head.
“I understand Marcus did most if not all of our banking with Chase online, but again, I wasn’t proactive, so I will need access to our bank statements for starters. And, before I forget, there seems to be an issue with my debit card.”
The man’s gaze went to Gage, then back to her. “Would you like your friend to step out while we discuss your business?”
“I see no need for that. I’ve known Chief Harrison since we were kids, so there’s nothing here that I would be concerned about him knowing.”
Gage squeezed her shoulder but remained quiet.
Mr. Monroe cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”
Danica scowled. “Yes, sir.”
Leaning back in his chair, the man steepled his chubby fingers. “Mrs. Harding, I’ll be happy to provide you with paper copies of your bank statements, however…”
“However?”
“I’m afraid the reason you are having an issue with your debit card is due to lack of funds.”
She blinked, cocked her head, and blinked some more. “Lack of funds? What do you mean?”
“I mean just that.” Mr. Monroe shifted forward, tapped a few keys on a laptop, then looked back
at her. “As of now, your checking account is in the red.”
“The red?”
“Yes. There is a negative balance of one-thousand-five-hundred-sixty-three-dollars and fifteen cents.”
“I-I…” Danica felt the room spinning.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Harding?”
She shook her head.
Gage was there, kneeling at her side, taking her cool hand into his much warmer one. “Breathe, Danny. In and out. In and out.”
“Perhaps you’d like some water?” Mr. Monroe asked, but he sounded far, far away.
“Get her some!” Gage snapped.
The man jumped out of his chair and scurried out of his office.
“Danica, look at me?”
Feeling as if she might pass out, she slowly turned and locked her gaze with Gage’s.
“Don’t freak. We’ll get to the bottom of this, okay? Breathe.”
As if she were back in Lamaze class, she started pulling air into her lungs, then exhaling.
“That’s good, sweet-one. Keep breathing. There you go.”
“This is cold,” Mr. Monroe said, bringing her a cup of water, which she wasted no time sipping, the tilt-a-whirl sensation dissipating little by little.
Gage stood but didn’t let go of her hand. “If there is a problem with Mrs. Harding’s checking account, could you have transferred funds from their savings into checking?”
“Yes, well.”
Danica glanced up at the man who appeared to be turning a shade of puce.
“Yes or no? It’s a simple answer,” Gage said.
“We could.”
“Then why wasn’t that done?”
“We could, Chief Harrison, if the Harding’s savings account had the funds.”
“So, you're saying both our checking and savings is... are…” Danica couldn’t find the right words.
“All of your funds with our bank are depleted, Mrs. Harding.”
The warble started at the corner of her eyes, then spread, until everything blurred. Danica thought she heard Gage curse, then that was all she wrote, everything turned into lights out.
~
“Danny?” Something swiped over her forehead. “Danica, wake up for me.”
