Blood Red Winter: A Thriller

by J. Conrad

  “No no, just stay like you are,” Alice said. She smiled and placed a firm hand on my arm. “I’m going to wheel you in.” She unlocked the wheels of the bed, grabbed the IV pole, and we were away.

  White coats whisked by us as Alice adeptly and efficiently wheeled her bed-bound patient toward the elevators. Sometimes a doctor or nurse nodded politely as we passed. Sometimes they even smiled. With a slight bit of jostling and wheels thumping over ridges, the bed slid into the elevator compartment and we made our descent.

  On Floor 2, Alice thrust the bed through the door and said a few words to a dark-haired woman with glasses at the desk. The walls in this ward were painted in a watered-down hue of kidney brown. We turned into a hallway. The spaces between the curtained rooms were decorated with abstracts of floral arrangements. A blue and yellow helium balloon had migrated to the extruded aluminum ceiling where it tilted and flapped in the draft from the vent.

  Alice parked my bed in the new room. An elderly man connected to oxygen snored softly on the other side of the open curtain. Alice smiled and quietly drew it closed.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “No. Actually I feel kind of sick. Can you prop up this bed?”

  “Sure,” she said, raising me to a sitting position. “That’s not unusual. The anesthetic sometimes does that. Just push this button to let the nurses know if you want anything. If not, you’ll get lunch at noon,” Alice said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Sure. I have to go back to my floor, but take care. I hope everything works out okay. You’ll be just fine.”

  Soon Alice disappeared and a different nurse came and introduced herself. Vicky, I think, a mid-thirties lady with a long ponytail in pink scrubs. I thought of Elizabeth again. Maybe she had responded to the page, but I was relocated too quickly for her to find me. I set my small bag of possessions on the bedside table and lifted my cell phone from its place on my lap.

  I dialed up Elizabeth. It rang for a long time and went to her voicemail. Maybe she was on the other line. I left a message.

  “Elizabeth, it’s Trent. I’m at Seton Southwest on the second floor. I’m doing okay. It turns out I had to have part of my tailbone removed.” I managed a shaky laugh. “Yeah, so, I should be out in two or three days. I’m really –” I didn’t know what to say anymore, especially after the conversation with Kyle. I sighed, struggling for something, anything, that wouldn’t make me sound like a jerk. “Look, I know it probably doesn’t matter, but I didn’t start the fight with him and I’m really –” A long beep told me that her mailbox was full and couldn’t record a message beyond that length. I threw the phone onto my lap, resisting the urge to smash it into tiny pieces against the wall.

  In a whisper, I repeated my words sarcastically to the empty space in front of me. “I’m really sorry. I’m really sorry.” I snorted and lay my head back down on the pillow. Within a few minutes, my phone lit up and I knew I had received a text. Elizabeth had responded to my chopped off message.

  Trent, I’m glad you’re okay. I want to come see you but I have mixed feelings about it. I love you, but I have to say that after last night I’m a little afraid of you. Please try to understand. I’m working through it. I really want everything to be okay. I can’t call right now, but I’ll try to call and check on you later. xo

  “Why can’t you call me now?” I said to no one. I swallowed down the jealous thoughts of Elizabeth sitting beside Jared – if in fact that idea wasn’t pure fiction. It was time to get real. It was my fault she wasn’t calling.

  My attention was attracted to a nurse’s voice somewhere outside my room.

  “Ms. Owen, you’re all set. Just let me know when you’d like me to call him,” the nurse said.

  “Thank you,” a young woman answered. “I’m just going to stretch my legs.”

  The name “Owen” stood out to me, but I knew this hospital was in south Austin and the Owen I was thinking of should be in St. David’s Hospital, in Georgetown. Still, I was curious. I could see out the door of my room, which had been left open, and I waited to see if she would walk by.

  After a moment, I did see someone. A pale female slowly made her way down the hall, more adolescent than woman, emaciated like an anorexic teenager. Her elbows were too sharp, her waxy cheekbones too prominent under the enlarged, dark eyes. Was it her?

  “Aria?” I called. I hadn’t meant to and I didn’t know where it came from. Crap.

  The girl gasped, halting in mid-step, and turned my direction. She took one look at me and started backing toward the wall on the other side of the hallway.

  “No, it’s okay,” I said, speaking barely above a whisper. What the hell I was doing? “I don’t know if it’s you – if you’re who I think you are, but if you are… I’m the one who found you.”

  The young woman shook her head, glaring at me with her watery brown eyes. Her pointed jawline jutted out in defiance. She must be her. She looked like her, the woman in the photo.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, lowering my voice. “I just wanted to say, um, glad you’re okay. I’m Trent. I’m the one who found you, in Georgetown.” I tried to smile. She continued glaring at me, her chest rising and falling in half-stricken panic as she attempted to calm herself. She looked both ways down the hall and began to walk into my room.

  My lungs strained as I watched her approach. She was like an apparition, a spirit visiting from beyond the grave, and yet here she was in the flesh. I felt like I was seeing a ghost.

  Aria didn’t speak, but sat down in the chair inside the room by the door and continued to stare at me. She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes, setting her hands in her lap and looking me over.

  “How do I know you’re the one?” Aria asked, her voice shaking. It sounded papery and thin, much like the rest of her looked.

  “I – I saw you and your – your stepmother,” I said. Stammering was unusual for me. “I found you. Chained to the wall. You were wearing a white dress, covered in blood.” The papers hadn’t provided those details. I wondered if she knew; if she’d been following the articles, or if she avoided them like the plague. “My name is Trent. Trent Lemend.” Aria’s eyes flashed. She blinked as terror and recognition consumed her countenance. Her memories invaded her. She nodded and sat there, letting her eyes fall to her lap.

  “I’m going into protective police custody today,” Aria said.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

  She looked up at me, and I wondered why she hadn’t gained more weight during her hospitalization. As if she heard my thoughts, she said, “I have trouble eating. Korey had a dog.” She chuckled faintly, rubbing her forehead with her hand and shifting her gaze to the wall at my right. “I hate dogs.”

  I didn’t see the connection between those statements. I remained silent, unable to stop staring at the thinness of her. She met my gaze with her overly large eyes.

  “Trent, do you believe in God?”

  I blinked. Well, I had no idea whether I did or didn’t believe in God, but all signs pointed to “no.” “I don’t know. Not really. I’m not the religious type, I guess.” I tried a small smile that I didn’t feel.

  “I do,” she said, nodding and looking at her lap again. “I do. I prayed. When there was no hope at all, I prayed. And God sent you to me. When I woke up, I wondered if I’d ever meet the person who God sent –” Her voice broke and her face contorted into a sob. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Aria smiled, almost laughed. “But now I have. He sent you here, so I could meet you and know.” She covered her face with her hands and cried quietly, her bony frame quivering, her chest heaving now and then for a good breath of air.

  “I’m glad. I’m glad it worked out and you’re okay,” I said. That wasn’t quite what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words. I folded my hands in my lap and waited respectfully.

  She nodded and started wiping her face.

  “So they moved you here from St. David’s?” I asked.


  Aria nodded. “Yeah. From what I was told, the sheriff’s department didn’t think it was safe for me to stay there, so they moved me weeks ago. But they just kept telling the press I was at St. David’s.”

  “That was smart,” I said.

  She took a deep breath, shuddering from all the crying. She looked me right in the eyes again, which gave me the uncomfortable tightness in my chest, like my windpipe was closing. “Well. Now what?” she asked.

  I shook my head. I had no idea. Sticking my nose into her life, in any way at all, couldn’t possibly be a good thing. I frowned and stumbled over the words. “I don’t know. I guess –”

  “This is goodbye?” she said. She gave a little snort and her mouth pulled into a sad smile. “Of course. Of course it is.” Her huge brown eyes filled with tears again.

  Why was no one here with her? Did she have no family at all?

  “I just meant I didn’t want to intrude,” I said.

  Aria laughed. “If you wouldn’t have intruded, I would be dead right now.” She cocked her head to the side as a single tear slid down her waxy cheekbone. “So.”

  “When you put it like that,” I said, forcing a chuckle. “Well, what would you like?” I was out of my element. Drowning. Kyle would know what to do, but he hated me now.

  “I want to stay in touch,” Aria said. “Can I have your number? I don’t have a phone now, but when I get another one, I’ll call you.”

  That ball dropped into my stomach again. Shit. This was bad. Something about this was really, really bad.

  “Sure,” I said. I wrote my number on a napkin and held it out. She smiled, walking over and taking it from my hand. She stood beside my bed, some of the color coming back into her face.

  “Thanks. So why are you in here?” she asked.

  I laughed. “I fell on my, um, backside, and shattered my tailbone.”

  The hint of a smile touched Aria’s lips. “Are you telling me that you literally busted your ass to come see me?”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  February 9th

  I lay sideways on the couch at home. I had put my computer on the coffee table and pulled it close so that I could access it if needed. The rifle was resting on top of the back cushion, above me, and the pistol was within arm’s reach beside the computer. After returning home from the hospital last night, I didn’t feel safe sleeping in the bedroom. This way, besides my alarm system warning me, if anyone came through that door I’d know instantly and would be ready to say hello.

  The doctor explained that it might be as long as six weeks before I could sit long enough to drive a car. Going to work at the gas station, at least right now, wasn’t happening. I was loaded up on a strong pain killer and there was no way in hell I was walking there. It’s only a few miles, but it’s mostly country roads with no sidewalk and highway with no shoulder. I let Louie know I’d injured myself. He’d either take me back in a few weeks or he wouldn’t. That’s life I guess.

  Elizabeth hadn’t sent me any more texts, or called, since several days ago. I had no way of knowing whether she was okay or not. Didn’t she understand that? As badly as I messed up, didn’t she realize that it was in her best interest to have me around? There was no sense leaving lots of messages, so I only sent one text, last night, to check in. I apologized yet again, told her I was wondering how she was doing and that I loved her. Not only did she not reply, but the text still showed as “delivered,” not “read” as the other texts had.

  If it wasn’t for the pain relievers I’d probably be drinking again. Instead, I had a case of water bottles nearby for easy access. Although it would feel better to slip into apathy and forget about my wretched, miserable failure of a life, I needed to heal as soon as possible. I didn’t want to be crippled if something happened.

  I searched “County Road 118 case” and “Korey Nemeth” online to see the latest developments. It turns out that as far as forensics are concerned, there are two types of DNA: incriminating and non-incriminating. This Nemeth wasn’t dumb enough to leave the incriminating kind at the crime scene, but with Aria’s eyewitness account, he would still be arrested and held until they could convict him.

  After flipping through channels aimlessly, I decided I couldn’t stand not hearing from Elizabeth any longer. It wasn’t about me, it was about her safety and she had to understand that. I called her mom’s number and it went to voicemail.

  “Hi Ms. Reinhardt, it’s Trent. I’m just calling to make sure Elizabeth is okay. I haven’t heard from her. Thanks.” I hung up.

  The medicine had me so groggy, but besides that I just didn’t feel right. Who else could I call? My stomach did a dive as I dialed up Kyle.

  He answered almost instantly, just like when I had called from the hospital. “Yeah.”

  “Kyle, hey,” I said. My voice creaked from being unused for so long. “If it’s not too much trouble could you check on Elizabeth? She’s not returning my texts. I tried her mom and she’s not answering either. I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

  Silence. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll check on her.” More silence.

  “Thanks man. I appreciate it,” I said.

  “Yep. Anything else?” asked Kyle.

  “No. Thanks.”

  Kyle hung up and blood rushed into my face, making it all hot and sweaty. I guess he’d let me know if he got a hold of her. On a whim, I called Elizabeth just to see if she’d answer. Like her mom, it went straight to voicemail. I left a brief message asking her to text me that she was okay.

  I received a text back. She’s not okay. :)

  My stomach plunged like I’d been dropped off the side of a building. Instinctively, I pushed myself to a sitting position, gritting my teeth and yelling as the pain shot through my tailbone in an electric ribbon of agony. I cursed and lay back down on my side, waiting for it to subside.

  How could I possibly find her? I rubbed my hand across my sandpaper chin and squeezed my eyes closed hard, trying to think. I spoke out loud to try and get my wits together. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve got to be –” As I opened the Find My Friends app, I only managed expletives.

  He was doing it again. It was really happening, this time not with my cell phone, but with my fiancée’s. My stomach did another dive as I waited for the app to locate Elizabeth’s cell phone. I half-expected to find it at the murder house. Why wouldn’t it be? That would make everything oh-so-perfect. But her cell wasn’t there. Elizabeth’s icon was showing in the middle of nowhere in rural Georgetown, in an even more out-of-the-way area if that were possible. The image made it appear that she was out in a field, somewhere between County Road 152, Berry Springs Park, and County Road 140. Close. Real close. Close enough that an injured guy could walk there, probably.

  I let my hands fall slack and the cell phone dropped out of my limp fingers, banging against the coffee table before it landed on the carpet. I groaned and slid my body to the edge of the couch, then I dangled my legs off the side and heaved myself to my feet. Standing wasn’t too bad. Walking wasn’t either, but this wouldn’t be an ordinary walk. I reached down and picked up my Ruger. It was loaded and ready to go. I shook my head and again tried to think. What the hell was I going to do?

  I had a soft holster that would slip inside my jeans, so I clipped this on and tucked the gun inside. I took my keys, twenty dollars cash, my concealed carry permit, and my ID. They’d need to know who I was when they took me to jail later, wouldn’t they? When they found this bastard dead and me standing over him, it wouldn’t leave much room for doubt. The walls around me started to sway and a wave of nausea made my mouth water. I wasn’t used to taking pain killers. I couldn’t get my head straight. Wasn’t there something else I was supposed to do?

  Call the sheriff. I dialed up the office and waited. It kept ringing, so I called 911. I gave the operator as many details as I could, giving her the approximate location. I didn’t think it would be easy for law enforcement to find. I put on my work boots and long trench coat. I gra
bbed my cane and headed out the door. Maybe I would meet them there before it was too late.

  It was late afternoon as I carefully made my way along the shoulder of County Road 152, heading toward Berry Springs Park. For once the sun was out, and I squinted my eyes, shoving my left hand deeper into the pocket of my trench coat. The wind was already making my face hurt and I did my best to ignore the throbbing pain in my tailbone. At least it didn’t hurt as much to walk as driving did. To keep my mind from racing with terrified thoughts for Elizabeth’s safety, I focused on the thorny mesquite trees beyond the barbed-wire fence to my right, and next, the pasture containing one of Tim’s barns and several sheep. I had to remain aware of my surroundings. Letting my mind run wild wouldn’t help matters.

  My coat pocket rang and I visibly jerked mid-step and stumbled, groaning as my reaction cost me another wave of pain from my backside. I nearly dropped the cane. I yanked the glove off my right hand, my heart hammering, hoping it was Elizabeth calling to tell me that she was fine, and that the text message earlier was actually from her – that she had just been really pissed at me. But it wasn’t Elizabeth. It was Deputy Reyes.

  “Trent, I’m headed your way now. Is Ms. Reinhardt’s phone still showing at the location you gave us?”

  With my hand shaking, I said, “Hold on. Let me check.” I opened the app and yes, Elizabeth’s phone was apparently still in the same place. “Still there.” My voice sounded thin, half carried away by the cold air.

  “Okay,” Reyes said. “Trent, I hear that you’re outside. You need to go home immediately. Do you understand? We’ll be there shortly and will do a thorough investigation. I can assure you of that.”

  That’s about all he could assure me of. I wanted to punch something. There was no telling what had happened or what would occur. I held the phone to my ear and plodded along, not really knowing how to answer that.

  “Trent?” Reyes said. The edge to his voice told me that he meant business. He didn’t want me doing anything stupid.