Ruth’s voice quavered and failed. She spread her hands and draped them over her knees. “You’ll let him down.”
For a moment, Jama pushed away thoughts of Tyrell and focused on the enigmatic woman in front of her. It didn’t take a genius to realize Ruth was in pain, but Jama wished she’d seen it sooner.
“Is that what happened to you?” she asked Ruth.
The director closed her eyes, features contorting.
Jama felt sudden compunction. Not your business, Jama Sue.
“You’ve helped me realize how unfair I’ve been to Jack.” Ruth’s eyes opened, and a film of moisture dissolved into droplets that coursed slowly down her cheeks.
“How?” Jama asked.
“We had a five-year-old little boy. Our only child.” Ruth’s eyes closed again. “Benjamin.” She said the word as if the very sound of his name caused pain. “Three weeks ago, Jack took him along on a call to a nearby village across the river near our home. He did this over my objections.”
A deep breath, uneven and filled with anguish. “Their boat capsized, and Benjamin was swept downriver.”
Jama felt the heat of her own tears once more. “Was he found?”
Ruth nodded. “Word spread throughout the area, and some people from a village far downriver brought his body to us. Our whole community turned out for a funeral, taking care of everything, while I hid out in the house, unable to cope, furious with God for allowing this to happen to us when we’d given up everything to serve Him.”
Jama had always believed she’d endured a nearly unbearable load of guilt these past years; how must Jack feel?
“I’ve been so wrong,” Ruth whispered, as if Jama’s thoughts had been spoken aloud. “I’ve been so focused on my own loss and anger that I’ve given little thought to what Jack must be going through.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to forgive him?” Jama asked.
Ruth looked at her, touched her arm, leaned forward. “Thanks to you, I think so. It’s going to take some time, but if he calls again, I’ll have Chelsea give the call to me.” She sniffed and dabbed at the moisture on her face, then stood, taking a deep breath.
She looked at the clock. “I’m going back to sleep. You want half my blankets?”
“No, thanks, I’m staying with Zelda across the street.”
“Then get there and get to bed. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
Jama went. The boss was back on duty.
But she had brought up some pretty thought-provoking suggestions.
A missionary. Who’d’ve thought?
Doriann sat on the side of the exam bed, dangling her legs and swinging her feet back and forth. Her mother did the same, as the two FBI agents sat across from her, asking questions. She held on to Mom’s arm. She couldn’t let go.
“Clancy and Deb,” the agent said.
“Yes, but Deb wasn’t a killer.” And once again, Doriann told the story. She’d told Uncle Tyrell about this already, but the agents wanted to hear it all again.
Mom still wore her dark blue scrubs from work, and tears kept trickling down her face. Dad sat on a chair next to the bed, holding Doriann’s other hand.
Doriann had only been able to let go of Uncle Tyrell’s hand when Mom and Dad arrived. Her parents needed her worse than Uncle Tyrell did.
And she needed them.
Jama walked across the chilly parking lot and paused at her car. She didn’t make a habit of calling people at half past three in the morning, but she suspected Renee was still awake and on her way to the hospital-if she hadn’t convinced the FBI helicopter pilot to fly her to Jefferson City with Heather and Mark.
Renee answered her cell phone on the second ring. “Jama? Why didn’t you go to the hospital with Tyrell and Doriann?”
“I explained to the agents that I had a critical patient.”
“But you were hurt.”
“I’ve been patched back together. I have a question for you. Remember when Mark was dating Debra Benedict in high school?”
“Sure I do. She and Heather nearly got into a catfight over him. You remember how pretty Debra was, except she was all Goth, never wore anything but black. Mark only dumped her because she was using. That’s when he started dating Heather.”
“What was she using?”
“Speed. Why?”
“She’s at her grandmother’s, and she doesn’t look the best.”
“You mean she’s still using?”
“Looks like it.”
“Is she still as pretty as she was?”
“She looks twenty years older. Worse, she looks as if she’s been beaten. She claims it’s from a bike wreck, but I can’t help wondering if she hasn’t come into contact with an angry man. Was she extremely upset about the breakup with Mark?”
“She begged him to come back to her,” Renee said. “She promised she’d stop the drugs, that she was just experimenting. You know how she loved to break the rules. Kind of like you.”
Yeah, thanks for the reminder.
“He went back to her,” Renee continued, “at which time Heather gave up on him and started dating someone else. I don’t know what happened after that, because we went to college. Heather and Mark met again their sophomore year, and Debra was out of the picture. You say she’s in River Dance now?”
“At Zelda’s. She just arrived a few hours ago.”
“And you called to ask me this because…?”
“I was just curious and knew you’d be awake.”
“And this patient you told the agents about, that couldn’t possibly be Debra, could it?”
“That’s the one, though she won’t let me touch her until morning. She needs to sleep.”
“Poor Zelda,” Renee said. “She tried so hard with her grandkids. Then her grandson moves away as soon as he can after graduation, hardly comes to see her, and now this with Debra. Can I call you back? I’m not on my Bluetooth, and traffic’s a little heavy.”
“No need to call back. I plan to get some sleep. I’ll see you soon.”
“You did great today, Jama.”
“Thanks. So did you.”
“I’ll give Tyrell your love when I get to the hospital.” Renee disconnected before Jama could reply that Tyrell didn’t want her love.
Chapter Forty-Four
On Tuesday morning, Tyrell woke up from a fitful three hours of sleep in the darkened waiting room. His sister Renee lay in the far corner on a futon. She must have had wings on her car, because she’d arrived at the hospital an hour and a half after Tyrell and Doriann.
It was growing light outside, and old habits died hard. He always rose with the sun.
He had been given a key card to the shower room upstairs, plus a toothbrush. He intended to use both.
He was halfway to the door when Renee yawned.
“Doriann’s being released this morning, Tyrell. We can both go home and get some real sleep.” She paused. “Well, anyway, you can get some real sleep. No way I’ll be sleeping with four kids romping all over me.”
“Somehow, I don’t think the helicopter’s going my way this morning.”
Renee sat up, her short brown hair tousled over her forehead. “Did you sit in on Doriann’s debriefing?”
“Parents only, but Doriann pretty much told me everything on the way here.”
Renee patted the seat beside her. “So spill, big brother. I want to hear it all.”
He covered his mouth. “Morning breath.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out two sticks of gum, one for him, one for her. Then she crossed her legs and leaned forward, eager for news.
After a good, hard nap of four hours, Jama was up again and walking Debra across the street to the clinic. Zelda was snoring away in her bed.
Chelsea Franklin would be arriving in about ten minutes for X-ray. Debra had cleaned up and washed her hair, and was wearing some of Zelda’s old scrubs that hung loosely on the skinny young woman’s frame. She wore a jacket with the logo of D
ancing River Winery. Though the swelling in her face had gone down, there was a lot of discoloration, and she walked slowly, as if in pain.
“Still have the migraine?” Jama asked.
Debra nodded. “It’s worse.”
“You’ve had them before?”
Debra nodded again. She stumbled when they reached the gravel, and Jama took her by the arm.
“Take your time. Can you tell me how long you’ve been using?”
Debra’s steps slowed. She sighed and looked down.
“A long time, then,” Jama said. “Since high school?”
“Don’t say anything to Grandma.”
“You don’t think she already knows? Debra, we can get you help.”
“I’ve tried to get off the stuff, but it’s so hard. It’s like chains binding me.” Debra raised her hand to her neck and massaged it.
Jama unlocked the front door, wondering if Ruth was still asleep in her office. “I want you to get into a gown…if I can find one.”
“I’m just wearing these scrubs. No metal. Do I have to change?”
“No bra with snaps?”
Debra held her arms out to her sides and looked down at her stick-straight frame. “For what?”
Jama’s cell phone vibrated as she led Debra back to the treatment room with the most comfortable exam bed. She almost ignored the call-no personal conversations on clinic time, as per Dr. Ruth Lawrence-but she checked the screen. Sydloski.
She flipped open the cell. “Yes?”
“Dr. Keith, have you seen Debra Benedict?”
“Of course. That’s the patient I was telling you about. I’m with-”
“If she’s with you, please don’t let on that I’ve called. We believe she was one of the kidnappers.”
Jama closed her eyes.
“I was told that the female of the team may have sustained some injuries around her face and abdomen from the hostile male. Can this be the same person?”
For a moment, Jama couldn’t breathe. She shot a glance at Debra, who was watching her closely.
The atmosphere in the clinic changed as Debra’s eyes widened.
“Yes,” Jama said.
Debra shook her head and backed from the treatment room, stumbled at the door, turned and walked back down the hallway. Jama followed her, rushed to the door and locked it to keep anyone else from entering, and stood in front of it to keep Debra from leaving-not because she thought Debra was a danger to others, but she was in no condition to try to run.
Debra didn’t try. She stood in the middle of the waiting room with her arms crossed over her stomach, shoulders stooped. Her face crumpled.
Jama could not believe it. Not Debra, who’d had such a soft heart, who’d rescued baby birds and baby rabbits, then cried when she couldn’t keep them alive.
“We’ll be there shortly,” Sydloski said.
“Okay, then,” Jama said into the phone.
Agent Sydloski was right.
“Jama?” Debra whispered.
Jama reached for her. “You need to be calm and sit down. We have no idea how much injury you’ve sustained, and we can’t take any chances.”
“They’re coming to get me, aren’t they?”
Jama felt such a weight of sadness. “Oh, Debra. How did this happen? Tell me what you’ve done.”
“I didn’t do what they think I did.” She closed her eyes and swayed.
Jama noted that though Debra was crying, there were no tears. Dehydration.
“Help me, Jama. Please don’t let them…” She leaned into Jama.
Jama tightened her hold around Debra’s shoulders and eased her to a cushioned chair. “Tell me what’s happening. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”
There was a movement in the hallway, and Jama looked up to find Ruth walking toward them, wearing a fresh set of scrubs and a white lab coat.
Debra sucked in a breath at the sight of her.
“It’s okay,” Jama said. “She’s my boss. She’s a doctor, too.”
There was a knock, and Debra jerked around to see who it was. She relaxed visibly when Chelsea Franklin stepped into view through the window.
Ruth joined Chelsea on the front porch, closing the door behind her, and leaving Jama and Debra alone.
“Now,” Jama said. “Talk fast, because I need to get some fluids into you.”
“The police don’t understand, and they won’t listen to me.”
“I will.”
“It was crazy. I heard over the grapevine…” Debra looked at Jama. “You know, the drug grapevine.”
Jama nodded. She could guess.
“I heard there was a dealer in town who wanted revenge on a Dr. Streeter. That’s all I heard. I didn’t know the guy was a murderer, I just wanted to get more info. If it was Mark or Heather, I wanted to warn them.”
“The police could have done that.”
Debra gave a humorless snort of laughter. “I’ve been busted-the police don’t ever believe druggies. I made an anonymous call, but it must’ve been ignored. Doriann wouldn’t have been out on that street if anyone had paid any attention to me.”
“How did you hook up with Clancy?” Jama asked.
“I made like a buyer and purchased a hit from him, then played around with him for a while, you know. Like I thought he was hot. Got high with him, got him to talking, convinced him I knew how to cook the stuff he sells.”
“Do you?”
“No, but it wasn’t as if I was marrying the guy, I just had to convince him to hang out with me long enough for me to find out about his plans for Mark.” She paused, sighed. “I still love that guy, after all these years.” She winced and leaned over. “It hurts.”
“Let’s get you back to the treatment room.” Jama tried to get her up.
Debra pulled away. “Not right now. I’ll throw up.”
“That’s exactly why-”
“I’ve got to tell you, Jama. Listen to me! I found out Clancy had a wicked-hot temper when he punched a hole in the wall where he was staying with some other guys. He needed some wheels, told me to come along, so I went. I was with him when he stole the truck.”
Jama grasped Debra’s wrist and took her pulse. Not good. It was slow. This didn’t fit with dehydration or meth use. “He’s the one who did this to you.”
Debra nodded. “He wanted to case Streeter’s place. We saw Mark and Heather each leave separately. I don’t know why Clancy thought they were rich. They live in an apartment, nothing fancy. I thought Clancy was just going to check out their apartment, and I was going to try to call the police while he was inside. But then Doriann came out alone and started walking down the sidewalk. Clancy followed her in the truck.”
“How far?”
“Only a couple of blocks. It was early, so no one else was around. I learned then that Clancy did just the opposite of what I told him to do. When he said he could grab the kid and make Streeter pay, I told him not to do that, because the cops would be all over him.
“Before I could stop him, he jumped out, grabbed Doriann and hauled her into the truck, with me screaming at him, and the poor kid screaming for help. Then he lost it and said if I didn’t shut Doriann up, he’d kill her right there. I slapped her until she got quiet.” Debra shook her head. “That kid’s a tough one.”
Jama winced at what Doriann had endured.
“I know I wasn’t using good sense,” Debra said. “I was still high, trying hard to maintain. Clancy drove east on I-70, and Doriann started mouthing off, and I slapped her face again. Not hard enough to make a mark, but enough to sting so she’d shut up and stay alive.
“Since I’d learned that he…that the man…” She frowned, shook her head in confusion. “Since I learned that Clancy did what I told him not to, I told him we were low on gasoline, even though I knew there could be another full tank. It had dual tanks, but he’s a city boy. He doesn’t know anything about farm trucks. I told him not to stop on the interstate or we’d be caught for sure. So he stopped o
n Interstate. I called the police from there when he was in the bathroom. I’d hoped to be able to get help there and get away, but he caught me just talking to the attendant and flew into a rage. I’m telling you, that guy was on something more than speed. I knew I couldn’t grab Doriann and run with her. Nobody’d stop for me, and he’d hurt us both. Even so, he suspected I’d done something, and socked me in the belly.”
“How many times did he do that?”
“Twice. He’s a strong man.”
“I know. I took him on last night. You couldn’t have explained the situation to the police when you called?”
“Not with that scanner in the truck. That was how I found out he was on the FBI Most Wanted list. Man! I was scared too many details would be given out about my call. I grabbed the steering wheel as soon as we heard the scanner report. I wanted to distract him. I got us off the interstate and headed toward River Dance. I figured I might be able to find somebody who knew me and would believe me.”
Jama reached up and gently touched a bruise. “Where’d you get this?”
Debra raised her hand to her face and rubbed the spot. “We hit a swamp, and Doriann escaped. We followed, and I kept trying to stall. I spotted her trying to hide behind some bushes, and I started an argument to distract him. He slugged me.”
She touched the other side of her face. “This one was when I saw a shadow moving past the cracks in the barn where we hid for a while. So I started another fight.”
Debra paused, closing her eyes. Her face was losing color.
“It’s time to get you onto a bed.” Jama stood and took Debra’s arm. Debra followed willingly. Her footsteps were slow. She stumbled, and Jama wrapped an arm around her.
“Debra, did you lose consciousness when he hit you?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have any idea how long you were out?”
Debra shook her head. “No way to tell. All I knew was that I said something that made him mad. I think I called him a moron, and he swung. That’s all I remember until I heard his voice. I was lying on the barn floor in a pile of hay. He jabbered on, as if nothing had happened.”
“But you do remember everything up to that point?”
A Killing Frost Page 27
