Outcast In Gray: A Clancy Evans Mystery (Clancy Evans PI Book 7)

by M. Glenn Graves

  The only report I received about her condition after several hours in the ER was that she was in serious condition, badly dehydrated, and weak from her loss of blood. The guts, bruises, and teeth wounds would all heal, they said. I wondered about the trauma she had experienced out there in the woods.

  I also wondered where Sam was. I wondered a lot about where my dog might be.

  Rosey called around 9 p.m. to tell me that Dog was in critical condition at the vet’s, but the doctor there was hopeful she would make it. Hopeful, the only word the doctor would use. He had to put her in a deep sleep and remove her right front leg. Rosey said that it was too badly mangled for the vet to try to save it. Seems that she wrestled with a devil and the devil won.

  The nurses came into the room around five to check on Starnes. She was in and out of reality, still mumbling incoherently, and I was still groggy from lack of sleep. Her vitals were all good, they said. I said something to one of them about the blood stain on her head wrap and they nodded agreement with whatever it was that I said.

  At six thirty, I woke up and needed coffee. I staggered out of the room in search of Java. The nurses’ station was the only place I could find anything dark in a coffee pot. No one was around, so I entered their sacred domain and stole some very old coffee. It was bitter, but black and full of acid and caffeine. I needed whatever the hot liquid offered.

  It took a few minutes, but my juices started flowing once more.

  I wandered down several halls in the hospital maze, sipping my old caffeine and wishing that I were some place else besides this facility with my friend. A nurse approached me after some time had passed.

  “There’s some fresh coffee in the family lounge,” she said.

  “Which direction is that?”

  “Come this way. I’ll show you.”

  I followed her down a hallway and into a large area where there were two people sleeping. One was on a small couch at the far end of the lounge. The other guy was sagging between two chairs that he had pushed together for his make-shift bed. His overweight, bulging mid-section was not helping what appeared to be his uncomfortable situation.

  The nurse pointed to the coffee pot at the so-called food station.

  The coffee was fresh. It tasted alive and almost wonderful. I drank two cups while standing there, poured myself another one for the road back to Starnes, and left the two sleeping family members to their dreams.

  There was a small crashing sound as I walked out of the room. I looked back over my shoulder in time to see the chunky man lying with his backside on the floor and his feet and head still in the chairs. The chairs had split apart causing the gap in his bed. Yikes. Rude awakening to another delightful day in the hospital.

  It was close to seven when I returned to Starnes’ room.

  Her eyes were open.

  “Hey, girlfriend. Welcome back.”

  “How’d you find me?” she groaned.

  “Tenacious searching, the help of two deputies, and some luck.”

  “You find Dog and Sam?” she moaned in my direction.

  “Dog. She’s at the vet’s. K.C. put you in that predicament?” I said.

  “Maybe, but I can’t say … for sure.”

  “You didn’t see your attacker?”

  “Oh … I saw it… still see it. Was trying to kill me,” she said. There were tears forming in her eyes.

  “You in pain?”

  “Whattya think? I feel like a train-wreck.”

  “If your attacker was trying to kill you, what stopped him?” I said.

  “Sam.”

  “Sam was nowhere around.”

  “Sam’s … the only reason … I’m alive. I need some pain medicine,” she moaned a little louder.

  I pushed the button on the chord attached to her bed and then walked to the nurses’ station to get some direct help after they had not responded in the first twenty seconds.

  An hour later Starnes was asleep once more with pain meds flowing through her veins to manage whatever hurt was physically assaulting her. I wondered about the emotional pain she likely was feeling.

  Rosey called me at noon.

  I gave him the update on Starnes and what little she had shared with me about the incident.

  “Dog is spending a couple of days with the vet. I think you want me to go back and look for Sam,” he said.

  “Please. Starnes told me that Sam saved her life.”

  “Doing what?” he said.

  “Didn’t get that far into the story. She just said that Sam saved her. She was groggy and enjoying a lot of discomfort. She’ll come around later this afternoon. I’ll try to piece together some more of the details. I’ll call if I learn anything that might help you.”

  “Ben and Walt are still hanging around. If they’re up to a search for a canine, then I’ll take them back with me. If not, I’ll go it alone.”

  “Whatever attacked Dog and Starnes is still out there. I don’t think you should go it alone,” I said.

  “I’m a big boy.”

  “Yeah and the body count is at four with two severely injured, most likely all from the same animal. Let’s not be too macho for the sake of ego.”

  “You’re talking to a Navy S.E.A.L., lady.”

  “Operative word would be former Navy S.E.A.L.”

  “You cut me real deep, Shrek,” he said and laughed.

  “And I’ll peel you like an onion if you do something stupid.”

  I called Rogers to update her on Starnes and all that had transpired over the last few days.

  “But you’re okay,” she said.

  “A little tired, but okay.”

  “And Sam?”

  “Don’t know. Didn’t find him.”

  “To state the obvious, that’s not good.”

  “No, that’s not good.”

  “And Starnes said that Sam saved her life.”

  “That was her story.”

  “But you don’t know how.”

  “Don’t know how. Probably stood between her and her attacker. He’s a fighter.”

  “Yeah. I would want him on my side in a skirmish.”

  “I’ll tell him that when I see him.”

  “Do that. You need anything from me?” Rogers said.

  “TLC and some old fashion hope.”

  “TLC I can give you, kid. Hope is not something I am wired with. I can offer encouragement. Close approximation to hope, I suppose. But only by definition.”

  “You’re a wonder, you know. A genuine wonder.”

  “That would be me.”

  “Who you talking to?” Starnes said in a less than groggy voice from the shadows of her bed.

  “Rogers,” I said.

  “Some updates?”

  “I was updating her on your condition.”

  “And what is my condition?” she said.

  “I think you’re going to live.”

  “With some scars.”

  “Yeah, you got some of those.”

  “Any areas harmed that might stop me from wearing a bikini?”

  “You don’t wear bikinis.”

  “But if I ever wanted to, are there places that would prohibit said garment?” she said.

  “I haven’t examined your entire body. Ask the nurses,” I said.

  “I can’t ask them that. Shows vanity.”

  “You asked me.”

  “That’s different. You don’t wear bikinis either. I’m comfortable asking you.”

  “Because I don’t wear bikinis?”

  “Something like that.”

  “That’s not logical.”

  “I’m not responsible for what I say. I’m under sedation.”

  “Pain management,” I corrected.

  “Same thing. When are they going to let me go?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Has the doctor come in?”

  “Not today, at least not while I’ve been in the room.”

  A woman in a white coat and a stethoscope dangling
around her neck came into the room with some speed. Timing. Her little black identification badge said she was Dr. J. Chantel. She appeared to be of Indian descent. That would be India, the country.

  “And how are we feeling today?” she spoke perfect English.

  It was better than mine.

  “I hurt everywhere but the tip of my nose,” Starnes said.

  Her sarcasm was back. I figured she would be home by nightfall.

  “Let me check your vitals,” Dr. J. said.

  “Check away,” Starnes said.

  After several minutes of listening and gently pushing on a variety of places, she took the stethoscope from her ears and returned it to a hanging position around her neck. She looked at the clipboard she had placed on the bed.

  “Everything seems to be normal.”

  “She’s not normal,” I said.

  “And who are you?” Dr. J. said.

  “Her conscience.”

  “Are you family?”

  “As close as she’ll ever get in this life.”

  “If you’re not family, then you need to go wait in the family lounge.”

  “If she goes, I go,” Starnes said to Dr. J.

  The doctor shrugged.

  “I think you are doing okay. Perhaps one more night in the hospital and then we’ll talk about going home tomorrow.”

  “How about we talk about going home today, as in right now,” Starnes said.

  “I don’t recommend that. You could still develop some problems from your wounds and your experience. Your body received a lot of trauma.”

  “I can do my convalescing in my own house, in my own bed,” Starnes said.

  “We’ll see,” Dr. J. Chantel said.

  She walked out of the room without another word. She didn’t even smirk at me. I never.

  It was a few minutes after seven when Starnes and I arrived at the little house on Carver Creek Road in the Laurel Ridge Section of McAdams County in western North Carolina. Starnes, one. Doctor J. Chantel, zero.

  I suspect that the nurses are still looking for Starnes, maybe throughout the entire hospital.

  50

  It was the morning of the second day since Starnes had managed to escape death and the hospital. We had spent the first full day back at the house convalescing. She was convalescing, I was hovering and responding to her infrequent beck and call. As far as I was concerned, she was the perfect patient. She slept and I read some rather uninteresting books in her collection. I hovered and paced in her room. She would awaken from time to time, tell me to get out and leave her alone. I would leave until she fell back asleep, then I would return to hover and pace.

  The day’s hours passed methodically, and our little ritual continued. It was time for me to sleep myself.

  The fog was thick, but it was still early this new morning. The sunshine had a way of handling even the thickest cloud cover in the mountains. I decided not to hover and pace today.

  Rosey had turned up nothing on the whereabouts of Sam. I convinced him to take a day and rest. He had worked the day before while I was hovering and pacing.

  We were on the front porch enjoying the coolness and some coffee. This had been some strange winter weather for me. Not that I had much experience with winter weather in the Carolina mountains. What I would imagine a mountain winter to be like, this was not one of them.

  “We should buy stock in coffee,” I said to him.

  “Which brand?”

  “No brand. Find a company that imports and exports the bean. I’m thinking that the market is bound to grow for this stuff.”

  “You don’t think it’s already pretty much saturated?” he said.

  “People will always want to have coffee on hand. It’s like toilet paper,” I said.

  “Not exactly like toilet paper,” he sipped and smiled.

  “You know what I mean. It’s a necessity.”

  “Not everyone would agree with you.”

  “The sane ones would,” I finished my third cup, or maybe it was my fourth, hard to know for sure in my demented state. I was worried about Sam.

  I stood up and started towards the kitchen to refill my cup.

  “I’m going back to Gabriel’s Creek,” he said.

  “You don’t need to keep doing that.”

  “I can’t just give up. I have to know.”

  “Yeah, I get that.”

  “Is Starnes well enough for you to go with me?” he said. “I think the deputies may have to do some real deputing today. Murdock was on the rampage yesterday according to Ben. Didn’t like the idea that there were county funds being spent on a dog search.”

  “I’ll talk with Starnes. I suspect she’s good enough to stay alone today.”

  “She’ll probably also suggest strongly that you go with me so she can have less hovering and pacing in her room by you.”

  “That’s her side of the story,” I said.

  “Any more of the other story from her?”

  “She’s been strangely quiet about details,” I said. “Could be the trauma.”

  “What trauma?” Starnes said as the screen door squeaked open and our topic of conversation emerged looking like a prop from an old war movie. Her head, arm, and leg bandages were still intact and blood free except for the smudges from her constant touching and rubbing.

  “You want us to sign your arm cast?” I said.

  “No.”

  “Well, is that any attitude to have? Here we are, friends who saved you, and you cop this attitude,” I said.

  “Sam saved me. You guys just showed up at the right time to rescue me from exposure and further dehydration.”

  “Mincing words, are we? Exposure and dehydration could’ve killed you.”

  “You didn’t see the monster that Sam fought,” she said.

  “No, we didn’t. Tell us about it.”

  “All I can remember is the attack on my person, being bitten, and then Sam coming outta nowhere, flying through the air, like some super-dog and landing on the backside of whatever it was chewing on my body.”

  “You saw the fight?”

  “I saw a little. I must’ve passed out at some point, but before I did, you would’ve been proud. Sam was holding his own against a far larger animal. He was determined. But it was all so fast, so much movement. The beast that Sam was fighting was faster than Sam, but Sam was able to defend me by sheer determination. I can’t explain it. I just remember thinking that this is one helluva dog fighting for me. I no longer have any doubts that your dog loves me.”

  I couldn’t help but smile and feel some emotion swell inside me. I knew what she was saying to be true.

  I sighed, wishing that Sam were home and that I could thank him properly. I sighed again thinking that whatever homecoming scene I had in mind might not happen at all. I was beginning to think that Sam would not return to me this time.

  “You stay with Starnes and I’ll continue the search,” Rosey said as he headed towards our vehicles.

  “Take the Jeep,” I said.

  He held up my keys and smiled. “Still ahead of you.”

  The fog was lifting some, but visibility was still poor as Starnes and I watched Rosey drive out of sight. There was a slight breeze coming through the small valley. I fixed some eggs and toast for Starnes while she sat at the small kitchen table critiquing my skills at the stove.

  Starnes’ land-line phone rang and I left my preparations on and in the stove while I answered. It was the vet calling.

  “She’ll have to learn to walk again,” the doctor said.

  “Difficult, but not impossible,” I said.

  “How’s Starnes doing?”

  “She’s coming along. Griping more and more, so I think the prognosis is good for her to return to her level of sourness towards life,” I said.

  “Hey, you talkin’ about me?” Starnes yelled at me from the kitchen. “My breakfast is cooking too long.”

  “I have to run. I’ll come by this afternoon and get Dog,” I sa
id.

  I returned to the stove and found her eggs scorched and her toast partially burnt. Yikes. I knew I was in for it. Cooking is just not something I will ever accomplish. Domestication is not my strong suit.

  “Gimme the gist,” she said. “And go ahead and serve me whatever it is you have fixed. I’m starving here.”

  “Dog can come home this afternoon. I’ll drive over in the truck and bring her back.”

  “She okay?”

  It was the first time she had asked about Dog’s condition.

  “Lost a leg and has some other wounds. Vet says she’ll make it, but will have to adjust to some drastic changes.”

  “Like the leg thing,” she said as she stared at her scorched eggs and burnt toast.

  “Yeah, like that.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re such a dynamic detective,” she said. “You’d never make it as a short order cook.”

  “No intention of moving in that direction.”

  “And the world of basic cuisine is hushed with appreciation for such sacrifice.”

  I laughed. Couldn’t help myself. I think Starnes was into a full recovery; at least her sarcasm was in full force.

  Starnes insisted on riding over to the vet’s with me. Besides that, she wasn’t about to let me fix lunch, even to the minor deed of making sandwiches. She had far too much skepticism to allow me back into her kitchen for anything but eating.

  “I’m trying to heal here. Your cooking could set me back several days. I can’t risk it. We’ll stop in Athens. There’s a deli there with great sandwiches. My treat,” she said.

  I noticed that when Starnes ordered lunch, she had them fix three extra sandwiches to go. Shrewd detective that I am, I didn’t miss that slight against my cooking acumen.

  After we paid the vet for services rendered, the attendant led Dog out from the back of the office with a leash. She hobbled out on her three good legs. When she saw Starnes, her tailed was in full force. The back and forth swishing sounded a lot like love.

  I looked at Starnes as Dog approached. Her eyes were moist, but nothing running down her cheeks.

  Reciprocal love.

  51

  Dog rode in Starnes’ lap back to Carver Creek Road. She slept and Starnes rubbed her head all the way there. Starnes was silent, so I kept my mouth shut as well. It’s hard to talk when you have a lump in your throat the size of a coconut.