Wouldn’t that be the perfect end to a perfect day? “No. Please. I swear, I just need to rest. And maybe soak in a tub of Epsom salts. I’m kind of achy all over.”
Jane touched my hand. “I’m calling Buddy and you’re going to urgent care.”
Buddy was an old school friend of ours who insisted that we now call him Dr. Bud.
“I don’t have a concussion.”
“Then why are you rubbing your forehead?” Jane pressed.
I frowned. A trick question? “Okay, maybe I have a headache and I’m a little dizzy, probably from lying upside down in there.”
“Blood went rushing to her head,” Mac explained, “and now she’s leveling off.”
“Urgent care clinic,” Jane said.
“I’ll take her,” Mac said, leaving me out of the conversation.
“But even if I have a concussion I can still work,” I insisted. “Or supervise, anyway. I can, you know, sit down and point at stuff.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Hurry, Mac.”
“Yup. And I’m calling the police on the way.” He started for the doorway, still carrying me in his arms. “Come on, champ.”
* * *
* * *
Mac didn’t pursue the subject on the drive to the urgent care clinic, letting me doze instead. But how could I fall asleep when I had to listen to every word he said on the phone to Eric? He had the phone on hands-free as he reported the incident and made it more than clear that someone at the Gables was dangerous. Or worse, homicidal.
The chief’s responses were peppered with curse words, especially when Mac revealed that someone had pushed me. Eric was clearly angry, but not at me, thank goodness. With that knowledge, I was able to doze off for the rest of the drive.
We were at urgent care for three hours. They ran a bunch of tests and did a brain scan. Dr. Bud—formerly Buddy—asked me a ton of questions guaranteed to give me a headache, but I knew it was important to answer them honestly.
“Yes, I have a headache,” I said. “No nausea. Eyesight is good. No flashing lights. I was a little blurry for the first few minutes, but I’m fine now. Mostly I just have the headache. May I have some ibuprofen?”
“We need to put you in the hospital overnight, Shannon.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Don’t act like a baby,” he said.
I frowned. “I bet you don’t talk like that to your other patients.”
“That’s because they don’t act like a baby.”
I smiled. “That’s funny.”
He pursed his lips. “Maybe you really are doing better if you’re able to recognize my superior sense of humor.”
“I do. You’re really funny. So will you let me go home and sleep?”
“That’s the problem,” he said gently. “Someone needs to wake you up every two hours to check your vital signs.”
“I know.” I lay back on the pillow and looked up at Mac. “Maybe you’ll do that for me?”
He glanced at Dr. Bud for a long silent moment, then looked down at me. “Yeah, I’ll do that for you.”
Dr. Bud let out a big sigh and frowned at Mac. “I’ll agree to this as long as you promise to check on her every two hours and that you’ll call me at the slightest sign of a problem.”
“I promise.”
* * *
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Mac and I were halfway down the hall leading to the exit. As we passed one of the treatment rooms, a woman walked out with her arm in a splint.
It took me a few seconds to realize who it was. “Prudence? Prudence Baxter?”
“Yes? Who are you?”
Was she serious? “Don’t you remember me from Hennessey House and from the protest demonstration up at the Gables?”
She squinted. “Oh, I guess you do look familiar.”
“Yeah, you elbowed me. Hard to forget that moment.”
She started to push past me. “I have to go.”
“Why were you protesting?”
She looked offended. “That’s none of your business.”
“It’s funny, because you were protesting one day and then sucking up to Dr. Fairchild the next. That seems like contradictory behavior to me. What do you think?”
“I think you’re unforgivably rude.” She sniffed with outrage.
“How did you hurt your arm?”
Now she huffed out a breath. “You clearly won’t stop haranguing me until I tell you, so the fact is, I strained my arm.”
“By elbowing me?”
“Certainly not!”
“Did you push me into those bricks?”
She blinked rapidly. “I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
And with that lie, she scurried down the hall and out the door.
* * *
* * *
“She’s a troublemaker,” I muttered on the way home.
Mac nodded. “I’ll talk to Eric about her.”
I fell asleep after that, but when we got home, Eric’s police vehicle was already parked in front of my house.
Despite my protests, Mac wouldn’t let me walk, so it took a few minutes to carry me inside and get me situated on the couch. Robbie and Tiger insisted on snuggling up to me and I was happy to let them. Mac brought me some ibuprofen and a glass of water for my headache.
My hero.
Eric sat down in the chair closest to my end of the couch.
I tried to straighten up. “Is Chloe in town yet?”
“She arrived about an hour ago. She’s putting some things away and then she’ll come over for a visit later today.”
“Okay, good. I’ll have time to sleep for a while.” But I felt my shoulders relax at the news that Chloe was in town. “Hey, do you want coffee or . . . anything?”
“No, thanks,” he said, reaching out to pat my hand. “Just relax.”
“I’m okay, really.”
Mac said, “I’m going to make some coffee anyway, if you want to change your mind.”
“In that case,” Eric said, “I wouldn’t mind a cup.”
“Coming up.”
Mac left the room to make coffee and Eric sat and watched me for a minute. Finally he said, “Tell me how you got hurt.”
I struggled to sit up straight because I needed to clear my head. I might’ve been feeling a little weak, but I didn’t want to wallow.
“Okay,” I began, “I saw a woman I didn’t recognize and followed her into the back passageway. By the time I got into the hall, I didn’t see her. I figured she was hiding in one of those rooms back there.” I told him everything else, starting from the mishap with the ladder the night before and the falling bricks. It was slow going because it really did hurt to talk with my sore cheek. Leave it to me to land on my head and hurt my face. And everywhere else on my body. Sheesh. “Oh, and I guess it could’ve been a short man, but the person moved more like a woman.”
“Possible short man,” he murmured, and wrote it all down in his little notepad. “And you didn’t hear anything?”
“I swear I didn’t, and I didn’t see anything, either. It’s annoying. Whoever pushed me was able to get right up close without making a sound.” I started to frown, but winced instead. “Stupid headache. Anyway, who in the world would do that? Who would sneak up on me and try to hurt me?”
Mac walked back into the room. “Do you want to take some guesses?”
I thought about it. “I don’t really have any enemies, except for, you know, the mean girls.” I didn’t like mentioning Whitney’s name when Eric was around because he worked with Tommy and hey, he actually liked Whitney. Go figure.
But Whitney would never do something like this, I thought. She wouldn’t want to get her hands dirty. Besides, she and I had a very open enmity between us. She would’ve looked me in the eye before sh
e pushed me.
“What about those protesters?” Mac said.
“I don’t know any of the protesters. Why would they be angry with me?”
“You tripped that one guy.”
“Yeah, but I can’t picture him following me around, trying to kill me because of that.” I shook my head. “The protesters know there are cops patrolling the grounds now, so I can’t believe one of them would take a chance and sneak inside our building to try to hurt someone.”
“Depends on how desperate they are,” Mac said. “Or how crazy.”
Eric sat forward. “You’ve got to figure these protesters are completely opposed to what you’re doing up there at the Gables.”
“I know.” I gave a short nod. “They want to burn it down.”
“And you’re an important part of the team that wants to rebuild it.” He sat back in his chair.
“But I’m not the only one,” I argued. “There are seven different buildings being remodeled. Each of them has a different contractor working there. I’m only in charge of one piece of it.”
“Still, you want to bring it up from the ashes,” Mac said. “Make it beautiful.”
I smiled at him. “That’s nice.”
He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a writer. A wordsmith.”
I had to laugh, but then slowly sobered as he walked back into the kitchen. To Eric, I said, “Do you agree that their aim is to jeopardize our rehab project?”
“It’s possible,” Eric said. “By putting your life in jeopardy, they’re putting the entire project in jeopardy.”
“But why me in particular? Why not one of the heads of the other crews? It seems like they’re particularly concerned with Jane’s wing. Maybe it’s the hotel they want to stop.”
Mac walked in and handed a cup of coffee to Eric.
“Thanks,” the chief said, and took a sip.
I stared at both of them. “I don’t think they care one way or another about me. I’m guessing they only attacked me because they want to destroy the project. Because, look, yesterday the attack was aimed at Rachel. Today it was me. So I probably shouldn’t take it personally. But of course I do. And I want to find that woman that disappeared down the back hall.” I frowned at the two men. “It could’ve been Prudence.”
“Who?” Eric said.
“Prudence Baxter.” Just saying her name made me rub my forehead. “She was one of the protesters and she’s also got some connection to Dr. Fairchild. She’s staying at Jane’s B and B.”
“So you do know one of the protesters,” Eric said.
“I don’t actually know her,” I said. “I just saw her checking in at Jane’s place and then I recognized her when the protesters showed up. And then we just saw her at the hospital with her arm in a sling.”
Eric just nodded, jotting it all down in his notepad.
Mac sat next to me. “I really need you to be careful.”
“Agreed,” Eric said.
I gave them a weak smile. “I promise I’ll be careful, but I want answers. And I really want to get inside that antechamber. I’m dying to see what’s behind that door.”
“You’re starting to scare me,” Eric grumbled. “Wait. I take that back. You always scare me.”
Mac patted my hand. “Bet you’d rather we didn’t tell Jane what you just said.”
I winced. “I would appreciate it. She can be brutal.”
He nodded. “Wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”
* * *
* * *
I slept for two hours before being rudely awakened by Mac, who asked me what day it was and how many fingers he was holding up. I dozed off immediately after that, but woke up when the doorbell rang. Before I could drag myself up from the couch, the door opened and my younger sister Chloe walked in.
“Don’t get up,” she insisted. “Mac said I could come over to say hi and see how you’re doing.”
“You are always welcome,” I murmured, as she wrapped me in a big, gentle hug. “I’m doing better now that you’re here.” I held her at arm’s length, then smoothed a thick strand of blond hair away from her face. “Look how beautiful you are. I love you so much and I kind of hate you, too.”
Chloe grinned. She had decided at sixteen that she wanted to be a blonde and it still really worked for her. I had always been perfectly happy with my curly red hair, even when it refused to be tamed. Despite the differences, we were clearly sisters. She was dressed in almost the same outfit as mine, except that her chic work boots had never seen a mud puddle or a slab of wet concrete. Her jeans were faded in all the best places, and her thick henley sweater was a shade of red rarely seen on a construction site. “What do you call that color?”
She glanced down. “Amaryllis.”
“Oh, perfect.” I had to smile. “It’s really pretty. You look so darn cute and I’m totally dragging right now.”
She was frowning at me. “And yet you still look good. Even with your face all scraped up. It’s annoying.”
I laughed again. “God, it’s great to see you.”
Robbie was so excited, he was practically bouncing.
“Robbie thinks so, too.”
“Hello, Robbie!” Chloe said, and patted her chair. The dog leaped up and Chloe scratched and patted him. “Such a good boy. What a handsome fellow.”
Robbie let out another bark of joy.
Tiger was her usual demure self, winding her way in, out, and around Chloe’s ankles. The cat gave my sister a couple of head bops to get her attention and as soon as Robbie jumped down, Chloe lifted the cat into her arms and snuggled.
Watching her play with my pets was making me feel all emotional and I knew I was headed for a crying jag, a sure sign that I was still in pain. It had been a crazy weird day.
“I’ve missed you,” I said, watching the antics.
She pulled back and looked at me with suspicion. “Are you going to cry?”
“No. Maybe. Oh God.”
“Okay, we need to sit and talk. But first, do you have any wine?”
“Are we related? Of course I have wine.” I checked my wristwatch. It was almost five o’clock and I still felt punchy.
I led the way into the kitchen, which gave me a chance to pull myself together. Opening the freezer, I grabbed an ice cube and ran it over my forehead, across my cheeks, and around my neck. The cold would help wake me up.
“Okay, you want red or white?” I asked. “Or pink. Uncle Pete did this amazing rosé of Pinot Noir that’s fruit forward on the nose with a dry finish. It’s so luscious, you’ll swoon.”
“Wow, way to sell it.” She grinned. “It sounds great, but right now I kind of feel like white. We’ll save the rosé until we can drink it together. You go sit down. I’ll pour.”
“Probably a good idea.” I grabbed a bottle of water and hoped that I’d feel up to having a glass of wine later. Then we returned to the living room where I settled back on the couch.
“I want to hear about this accident,” Chloe said when she sat back down. “Eric wasn’t willing to tell me too much.”
“You should bug him about that. He needs to spill the beans to you about everything. It’s part of being a couple.”
She grinned. “He will so buy into that. Not. Anyway, he did mention there was an accident at your construction site and you ended up with a concussion.”
“Yeah. I got banged up a little. And by the way, it wasn’t an accident.” I gave her the quickie version while I sipped some water.
“Your cheek is scratched,” she said, and leaned in close to touch the area with her finger.
“It’s a little tender, but I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will.” But she gave me another concerned look and pulled Robbie back onto her lap. “Okay, if you want to doze off, go ahead. But meanwhile, tell me everything that’s been going
on. Tell me about the Gables. It’s been years since I was up there.”
So I got comfortable. Chloe sipped her wine.
It took me a while to recap because so much had happened in barely a week. I covered the highlights: showing Mac the Gables for the first time; spying the guy in the orange cap; Mac deciding to invest in the project; the protesters showing up; Rachel the gorgeous developer; the bucket of blood; me almost falling off the ladder; the brick wall that was no longer there; the arrogant Dr. Fairchild; and then me getting shoved into the pit of despair.
“Not that it’s all about me,” I quipped, trying to downplay things.
Her frown was intense. “And you really think someone pushed you?”
“Oh, absolutely,” I said matter-of-factly. “Shoved me right over the wall and down into the pit of hell.”
“And you have no idea who did it?”
“I have some ideas,” I said, thinking of Prudence, “but there’s no proof and I can’t figure out what her motive would be.” And that was so frustrating I couldn’t even explain how much. I really wanted to get some answers. “I mean, I saw this person sneaking into the back hallway, but then they disappeared. I figured they were gone. Or hiding in one of the rooms. I didn’t expect them to pop out and shove me. I never saw it coming. Which makes me a fool.”
“No, it doesn’t. But it does kind of suck, kiddo.”
“Yeah. While I was sleeping just now, I dreamed that the person was hiding in one of the rooms and was actually lying in wait for me. But that’s even crazier, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t know these people.”
“No, it’s not crazy. But it was just a dream, right?”
“Yeah.” It was just a dream, but it made me realize that I had to go back and check all those doors along that hall. I made a mental note to look into it first thing tomorrow. I wouldn’t go alone, of course, but if there was a sign that someone had been hiding back there, I wanted to find out.
Chloe studied me. “You’re plotting something.”
“No, I’m not.”
“And now you’re lying, and not doing a very good job of it. Don’t you know I can read your mind?”
Premeditated Mortar Page 13
