by Robin James
I may have lost consciousness for a moment. But I woke up surrounded by white plastic. I reached forward, trying to clear my vision. Pain shot through my arm and sticky wet blood ran down my cheek. My ears rang as the sickening bleat of my stuck horn filled the air.
Booted feet filled the window frame to my left. My car door opened and a pair of dark eyes peered down. He didn’t ask me if I was okay. He didn’t ask my name. He didn’t tell me he’d called for help. Instead, he leaned down, getting close enough that his hot breath kissed my ear.
“Back the fuck off,” he said. “You’ve been warned.” He stood up and walked away. My vision blurred, but I could make out the green and gray of his jacket with white lettering across the back I couldn’t read.
“Uhhhh.” I tried to speak, but my breath wouldn’t fully come. I heard shouts behind me, then the world went white and cold.
Chapter 23
The taste of bile brought me back to earth. My insides churned and pulled at me. I tried to get out of the way of my own vomit. Pain seared my side as I tried to roll. Mercifully, nothing came out. A pink kidney-shaped bowl appeared in my field of vision.
“That’s gonna hurt for a bit,” a raspy female voice said. “Try not to strain too much.”
The nurse helped me center myself back on the bed. I was in a hospital room. I had a blood pressure cuff around one arm, an oxygen sensor on my finger, and an IV line sticking out of my left arm. I brought my hands up. It hurt to do even that. It felt like I had an anvil pressing down on my chest. Gauze wrapped around my head. My heartbeat fluttered, sending the monitors beeping.
“Hang on,” the nurse said. She was tall, formidable, probably in her fifties with snow-white hair and a strong, solid grip. Her name tag read Bertie Tully. Tully. I knew that family too. West siders. Great.
Bertie grabbed a hand mirror out of the cupboard behind me. She handed it to me. I was afraid to lift it.
“Probably nothing too permanent,” she said. “Dr. Bass will be in soon.”
My face was a mangled mess. My eyes were nearly swollen shut. I had a fat lip and the bandages covered my forehead. I vaguely remembered hitting my forehead on the steering wheel or something harder.
“Ten stitches,” a young male voice sang out. Dr. Bass, I presumed. He looked younger than me but that couldn’t be possible. He had a head of thick blond hair and green eyes that twinkled when he smiled. He held a tablet and tapped on the screen as he came in.
“The cut is right along your brow,” he said. “At worst, it’ll look like a frown line. You can consult with plastics in a few days but I think we did pretty good work down here. You’ve got some bruising around your ribs, but nothing’s broken. Mild concussion. You’re gonna have a hell of a headache for a day or two. And you’ll be pretty sore. But all in all, today’s your lucky day, Ms. Leary.”
“How did I get here?” My voice cracked and my throat burned. Nurse Tully brought a straw to my lips and told me to take it slow. The water felt like fire at first, then it felt like heaven.
“Driver came up on your wreck, I guess,” Bertie said. “Called 911. They had to cut you out, but like the doctor says, you’re one lucky lady.”
“Lucky,” I muttered. I pressed my head back against the pillow. Had I dreamt it? The driver behind me had rammed into me. The memory of his brutal threat skittered down my spine like ice.
“He’s been hanging around,” Bertie said. “We can’t get rid of him. Not until he’s sure you’re okay. You mind a quick visit?”
My heart slammed in my chest. Before I could protest, or get the word HIPPA out, Dr. Bass opened the door. An elderly man shuffled in. He held a baseball cap in both hands.
“Here’s your good Samaritan.” Bertie smiled. “Go ahead, Richard. See for yourself.”
Richard. Recognition jarred me. Richard Petersen. He’d been the high school janitor since maybe my mother went to Delphi. He was still wearing his blue overalls as he gave me a gap-toothed smile. “You gave me a little scare there,” he said. “You, uh ... bled a lot.”
“You?” I said, trying not to cough. “You found me?”
“Yeah. I tried to get you out of the car, but the operator told me better not.”
“Thank you,” I said. Emotions flooded through me. Richard Petersen’s kind face lit up. He came to me and put a weathered hand over mine. Long ago, he’d driven Joe and me home from school when the call came about my mother’s fatal car accident. There had been no one else to come for us that day. He remembered. Of course he did. And today, he found me in a mangled car wreck just the same.
“Thank you,” I said again. “I’m glad ... I’m glad it was you.”
There was a soft knock on the door behind me. Richard gave me a small smile and a heartfelt wink. He was a quiet man. Kind. Dignified. And I realized I might owe him my life. Had he seen the crash itself?
“Is this a private party or can anyone join?” Eric Wray stood in the doorway looking grim. He wore a suit and tie and his detective’s badge hung around his neck. So this wasn’t a social call.
“Just a few minutes,” Dr. Bass said. He came to me and shined a penlight in my eyes, asking me to track it. He did a quick assessment, making me squeeze his fingers and push away from him. Satisfied that I wasn’t in any immediate neurological danger, he tapped on his tablet again and he and Nurse Bertie left the room.
“Thanks for all your help, Mr. Pete,” Eric said. Mr. Petersen pointed a warning finger at Eric, but it was in jest. Then he shot that same quick wink at me.
“Watch out for this one,” he said. “He’s a charmer but he’s full of bullshit.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and it made my sides ache. Mr. Petersen and Eric shook hands, then Petersen quietly excused himself. Eric shot me a hard look, then pulled up a chair beside my bed.
“Look,” he said. “I won’t keep you. But I need to get your statement. Do you feel up to that?”
“My statement? I would have figured they’d put a traffic cop on this. I feel pretty special.”
Eric had a little notepad he pulled out of his breast pocket. His shoulders sagged as he exhaled, then he put the notepad away.
“Trouble sure does seem to follow you, Cass. I talked to Mr. Pete for a while after they brought you in. You gave him a pretty big scare. He was pretty much in tears when I walked in. Kept saying it’s like Lynn all over again.”
His words hit me like a brand-new blow to the gut. Maybe it was the memory Richard Petersen conjured of that horrible day twenty years ago. Maybe it was just the trauma of what just happened and my adrenaline finally catching up to me. Whatever it was, at the mention of my mother’s name, I lost my strength. I hiccupped into a great sob that tore at the stitches in my forehead and pummeled my sore ribs.
It shocked Eric a little. He scooted forward in his chair and put a light hand on my arm. “Shit. I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this now. I can come back. It’s just better if we …”
I held up a hand. “No. It’s okay.” When Eric produced a tissue, I accepted it gratefully and blew my nose. The act of it made my guts feel like they could spill out at any moment.
“I didn’t see much,” I said. “I think it was a pickup truck that hit me. Somebody got out of it and came up to me. I couldn’t see his face. But ... I’m pretty sure he was wearing a Delphi High varsity jacket.”
A ripple of fury went through Eric Wray’s face. “Could you read the name on the front?”
I shook my head. It hurt to do even that. “No. I’m sorry. But he told me I should back off.”
Eric’s nostrils flared. He wrote in his notepad. “That’s enough for now. You need to rest. When you’re up to giving a full statement, I’ll come back.”
“Is my brother here?” I asked. “Did someone call him?”
“Not yet,” Eric said. “I can do that for you.”
“No. Please, don’t. Not yet. I don’t want him to know about Mr. Pete. He doesn’t need the reminder.”
“Reminder o
f what?” Eric asked. It finally occurred to me that he no idea what Richard Petersen had been talking about when he mentioned Lynn to him.
I was spent. Wrecked. Every ounce of bravado and wall-building I usually mustered just left me in that hospital bed. Damn him to hell. Eric Wray just looked so strong, confident, sure of himself. It must be nice not feeling like the world was falling apart on you every single second.
I sniffled. “He had a little bit of a part in what happened the day my mother died. That’s what he meant by Lynn.”
Eric’s eyes lit with recognition. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I forgot. Your mom died in a car accident. Aw hell.” He produced another tissue and handed it to me. I dabbed at my eyes. As quickly as the tears came over me, laughter started to now. I was a complete mess of emotions.
“Almost lost your dad that day too, didn’t you? Your mom was driving him to work or something,” Eric asked. “I remember they pulled your brother out of class. He was a sophomore. I was a senior, I think. But we had a foods class together, I think it was.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Sounds about right.” I wanted to change the subject. If Eric pressed me, I didn’t trust that I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about the rest of it. The Leary walls started to go back up. Protect. Deflect. Survive.
“They were going to arrest him,” Eric said. “Right? But your mom told the police she was the one driving.”
Alarm bells clanged in my head along with the pounding that was already there.
“You have a good memory,” I said.
“Right. And if you remember anything else ... we can talk ...”
“Eric … it’s all kind of a blur.”
“You’ve made a lot of enemies,” he said. “Quickly.”
I shrugged. “Just doing my job. I figure you’ve got a few haters yourself.”
Eric smiled. “More than a few. It’s how I know I’m doing my job.”
“Touché.”
He raised a brow. “Right. It’s just ... I’m sorry you have to deal with this.”
I pressed my head back against the pillow. “I know. And I’m okay. I’m a lot tougher to get rid of than that.” And I was starting to realize how true that really was.
Eric straightened. He regarded me with those cool, blue eyes. He paused for a second, maybe considering how hard to press the issue. In the span of a few seconds, he worked something out for himself. His hard stare melted into a kind smile and he put a hand on my arm.
“I’m just glad you’re okay, Cass. And I’m glad there are still people in this town like Richard Petersen who are looking out for you.”
“Me too,” I said.
He pulled out his business card and scribbled something on the back. He handed it to me. “If you think of anything else. Or if you just … if you need something. That’s my personal cell on the back. I’ll work on getting to the bottom of this. Take care, Cass. I’ll see you around.”
I gave him a weak salute that had to look fairly pathetic with my new gauze headdress. Eric rose to his full, considerable height. I think he had something more to say, but a shadow fell over the doorway.
My heart skipped as Joe rushed in, his face white as bone. As I gave him a welcoming smile, color came back into it. I was okay. I was whole. And it was time for my mother’s ghost to stop haunting us all today.
Chapter 24
Two weeks after the accident, the swelling on my face had gone down. The bruises under my eyes had faded to a sort of neon yellow and I could mostly cover them with concealer. There was just the bandage above my brow hiding the stitches, and the stiffness in my core when I tried to bend or reach for something. I was back to work and Aubrey Ames’s trial date loomed.
Besides Aubrey, I was down to two other clients. Sandy York, though luckily, the outcome of our last custody hearing had sidelined her creep of an ex for now. Lucky for Mrs. York, not so lucky for my bank account. And I had one real estate closing lined up for an abandoned farm supply store on the east end of the lake. That would bring in just over a thousand dollars. I was running on financial fumes and two months behind in my rent. Miranda was covering for me with the landlord, but I knew there was a good chance I’d be doing trial preparation out of my house in another month.
The saving grace in all of this was Jeanie Mills. Finished with her last round of chemo, her initial blood tests were good. Her spirits were even better. And she was working with me on Aubrey’s case free of charge for now. We’d set up camp in the middle of my living room for a Monday morning strategy session. It was Jeanie’s turn to play nurse to me while my ribs healed. She stood in front of a giant whiteboard studying the murder timeline.
“Even if they buy her story about the phony confession, this block of time between ten thirty and midnight is the kicker,” she said. “Where the hell was Aubrey?”
“I know,” I said, sitting up. “She swears she was just driving around. It’s weak as shit.”
We had Kevin Sydney’s scheduling records spread out on my coffee table. They were useless too. There was no mention of any meetings with any of the girls we suspected Coach D had assaulted.
“So that leaves the secretary,” Jeanie said. “What does that sticky note say again?”
Jeanie knew it by heart as well as I did. “Look in your own backyard.”
Every time she said it, every time I read it, a hollow pit formed in my stomach.
“What about Aubrey?” Jeanie asked. “Are you putting her on the stand or not?”
That was the million-dollar question. She couldn’t recant her confession without testifying. But it meant exposing her to cross-examination. If I’d learned nothing else, it was that Aubrey Ames excelled at digging herself into ever-deepening holes. Jack LaForge could hand her the biggest shovel of all.
A car pulled up in my driveway. Jeanie looked out the window first. She grabbed an old bedsheet off the floor and covered the whiteboard. I gathered Sydney’s records and stuffed them back into their file.
“It’s quittin’ time anyway,” Jeanie said as Matty came up the walk. He and Joe had taken turns checking up on me since the accident. I didn’t like the role reversal. It had always been my job taking care of them. Today, he brought Joe with him. As Matty came in the house, Joe waved a hand from outside. He wanted to finish up the repairs to the shed roof. It was good. It would give me a chance to talk to Matty alone.
“Hey, Jeanie,” Matty said, smiling. As a kid, he had been scared shitless of her. I could still see some of that little boy in his eyes as he gave her a sheepish grin.
Jeanie grabbed my brother’s face and planted a kiss on his forehead. She had to go way up on her tiptoes to reach him. “Look at that face,” she said. “So handsome. Such a little shit you were.”
“Still is,” I said. Matty glared at me, but it was through a smile. Jeanie swatted him on the back and took her leave. Matty came to me and gave me a quick hug hello.
“You look less hideous today,” Matty said. I flipped him off. He smiled as he sat down, but I couldn't miss the haunted look in his eyes. The first couple of days after the accident, he wouldn’t leave my side. They weren’t talking about it, not either of my brothers, but I knew they were thinking of what happened to our mother. The police were no closer to figuring out who hit me. Detective Wray wouldn’t come out and say it, but I had a feeling somebody loyal to Coach D was protecting their own.
“So,” I said. “What’s the word on the street about the case?”
Matty dropped his head. Of the two of them, he was liable to hear the most gossip. I’d asked him to be my eyes and ears. He worked in a machine shop on the east side of town, though he was currently laid off. He survived there by keeping his head down. I just hoped my role in Aubrey’s case wouldn't jeopardize his call back. Though I knew it probably would. My bigger fear was that it would be enough to knock Matty back off the wagon.
“I don’t know, Cass,” he said. “Everybody thinks that girl ... Aubrey ... they think the coach was balling her.”
“Ugh. That’s a horrible term for it,” I said.
Matty put a hand up. “Yeah. Sorry. You asked what people were saying. That’s it.”
“She’s nineteen,” I said.
“Right,” Matty continued. “People think she got into it with him. He was a single guy. No kids.”
“And they’re okay with a fifty-year-old man messing around with a nineteen-year-old former student?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say that. They think he was an idiot for it. But it’s all kind of lost in the fact that it got him killed. You know?”
I wanted to tell him so much more. Aubrey’s truth burned through me. I couldn’t though. Even having this much of a conversation about her case was skirting a line.
“That’s not all they’re saying,” Matty said. “Some people are starting to guess that she’s gonna say he raped her. It’s rumbling all through the town. People have come to blows over it. And with what happened to you ...”
“Shit,” I said, leveling a hard stare at him. The words on that damn sticky note rang through me with the power of church bells. My breath left me. A question burned inside of me and I had to get it out. I turned to my brother.
Joe picked that exact moment to walk in the house. He took one look at me and knew something was up. I thought about asking him to step out again. If I did that, he’d never leave me alone. So I took a breath and asked.
“Matty, I need to ask you something about Vangie.”
Matty cocked his head to the side. He’d done that since he was a baby, trying to work something out in his head. It reminded me of a puppy and I couldn’t help but smile. Matty didn’t like to talk about her much. He took Vangie’s leaving the hardest of all of us.
“Did she ever talk about Coach D?” I asked. Joe’s face went white. He ran a hand over his face and took a seat on the other couch.
I wanted to tell him everything I suspected. I wanted to tell them about the note. My own backyard. Never mind the ethical issues about discussing this case, there were parts of this I had to keep secret, even from him. If Matty went down to Mickey’s and started drinking and talking ... it would be a disaster.