by Dani Pettrey
Heaves wracked Tess’s body, her cries breaking on hiccups.
Finn moved to hug her, one arm draped around Gabby’s shoulders, one around Tess’s. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
Tess shifted, beating Finn in the chest. “How did this happen?”
Finn took it. “I don’t know, but I promise you I’ll find out.”
Her shoulders dropped, tears rolling down onto her very pregnant belly. “I knew it. I just knew.”
“Knew what?” Gabby asked.
The depth of agony when a wife or husband died was once described to Gabby as the spouse left behind literally feeling as if they were losing half of their soul. That feeling of once having wholeness was ripped away, never to return.
Tess choked on a sob. “I knew—” she hiccupped—“that when he left yesterday—” another hiccup—“something bad was going to happen.”
“Why?” Gabby frowned.
“Is Dennis alive?” Tess asked.
“Yes. He’s pretty battered and unconscious, but the latest update is that there’s no cranial bleeding, so he should be fine.”
“Then you need to investigate him.” Tess swiped her tears away, her red-rimmed eyes now even puffier.
“Why?” Gabby said. “You think he had something to do with Will’s death?”
“You and I need to speak privately,” Finn said before Tess could respond.
Tess squeezed Gabby’s hand. “I’m okay with Gabby being present.”
“I’m not,” Finn said. “This is an open investigation. No reporters allowed.”
“I’m not just a reporter.” Gabby’s voice heightened in that squeaky, high-pitched way it did when she was stressed. “I’m her friend.”
“I understand that, but friends aren’t allowed during an open investigation’s interview process either,” Finn said.
Her jaw tightened, but before she could argue further, Finn placed a hand on the small of Tess’s back. “Let’s go talk.” He ushered her toward one of the consultation rooms.
Heat swept over Gabby’s face. He seriously wasn’t including her?
fifteen
Finn led Tess into a consultation room. He shut the door and pulled out a baby blue vinyl-upholstered chair. “Please, have a seat.” He held her hand to steady her as she sat.
“Thanks.” She leaned back, her belly protruding. “Pregnancy,” she said with an attempt at a smile until tears sprang afresh in her eyes. “I can’t believe Will Jr. is never going to meet his dad.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should have called you as soon as he left. I knew something bad was going to happen. It was like that feeling you get before a storm, knowing it’s coming but being helpless to stop it.”
He swallowed. He knew that helpless feeling well.
“Why didn’t I call you?” she sobbed.
He moved around to the front of her chair and knelt on his haunches, facing her. “You couldn’t have known this was coming. I promise you, I will bring whoever pulled the trigger to justice.”
“Trigger?” She gulped. “He was shot?”
Finn nodded. He wouldn’t go into detail, but she deserved to know how her husband died. Besides, when they released Will’s body to the funeral home after his autopsy, she’d see for herself if she chose to look. Knowing Tess, she would want to see him one last time. “I’m afraid so.”
“And Dennis?”
“He wasn’t shot but was badly beaten.” Pressing his palms against his thighs for leverage, he stood. “You said you believed I should investigate him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he and Will went out on the boat right after Will told me that he was too deep into something, and that he was getting out for me and Will Jr.,” she said, stroking her belly.
“Did he say what he was into?”
“No. He didn’t want me involved. He only told me because I could tell something was wrong and I thought . . .” She shrugged her shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks.
Finn grabbed a handful of Kleenexes from the box on the side table and offered them to Tess.
She scrunched them up in her hand and then dabbed her eyes. “I thought he was having an affair.”
Will? Never. He adored Tess.
“He swore he wasn’t, and when I pressed about his weird behavior lately, he said he’d gotten in over his head with something.”
“But he didn’t say what?” If he was in over his head, why hadn’t Will come to him? Maybe he could have helped.
“No.” She shook her head. “Only that at first he’d believed that it—whatever it was—was going to help provide for me and Will Jr. But he quickly realized it was wrong, and he wanted out.”
“Wrong, how?” As in illegal? Will?
“He wouldn’t say,” she wailed through a sob.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I know I’m only making it more difficult, but I have to ask these questions.”
“No,” she said. “I want you to ask.” She reached for his hand, and he took hold of her cold fingers. Why did they have to keep hospitals so darn cold? “I want you to catch whoever did this to my Will.”
Rissi stepped from Noah’s Jeep, which he’d parked along the curb of Sam and Beth’s Cape Cod–style home on the sound side of Wrightsville Beach. She followed Noah up the winding path Sam had installed just last year—Beth planting vibrant red and purple geraniums on either side.
Stepping on the front porch, Rissi spotted Sam’s daughter, Ali, curled up reading on the porch swing. She looked so happy and innocent—something Rissi had never been as a child, thanks to Hank.
She swallowed, forcing her thoughts and attention back on Ali, terrified about what Noah had to share and how just a few words could ruin people’s lives. She nibbled at her bottom lip. This was going to be painful.
Ali looked up at Noah and smiled. “Hi, Mr. Rowley.”
“Hey, kiddo.” His voice cracked.
“Hi, Noah . . . Rissi,” Beth said from the screened porch door, a yellow Fiestaware bowl of sliced watermelon wedges—no doubt intended for Ali—in her hand.
Her pleasant smile faded as Noah removed his Boston Red Sox hat, clutching it in his hands.
“Can we talk alone?” he asked, gesturing in Ali’s direction.
Beth’s gaze darted to Rissi. “No . . .” She shook her head. The yellow bowl slipped from her hands, shattering on the wood floor.
Tears streaked down Beth’s face as Ali raced over, bending to help pick up the larger shards surrounding Beth’s bare feet.
“Ali, go to your room, please,” she managed.
“Momma?” Her delicate face scrunched.
“Now, Ali,” she said. “Sorry.” She inhaled and released her breath through a narrow slit in her lips. “Please.”
Rissi’s chest squeezed.
“What’s wrong?” Ali persisted.
“Allison Mae, upstairs now.”
At the use of her full name, Ali said, “Yes, ma’am,” and trudged up the stairs, looking back at Rissi with tears in her eyes as realization dawned. It was a crushing blow that would rock her young world, forever changing the happy family she’d known.
“Come in,” Beth said, collecting her demeanor despite the sorrow clouding her. Noah bent, collecting shards, and Rissi knelt beside him to help.
“Thank you,” Beth said, leading them into the kitchen.
Noah stepped to the tall white trash can and dropped in his handful with a clatter.
“No!” Beth darted past Rissi. She yanked the pieces out of the trash can, heedless of her bleeding hands. “Sam just bought that for our anniversary.”
Rissi bit the inside of her cheek. Sam had been raving about the Fiestaware bowl he’d tracked down for his wife’s collection. Their tenth anniversary had been a mere two days ago. To go from something so happy to this . . . Rissi’s heart ached for Beth.
sixteen
Pumping her hands in and out of fists, Gabby paced Wilmington General
’s lobby and down the sloping hallway. She strode back and forth by the room where Finn and Tess spoke.
While she understood Finn was just doing his job, frustration flared through her all the same. She’d make sure to find a way to talk with Tess after they finished. Tess was her friend, and she had every right to hear whatever her friend wished to tell her.
Movement at the end of the hall caught her eye. She squinted. It was Dennis Fletcher, awake on a gurney, being rolled out of the ER doors toward the elevator. Hurrying down the hall, she managed to squeeze into the elevator with the orderly and Fletcher.
The orderly, his badge listing his name as Wayne Ashe, greeted her with a smile. “Could you press three, please?”
“Absolutely.”
She only glanced at Fletcher once, just to assess that he was still awake, and found him to be.
The elevator dinged, the number three over the doors lighting up. The silver doors slid open, and she gestured for the orderly to go first.
“Thanks,” he said. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” She smiled.
She plodded behind them, keeping a fair distance as Fletcher was wheeled into Room 323. She exited the ward, giving the attending nurse who’d greeted Fletcher upon entry time to get him settled before she pounced.
She prayed it didn’t take long, as she had no idea when Finn would appear. Once he was alerted that Fletcher was awake, he’d head straight up to question the only potential witness to Will’s murder they knew of.
She took a seat on the couch in the waiting area. Before long, the orderly exited the unit and headed back for the elevator with the empty gurney.
Bouncing her knee, Gabby bided her time, not wanting to enter Fletcher’s room while the nurse was still present. After a few anxious moments, she moved through the unit as if she belonged there.
Making a left into the ten-foot-long hallway, she spotted Fletcher settled in his bed through the open doorway. A nurse rounded the doorframe as Gabby approached the room, and her breath seized when the nurse looked her up and down. “May I help you?”
“Just here to see my brother, Dennis,” she whispered, praying Fletcher didn’t hear over the hum of the IV machine and the TV they’d turned on for him.
“He’s only been awake a short while and needs his rest. So keep it brief, okay? You can visit longer tomorrow.”
“No problem.” Gabby smiled, thankful Fletcher’s attention remained riveted on the small flat-screen TV anchored on the wall.
She waited until the nurse headed toward the nursing station, making a left, pushing her rolling cart with her. Once she was clearly out of sight and well out of earshot, Gabby took a calming breath and entered, shutting Fletcher’s door behind her.
His bruised and lacerated head rested against the propped-up pillow, a hospital-issued blanket covering him from the waist down.
“Mr. Fletcher?”
He looked at her, confusion marring his brow. “Who are you?” He frowned, his face a swollen mass of varying shades of blue and purple. A handful of black stitches arched above his right eye and another row ran across his upper cheekbone.
“I’m Gabby.” She scooted farther into the room, hoping he wouldn’t turn her away before she got to ask at least a few of the questions dancing a curious jig in her reporter’s brain.
“Am I supposed to know you?” Irritation sparked in his words.
“No, sir. I’m with the Raleigh Gazette.”
“A reporter. I see. Look, I appreciate everyone saying I’m some sort of a hero for escaping to get help for Will, but the fact is I’m not.”
“No?” So he freely admitted it?
“No. I went to get help for my friend, yes. It’s the least anyone would do. But according to the doc who treated me, Will didn’t make it.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Dennis ran his hand across his brow, careful to avoid the stitches. “Such a shame.”
“Can you tell me what happened out there?”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s for the Coast Guard to know. Not some reporter.”
Some reporter? So he was one of those kinds of guys. She bet if she was a male reporter from the New York Times or CNN he’d be singing a different tune, getting his version of the story out among the public so they all heard what he wanted told.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Finn. It was now or never.
“Do you know what Will was involved in?”
Fletcher’s brow creased, his stitches bunching. That had to hurt, but he didn’t flinch.
The footsteps drew closer. Definitely Finn’s footfalls.
“What do you mean involved in?” he asked.
“Last evening before he went fishing with you, he confessed to Tess that he’d screwed up and gotten into something bad, but that he was getting out. Next thing, he’s dead.”
“Look, lady—”
Finn opened the door, his irritated gaze locking on hers. “You’re not supposed to be in here, and you know it.”
“I was just having a conversation with Mr. Fletcher.”
“It’s Master Chief Petty Officer Fletcher,” Dennis said. “And we’re finished.” He looked to Finn, who moved to usher Gabby out with a self-satisfied smile.
“Don’t bother,” she said. “I can see myself out.”
She looked back at Fletcher. “I’ll see you again soon.”
“I’m afraid not, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? Really? What a jerk.
“I’ll be right back,” Finn said as he followed Gabby into the hall. “The use of sweetheart was totally unacceptable,” he said to her, “but you know you can’t interview anyone involved in an open investigation. Understand?”
“Understanding and agreeing are two different things.”
He raked a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. “How is it possible for you to drive me this crazy in under an hour and a half?”
She shrugged. “Just a gift, I guess.”
With an exhale, Finn headed back toward Fletcher’s room. When he reached the door, his cell rang. He looked at it, shook his head, and walked around the corner, presumably to answer.
Gabby was tempted to go back into Fletcher’s room to get more answers but decided it wasn’t the wisest move. Instead, she sighed and headed downstairs, hoping to find Tess.
It wasn’t the first time she’d run into police—or this time, CGIS—lecturing her about an open investigation and the order for her to stay out of it. It was situations like this where the best stories lay, and her gut said there was a doozy of a story surrounding MCPO Fletcher—one her friend deserved to know. She was doing this for Tess as much as for her insatiable need to uncover the truth and see justice done—even if it was only on the front page of a paper. Truth was truth, and it deserved to be told.
She found Tess crying in the hall outside the morgue where Will’s autopsy would be performed. Yet another angle Gabby hoped to explore once the results were in. Finn had said Will had been shot but told them nothing else.
Her friend turned at her approach. “I knew something bad was going to happen,” Tess said, not bothering to swipe away the tears streaming from her eyes.
Gabby’s brow furrowed. “Why did you think something bad was going to happen?”
“Like I told Finn, something was wrong.”
Finn. He’d probably be down any minute.
Gabby rested a hand on Tess’s slender shoulder. “Why don’t we go somewhere where we can talk?” Without Finn interrupting.
Tess sniffed. “Where?”
“How about our usual spot?” The Coffee Connection.
“Okay.” Tess nodded, pinching her nose with a clumped-up tissue and blowing. Then she tossed the Kleenex in the silver trash can by the elevator doors.
The break from the hospital, and particularly the morgue level, would be good for Tess. There was nothing she could do for her husband now, and telling Gabby what she knew might lead to
finding his killer.
“We’ll have to take your car,” Gabby said. Noah had driven her in, and she was supposed to ride back to the office with Finn when he was done. But hearing what Tess had to say was far more important. Not just for a possible new angle or insight into a potential story, but to be a listening ear for her friend.
Tess handed her the keys as they rode the elevator to the lobby level. “You better drive,” she said, her hands shaking at her sides.
The doors opened, and hoping not to find Finn, Gabby looked both ways as they walked toward the front parking lot as quickly as a very pregnant and distraught Tess could manage.
As the hospital awning ended, they stepped into the persistent drizzle. The damp heaviness held the oppressive feel of death.
Thankfully, both Tess and Will were believers, so Tess knew Will was living eternally with their Savior, but while that had to bring a huge measure of solace to her heart, it couldn’t possibly stop the heartache tearing through her.
“Where’d you park?”
Her friend pointed to the yellow VW bug on the south side of the lot. “We can take Route 14 straight to the Coffee Connection.”
Gabby winced at Tess’s announcement in front of the valet who was walking back from parking a car. Knowing Finn, as soon as he realized she was gone, he’d be asking people who might have seen them leave, including the valet, about where they had gone.
Despite the fact that the valet didn’t know her, a pregnant woman leaving with a brunette in a bright yellow VW bug would be pretty easy to remember. And he’d likely remember where they were headed.
Hopefully, Finn would be focused on Fletcher for a good while. Or would get caught up with the ME performing one of the three autopsies awaiting him.
seventeen
Finn knocked on the doorframe of Fletcher’s room, clenching his jaw as his busted knuckles hit the metal. They’d be hurting for a while, but the physical pain would pass much faster than the pain of Sam’s and Will’s deaths.
“Yeah?” Fletcher said, bidding him entrance.
Frustration still flaring through him at having found Gabby in Fletcher’s room, he inhaled and stepped inside.