Silent Witness

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “I was just trying to figure out what is going on,” Carl said. “I was coming back from a meeting in Fort Myers when I saw the broken railing and glass on the road, so I came back to check. I was afraid someone had driven off the bridge. Can’t see anything, though.”

  Another beam flashed through the darkness. It waved over the water and came to rest on a stumbling figure walking toward them on the beach. Gram!

  “Ms. McGrady? Is that you?” The light jiggled and footsteps clamored overhead. Jennie raced toward Gram, reaching her only seconds before the others.

  “Oh, Gram. I’m so glad to see you. I thought …”

  “I’m fine. A little winded, and a bit shaky, but alive. Thank God.” Gram pulled Jennie into a hug.

  Jennie and Gram explained what had happened while Carl and Angel helped the bedraggled and exhausted swimmers up the embankment and into Dr. Layton’s car. Angel wanted them to ride with her, but Dr. Layton insisted they’d be more comfortable in his car. “They’ve been traumatized enough,” he’d said. “No sense making things worse by subjecting them to a ride in the back of a squad car.”

  Carl drove them to the local hospital, where the doctor on call examined them. Except for a few bruises, they had both escaped without serious injury. They’d been extremely fortunate, he told them. Had they not been wearing seat belts, they might have been killed. While Dr. Layton drank coffee and read old copies of People, Golf Digest, and Newsweek, Angel escorted Jennie and Gram into an unused office just off the emergency room.

  Once seated, Angel whipped out a notebook and pen. “Okay. You say some guy in a truck ran you off the road. Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt you?”

  “No,” they both answered in unison.

  “Ms. McGrady. I did some checking on you. Seems as though you’ve been involved in some …” Angel glanced at Jennie, then back at Gram. “Ah, does she know?”

  “That I do an occasional job for the FBI?” Gram nodded.

  “Right. You’ve made a few enemies. Any chance one of them could be responsible?”

  “I suppose anything is possible,” Grant said, “but I don’t think a hit-and-run with a fully loaded pickup truck would be their style.”

  “Maybe you’re right. So talk to me. What’s your theory about all this?”

  Gram shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone here who would want me or Jennie out of the way. As far as I know, we haven’t made any enemies.”

  “Looks like we’ve made at least one,” Jennie voiced her thought out loud. She told Angel as much as she could remember about the incident, hoping they wouldn’t have to tell her that they’d gone to Sanibel to meet Scott. Unfortunately, she asked, and Jennie had to tell her about Scott’s note. “But Scott couldn’t have been driving that truck. He had to hitch a ride up with us.”

  “He could have stolen it.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.” Why was she defending him? She’d only known him for a few days. “Scott’s just not the type.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  Jennie shrank back into her chair and listened as Gram related details of the crash to Angel. Jennie was surprised at how much Gram could recall. All Jennie could remember was the glare of lights and the sickening thud, the feeling of panic, and the car hurling itself over the railing and into the water. Gram, however, remembered specifics, such as how the vehicle was one of those sports pick­ups with running lights. Five across the top—the second light near the driver’s side was burned out. Gram also said she didn’t think the driver meant to run them off the road on the first hit. “It was too close to shore,” she figured. “My guess is that he wanted us far enough out so we wouldn’t survive.”

  When Angel had finished her interrogation, she left Jennie and Gram with Carl, who offered to take them back to Dolphin Island. Jennie wanted nothing more than to take a warm shower and crawl into bed. Every part of her body was beginning to ache. Gram climbed into the front seat and asked Dr. Layton what he thought about dolphin therapy. Don’t you ever quit? Jennie wanted to ask. It was getting downright embarrassing. Gram had no business being so full of energy, when Jennie felt like she’d spent the last few hours competing in the Olympic decathlon. A smile crept to her lips. Like the Energizer Bunny … Gram just keeps going and going and going …

  Jennie took advantage of the roomy backseat and curled up on her side. Lulled by the purring motor and the strains of gentle music flowing through the rear speakers, she began to drift off.

  “Maggie told me you were shot trying to stop the murderer.” Had Gram’s voice gotten louder? Maybe it was just Jennie’s radar letting her know the conversation had taken an interesting turn. She opened her eyes and tuned in.

  “I thought we were talking about dolphins.” Carl glanced at Gram, then focused on the road.

  “Sorry about the switch. I’m an ex-police officer and can’t help being curious. I was hoping you’d indulge an old woman’s curiosity and give me your version.”

  “Old? You?” He chuckled, then his tone grew serious. “I don’t mind telling you about it. Terrible tragedy. John was one of the brightest therapists in the country. He was more than a partner, Mrs. McGrady. He was a dear friend.”

  Gram nodded. “It must have been doubly hard for you, losing both a business partner and a friend. Did you actually see the shooting?”

  “No. I was in my office when I heard the gunshot. I ran out to investigate and a guy was standing in John’s doorway, holding a gun. I looked past him and saw John slumped in his chair. Blood everywhere.” Carl paused. “Even after two years it’s hard to talk about it.”

  “I can imagine. You don’t have to go on, you know.”

  “It’s all right.” Carl took a deep breath and continued. “After I saw John’s body, I looked back at the guy. He had his gun aimed right at me. I tackled him and knocked him down, but he got off a shot. Hit me in the shoulder. He pushed me away, then took off.”

  “And you phoned the police?”

  “No, Maggie did that. She’d had a lunch date with John and came in, oh, couldn’t have been more than a minute or two after Ramsey left. Fortunately, the guy took the stairs.” Carl frowned. “I hate to think what might have happened if he’d decided to wait for that elevator.”

  “Or if he’d seen Sarah.”

  Carl sighed. “Poor kid. I didn’t even know Sarah was there. The police found her under the desk in a fetal position. Her body was locked up so tight it took us two days to relax her muscles enough to straighten her out. I worked with her every day for months. Used a combination of drugs and hypnotherapy to bring her out and help her remember. We managed to bring her partway out, but who and what she saw is still locked inside her somewhere.”

  “Why did you stop working with her when you and Maggie married?” Gram asked.

  “Ethics. I’m too close to be objective. I’m still involved, of course, but I called a colleague in, and a few months ago she suggested we try the dolphin program.”

  “Do you think Sarah saw who murdered her father?”

  “We don’t know what Sarah saw … only that she was severely traumatized.”

  “Her uncle, Tim, seems unimpressed with police findings. He thinks the murderer is still at large.”

  “That’s a puzzle. I’ve never been able to understand why he is so adamant about Ramsey’s innocence. My guess is that he’s never been able to resolve his own guilt. The last words they said to one another were said in anger. Not a very satisfactory way for a relationship to end.”

  “Did the police question whether Tim could have killed John? They did have an argument.”

  Carl shook his head. “Tim is the right size and build, but he’s not a killer. Besides, all the evidence points to Ramsey.”

  “So you think Ramsey is guilty?”

  “It’s the logical solution. I was able to identify the man’s jacke
t, and he did have an appointment to see John that day. I’ve never had a reason to doubt his guilt. I’m satisfied that Isaiah Ramsey murdered John, then went home and killed himself. The police even found the murder weapon in his car.”

  “Sounds like an open-and-shut case,” Gram agreed. “But suppose Ramsey was set up. What if the real killer wanted to make it look like a murder/suicide?”

  “Look, Mrs. McGrady. I think I know where you’re going with this, but it won’t work. Tim may be outspoken at times, and even paranoid, but he’s no killer. Besides, the police found smudges of blood on Ramsey’s jacket that matched mine. There’s only one way that blood could have gotten on his clothes and that was when he shot me.”

  When they got to the compound, Carl parked behind the cabins and walked them to the door. The ride had stiffened Jennie’s joints and she could hardly walk. She collapsed on the couch and fell asleep while waiting for Gram to finish showering. When Jennie awoke it was still dark. Gram had removed her shoes and covered her with a blanket. She shifted positions to turn on a light and wished she hadn’t. Pain coursed through her neck and shoulders. Scenes of the accident replayed in her mind.

  Jennie massaged the taut muscles, then made her way into the bathroom for a hot shower. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, she found Gram in the kitchen putting water on for tea. “What are you doing up so early?” Jennie asked.

  “The same thing you are, I suspect. I ache in places where I didn’t even know I had muscles.” Gram stretched her arms out in front of her and winced. “Since I couldn’t sleep, and I heard the shower going, I thought maybe I’d look through the papers J. B. sent on the Stanford case.” For the next hour they drank tea and read reports. They didn’t find much more than what Maggie and Carl had already told them. “The only thing that strikes me as unusual,” Gram said, “is that the secretary didn’t remember Ramsey being a client. Don’t you find that curious?”

  Jennie shrugged. “Not especially.”

  “Most secretaries know more than their bosses. I asked J. B. to interview her. He’s also going to see if he can talk to Ramsey’s family for me. Maybe we’ll learn more then.”

  “When did you talk to J. B.?”

  “Last night after you went to sleep. I had to report in and tell him about the accident.”

  “Did you figure out who might have done it?”

  “No, but I have a feeling it’s someone who wants us out of the way. And since the only things we’re really involved in right now are the Stanford case and the incident with Delilah, it must be someone connected with one or the other.”

  “Or both,” Jennie added. She yawned and stretched. “I think I’ll go up and get dressed.”

  She’d just started for the stairs when the phone rang. Gram answered it. After listening for a moment, Gram said, “Are you sure?” She paused. “All right. We’ll be there.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That was Angel. The police are certain they’ve located the pickup truck that hit us. It’s registered to the Dolphin Research Lab. They found it in the park, not far from the gate.” She took a deep breath.

  “Do they know who was driving it?”

  Gram nodded. “Scott Chambers.”

  16

  “He’s unconscious. They’ve taken him to the hospital,” Gram continued, heading for the door. “I’m going to see if I can borrow a car from Debbie.”

  The idea seemed so unthinkable, it took a moment for the words to sink in. Scott was hurt. Scott had been driving the truck that had almost killed them. “I don’t understand.” Jennie’s voice broke. “How could that be? He … he’s our friend.”

  Gram shook her head. “Maybe we’ll learn more when we talk to Angel.”

  “He seemed like such a nice boy,” Debbie said as she took the keys to her Jeep from one of the hooks behind the office door.

  “Debbie, do you keep all of your keys here?” Gram asked.

  She nodded. “It’s easier. That way all of our employees have access to the vehicles.”

  “Did Scott know about the keys?” Jennie asked, hoping that he hadn’t.

  “I’m afraid he did. Funny thing though, you’d have thought that if he was going to take the truck, he’d have done it the day he disappeared.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The truck was here until sometime after dinner last night. I distinctly remember because I did a count. It’s sort of an automatic thing. I take inventory of just about everything here—people, dolphins, vehicles … that sort of thing. I suppose he could have come back last night and taken it.”

  Or someone else could have taken it. Jennie’s defense was immediately shattered by her own opposing view. Give it up, McGrady. The guy’s guilty. He suckered both of you. Remember the phone call? What more proof do you need?

  Jennie and Gram drove to Sanibel in silence. Gram seemed deep in thought, and Jennie didn’t feel much like talking. I don’t understand all this, God. Why would Scott want to kill us? When they reached the hospital, a nurse wearing surgical greens updated them on Scott’s condition. “He’s coming around. Dr. Stone is stitching up a gash on his head. You should be able to see him in about thirty to forty-five minutes.” The nurse disappeared behind the automatic emergency-room doors.

  A few minutes later the doors swished open again, and Angel came out. “Good, you’re here. I’m starved and my feet are killing me. Let’s go down to the cafeteria.” She pushed the elevator button, then tipped her head back and massaged her neck and shoulders. “Guess I shouldn’t complain. Most hit-and-runs aren’t this easy.”

  “So you really think Scott did it?” Gram said as the elevator bell dinged and the doors opened. They stepped inside, and Angel pushed “B” for what Jennie imagined was the basement.

  “Think? Oh, believe me, there is no doubt. Not only did we find him in the vehicle that hit you, we also found some uppers in his shirt pocket. The same drug that killed that dolphin … ah …”

  “You mean Delilah?” Jennie furnished.

  “Yeah, that’s it. We figure he arranged to meet you. Then, when you left the lighthouse, he followed you …” She shrugged. “You know the rest. His last hit sent you over the bridge. I suspect that’s when he whacked his head on the steering wheel. He managed to drive into the park before passing out.”

  Disbelief, confusion, and anger all battled against a shredding thread of belief in Scott’s innocence. It’s a nightmare, McGrady. Pretty soon you’ll wake up and things will all be back to normal. You’ll be in your bed at the research center. You’ll go to breakfast, swim with Delilah, and after dinner Scott will challenge you to another game of pool, and you’ll go for a stroll on the beach.

  “Jennie?” Gram’s voice broke through her confusion.

  “Dear, are you all right? You look pale.”

  “What? No … I’m fine. Did you say something?”

  “I asked if you wanted anything to eat.”

  Jennie didn’t feel hungry, but at Gram’s insistence took some cereal and a glass of milk.

  “I just can’t believe this,” she heard herself saying. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would Scott want to kill us?”

  “I’m not sure he wanted to kill you, probably just scare you,” Angel said as they made their way to a table and sat down.

  “But why?”

  “It’s very simple. He and that environmental group he’s involved with would like to see the research center closed down. How do you do that? Bad press. First he drugs the dolphin. She goes wild and nearly kills one of their clients. This puts a big question mark on the dolphin therapy programs. Are they safe? What parent is going to put their kid, or themselves for that matter, in the water with a dangerous animal?”

  “But what would running us down do to hurt the center?” Jennie asked.

  “More bad publicity. A truck driven by an employ
ee from the research center runs down a couple of guests. Not good for business.” Angel stuffed a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth and took a drink of coffee to wash it down.

  “I know the evidence against him seems strong,” Gram mused, “but suppose someone framed Scott.”

  “Look …” Angel said, setting down her cup. “I understand how the two of you must feel. It’s always tough to swallow the fact that you’ve been taken in by a con artist—especially when he’s a nice-looking kid like Chambers. But, hey. You were a cop, Ms. McGrady. You of all people should know things aren’t always like they seem.”

  “That’s exactly right, and I’m afraid what seems to be evidence pointing to Scott’s guilt could be meant to steer us away from the real issue,” Gram said. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into holding off on the arrest. I’d like to check into another possibility.”

  “If you’re talking about the Stanford case, you can forget it. I talked to the police commissioner in Portland. No offense, Ms. M, but I think you’re ruffling your feathers over nothing.”

  The determined set to Gram’s chin told Jennie that her grandmother was not convinced. Somehow the knowledge cheered her. When they’d finished breakfast, they went back up to the emergency room, and the doctor agreed to let them see Scott.

  Jennie gasped as the nurse opened the curtain to usher them in. In that instant, all the anger and doubts vanished.

  Scott peeked out at her through a bruised and swollen face. A dressing covered what Jennie imagined was the gash on his left temple that Angel and the nurse had mentioned. An IV pumped fluids into his left arm. He opened his mouth and lifted his head, then winced and collapsed back on the pillow. “Jennie.”

  Jennie stepped up to the gurney and took hold of his hand. “Hey, Scott …” Jennie reached an arm up to brush the moisture from her eyes. “You look like you’ve been in a fight with a cement mixer.” Dumb thing to say, McGrady. Real dumb.

  “Yeah.” He grimaced and squeezed her hand. “But you should see the other guy.”