There was a pause, then a sigh. “Did you mean all those things you said the other day?”
“Of course I meant them. I wish you all the best, and I don’t like being at odds. I realize our marriage is permanently ended, but I don’t believe bitterness is the best way for it to end.”
“You aren’t going to believe this, but I don’t either. That doesn’t mean I’m going to give you back the house or the car or the money.”
“That wasn’t why I called.” Bite your tongue, Graham.
“Just so you know that.”
Forgive. “I understand.”
There was another long silence. Graham heard Ginger walking out with Mrs. Henderson, an elderly lady on a fixed income who had osteoporosis.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said,” Dena said at last.
“Which part? I know I’m not that memorable an orator.”
“True, but when you said you hoped I’d be happy, you sounded like you meant it.”
“I did.”
“Did you mean it when you said you’d pray for me?”
“Yes, and I have.” He didn’t think it wise to add that most of his prayers had been for help to forgive her.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I could probably use a little more of that.”
“Anything I can help with?”
“I don’t think so. This is something I have to do myself.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “It wasn’t all my fault. I know you think it was. I know practically everybody thinks so, but you abandoned me long before I filed for divorce.”
“I’m sorry, Dena. I know I should have discussed my decision with you before giving notice at the clinic.”
“Yes, you should have. It was as if my opinion didn’t matter at all—just yours and your God’s.”
He thought about Willow’s anger with him this morning for not telling her about Larry. Some habits died hard. But this habit, he was determined, would die. “My behavior was unbecoming to a man who calls himself a Christian,” he said quietly. “I hope what I did won’t give you a faulty impression of God. You are as important to Him as I am.”
“All those patients you wanted to rescue?” she said, this time more softly, almost sadly. “They were more important to you than I was.” Her voice was threaded through with old bitterness that had an underlayer of hurt disillusionment.
“That isn’t true,” he said. “I can understand, now, how you could have felt that way. For that, too, I’m sorry.” He knew she had expected so much more from him. And why shouldn’t she have? Maybe once upon a time she had expected a Christian to behave differently, perhaps to show her more grace, more gentleness, as well as more strength.
“I should have taken your needs into consideration,” he said. He realized, at last, that her angry response to his decision to leave his practice, as well as her frantic demands for an overly generous settlement, were a result of fear. There was greed involved, too, of course, but there was also fear.
If he had responded with gentleness in the first place, instead of hurt anger when she filed for divorce, it was possible their marriage could have been saved.
“I just want you to know that I made sure my new husband wasn’t planning to be a missionary in Africa or something,” she said at last.
Graham chuckled.
When they said goodbye this time, he felt as if a major weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
Chapter Nineteen
Willow walked along the deck of the Bent Hook Marina, listening to her footsteps echo over the surface of the lake. The picture-book surroundings, the gentle ripple of water against the shore, the caress of the breeze against her face did nothing to soothe her nerves. Sandi was fifteen minutes late.
Pulling her cell phone from her jacket pocket, Willow sank into a deck chair and studied the cabins on the opposite shore of the cove. The forest seemed to engulf them as smoke drifted from chimneys and mingled with the morning air. Someone could be watching her from any of those cabins, or from anywhere along the shore.
This could be a setup.
She punched in Sandi’s number and waited. The answering machine picked up on the fourth ring. Willow didn’t leave a message.
She had just folded the phone and was sticking it back into her pocket when it chirped in her hand, startling her. Irritated by her own jumpy reaction, she checked the screen and saw that it was Graham’s cell phone number.
Still studying the forest across the cove, she hit the silence button. Graham could leave a message. The line needed to stay open in case Sandi called.
As she placed the telephone back into her pocket, she saw a speedboat leave a dock several hundred feet along the shore from where she sat. The driver gunned the motor and the boat leaped through the water toward the marina where she sat.
She watched as the boat kept coming toward her. Growing nervous, she got up from the deck chair and started inside, but as the boat reached the no-wake zone it slowed, then glided into a slip. It was one of the employees.
She closed her eyes, allowing time for her breathing to return to normal. What was she doing here? Was it irrational to think she might finally be able to find some clue to the fire from Sandi?
Judging by Sandi’s behavior over the phone earlier, she was obviously unbalanced, and Willow suspected drugs. The Ozark forests were rife with methamphetamine production; a few years ago Missouri had won the title for having the highest number of meth lab busts.
Was it possible Willow had been jumping to conclusions all this time? Maybe they all had. Granted, being hauled to the police station tended to make one a tad sensitive to such things, but what if Preston had stumbled unknowingly onto a meth lab, even in one of the apartments? Obviously if he had, he didn’t realize it, but what if the perpetrator thought he had? And then, to redirect suspicion, the same person might have set Willow up.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the marina parking lot, searching for Sandi’s gray Toyota Camry. It wasn’t there.
There was a flaw to Willow’s theory. After the fire, the fire department had gone through every unit to investigate damage. They knew what to look for. They would have found any drug-manufacturing paraphernalia at that time, unless someone had packed up all supplies and left.
Fifteen minutes later Willow punched Sandi’s number again. When the answering machine picked up, she allowed Sandi’s voice to complete its spiel. “Sandi, I’ve waited long enough. I’m on my way to your place. I want to know what kind of joke you’re trying to pull on me. I’ll see you shortly.”
She refolded the cell phone and slipped it back into her pocket.
She was walking the ramp from the floating marina to the parking lot when her phone chirped again. This time it came from the main number at Graham’s clinic. She answered as she walked toward her car. To her relief, it was Ginger.
“Lady, are you playing hide-and-seek? Graham’s pacing the floor like an expectant father, especially since you didn’t answer his call.”
“I’m fine,” Willow said. “I would have called sooner, but I needed to keep this line clear.”
“Is everything okay?”
Pausing at the car door, Willow sighed and took a final glance at the peaceful setting that surrounded her. The serenity of this place had been wasted on her for the past thirty minutes while she’d stewed over Sandi.
“Everything’s fine, except my meeting seems to have been delayed. I don’t suppose anyone’s heard from Sandi in the past hour or so, have they?”
“Sandi Jameson?” Ginger’s voice rose with alarm. “Why? What’s up between you two this time?”
“She called me and wanted me to meet her.”
“You didn’t!”
“I tried. It was to be in a public place, perfectly safe. Unfortunately, she isn’t here.”
“Where is here?”
“Big Cedar.”
“Well, would you please get your hindermost parts back here before everybody ha
s a meltdown?” Ginger exclaimed. “We’re worried about you, especially after your discussion with Larry this morning. We can go together to meet with Sandi, and take Larry along with us for good measure, but this gallivanting all over the county alone when you know someone has been following you, that’s just asking for trouble.”
“Sandi wanted to see me alone. She hinted that she knew something about the fire.”
“Oh, sure she did. That’s one of the oldest tricks in the book—you should know that.”
“Yes, I know. I thought that, too, and now I know why it works so well,” Willow said. “She’s messed up, possibly on drugs, but she doesn’t have any reason to try to hurt me.”
“Honey, to go off like that alone to meet her—”
“As I said, we were to meet in a very public place, with plenty of witnesses. Ginger, I need to know what she was talking about when she mentioned the fire. We could get to the bottom of this whole thing with one conversation.”
“Hold it. Graham just stepped into the front office. He wants to talk to you.”
“Not right—”
“Willow?” Graham’s voice came over the line. “Would it be possible for you to return to the hospital now? Larry just called and he has those prints. Also, Preston just called and is wondering where you are.”
“I’m not in town right now.”
“Oh?” That one word held a polite request for more information.
“That’s right. Ginger can tell you about it. Do you mind if I call you later? I need to get off the phone right now. I promise to return to the hospital and placate Preston as soon as I can.”
There was a pause, then a sigh of frustration. “Can you give me a time?”
She glanced at her watch. “Twelve-thirty.” That would give her plenty of time to see about Sandi. This meeting had been a bust, and she only hoped she would find the woman at home. “Do you need help at the clinic?” she asked.
“How did you guess?”
“Don’t you always? I’ll come straight there after I leave the hospital, okay? Then if Larry has those shots for me to look at, he can bring them to the clinic.”
“Is that your way of trying to placate me, as well?” he asked.
In spite of herself, she smiled. “Believe it or not, I like helping at the clinic. I’ll see you before long.”
Graham replaced the receiver and sank onto the chair in front of the computer. “She said she’d be here by twelve-thirty,” he told Ginger. “Any other patients in the waiting room?”
“Nope.” Ginger seemed distracted. “The next one’s due in fifteen minutes.”
“Good, then you have time to explain to me where Willow is and what she’s doing. You look worried.”
“I’m just praying right now.”
“What’s going on?”
“She’s trying to meet with Sandi down at Big Cedar, and she’s been stood up.”
He closed his eyes. He probably should have seen this coming. “Why on earth is she trying to meet with Sandi?”
“You’d better relax,” Ginger warned. “Willow’s a grown woman with a mind of her own.”
“But Sandi of all people!”
“I know. I’ve already chewed her out about it, and she realizes the risks, but Sandi apparently implied she knew something about the fire, and you know Willow’s determined to find out what happened. You also know how she hates to drag anyone else into her problems.”
“And she certainly wouldn’t have told us this morning about her plans, because she knew no one would have approved.”
“So there you go. You can chew her out when she gets here. Meanwhile, relax.” Ginger leaned back in her chair and raised her arms over her head, arching her back as if to get the kinks out. Her red-gold hair glowed in the light of the overhead fluorescents. Even in the harsh brightness, her skin did not betray her age. Graham envied her. He felt as if he were aging at an accelerated rate lately.
The phone rang, and Graham snatched it up without checking the caller ID. “Vaughn Clinic.”
“Hey, boss.” It was Larry. “I’ve done some more checking with my buddies in K.C. Get this—Sandi Jameson was a courier for Sperryville before he went to jail.”
A sudden burst of adrenaline raced through Graham’s system. “What kind of courier?”
“She did anything he wanted done—carried drugs, documents, did some spying, you name it. Word is she got a little too cozy with Sperryville’s son, though, and she was out the door.”
“Where are you now?” Graham asked.
“My condo here in town.”
“How fast can you get to Big Cedar? You’re a lot closer than I am, and I’m afraid to leave Preston vulnerable right now.”
“Why Big Cedar?”
“Willow’s supposed to meet Sandi there.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me. That Willow’s got a death wish.”
“Hurry.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
As soon as Graham disconnected he called Willow’s cell. She didn’t answer.
Willow ignored Graham’s call as she turned onto the hilly, tree-lined lane that led to the lodge. Although she hadn’t seen anyone following her to Big Cedar from Branson, she found herself glancing in the rearview mirror every few seconds. It was easier to evade someone in the crush of Branson traffic than it was out here in the countryside.
After turning off Highway 65, however, there had been no cars in her wake.
Rounding the final curve through the trees, she saw the lodge and the carport. Sandi’s car was still in its spot. As Willow parked in her usual spot, she shook off her annoyance. Sandi had certainly sounded high when they spoke. She might have totally forgotten calling. Or she might be sick.
Sandi didn’t answer the doorbell. Willow couldn’t see any lights through the window, but the shades were closed, so that didn’t mean much.
She knocked hard on the door. After receiving no response, she returned to her car, grabbed her purse, and slung the strap over her shoulder. In the past two weeks, she’d begun carrying an extra set of keys to the doors of all the apartments in the lodge, in case Mrs. Engle needed something or in case Graham requested that Willow run an errand to the complex while she was in town.
Ginger was right—this could be a setup. If that were so, then perhaps Sandi was sitting inside right now, prepared to call the police if Willow entered.
But Sandi had sounded genuinely frightened on the phone. Acting as an agent for the owner of this property, Willow had the authority to enter any of the apartments if she felt there could be a problem. She definitely felt there was a problem.
She rang the doorbell and knocked one more time. When there was no answer, she used the key to enter.
A lamp glowed in the far corner of the great room and, as usual, the kitchen sink and counter were piled high with dirty dishes. The trash can overflowed with empty hamburger wrappers and frozen-food cartons.
“Sandi?” Willow called. It occurred to her that even though Sandi’s car was here, she might have left with someone else. But who? The man the girls had told Willow about? Or maybe Sandi’s car wouldn’t start and she’d begged a ride from one of the other renters.
But if her car wouldn’t start, it would have made sense to call Willow and let her know. Not that Sandi had been making sense this morning.
Reluctantly, feeling like an invader, Willow called out again, then walked down the hallway toward the bathrooms and bedrooms.
She peered into the hallway bathroom. Aside from a mess of dirty clothes and towels on the floor, she saw nothing. The girls’ room was even messier. The door to the master bedroom stood half shut. She pushed it open.
Here, total chaos reigned, and Willow frowned as she stepped inside. Beside a pile of clothing on the floor was a figurine, broken in half, with spatters of red staining the pastel porcelain. A pillow lay on the floor. The bedspread was half on, half off the bed. A picture hung askew on the wall.
“Sandi?” Willow call
ed again, this time more timidly.
She stepped toward the master bathroom. She was halfway through the room when she saw the foot—dainty, nails painted with bright pink polish, contrasting with hideous clarity against the white skin. Deathly white.
The scent of copper permeated the room. Blood.
Sandi!
Willow rushed to the bathroom and found Sandi lying prone, right arm flung out to her side, legs twisted unnaturally, hair splayed around her like a shroud.
Then Willow saw the blood on the bathroom floor beneath Sandi’s face. Far too much blood.
Willow pulled the hair back, then nearly retched. Sandi’s face was barely recognizable. It was bleeding profusely.
Or rather, it had been bleeding. The blood no longer flowed. Willow checked for signs of life but didn’t find any. Sandi was dead.
Chapter Twenty
Graham was pulling on his jacket and walking out the front door when the phone rang beside him. He saw the caller ID listing. It was the hospital. He rushed to the phone, nearly jerking off the right sleeve of the jacket in his haste to answer. Patients turned to look at him curiously from the waiting room.
Amazing how quickly the influx could hit. Two patients were early for their appointments, and two walk-ins had arrived soon after, one with a cut that needed sutures, another with a sprained or broken ankle.
“Vaughn Clinic,” he said, glancing down the hallway, wishing Ginger would take over at the desk.
“Am I speaking with Dr. Vaughn?” A slightly familiar female voice came over the line.
“Yes.”
“This is Sheila Jackson, one of Preston Black’s nurses at Clark Memorial Hospital. We tried to reach your house, since we know Preston’s sister is staying there. I didn’t want to leave a message, so this is the next number on our list for emergency contact.”
She suddenly had his complete attention. “What kind of emergency?”
“There’s been an incident here at the hospital. Preston has gone into anaphylactic shock.”
Graham closed his eyes. This could not be happening. “When?”
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