Molly hoped she was able to nod enough that Pat understood.
Apparently, she did because Pat said, “Okay. I’ll see what I can find.”
In a few moments, Molly felt Pat place a pad into her left hand and a pen into her right. Fortunately, she was right-handed. She guessed Pat had gone with the odds. Molly had read that only ten percent of people are left-handed. She put that thought aside and wrote, or at least tried to write her name on the pad. She had no idea how she did. She had never tried to write in the dark before. She held the pad out.
“So, your name is Molly?”
Molly gave a small nod which was all she could manage. She tried to smile to celebrate writing her name well enough Pat could read it, but it hurt too much to move her lips. She gave up the attempt and instead waved to get the pad returned.
She felt the pad placed in her hand again. Before she started to write, she heard a deep voice say, “She’s awake, yes?”
“She is,” Pat said. “Did you get permission from the doctor to be in here?” She turned to see the man she had automatically associated with the voice. She should be able to. She had heard it often enough in the last few hours. She patted her hair and smiled slightly at the handsome face. She knew she was much too old for the detective, thinking he had to be no older than twenty-six or seven, but it was human nature to want to look your best.
“I have to find out what happened to her,” Drummond neatly sidestepped her question.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Pat wasn’t going to let him ignore her. She had been a trauma nurse long enough to know that a lot of police officers had their own agenda. Often to the detriment of the patient. “I asked if you got permission from the doctor to be in here?”
Drummond disregarded her question again and walked over by the bed to take a good look at Molly’s face. He switched his glance from her face to the driver’s license in the evidence bag and back again. He shook his head and turned to Pat. He couldn’t be sure. “I want you to look at this and tell me if you think this could be her.”
“So now you expect me to cooperate with you when you don't cooperate with me?”
“Would you just look at the license, please? We need to find out who she is.” He held the bag out.
“Oh, all right,” Pat said snatching the bag out of Drummond’s hand.
She took a brief look at the license. “I’d say this is her since she already told me her name is Molly.”
“She can talk?” Drummond glanced at Molly’s face again and had to admit he was surprised that she could. But if she couldn’t, how did Pat know her name?
Pat shook her head. “No.” She held up the page she’d ripped off the notepad.
“Oh,” Drummond said.
“She can also nod in answer to simple questions, and I suppose she can shake her head no as well though I haven’t tested that. But I’m still not sure you should even be here. She needs her rest. Did you…”
Drummond interrupted before Pat got the rest of her question out. “But I need to know who she is for sure, so I contact her family.”
Molly was shaking her head violently. Molly hadn’t endured Rupert’s latest beating just so the cops could get her father involved. That was the very thing she had been trying to avoid.
Pat pointed at Molly and Drummond turned. “What’s up with that?” He asked.
“Maybe she doesn’t want you to tell her family.”
He leaned over and quietly asked, “Is that it. You don’t want me to contact anyone.” She nodded once. “Don’t you think your family should know you’ve been hurt?”
Oh, sure, Molly thought. Just what I need is for my father to see me like this. Her father had always called her his beautiful little Princess. She was sure she was far from beautiful now. Rupert wouldn’t have to kill her father. If he saw her like this, he would probably drop dead from shock. No, she couldn’t have him see her like this. She would contact him when she was better. She shook her head violently again. She had to be thankful Rupert had not hurt her neck too much. He had evidently spent much of his anger destroying her face. For even without being able to see her face, she knew it had to be a disaster.
“Okay,” Drummond said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his word. His department had strict rules about informing next of kin as soon as it could be determined who the victim was and who the next of kin were. “I won’t let anybody know. But do you know who did this…”
“What are you doing here,” a voice from the doorway made Pat and Drummond turn.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. I asked him if he had your permission to be here, but he wouldn’t tell me,” Pat said, looking at Drummond angrily.
“Well, he certainly did not have my permission. This woman is severely injured and needs her rest.” He glared at Drummond. “Get out!”
“But I need to ask her some questions.”
“I don’t care what you need. She needs rest. Now get out.”
Drummond was aware of the department’s policy against ignoring any medical personnel’s orders. He didn’t argue. “Yes, sir. But can you please contact me when she’s able to talk?” He took out a card, handed it to Pat who slipped in the pocket of her smock.
“Not until,” the doctor said fervently.
Drummond nodded, took the evidence bag back from Pat, and exited the room without another word.
The doctor turned to Pat. “Sometimes cops have no consideration.”
Pat nodded her agreement.
The doctor picked up Molly’s chart and ordered Pat to take a new set of vitals. She nodded and held out her hand for Molly’s chart. The first thing she did was write Molly Archer’s name on the chart. Then she wrote Molly’s name on the whiteboard in the room. Finally, she took the vitals the doctor had asked for. After she wrote them on Molly’s chart, she handed it back to the doctor. He examined it, gave Pat a few instructions for Molly’s continued care, wrote those same instructions on the chart, and said, “I want you to monitor her closely and let me know immediately of any change or if that cop or any of his minions come back.”
“Yes doctor,” Pat said and checked the contents and flow of the IV bag before she followed the doctor out of the room.
As soon as Drummond was back in his car, he called the station on his radio and told Bridger he had tentatively confirmed Molly Archer’s identity. Then Drummond called his partner hoping she was back. She was. He asked her to track down Archer’s next of kin. He was only half way to the station when his partner called back and let him know she had located Archer’s father. Her father was in Paris right now but claimed he’d hop on a plane as soon as he could arrange it.
Chapter 3
Pat was excited when two days later Molly was finally able to open her eyes and the swelling around her lips had gone down enough to let her talk. “How are you feeling?” Pat knew she couldn’t be feeling all that great, but it was one of the many questions Pat’s training had taught her to ask.
“I hurt,” Molly answered simply with a slight slur because of her swollen lips. This nurse looks a lot like I suppose my grandmother looked, Molly mused. Molly’s grandmothers had both died when Molly was quite young. Pat’s graying hair was held tightly in a bun, she had a pleasant face, and was slightly overweight. Probably from sampling too many cookies as she baked them for her grandchildren assuming she had grandchildren.
“I’m sure you do Sweetheart. Do you feel up to answering a few questions for the police? They’ve been here a bunch of times.”
“Are they here now?”
“The detective who was here originally just happens to be in the hallway right now. I told him you were doing better, but that I’d leave it up to you if you wanted to talk to him.”
“I guess it would be okay as long as he doesn’t stay too long. I’m still kind of tired.”
“I’m sure you are, sweetie. I’ll see if he’s still here.” As if there was any possibility he’d be anywhere else, the pest. She wondered if she should tell M
olly her father had also been there but thought she’d let the detective do that as he was the one who said they wouldn’t contact her father. That had obviously been a lie. Typical police mentality, do what’s best for the police regardless of what the patient wants. And, even though Mr. Archer had asked her to contact him as soon as Molly was awake, she thought she would leave that up to the detective as well.
Mr. Archer had been devastated when he saw Molly’s face. He kept asking Pat who could have done this terrible thing to his beautiful daughter. All Pat could do was sadly shake her head. The first time he came, Mr. Archer stayed by Molly’s bedside for several hours while she slept. He finally got to his feet when Pat came into the room to check on Molly’s IV bag. He asked her if she had a number for the detective on Molly’s case. Fortunately, she still had Drummond’s card in her pocket, so she handed it to Mr. Archer. He went to the nurse’s station, called Drummond, and then immediately left for the police station.
When Pat walked out of the room, Detective Drummond was pacing the hallway, as she expected. “She’s awake and says she’s willing to talk to you. The doctor gave his approval a little while ago if Molly said it was okay. And, as I said, she said it was. But not too long. She still needs her rest.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Drummond gave her a small salute. “I only have a few questions for her.”
Detective Drummond walked into Molly’s room, Pat two steps behind him. She had to make sure he didn’t get pushy or upset her patient.
“I’m Detective Drummond, Bobby if you please. How are you feeling?”
Molly gave him the same answer she gave Pat. “I hurt.” She was glad she could see Detective Drummond, Bobby, this time, as he was nice to look at. He was about six-foot-three and two hundred pounds if she was any judge. He had a square jaw and chiseled features. Though he only briefly flashed his smile, it was a nice one. It went all the way to his eyes, stunning green eyes.
“I’m sure you do. Do you know who used you for a punching bag?” Bobby knew that was a bit harsh, but he thought if he shocked her a bit she might be less likely to hide what he already knew. Fingerprints on the purse had indicated Rupert Stippens was her assailant, but he needed her to confirm that if she could. Stippens was a no-account with a long rap sheet, mostly drug-related. He was not an unlikely suspect, quite the opposite. They had put out an APB on Stippens but had not turned him up yet.
Molly shook her head. She wasn’t about to rat out Rupert. He wasn’t likely to do time for beating her up, and she didn’t want him coming after her or her father for turning him in.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she said. “I didn’t see him.” She didn’t know if he’d believe her, but he couldn’t prove otherwise. No one else was in the alley. At least no one else was in the alley before she passed out.
Bobby had been in this situation before so he didn’t doubt her. Many victims of muggings didn’t see their assailants. “Did you get mugged?”
“I guess so. It happened so fast.”
“Did you have money in your purse?” There was no money in the purse when they found it.
“Only a little bit.”
“Did you try to resist when he tried to take it.”
So they thought Rupert mugged her. That worked for her. If they caught him, they would probably ask her to identify him. She could play dumb. If she refused to identify Rupert, maybe he wouldn’t come after her or her father. She had no idea where she’d go, but it certainly wouldn’t be back to Rupert, and she couldn’t go back to school with Rupert still around. She’d never feel safe. She didn’t know how her father would react to her dropping out, but it couldn’t be helped. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Rupert. Maybe she could transfer to some other college. “I didn’t get the chance to resist. Whoever it was was on me too fast.”
Bobby thought he’d give it one more try. “Do you know the name Rupert Stippens?”
“Who?” she thought she might as well play dumb from the very beginning. She tried to look surprised but figured her face was so messed up nobody would be able to tell whether she seemed surprised, angry, hurt, or portrayed any other emotion.
Bobby fished a picture out of his pocket. He held it in front of her face. “Do you recognize this man?”
She shook her head and did her best to hold her voice steady even though just the sight of Rupert’s picture made her cringe. She was sure she didn’t hide her reaction very well, but that couldn’t be helped. However, she would attempt to keep up the ruse. She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him. Who is he?”
Although Bobby couldn’t miss her reaction to the picture, he wasn’t ready, and she certainly wasn’t ready, for a full-on, bad-cop interview to get at the truth. He had no way of knowing why she was hiding behind a lie but, for the time being, he would let her do so. “He’s simply a person of interest. We hoped you might be able to identify him.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Bobby stared at his shoes. He didn’t want to tell her the next but knew he owed it to her. “Your father’s been here. Several times as I understand it. I met him at my office. He seemed nice enough, and he was certainly worried about you.”
“He certainly was,” Pat cut in. “He cried when he saw you. He sat at your bedside for hours before he left to meet with Detective Drummond. When he came back, he again stayed by your bedside for hours and then apologized to me when he had to leave to attend a meeting. You didn’t wake up either time he was here.”
Molly’s angry reaction was immediate. “Who told him I was here? I said I didn’t want him to know I was here. I didn’t want him to see me like this.”
Bobby looked at her sheepishly. “I’m afraid that would be us, the police that is. We have a policy to contact next of kin as soon as possible. As I said, I met your father at my office.” Bobby had conveyed to Richard Archer what little he knew about what had happened to Molly. He had shown Richard Stippens’s mug shot, but Richard didn’t know anything about Molly’s friends or acquaintances in Morgantown. She had grown up in Charleston. Richard knew a few of her friends in Charleston, but not any in Morgantown or at West Virginia University. He said he doubted Molly could possibly have anything to do with anyone as disreputable as Stippens seemed to be. Bobby asked about Molly’s family, other than Richard himself. She had no siblings, her mother had died about ten years ago in a car accident, and all of her grandparents on both sides of her family had passed from various illnesses. Richard had also been a single child, so Molly had no aunts or uncles and, thus, no cousins. All she had was her father and all he had was her.
Molly’s gaze locked with Pat’s. “What did he say when he saw me?”
Pat shrugged resignedly. “He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. He simply stared at you shaking his head and then he burst into tears, sat in the chair beside your bed, and took your hand. You stirred a little when he held your hand, but you didn’t wake up. He asked me about your condition and then directed me to call the doctor. He asked the doctor many of the same questions. We assured him you’re going to be okay. I…”
“Molly,” Richard Archer cried from the doorway. “Thank God you’re awake.” He shoved Bobby aside so he could get to her bedside. He leaned down and cradled her hand against his cheek.
A tear trickled down Molly’s cheek. “I’m sorry Daddy.”
“Oh, baby. What do you have to be sorry about? I’m sorry you got hurt, and the scumbag who hurt you will certainly be sorry when I get my hands around his throat.”
Bobby knew Richard’s statement for what it was, angry bluster. But Richard was a big man, even taller than Bobby himself, and powerfully built so Bobby would have to make sure Richard didn’t get his hand around the perps throat, or he might very well carry out the threat.
Molly didn’t think she was ready to bear her soul and tell him what she had to be sorry for. She didn’t want to admit what had happened was at least partially her fault. After all, nobody had forced her to
move in with Rupert. No, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to swallow her shame to be able to tell the truth. She thought quickly. “I’m sorry I was lazy and took a shortcut through that alley. The guy was on me before I even saw him. At least he didn’t get much money. I only had a few bucks in my purse.” She smiled for an instant knowing that part was true. She hadn’t had much money in her purse. Rupert hurt his knuckles on her face and body for minimal reward.
Richard leaned back in the chair to stare lovingly at Molly. “I hope you know the money is of no consequence regardless if you had one dollar or thousands. You’re the only thing that matters to me. You should know that.” He leaned down to kiss the hand he still held.
“I do know that, but I should have been more careful. I know that part of Morgantown isn’t the safest.” She still couldn’t bring herself to tell him or Bobby the truth. She knew she should, and maybe they could protect her from Rupert, but she just couldn’t force herself to take the chance. She would never forgive herself if Rupert hurt her dad. So she would keep telling her lies.
Bobby asked her a few more questions and showed her the picture one more time and then gave up and left. Molly knew he wasn’t through with her. He would keep trying. She actually hoped he would. He was awfully cute. She hoped he’d visit her again as long as he didn’t brow-beat her. She’d heard cops often did that. Although Bobby didn’t look the type to do that, how would she know? Other than traffic cops, she’d never met a cop before.
Her father stayed a few more hours until Molly pleaded weariness and convinced him to at least get himself some supper. Reluctantly, he agreed.
The doctor came into the room a few minutes after her dad left. “Miss Archer,” the doctor said causing Molly to look up. She didn’t say anything. “I don’t know how you will feel about this, but you need to know. We discovered you’re pregnant.”
“Oh God,” Molly said. That’s all she needed. She knew it would have to be Rupert’s baby. She hadn’t been with anyone else. She had been taking birth control pills, but they had been making her sick, so she stopped taking them. That apparently had not a good idea. “Will the baby be okay?” She didn’t need the complications of a baby, but she didn’t want to lose it. It was her baby regardless of who the father was. She said a silent prayer that it would be okay.
The Dog Who Ate The Flintlock Page 2