That emphasis shifted abruptly when he stepped into the bedroom and saw his grandfather slumped half on the bed and half on the floor. Heart pounding, he leaned over the old man, calling repeatedly , not sure if he was saying ‘Harry’ or ‘Grandpa.’
To his great relief, the old man stirred in his arms. “Can’t seem to wake up, Dave, feel like I’ve been doped.”
David reached for the glass of water his grandfather always kept by his bedside and dashed it into the old man’s face, then began to clap both hands against the sides of his face. “Wake up, Grandpa. Don’t go to sleep. I’m going to call 911.”
“That won’t be necessary,” a deep voice announced, and David looked up to see his old friend, his best friend’s big brother, pointing a police revolver into his face.
He took it all in with one agonized glance. “So Grandpa was right after all.”
Chapter Twenty Three
Susan woke up again. She felt fuzzy and hung over as though she’d had way too much to drink, but was aware that there was something she must remember.
No, not that. She pushed away the darkest thoughts that seemed to be caught up in a black storm that was sweeping across her amidst the shrill cries of frightened children.
Not that. She didn’t want to remember that. She’d pushed it away for many months now and, for just an instant was tempted back into the grayish cloud where she’d hidden for so long. Books and gentle people, safety. She longed for that safe place.
But no. Now there was David and the way she felt about him. She had to be strong for David who was at risk.
Then she remembered a familiar face, his eyes squinted, his face contorted with rage. The gun in his hand was poised to fire.
She screamed a warning. “Look out, David!”
Concerned calls reached her ears and she heard footsteps running toward her. A woman leaned over her, shaking her as though to awaken her. “It’s all right, baby. It’s only a nightmare. It’s all over long ago. You did all you could.”
“Mama,” she gasped out the word. Her mother meant love and safety. But then she realized, “Mama, your hair is all white. You’re old.”
Her mother kissed all over her face as though she were a little girl again. “Oh, sweetie. O, honey. My baby, you’re back again.”
Mama didn’t understand. There wasn’t time for all this. She pushed her aside and clambered to her feet. “We’ve got to help David.”
“David? David who? Is that the name of one of the poor lost children? Honey that was over long ago. It’s all right now. It’s all past.”
Susan found herself impatient with her mother’s soothing tones. “David Johnson,” she said, heading for the door. “Harry’s grandson. He’s going to kill him! I saw his face, Mama, the murderer is the police chief. It’s Jon Hartz.”
“Now, sweetheart,” Mama soothed.
Impatient as she was with her mother’s denseness, Susan allowed herself to be persuaded into loose fitting pants, a pullover sweater and shoes, agreeing only if Mama would take her to Harry Johnson’s house in Wolf Creek right now.
When they got outside in the cold of early morning, Susan tried to take her place behind the wheel of Mama’s pickup, but Mirales Elliot was having none of it. “You’ve been sick. I’ll drive. I can go faster.”
These last words provided the necessary argument. She was feeling rather shaky and they needed to make the most of the miles if they were to see that David was safe.
She slid over and as Mama drove out along the rough little drive that led to an equally rough roadway, she urged her to greater speed, pushing toward the dashboard, peering at the lights broadcast ahead and praying that they would be in time.
“I’m so happy,” Mama kept saying over and over. “I’m so happy. Thank God. Thank God. My girl has finally woke up.”
Susan spared her an irritated glance. “Of course I’m awake, Mama. Drive faster.”
Obediently her mother stepped hard on the gas as they moved out onto the deserted split-laned highway, but she still talked to herself, or maybe to God. Susan wasn’t sure which.
“Happy, happy, happy,” she sang. “I just can’t take it in. For nearly three years, for two years, seven months and eleven days you’ve been gone, my baby, and here you are talking and making sense, well sort of, making sense. You were like a zombie, Susie, nobody was at home, though now and then, I thought I saw you looking out of those eyes . . .” She paused to let out a windy sigh and though she obediently kept stepping up the speed of the pickup, tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks.
Susan stared at her. “But where was I, Mama? What are you talking about?”
“You just weren’t there. They said it was the shock, that you just wanted to escape, that it was more than you could take. Each day I hoped and each day you were still gone.”
Susan tried to think. Last she remembered was going to her job teaching first graders at the little country school nearby. It was morning of a bright sunny day and she was thinking about her plans for the day. She hoped Sallie Marchand would be over her cold and back at school today. Poor little Sallie was always delicate and had to miss too many classroom days. The picture of the fair, too slender child played in her mind.
David, she reminded herself. She must focus on David and getting to him in time.
“No matter what’s wrong, we can deal with it. Naturally you’re a little confused, considering you’ve stepped out of time for nearly three years. They said you’d never be back, but I hoped. I always hoped.”
“David,” Susan insisted. “We’ve got to save David. Jon intends to kill him.”
“David and Jon are old friends, Susie. And David’s been gone for years, you hadn’t seen him ‘til Harry brought him out.”
Susan leaned further forward as though to push the car on its way. “Drive faster,” she insisted.
“I’m going eighty already,” Mama said. “We could hit a deer in the dark.” But she pushed harder on the gas pedal.
Jon, the gun pointed unwaveringly into David’s face from only inches away, swore long and hard in a way that reminded David of the days when he’d been only his best friend’s older brother and convinced that it was his job to look after Steve.
He’d been almost a little afraid of him back then, David remembered for the first time since he got back. He supposed he thought all big brothers acted like something of a bully with the younger kids, but Steve had been his only sibling and he’d been possessive and, he thought now, perhaps slightly jealous that his brother wanted to spend so much time at the Johnson house with Grandpa and David.
How much had he been too young to see? When had Jon became this fierce-faced demented man?
All these thoughts flew through his brain in seconds even as he tried to think how to save his grandfather and himself. He glanced down to see that the old man lay, eyes open and watching intently, but not moving.
Close your eyes, he wanted to say. Pretend to be asleep. If Jon realized Grandpa was witnessing this, he’d kill him for sure.
He kept his eyes focused on Jon’s face while inside the wily brain that had served him so well as a soldier was working, analyzing, trying to determine the way out.
He’d always known he was willing to risk his own life, bargaining with fate for the survival of his men. That was why it had felt so bad when he’d been the only one to live, no matter how seriously injured. Now his job was to keep his grandfather alive. He would not let Jon take that from him.
“Why Jon?” he asked, more as a stall, then because he wanted an answer. From the instant he’d seen that gun aimed at him, he’d known what this was about. Jon’s little brother, his best friend. He was not the only one who blamed himself for Steve’s death. Jon blamed him with the same anger that had driven him to bully smaller boys when he was young.
It wasn’t about Steve. It was about Jon who had seen something—someone—stolen from him.
“Why? You ask me why?” Jon gripped his revolver more tightly and swo
re again briefly. “You had to be a soldier, so Steve had to do that too. Wherever you led, he followed. You decided to stay in and make a career of it and no matter how I argued, told him he wasn’t cut out for that life, that he was too soft and easy going. He took things too hard. He wasn’t tough like you and me, police, military, it was our thing, not his. But you talked him into it.”
“It was what he wanted, Jon. I never tried to talk him into anything.”
Jon’s face seemed to harden, but when he spoke his voice was softly dangerous, making chills run down David’s spine.
“Sure, sure, all you had to do was stride around being the brave hero, piling up medals and honors while my brother trailed along behind.”
“You do him too little credit, Jon. Steve was a brave man and he wanted to serve his country. He was concerned too about the poor people in that beleaguered land.”
Jon spat out a string of curses that said what he thought of the foreigners in whose country his brother had died.
“They killed him. You killed him.”
“No,” the hoarse whisper came from where his grandfather lay on the floor. “It was a bomb, Steve just happened to be too close.”
Jon’s gaze shifted only slightly. He was too much a pro to leave his primary target unguarded. “You should have drunk more of your coffee, old man. Then you could have slept through all this.”
As though Harry had little significance, he shifted his entire attention back to David.
“You’re good at adding that little extra to food and drink,” David accused, inching forward slightly, but stopping when he saw Jon’s reflexive clutch at the trigger.
Jon shrugged, smiling slightly. “It wasn’t meant to kill him. Just to make it look suspicious that somebody gave your grandpa a shot of something just when you’d come home.”
“Then you didn’t mean to kill him?”
“Anyway would have worked. If he lived, you would be in trouble. The only person who had a reason for wanting the old man out of the way. And if he died—his expression tightened—then you’d know what it felt like to lose the family member who meant the most to you.”
“He told you I was coming home,” David accused. “Only I was delayed. I didn’t get back as soon as expected. And you had to try again.”
“It was your fault that she died. I had nothing against the old lady. She was always good to me and Steve when we were kids. Always making chocolate chip cookies.” He shook his head. “They were sure good right out of the oven.”
David kept his face carefully impassive. The man was out of his mind. No question about it. He was enjoying this little execution scene he’d set up and would not have a moment’s hesitation about shooting the both of them.
Chapter Twenty Four
They drove into the south edge of town with its various rough-edged oil-related businesses. It seemed to Susan that hours had passed since they’d started out. Startled by her attack of invisible force, the police chief had fled, but she felt sure he would have come back.
He would be afraid that his unknown attacker had seen his face. “Too late,” she moaned the words aloud.
“Susie, if you’re that worried. Why don’t we just call 911 and ask the police to drop in at the Johnsons to make certain everything’s okay.
“The police! Jon is the police!”
“Heck fire, I doubt they send the chief out to check every little thing. One of the young policeman will be sent out and reassure you that everything is all right.”
The first traffic light showed red ahead and Mama began to slow down. A few vehicles, mostly pickups carried men to work in the oil fields, she guessed, moved along the streets even at this early hour. Mama would insist on dropping her speed and they were still blocks away from Cottonwood.
She took the phone Mama held out to her and punched in the numbers. Nine one one. When the dispatcher answered, she spilled out the demand. “Send someone to Harrison Johnson’s house. Someone’s there to shoot David.”
“Look honey, is this a joke? That already happened but everything’s fine now. Nobody’s hurt.”
“It’s happening again. This is Susan Elliot and I’m telling you it’s still going on. Get someone out there.”
“Susan! You taught my boy in first grade before . . .before. . .they said you saved his life. But you’re . . .”
Susan interrupted, finally recognizing what should have been an immediately recognizable voice. She knew what the woman was thinking. Susan Elliot was a cipher, as good as dead. “I’m begging you, Alicia, just send someone over there as quick as you can.”
Then she hung up, her hands shaking. “Don’t stop for the red light, Mama.”
“But Susan . . .”
“Don’t stop, Mama. Nobody’s coming.”
As they edged through the light that changed to green as they moved through, she heard from the distance the sound of a siren and hoped that Alicia had honored her request.
They both heard the siren. David felt the twitch in his jaw and saw the slight narrowing of Jon’s eyes. He was running out of time.
Then the sound of a door slamming and heavy feet stamping emphatically down the hallway resounded throughout the house.
“Harry?” June Allie’s voice grated against his ears. “You okay, Harry?” Suddenly she was in the doorway. “Good,” she said. “You caught him.” Then she gave a howl. “Don’t tell me you’re dead, Harry.” Ignoring both of the standing men, she rushed past them to drop at Harry’s side.
The siren was coming their way. The double distraction caught Jon’s attention for a fraction that allowed David to duck and then lunge at the police chief’s knees, throwing him to the floor where the two of them grappled for the gun that went off to blaze a burning trail through David’s right shoulder.
“Oh, my!” June Allie screamed and David watched as Grandpa wrenched himself up to crawl over and grab the gun from Jon’s hand before he could fire a second time.
And then uniformed policemen, guns drawn, dashed into the room, two women following right behind them.
David, feeling himself begin to fade, first recognized the white-haired woman who was Grandpa’s friend. And then he saw her.
She dropped to his side, her green eyes widening as she saw the blood beginning to soak into the front of his shirt. He reached for her, touched her and this time his grasp didn’t slide through into nothing. He held on to her arm as he dropped into unconsciousness.
The three of them hovered outside the intensive care unit, taking turns to go in for brief visits. David had survived surgery and seemed bent on staying alive, but Susan lived on the edge of jittery fear, afraid every moment that a nurse would come out to tell her he had passed away.
She’d listened through half the day as Grandpa and Mama exchanged information, ignoring her mother’s insistence that she needed to be put to bed or she would be as sick as David. She’d had no choice when the family doctor insisted on checking her out and pronounced her reasonably fit considering everything she’d been through.
Mama had tried to be subtle. “But will it last, Dr. Hector?” she asked, glancing sideways at her daughter. Susan guessed Mama had gotten pretty used to talking as though she weren’t there. “What made her wake up and is there a chance she’ll slip back to wherever she was?”
The man the whole community called Dr. Heck shook his head. “A little early to say. We’ve just got to be grateful that she’s come this far.”
“There’s something else,” Mama said, looking down at her own hands. “She keeps talking in her sleep, saying things about my grandmother, a woman she never knew. I suppose I’ve talked about Grandma Gertrude and her life. She was a pioneer, you know, but like I said, she died before Susan was born. Why would she be so much on my daughter’s mind, doctor?”
Susan allowed herself only a couple of minutes to think about this. So she hadn’t been Gertrude after all. She’d only heard the stories.
Mama said she hadn’t been unconscious or in a
coma or anything like that. Her body had operated like an automaton performing basic functions like eating, sleeping and so on. But she’d only spoken once or twice in the whole time, the most recent example being when she’d called out David’s name, and she’d not responded even to her closest friends or nearest kin. She had been absent from her body.
Since all Susan could remember was getting ready to go to her teaching job that last morning, setting out to drive the few miles to little Liberty School, and then nothing except days and days at the library, a mere spirit. It was, she decided now, as though her body and her soul had divided, her awareness locked into that fragment closed into the little Carnegie Library.
Until David had come and she’d tried to save him from a poisoner. Poor Mrs. Allie. She’d been babbling last night, trying to tell the officers they’d arrested the wrong man and David was the guilty party. She’d even confessed that she’d been researching poisons because she thought her son or even her grandson had been the guilty party because her grandson had a ‘little falling out’ with Harrison Johnson.
Harry explained later, to her and Mama, not to the police, that he’d caught the two men smuggling valuables out of the house and merchandizing them to pawn shops in neighboring towns. Because he’d felt sorry for June and her granddaughter, he’d agreed to refrain from reporting the crimes with the understanding they were not to be ongoing.
Grandpa Harry shuffled his feet, than stood up. “I’m going in just to check on him. If nobody minds.” He glanced questioningly at Susan. Somehow he seemed to have come around to the opinion that David was her property, an assumption that would cause her embarrassment once he recovered. But right now she did feel she stood guard over the injured man.
“Want to come with me?”
Those Who Mourn: A Wolf Creek Mystery (Wolf Creek Mysteries Book 1) Page 16