Random Acts

by Alison Stone

  Patrick lifted a shoulder and smiled. “Understandable.” He didn’t want to admit he liked taking care of her, even if it involved a small cut, a Band-Aid and some gauze.

  Danielle sighed softly, her expression growing sober. “I just don’t know what to do. This feeling of helplessness is killing me.” Her shoulders sagged. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do for my sister.”

  “There’s one thing…” He let the words trail off.

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “What?” Frustration laced her tone. “And don’t tell me prayer or I’ll hit you.”

  Patrick lifted his hands as if to protect himself and smiled. He was rewarded with a slight curve of her pink lips before they flattened into a straight line.

  “No,” Danielle said before he could plead his case. “I can’t pray. I’d feel like a hypocrite. I haven’t prayed in years, not really. Not since Gram used to drag us to church. How can I pray now when I need something? When I ignored God all along.”

  “God understands.” His heart went out to her. How could anyone survive tragedy without faith? His faith had delivered him from the darkest days and months after his wife had died.

  She shook her head and red splotches fired on her cheeks. “How can you pray?” she asked accusingly. “God took your wife. The mother of your child.” She nearly spat out the words as her eyes grew hard.

  Patrick blinked back his shock. Her words felt like knives turning in his heart. He crossed to the window, planted his hands on the sill and stared up at the gossamer clouds floating across the brilliant-blue sky.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was heavy with regret. “I didn’t mean—”

  Patrick didn’t turn around, but he felt her eyes on him. “When I was deployed to Iraq,” he said in a measured tone, “I made Lisa promise if anything happened to me, she’d raise our daughter in a happy home. I didn’t want her to waste her life grieving for me. Our faith promises us eternal life.” A yearning tore through his soul. Maybe if he had been around he could have saved Lisa. Maybe he could have convinced her to go to the hospital when her headaches first started. Maybe the doctors could have stopped the bleeding if she had gone in sooner.

  He shook away the thought and continued, “I miss Lisa. I miss our family. But I made her make me a promise. Made her promise to move forward with her life if anything should happen to me. I told her to trust God’s plan.

  “I never expected she’d be the first to die.” His voice broke and he bowed his head. Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to face Danielle. A single tear rolled down her cheek, almost breaking the thin thread of control he had on his emotions. He leaned back on the windowsill. “I’d be the hypocrite if I didn’t honor the promise she made to me,” he whispered, his voice husky.

  Danielle bowed her head. Another tear made a trail down her cheek. He resisted the urge to go to her. To brush the tear from her cheek. To tell her to trust God. To trust him. But something kept him rooted in his spot. His words would fall on deaf ears. Danielle wasn’t ready to hear any of what he felt in his heart.

  Danielle sat in silence while Patrick prayed. Feelings of anxiety smothered her like an itchy wool blanket. She couldn’t focus on the words of the prayer. Instead, her eyes ping-ponged around the room. To the worn tile. To the white-on-white pattern on the bedspread. To the gray curtains on the window. Anything to avoid focusing on the prayer.

  As soon as Patrick finished, she said, “If you need to go, I understand. I can call a cab to get home.”

  “I don’t mind.” He seemed content to sit in quiet meditation. Even after his explanation, she still couldn’t understand how his faith had helped him overcome the tragedy of losing his wife.

  Soft footsteps drew Danielle’s attention toward the door. A woman, no more than fifty, walked into the room. “Hello, I’m Dr. Moss.” The stethoscope around her neck and white lab coat confirmed her identity.

  Patrick stood and shook her hand. “Nice to see you again.” He held out his palm toward Danielle. “This is Danielle Carson, Jenny’s sister.”

  “I was hoping to talk to you today,” Dr. Moss said, her tone gentle. “Sorry I was unavailable earlier, but that’s what happens in a small town.” She adjusted the stethoscope slung around her neck. “We don’t have enough of me to go around.”

  The two women shook hands. Patrick gently squeezed Danielle’s arm. “I’ll step out so you can talk.”

  “I’d like you to stay.” Butterflies flitted in her stomach. Only moments ago she had tried to push him out the door, yet now she clung to him for moral support.

  “Actually,” Dr. Moss said, giving Patrick a meaningful look, “I think it’s something you should hear.” The doctor flipped a paper on the clipboard, as if to double check her facts before speaking. She turned to Patrick. “What do you know about Jenny’s accident?”

  “Not much more than we noted the morning Jenny was brought in. Her car went off the road and hit some trees. Our traffic investigator is still combing through the details, but best we can surmise she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

  Danielle lowered her eyes, trying to shake the image of her sister’s small frame slamming against the hard edges of the vehicle’s interior. She exhaled a shaky breath and fought against the white lights floating in her field of vision. Please, please, please, don’t let me pass out.

  Dr. Moss apparently sensed her distress. “Do you need to sit down, Miss Carson?”

  Danielle shook her head, fear rendering her speechless. Dr. Moss seemed to be assessing her with a professional eye before continuing, “Your sister has injuries inconsistent with a motor vehicle accident.”

  Goose bumps peppered her skin. Her sister’s bruised face brought forth a new flood of guilt and fear. “I don’t understand.” She grabbed the smooth metal bar of the side rail, her legs going to jelly under her. She was only peripherally aware of Patrick’s solid hand on the small of her back, his voice reassuring in her ear.

  “Can you give me more details?” Patrick asked.

  “Well, for one, most accident victims who aren’t restrained have damage cross here—” Dr. Moss pointed to her midsection, “—usually where the steering wheel comes into contact…” The physician let her words trail off as she met Danielle’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard to hear.”

  Danielle lifted her hand, steeling herself for whatever came next. “Go on.”

  “Her broken nose may have resulted from the car accident, but she also has some bruising around the upper thighs. As if someone had kicked her. Repeatedly.”

  Danielle let out a gasp. Placing two firm hands on either side of her waist, Patrick led her to the chair by her sister’s bed. Her knees bent of their own volition. “You think someone hurt my sister before she got in the car?”

  “Her injuries are very suspicious. Yes.” Dr. Moss studied Danielle, perhaps sensing her full-blown panic attack. “Here, have some water.”

  The physician’s awareness only fueled Danielle’s symptoms. Hyperaware, she watched Dr. Moss pour some water from the pitcher and hand it to her. She took tiny sips. Heat warmed her cheeks. The urge to run—to get out of this stifling hospital room—nearly overwhelmed her. Drawing in a breath, she locked eyes with Patrick. “You have to find whoever did this to my baby sister.”

  He gave her a quick nod. “Will you be okay here for a little bit? I have to make a phone call.” When she didn’t answer, he leaned down. “Dani?” His warm breath whispered across her cheek as he called her by her childhood nickname.

  “Do what you have to do.” She rested her chin on her shoulder and watched Patrick and Dr. Moss leave the room, their heads tipped in quiet conversation.

  As soon as she was alone, warm tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. Someone had intentionally hurt her sister. Had she gotten into an accident trying to flee her attacker? Why? Why? Why? She pressed a hand to her mouth as the troubling thoughts jackhammered on her brain.

  Danielle shifted forward in her seat, her back ram
rod straight as yet another disturbing thought took root. Had whoever hurt Jenny come back last night?

  Chapter Six

  “Thanks for the ride.” Across the front seat of the darkened vehicle, Danielle studied Patrick’s shadowed features. Not ready to go inside Gram’s quiet house where she’d have to face her thoughts, she racked her brain for a reason for him to stay. A reason that didn’t make her seem needy. After the physician’s report, Danielle’s world had gone from spinning out of control to flying off its axis entirely. Who had attacked Jenny?

  Patrick covered her hand with his, warm and comforting. “We’ll find who did this.” His smooth voice was a salve to her nerves.

  Tamping down the emotions hovering below the surface, she bit her lower lip. “We need to find who Jenny was with on Thursday night,” she said, turning to stare out the windshield. Until now, she’d never given much thought to how far back from the street Gram’s house sat. And how the looming trees provided the perfect cover for anyone who wanted to lie in wait.

  “We’re working on it.” Something in Patrick’s clipped answer gave her pause.

  “Do you know more than you’re telling me?” The moonlight glinting off the whites of his eyes revealed nothing new. She wiped her sweaty palms down the thighs of her jeans.

  “I don’t know how your sister ended up in the hospital. But I will find out.”

  “Does Jenny have a lot of friends she hangs out with? Maybe they can tell us where she was. Give us a clue.”

  Patrick squeezed her hand. “Let me do my job.”

  Danielle lowered her gaze. “I know. I’m sorry. I feel so hopeless.”

  Patrick ran a hand across the back of his neck. “The chief has been trying to reach his son, Jimmy. Your sister and Jimmy have been dating for a while now. He’s on a fishing trip and out of cell phone range.”

  Danielle narrowed her gaze. “Yeah, I remember Jimmy Parker. He was kind of a tough egg, considering he’s the chief’s kid.”

  “He’s all right. I know he’s going to be broken up when he learns about Jenny.” Patrick patted her hand. “Get some sleep, Dani.” Pushing open his door, he squinted against the dome light. The faint smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. He seemed eager to go. She tried not to take offense. He had a daughter waiting at home, but he had spent his entire Saturday helping her. She had no right to seek comfort from him. He owed her nothing and he had already given more than she deserved.

  Danielle climbed out. Patrick met her around the front of the vehicle.

  “Do me a favor. Make sure you lock up tight tonight.”

  Fear sloshed in her stomach. “Do you think whoever broke in last night will come back?” She scolded herself for how quickly she had clung to the wind-blew-the-door-open theory.

  “I’m right next door. I’ll keep an eye on things…and you have new locks.” Patrick pressed his hand to the small of her back, guiding her to the side door. “And I’ll make arrangements to get an alarm. Can’t hurt to err on the side of caution.”

  Danielle slowed her pace, absorbing his words, not sure if his promise should make her feel secure since he’d be watching or terrified because he felt the need to watch. The sound of the leaves rustling in the wind drew her eye up to the mostly bare branches. As they rounded the front of the house, she noticed one lonely light glowed through the front window. She imagined Gram sitting in her favorite chair, either knitting or reading, or perhaps dozing.

  “Well, thanks for everything,” she said and gave him a quick wave of her hand as she stuck the new key into the lock.

  “Mind if I walk in with you? Something in Patrick’s eyes caused a flicker of apprehension to course through her.

  “Is something wrong?” Her voice suddenly sounded loud in the quiet night air.

  He tipped his chin toward the door. “Humor me.”

  The kitchen sat quiet, save for the loud ticking of the clock on the wall. She tossed her purse on the kitchen table and headed to the family room, with Patrick close behind. He scanned the surroundings. His intensity gnawed away at what little confidence she had. What is he looking for?

  As expected, she found Gram dozing in her chair. The table lamp sent out a cone of light, pushing all the shadows into the far corners of the room. She kissed Gram’s cheek and a calmness washed over her.

  “Would you like some tea or something?” She didn’t want him to leave but feared she had already imposed enough on his time today. Nervous bubbles flitted in her stomach as she waited for his reply. Why did it matter so much?

  A small smile played on his lips. “You’re exhausted.” His eyes locked with hers. “Can I take a rain check?”

  Affection blossomed in her chest. “Absolutely.” Out of the corner of her eye, something drew her attention to the windows overlooking the darkened yard. Her heart began to beat wildly.

  “What’s wrong?” Patrick spun around to follow her line of vision.

  She leaned toward the window. Her brain finally processed what she’d seen. It must have registered with Patrick at the same time because he reached the side door in a few quick strides. Covering her mouth, she watched Patrick grab the man who only seconds ago was yanking on the handles of the bulkhead doors leading into the basement.

  A shuffling sound drew her attention toward the family room. Gram.

  “Dear, what’s wrong?” Gram’s eyes glistened with worry. “You’re white as a ghost. Is Jenny okay?”

  “Yes, Jenny’s fine. Stay here.” Danielle moved toward the door. “Someone’s trying to break in through the basement doors.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Gram,” Danielle said, “please, go back into the family room. It’s safer.”

  Danielle wrapped her arm around her grandmother’s shoulders in the hopes of guiding her away from the kitchen. What if he had a gun? Gram shrugged her off. “I refuse to slink around my own home.” With her lips pinched, Gram shuffled toward the window and peered outside. “I can’t see anything. It’s dark out there.”

  A moment later, Patrick appeared at the side door with a young man, his hands cuffed behind his back. “This man says he knows you, Gram.”

  Danielle flipped on the kitchen light. The young man squinted and lifted a shoulder, realizing he couldn’t block the light with his hands. The light reflected off an orange patch on the arm of his coat. Danielle’s heart dropped. Her pulse roaring in her ears, she stepped out into the driveway and pointed her finger in the man’s direction. “You were lurking in the woods yesterday morning when I was sitting on the front porch.”

  The young man lowered his eyes and shook his head.

  “Oh, my dear,” Gram said, appearing in the doorway, “please, Patrick, let him go. He’s harmless. That’s Henry McClure. He’s Jenny’s friend and does some odd jobs around the house. I called him about the old door you removed. Thought maybe he’d know someone who could use it.”

  “You sure?” Patrick narrowed his gaze.

  “Yes. Now take off those silly handcuffs. He’s not going to hurt anyone.” Gram’s brow furrowed and anger flashed in her eyes. Patrick seemed to regard Gram for a minute before maneuvering behind Henry and inserting the key into the handcuffs.

  Henry rubbed his wrists but didn’t say anything.

  “What were you doing lurking around here after dark? You were trying to get into the basement,” Danielle accused him. “And you were watching me from the woods the other day.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” Henry shrugged, suddenly looking like a lost little boy. “I’ve been busy. This is the only time I had to stop by. I thought maybe the door was stored in the basement.”

  Gram lifted a shaky hand. “No, Henry. I had Patrick lean it against the garage.”

  Henry’s face scrunched up. “I guess I’ve had too much on my mind.”

  “That doesn’t explain your hanging around here yesterday. Why didn’t you answer me when I called to you?” Danielle’s mind raced, trying to fit all the pieces together.
She gestured to Henry’s jacket. “I saw the orange on your coat.”

  One side of Henry’s mouth tipped up. “I guess I shouldn’t use orange duct tape to fix a tear.” He twisted his mouth and scratched his unshaven jaw. “I was worried about Jenny. I didn’t believe she was in an accident, and I wanted to see for myself. When I saw you on the porch—in her jacket—I thought you were her. Until you turned around. I kinda freaked. Sorry.”

  Or he had hoped to find the house empty, and when he didn’t he had to come back at night to break in. A throbbing started behind Danielle’s eyes. What was going on here? Patrick seemed to be analyzing everything the young man said. Ordinarily, Danielle relied on no one. Tonight, the knots in her stomach eased knowing Patrick was on her side.

  Henry cleared his throat. “How is she? Jenny, I mean?”

  “The good Lord will watch over her,” Gram said, her voice remarkably confident.

  “Tell her I was asking about her.” Henry toed the gravel in the driveway. “Tell her I’ll take good notes for her in class.”

  “I’ll do that. Now why don’t you leave the door for another day?” Gram said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Henry turned to leave. “Wait a minute,” Danielle said. He turned back around. “Do you know if Jenny went out with anyone the other night? The night she was hurt?”

  Henry flashed Patrick a look before quickly lowering his face. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  Henry shrugged. “She had other things to do, but I don’t know anything more. And that’s the truth.”

  “How’d you get over here?” Patrick cut in.

  “I rode my bike. If the door worked out, I was going to borrow a truck tomorrow to pick it up.”

  “Okay, it’s been a long day,” Patrick said, obviously anxious to call it a night. “I can take you home.”

  “No, sir. I’m fine on my bike.” Henry turned on his heel and strode down the driveway to grab his bike from where he had tossed it in the shrubs. Something in his backward glance made Danielle’s blood run cold.