The Long Sleep

by Caroline Crane

  But it seemed about right. I said, “It must have been him. I told him I had to get home before dark.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he’d write a note explaining it was his fault. I think he was trying to be funny.”

  “Geyer? Funny?” said Ben.

  Falco asked again. “No one else was there?”

  Rhoda looked ashen. She must have thought I’d been raped. I couldn’t remember a thing, but somehow I didn’t think that was Geyer’s intention.

  I shook my head. “I don’t remember anyone else. I’m sure I would have remembered.”

  “What about the other kids from the newspaper?”

  “They all went home. It was late.”

  Rhoda squeezed and flexed her hands and stared at the floor.

  “I think,” I said, “it must have had something to do with Paula. With us writing about her. He didn’t want me to. I said that, didn’t I? He was afraid it would dredge up all their misery. Especially after I told him I knew Evan. I had no intention of bringing Evan into it. I don’t think he trusted me.”

  “What did he say, exactly?” Falco asked.

  “That’s what I don’t remember.”

  That and a lot of other things.

  “He didn’t ask about Evan. He was only surprised when I said I had to be home. He thought it was like a curfew.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “First, when I first woke up, I thought it was Evan. I assumed that because of the brake line. He wouldn’t let me see his face and he had a gag in my mouth.”

  “Could you see the car when you got out of it?” Falco asked.

  “No, I had a blindfold. He took the gag out when he got me on the ground. He didn’t take off the blindfold till just before he threw me down that hill.”

  “Threw you?”

  “He pushed me so hard it was like throwing. I thought he didn’t ever want me found.” I explained my theory that he hadn’t wanted it to look like murder.

  Rhoda’s face had gone grayer still. “But it was murder.”

  “Attempted,” said Falco. “You’re absolutely sure it wasn’t your ex-boyfriend?”

  I shuddered at the word “boyfriend.”

  “Very sure. I didn’t see him at all.”

  “You said you didn’t see anybody. You were blindfolded.”

  “Before I was blindfolded. I saw Mr. Geyer but nobody else.”

  “What kind of car does he drive?”

  “I never saw the outside of it.” I tried to remember if I had. But I wouldn’t have known what it was anyway.

  Ben said, “A nineteen ninety-four Cadillac Deville. Black.”

  “Cadillac, huh?” Falco said.

  “I don’t think he bought it new. Maybe second- or third-hand. It’s very old.”

  Rhoda said, “How would you know what he drove? You haven’t been at that school even two months.”

  Rhoda should have known how it was with Ben. Autistic people can do things other people can’t. And vice versa.

  She dropped that subject and asked, “Why would he want to kill you?”

  “That’s why I thought it was Evan,” I said. “Evan did try to kill me.”

  “This Geyer,” said Falco. “Did you ever have anything to do with him socially?”

  “No, I didn’t even know him. But . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “At my very first meeting—Hank asked him—if he knew about the Welbourne case. He asked how long Geyer had been teaching here.”

  “And?”

  “He said twenty years. He said he knew about the case but he didn’t know her personally, it was a different school. But I’m thinking maybe he did know her. He’d have been a lot younger then, maybe in his twenties. She left—she was at a party and they said she left with someone from a different school.”

  I rambled, not quite sure what I was saying.

  “I mean, she was attractive. From the pictures I’ve seen. He could have—he could have been trying—I mean . . .”

  “We know what you mean,” said Falco. “I think we do.”

  I looked at Rhoda. She was so innocent.

  Why did I think she was innocent? Her eyes narrowed. “It’s obvious. He tried to get you drugged so he could—” She broke off, looking ferocious. “How can you be sure he didn’t?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “Not with me. But Paula, maybe. It was something I read. They beat around the bush a lot but there were hints about a medical condition. That’s why her parents wanted to get the machine turned off. I think she might have been pregnant. But it didn’t get off in time because of the court fight and then the medical condition wasn’t a problem anymore. She had the baby. That’s why he didn’t think I should write the story. He thought it would be too embarrassing for them. But he couldn’t outright forbid it or I’d have gotten suspicious. About those drugs and things.”

  “He might have thought you were getting near the truth,” Falco said. “As you just did.”

  “And Hank, too. Because of what Hank asked him.”

  Falco had to make sure. “Are you saying you think it wasn’t Evan who shot Hank?”

  “No, remember? That piece of fuzz you told me about. Geyer has a coat with a pile lining that color. I just remembered.”

  Falco didn’t look pleased.

  “Really,” I said. “Just now. Whatever he put in my coffee, it was starting to take effect when I noticed. So I forgot.”

  He looked at Ben. “Any idea what the plate number is on that Caddie?”

  Ben shook his head. “There aren’t very many ninety-four Cadillac Devilles running around.”

  I struggled to get upright. “Hank’s alone! He doesn’t have all those nurses anymore. Can people get in if it’s not visiting hours yet?”

  Falco said, “I’m sure they can. There are security guards at the desk but people are going in and out all the time.” He snapped open his cell phone and went to the dining room to make the call.

  I couldn’t stand it. I supposed my car was still at the school if Evan—or Geyer—hadn’t managed to dump it. “Ben, will you take me there? To the hospital?”

  Rhoda said, “Ben should be in school. And you should be in bed.”

  “Mom . . .” I never called her Mom, “Could you stop being a mom for just a second? This is life or death.”

  Ben was already pulling out his keys. “It’s only a half day today,” he told her. “We’ll be good little kids on Monday.”

  Falco came back from the dining room. “Gotta run.”

  “Us, too,” said Ben. “We’re going, too.”

  “Hop in, then.” We were out the door and Falco had his car open.

  He sped down the steep hill and across the bridge. I prayed for Hank, that nothing had happened yet. It had been so long. Hours.

  Falco opened his window and put something on the roof. A siren went off in my ear.

  I tried not to panic about Hank. Instead I thought of Paula Welbourne, who started the whole thing.

  “I wonder what happened to her baby,” I said.

  “What baby?” Falco asked.

  “Paula’s. If she was pregnant, she must have had it.”

  “Put it up for adoption,” he said.

  “How come you know that?”

  “I don’t. Just guessing.”

  Eighteen years ago. That would be . . .

  “Ohmigod! It was Evan!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  With the siren, we got to the hospital in record time. Before Falco parked, I was out the door and through the entrance, ignoring the two guards at the desk. I heard one of them shout, “Hey! Hey!”

  Falco and Ben came in right after me. Nobody shouted at them. Falco must have flashed his badge. I grabbed a waiting elevator while he and Ben took the stairs.

  The hallway was quiet. Geyer had had plenty of time since he dumped me, but he would have been very conspicuous trying to get in there at night.

  I found Hank’s room and hesitated in the doorway. A
doctor was there with a mask on. He turned to look at me. His eyes widened. Something about his eyes...

  He wore surgical scrubs and—sneakers? That wasn’t right. I couldn’t think why it wasn’t. I couldn’t think at all.

  He reacted before I did. He ran toward me and then to the door. I felt a sting as he dashed past. Falco and Ben loomed in the doorway, blocking his exit.

  Falco grabbed both his arms. Ben ripped off the mask.

  “Yup,” said Ben. “It’s him.”

  I looked down at my arm. A hypodermic needle hung loosely from my sleeve.

  The room filled with security guards. Nurses. I had to back away to let them in. A nurse checked Hank to see if he was all right. Another noticed the needle I pulled out of my coat.

  She snatched it away from me. “Did he do that?” Then, to someone else, “Get the IV!”

  She brandished the hypo, making everybody look at it. I couldn’t see what they were doing. All I saw was Geyer on the floor and Falco snapping handcuffs on him.

  Geyer looked up at me, catching my eye. Waiting . . .

  I stepped back again. My legs began to melt. With that, I knew what he was waiting for.

  The nurse who had taken the needle caught my arm. “Did he stick you with that?”

  I nodded. I think I nodded. I saw the black curtains again, just out of sight. How could I see them if they were out of sight?

  Nothing made sense. I couldn’t tell what was up and what was down. I reached to grab something to keep from falling.

  It wasn’t there. I couldn’t feel anything.

  Except the floor when it hit me.

  * * *

  I thought I was back in the woods, still running. It was cold. The floor, cold against my cheek. I could smell the pine stuff they wash it with. A voice said, “We’re losing her.”

  Run, I said. Run. I kept running. If I could reach the bridge, then someone would find me.

  I was moving. Not running, just moving. All I could see was the red of my closed eyelids. As if there were bright lights up there.

  We turned a corner. Just like in the car. Except I was lying on my back. How could I remember the car when I couldn’t remember anything else?

  The pine smell had gone. There were pine trees in the woods. Someone said, “Don’t know what was in it.”

  The woods. I was in it. Running. Something stabbed me in the neck.

  * * *

  I felt my mother’s hand. I heard her voice, close to my ear. “Happy Thanksgiving, darling.”

  Already? Thanksgiving was tomorrow. Was this tomorrow?

  More voices, talking. My mother again. “Did they get it all out?”

  And someone else. “They should. Four hours of dialysis. You see? She’s better already.”

  Dialysis? Me? That was for sick people, with kidney failure.

  I opened my eyes. My mother was there, and a woman in a white coat. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t.

  Rhoda asked, “Do you think she can go home?”

  “Maybe, in a while,” the doctor said. “After a little more rest.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Rhoda liked a direct answer. She and Ben were the same about that. She sometimes forgot that people couldn’t be pinned down until they had all the facts.

  They both left the room so they could talk about it without my hearing. I didn’t care. Whatever they decided was okay. I was in the hospital, I could see that much. According to the doctor, my blood was nice and clean. From what? It took me a while to figure that out.

  From whatever was in the needle he jabbed me with.

  And Hank, too. Was he trying to put it in the IV? I looked around for the call button. I had to find out if Hank was okay.

  I found it but didn’t press it. If Hank had been killed, they wouldn’t tell me. Not until I was in better shape.

  Chapter Twenty

  By the next morning I felt okay. Not perfect, but I was going to live. I found my clothes and got ready to leave.

  They still hadn’t said anything about Hank and I hadn’t asked. I was afraid to, but I had to find out. While waiting for my discharge papers, I walked nervously down the hall to his room.

  He was there. In bed. Alive.

  He lay on his back, his mouth slightly open. His face was turned away from the window.

  “Hank,” I murmured, sitting next to his bed. I brushed the hair back from his forehead. He looked so paper thin it was hard to touch him, but they say touch can be therapeutic.

  His face had a little more color than before. Maybe it was from the sun shining in. It shone across his bed, not on his face.

  “It’s me, Maddie Canfield. Your frequent visitor.”

  I wondered if they could feed him Thanksgiving dinner through the tube. He probably wasn’t even aware of what went down it.

  “They got him,” I said. “The man who shot you and tried to kill me, too.”

  His lips moved very slightly. A croak came from his throat.

  I backed away. “Are you trying to say something? Hank! Talk to me.”

  His mouth moved again, trying to form a W. I looked up at the door to make sure nobody was there and I kissed him. His cheek felt warm.

  “I got the series finished,” I said. “It’s not all published yet, only the first two parts, but we’re getting there.”

  I didn’t mean to say what I said next. I wasn’t sure he’d be ready for it but I couldn’t keep it in.

  “We’re all on our own. We have to do it without Mr. Geyer because he’s in jail.”

  That time it wasn’t just a croak, it was a whole word. “Jail?”

  It sounded kind of sludgy. After all, his jaw hadn’t moved in several weeks, but it was clear enough.

  Especially when he said a whole sentence. “Walter—in—jail?”

  “Walter Geyer. Yes!” I pressed the call button. “He tried to kill me, too. He threw me down a steep hill into the Vanorden Kill but I didn’t go all the way down. If I didn’t have my cell phone I’d still be there. I think it’s because we both sort of figured out what he did to Paula Welbourne.”

  Hank’s eyes opened. Those deep, dark eyes. He blinked as though trying to remember.

  I couldn’t expect everything to come back all at once. Even before the coma, he hadn’t quite put the whole thing together.

  “He got her drunk, or maybe she already was,” I said. “And he drugged her, too. He wanted—let’s face it, he wanted sex. But he got her more knocked out than he meant to, so he raped her. We know he did, because nine months later she had a baby. He couldn’t wake her up and that scared him, so he dumped her on her family’s doorstep. At least he didn’t dump her where she’d never be found. That’s the only good thing he did.”

  A nurse came in answer to the call button. I said, “He’s waking up!”

  She checked him over, then turned, and ran to spread the news. Soon the room was so filled with medical personnel that I told Hank, “I’ll be back,” and squeezed my way out.

  When I got to the hall, Rick Falco was there. I hadn’t seen him in ages, or at least a day. He looked so good, I gave him a hug.

  I must have looked good, too. He hugged me right back and held on for an extra minute. Looking past me to the door I just came from, he asked, “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

  “He woke up!” I said. “I was talking to him and he just woke up!”

  “How did you do that?” He held me at arm’s length and studied my face.

  “I didn’t do anything. He just—woke up. It must have been time for it.”

  That seemed a reasonable explanation.

  The next moment it wasn’t so reasonable. I tried again, with my brain still fuzzy. “Maybe he kind of knew he was safe now.”

  Rick pulled me close with another hug.

  Then he got serious. “It looks as if you’re about to be discharged. Glad I found you in time.”

  What bad news now? “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing like that
. I put it badly. What I came for was to ask you a question. We need a DNA sample. You said you knew the person who might be his son.”

  His son? The whole thing was still so new that it took me a moment to catch up.

  “Oh,” I said. “Evan. I said I knew somebody who might know where he is.”

  A nurse came with my discharge papers and a wheelchair. I wanted to say goodbye to Hank but his room still swarmed with people. I could come again tomorrow when things settled down and we’d have a real, genuine conversation.

  I thought my family would be coming for me. It seemed Rick himself was going to take me home.

  We got settled in his car and he handed me his cell. So I could call Glyn and hope she would be forthcoming.

  “You know,” I said, “I always call her on my own cell. She’s in my speed dial. I can’t remember her number without it.”

  Falco was ready for that, too. He had brought my phone, all charged. He was better organized than I was.

  At first, when I talked to her, Glyn evaded me. Then I mentioned the police.

  “Not to arrest him,” I said. “He hasn’t done anything that I know of, except cut my brake line, if he did that, and the car thing.” I explained about the DNA, and then had to give her the whole story.

  It blew her away. She wanted to be part of it and told me Evan was staying in his family’s basement and they didn’t know it. They weren’t home all that much. He kept his car in somebody’s abandoned garage. I finally had to cut her off, as there was so much to talk about.

  Falco wrote it all down. “If the DNA matches, we can bring a charge of rape against Geyer. I doubt she gave her consent if she was knocked out.”

  “But it was so long ago,” I said.

  “There’ll be several charges. That’s for Welbourne only. Then there’s you and Dalbeck. Attempted homicide. In your case, we have a witness, namely you. And maybe Dalbeck, if we can prove it.”

  “He must have suspected it,” I said. “The way he acted just now.”

  “It has to stand up in court. That’s not always easy. I’ve got a nice lot of work cut out for me.”

  “I’ll help,” I said.

  “You bet you will. You haven’t seen the last of me.”