Tangled Lies

by Connie Mann

  “You taking him to County General?” she asked. When they nodded, she said, “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She told Pop where she was going, instructed Bella to stay with Pop, and followed the ambulance to the hospital. She slammed a hand on the steering wheel, hard. This whole thing had gotten completely out of hand. Could this really boil down to locals who didn’t want Jesse in their little town? In sleepy little Safe Harbor, this kind of violence seemed completely over the top.

  It seemed far more likely someone didn’t want Jesse in the race. Why should anyone care? She shook her head, searching for answers and coming up empty.

  Part of her knew keeping her mind busy also kept her feelings at bay. If she let herself think about how close she’d come to losing Jesse . . . she rubbed a hand over the ache in her heart. No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t think about that. He would be fine. They would figure this out.

  She would accept nothing less.

  The pain came first, poking through the fog in his brain like a burning stick. His head pounded, and every breath made his ribs feel like someone kept jabbing that same stick into his midsection.

  He couldn’t draw a full breath, and panic edged in alongside the pain. He gasped, then made himself stop. He had to clear his thoughts, focus, figure out where he was and what was going on.

  “Dear God, let him rest. Let him breathe. Don’t take him. Please don’t take him.”

  It took a minute to recognize Sasha’s murmured voice. He’d never heard her sound so worried. He cracked open his eyes and couldn’t hold back a moan at the harsh sunlight. He slammed his lids closed and within moments, felt the room dimming.

  “I closed the blinds. See if that helps.” Sasha’s low voice came from somewhere near his ear.

  He slowly opened his eyes again and found her crouched over him, fear in her eyes. “Sorry to make you worry.” His voice came out scratchy, not like his at all.

  She straightened and pasted a grin on her face, her phony smile trying to hide her discomfort. “You must have hit your head harder than we thought, Money-boy.”

  “You care about me,” he insisted.

  She nodded. “Like I do a lost puppy.” Her expression eased into a real smile. Then she turned serious again. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

  He took a moment and looked around the hospital room. He raised an arm, surprised to see an IV running from it to a stand by the bed. He felt the back of his head and touched a heavy bandage. But even that small contact made him wince. He lowered his hand and stifled another moan as his ribs screamed.

  “I was in the shed. Working.”

  He stopped, tried to think, to remember what happened after that. Nothing came to mind. Just darkness. And pain.

  “Did anyone come by to talk to you?” Sasha prodded.

  He tried to see past the darkness, but nothing penetrated.

  The door to his room swung open, and Chief Monroe strolled in, his Stetson in one hand. “How you feeling, Claybourne? You up to a few questions?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  The chief pulled up a chair and leaned over the bed so he filled Jesse’s line of sight. “The doctor says severe concussion and some broken ribs. And you did some damage to the knife wound that hadn’t healed completely yet.”

  He’d figured that much out already, given the pain levels.

  “I wandered around in that shed of Sal’s you’ve been using. No sign that you fell. Doesn’t make sense anyway, given the ribs. You remember what happened? You tick anybody off lately?”

  “Big race. Lots of money for winner.”

  The chief stroked his chin. “I’ve thought about that.” He looked over at Sasha. “You or Sal seen any strangers around lately? Anyone seem a little too interested in Claybourne’s boat?”

  Sasha shook her head. “Couple of charters in the past couple of days. The Painted Lady is eye-catching, but nobody seemed to take more than a passing interest.”

  The chief stood and picked up his Stetson. “You take care, son. If either of you think of anything, you holler, ya hear?”

  Sasha waited until he left to lean closer. “Did you see more than what you told the chief?”

  He started to shake his head, then stopped. “No. There’s a gap between when I went into the shed and when I woke up here.”

  “Do you have any idea who would do this? And why?”

  “The race. Who? No idea.”

  “What will you do now, Jesse? You can’t race with those broken ribs.”

  He sighed. “I know.” He paused, wondered what she’d say. “Will you do it, Sasha? Drive The Painted Lady for me?”

  He saw the excitement that flashed in her eyes. Then it disappeared behind the caution he’d come to hate.

  “I’ll, ah, have to think about it.”

  “Why? You love flying over the water.”

  “You know why. I’m here to help my family. It would take lots of practice, and I can’t be running off to do that when they need me.”

  “You can do both. Being here to help doesn’t mean you can’t do anything else.”

  “I can’t be irresponsible.” Before he could protest, she stood and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I need to go. I’ll be back later.”

  Before he could formulate more arguments, the darkness claimed him again. When he woke, a white-coated man stood at the foot of his bed, scribbling on a clipboard.

  “I’m Dr. Gamble. How are you feeling, Mr. Claybourne?”

  “Like I got run over by a truck,” he mumbled.

  The fifty-something doctor smiled, eyes kind. “Maybe not a truck, but you took quite a hit to the back of the head. Any idea who did that? Or why?”

  “It’s all a big blank in my mind.”

  The doctor scribbled some more. “You’ve got several broken ribs, too. And we had to repair the knife wound you got a while back. You also have some really ugly bruises, making me think someone kicked you. Hard. For your own protection, you may want to tell the chief who’s angry enough to do that to you.” With that he patted Jesse’s foot and left the room.

  Jesse let the words roll around in his head for a while. Every thought still felt like it had a fur coat over it. Finally something the doctor said clicked, and he lunged up in bed. Pain ripped through his midsection, and he moaned and fell back against the pillows. If someone beat him up this badly to keep him out of the race, Sasha couldn’t drive for him. He couldn’t risk putting her in more danger. There were enough people angry with her about Tony.

  Reality set in, and despair washed over him. He would have to withdraw from the race.

  He pictured little Adelaide’s face and felt his throat thicken. He’d have to find another way to pay for her heart surgery. He had no idea how, but he couldn’t risk anything happening to Sasha. He’d have to find another way.

  Chapter 14

  Sasha drove back to the marina, and as the fear wore off, her fury grew. She sent Pop up to the house to be with Mama, then paced in front of the bait shop, more furious than the day Pete had the nerve to throw Bella overboard. How dare somebody show up here, in tiny Safe Harbor of all places, and beat Jesse to a pulp?

  She knew whoever it was had to have caught him off guard, or Jesse would have given as good as he got. There was no way he would have stood still for a beating. No, some cowardly slimeball hit him from behind and then, when he was down, kicked him, too.

  As for the chief’s handy theory about outsiders? Sasha snorted. Please. You couldn’t bandage a hangnail in this town without someone commenting on it.

  Bella paced with her, whining every so often. Sasha stopped and bent down to pet her. “Sorry, girl. I’m just angry.”

  When Eve called, Sasha picked up right away. She could use a little objective advice. “Hey, Eve. How’re the crazies?”

  “Still crazy. Sometimes right. So, what’s new there?”

  “Jesse is in the hospital.” She had to work to keep the worst of the fury at bay. “He
was working late last night, and someone knocked him on the head from behind. Then they kicked him enough times to break several ribs. Bella found him. He needed stitches and has a bad concussion.”

  “Dear God. Who would do that?” She paused. “Somebody doesn’t want him in that race.”

  “That’s my take on it.”

  “What does the chief say?”

  Sasha snorted. “I don’t know if he’s naive or covering something up, but he asked about strangers around the marina. As though someone just breezed in here under everyone’s noses, did the deed, and walked off. And no. One. Noticed.”

  “Oh, please. He can’t be serious.”

  “I think he’d rather think that, and rather we think that, than point fingers at local folks.”

  “Then we have to point fingers at local folks. Who could have done this, Sasha? Who was around yesterday, late in the day? Who has made comments about Jesse’s boat?”

  “Who hasn’t made comments? The Painted Lady draws attention. But I know what you mean. Nobody has been directly nasty, at least not to that degree. The local captains don’t want any more racing boats here, only because it would mean competition for them if this place became well known. And we know people have made comments about Jesse’s past. Other than that, I can’t think of anyone who has come right out and made threats.”

  “What about the stranger theory? Anybody come through the marina in the past week who seemed, I don’t know, off? Too interested, maybe?”

  Sasha thought back and came up blank. “None of it seems connected or makes any sense, Eve. Somebody clearly doesn’t want us looking for Tony, given the sandwich incident and threatening note and the fact my files were stolen. And Jesse had his tires slashed, some idiot put sugar in The Painted Lady’s fuel tank, and now this. Why would someone go to so much trouble to get him out of town? Is the race reason enough?”

  “The purse it pretty big, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, fifty thousand dollars. I guess that’s motivation enough to get him out of the race. But . . .” Her voice drifted off as she tried to figure out what was nagging at her. What little thing didn’t fit, didn’t make sense?

  “Sasha? What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure. I think we’re missing something, but I don’t know what.” She paused. “Jesse asked me to drive The Painted Lady in the race.”

  The silence lengthened. “I can’t say I’m surprised. There’s nobody else in town who could pull that off. Are you going to do it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If you do, I wouldn’t let anyone know about it, given what happened to him.”

  “I thought of that.” She paused. How to put it into words? “I don’t want to disappoint anyone in the family.”

  “How would doing what you love disappoint anyone? Everyone is proud you’re a captain, Sash.”

  “But I get distracted. Forget things.” Though it was true, the admission didn’t come easily.

  “True. But one has nothing to do with the other. Families get frustrated with each other. We get over it. But supporting each other? That’s something different.” She paused. “You care about Jesse.”

  Sasha felt her throat tighten as she thought of how battered he looked. “I always have.”

  “I know, but be careful. Maybe whatever happened has nothing to do with this race and everything to do with his past.”

  Sasha had considered that, too, but she’d never admit it to Eve. “And maybe it doesn’t.”

  “Has he ever told you what happened?”

  “I looked it up online.” How could she not?

  “Either way, be careful, Sash. Pop and Mama have enough to worry about without this, you know?”

  “I know. Hey, Eve, what’s up with Cat?”

  Silence hummed over the airways. “I have some guesses, none of them good.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Maybe. I’ll see what I can find out. Talk to you soon.”

  After she hung up, Sasha resumed her pacing. She felt like a jigsaw puzzle without all the pieces. She could see some of the edges: the search for Tony, the upcoming race, Jesse’s mysterious past. But the center? How they all fit together? She couldn’t make sense of any of it.

  By the next day, Jesse couldn’t stay cooped up another minute. When Dr. Gamble made his rounds, Jesse grabbed his wrist. “You have to spring me, Doc. I’m going crazy.”

  The doctor grinned and scribbled on the chart. Then he looked up, still smiling. “I think we can let you go, but only if you have someone to stay with you overnight.”

  “I’ll be fine, Doc. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Sasha walked into the hospital room and smiled. “Hi, Doc. Hey, Money-boy, are you ready to go?”

  “He needs someone to stay with him tonight. Just in case.”

  “In case what? You did a CAT scan and checked everything last night and today, and I’m fine, right?”

  “It was a serious concussion, young man. Nothing to fool with.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Sasha said.

  Jesse looked over and saw her wide-eyed expression, as though the offer had surprised her, too. “You don’t have to—”

  “Hush, or I’ll have the doc change his mind.”

  Within an hour they were in Sasha’s Jeep, heading back to Aunt Clarabelle’s cottage in Safe Harbor.

  “How are you really?” she asked.

  “I feel like I’ve been trampled by a herd of wildebeests.”

  “Really? Does that happen often?”

  He started to laugh, then coughed and grabbed his ribs. “Do not make me laugh, I beg you.”

  “Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look the least bit sorry.

  Sasha kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel the whole drive to Jesse’s cottage. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t ready to deal with this . . . this whatever it was between her and Jesse. Especially after she’d told him about her past. And the way he kept looking at her lately threw her off balance. These looks were different, deeper or something. Whatever this was, it scared her.

  She pulled into his driveway, and he reached over and unwrapped one of her hands from around the steering wheel. Her eyes flew to his face, caught the laughter in his expression.

  “A drive from the hospital should not be the scary part.”

  Her chin came up. “Who says I’m scared, Money-boy?” The response sounded like she was ten years old, but it was the best she could do. He could see through her way too easily. That annoyed her almost as much as her anxiety about her feelings.

  “I promise to restrain myself from attacking you if you come inside and help me get settled.”

  He eased the door open and gingerly climbed out, inch by inch. She wanted to smack her own forehead at her stupidity. Here she was worried about attraction while he was doubled over in pain. The idea of Jesse hurting made her furious all over again. When she left here, she planned on having a little chat with Chief Monroe. Stranger, my eye. Somebody has to pay for this.

  She reached his side of the Jeep just in time to see him sway on his feet. He didn’t protest when she carefully wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him up the overgrown walk, up two steps onto the porch, and finally into the living room, where he eased into Aunt Clarabelle’s old pink recliner. He moaned and the recliner creaked, and Sasha wondered if they’d both end up on the floor.

  His eyes slid closed, and she stood in the living room, trying to decide what to do. Go or stay? She really wanted to talk to the chief. But she didn’t want to leave him alone. He cracked one eye open.

  “Go, already. I’m fine.”

  She looked closely and saw fresh pain etched in his face. The meds they’d picked up at the pharmacy on the way here were still clutched in her hand.

  “It’s time for your pills, right?”

  She took his nod for assent, went back to Clarabelle’s fussy kitchen, and fetched a glass of water. She set it and the pills beside him, but he didn’
t stir. She gently touched his shoulder.

  “Money-boy. Pop a pill and then you can sleep, OK? You need to stay ahead of the pain if you can.”

  He shook his head, but took the pill and swallowed it. His eyes were closed again before his head hit the headrest. She grabbed an afghan crocheted in red, white, and blue from the back of the flowered sofa and tucked it around him. Then she leaned over and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled. “My hummingbird.”

  Sasha smiled, then quietly let herself out the door without locking it so she could get back in.

  All the way back to town, she worried she should have locked it, because what if whatever crazy person beat him up followed him home to finish the job? When she realized she was panting as she drove, she took a deep breath.

  “Calm down, you idiot. Who is going to attack him in his house on a sunny afternoon in Safe Harbor?”

  Minutes later, she marched into the police station, demanding to see the chief.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Petrov,” the officer manning the desk said. “He left a little bit ago.”

  “So maybe you can help me. Where are you with the investigation into Jesse Claybourne’s attack?”

  He looked blank for a moment. “Oh, you mean your friend that got hit in the head at your marina?”

  “Right. Bad concussion, stitches, broken ribs. What’s being done to find whoever did this?”

  “We’re doing everything we can, Sasha,” the chief said from behind her. She hadn’t heard him come in.

  “Really? What kind of everything are you doing?”

  He folded his arms over his barrel chest, obviously not liking her tone of voice. “We do not divulge the details of an ongoing investigation.”

  Sasha made her pose mirror his. “So there is an actual investigation?”

  “Of course. We take care of our own in this town.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Though I don’t hold out much hope of finding whoever did this.”