She shivered. Losing too much blood and not being able to get enough to pump up the volume could cause hypovolemic shock. The body wouldn’t get enough oxygen, leading to tissue and organ damage, and sometimes death.
The bell above the door jangled, and Hannah looked up to see Malcolm Porter and a couple of his less savory friends enter the diner. They were laughing and joking as if nothing had happened.
“The king and his court have arrived,” she whispered bitterly, acknowledging one of her least favorite people. She might’ve felt sorry for the way the coach had treated him last night, but seeing him now, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world, wiped out the last of the sympathy she had for him. If Cedar Grove were to have an ugly underworld, then Malcolm would be on intimate terms with everyone involved in it. She’d heard whispers about performance enhancing drugs, but nothing had stuck, although knowing him, if there was a way to cheat and get away with it, he wouldn’t be above trying it. He was a sore loser and a braggart winner, neither trait attractive.
Malcolm chuckled loudly. “What gives? Did someone shoot the Great Pumpkin and no one bothered to tell me?”
Erik reddened, but not from embarrassment. Mina stared daggers at Malcolm, and some of the others in the room looked away, but he and his friend were too full of themselves to notice.
“Malcolm, for Pete’s sake, have a little respect,” chided Craig Lowe, the newest member of the Central relay team who stood talking to Mina close to the doorway.
“Get over yourself, twerp,” Malcolm answered, dismissing the sophomore and heading straight for her, stopping so close to her she could smell the stale coffee on his breath and something else equally unpleasant. He ignored her, just as he’d done since she’d refused to go out with him, as if by doing so, others would stop noticing her existence, and turned his attention to Erik.
“Any news, Brainiac?” he asked.
Malcolm could be a jerk at the best of times, so why should he be any different today? He was attractive, in that bad boy way that seemed to appeal to so many girls at school, and he knew it. Most of her friends would gladly date him, despite his reputation as a player, but she had no intention of being his next conquest. Besides, she had her heart set on Liam.
“No, not that it makes any difference to you,” Ronje answered, coming to Erik’s aid and rolling her eyes in disgust. “You don’t even like him.”
“True,” Malcolm agreed, with just enough smugness in his voice to rub Hannah the wrong way. “I won’t be a hypocrite and pretend I do the way some of you are doing. He’s always been a pain in my butt, and that hasn’t changed. I’ve just spent the last hour at the police station. They’ve still got my truck in impound, even though I went straight to Augusta after the coach finally released us last night. We were supposed to stay with my grandparents for the weekend, but Mom got a call, and we all had to come back. Those cops are trying to pin this on me.” His voice was filled with anger and disdain. Turning to Hannah, he speared her with an icy glare.
She shivered despite every effort she made to ignore him.
“If Daddy Dearest gets him walking again, it’ll be a miracle, but either way, I had nothing to do with it, Blondie, so quit looking at me as if I’m Public Enemy Number One.”
“Yeah, I can see you’re really broken up about it,” Erik growled, his temper overcoming his shyness.
“Why should I be? Let’s be honest here. There’s never been any friendship between us. He was my primary competition, and now he’s not. I probably owe someone my thanks. With him out of the running,” he laughed at his pun, “that scholarship and all the goodies that go with it will be mine. Enough said.”
“Malcolm, you’re such an ass,” Mari spat the words at him. “Why don’t you slither back under that rock where you came from? Liam could’ve died.”
Hannah was sure if she opened her mouth it would be the puke all over Mr. High and Mighty Porter.
“And that would be my problem because?”
Malcolm glanced around, his face paling as he took in the angry glares he was getting from the others in the diner. “Fine. Wallow in pity if you want to, but this is a holiday weekend, and I’ve got plenty to celebrate. It’s boring here. Let’s go.”
“I don’t believe for one minute that what happened to Liam was an accident,” Erik said after Malcolm and his friends left. He stood. “I have every intention of finding out what really happened and who’s behind it, and if Malcolm was involved, he’ll pay for it one way or another. Come on, Mari. We have to get back to the hospital.”
Hannah stared at the door closing behind them. She hoped Erik was wrong. The thought this might’ve been done on purpose made her blood run cold. Malcolm had the most to gain from Liam’s accident, but even that creep wouldn’t stoop that low. So who did and why?
* * * *
Dressed in her red and white candy-striper pinafore, her blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail, Hannah pushed the juice wagon along the hall, stopping in each room to offer the patients a cold drink, cookies, or fruit, and a few minutes of friendly conversation. Normally, she loved her volunteer work at Cedar Grove Hospital and enjoyed spending time with the patients, but today, she was anxious to get finished. It had been more than two weeks since the accident, and this was the first shift she’d had that would give her an opportunity to sneak upstairs and see how Liam was doing for herself. Dad claimed Liam was holding his own, but until he woke up, no one would know how severe and permanent his injuries would be.
Turning the cart into the next room, she pasted a smile on her face. Poor Mrs. Silmser was in again, her pregnancy-induced diabetes making life difficult, and Hannah picked up the approved beverage the nurse had provided specifically for the young mother-to-be.
“Hello, Mrs. S, how are you doing?”
Lois Silmser shifted her weight out of the chair and stood. “Better than expected. Only two more weeks before this little guy makes his appearance and life gets back to normal.” She shuffled closer to the cart. “Well, as normal as it can be with a three-year-old and a newborn.”
“I’ll bet you can’t wait. How’s Mallory?” she asked, giving the woman the small bottle, a plastic cup, and a saucer-sized paper plateful of fruit, vegetables, and cheese. Mallory was Lois’s three-year-old, a sweet little thing Hannah babysat occasionally.
“Thanks. You have no idea how anxious I am for this baby to arrive, but it’ll take months to shed all the extra weight.” She laughed and shook her head. “Mallory’s okay, missing me as much as I miss her, but having my mom and dad here to take care of her helps. Roy contacts them every couple of days, and his compassionate leave came through. He’ll be home next week. Mom’s going to bring the princess in for a visit after her nap this afternoon.”
“That’s great,” Hannah said. She reached for a juice box. Having Sergeant Silmser so far away during what had become a difficult pregnancy was hard on the whole family. “Here. I know she loves apple juice.”
“Thanks. I’ll set it aside for her. Wouldn’t want ‘Nurse Ratchet’ thinking I was cheating.” Lois uncapped the bottle of strawberry flavored beverage she was supposed to drink. “This one isn’t too bad, still chalky, but at least it’s tolerable. I heard about that hit and run accident. You must know Liam Howard. How is he doing?”
Hannah fought to keep the sadness off her face, reminded that a happy disposition was important to her job.
“I don’t know much. He’s still in the induced coma. They’re going to do an MRI later this afternoon, and if everything looks good, they’ll start reducing his meds to bring him out of the coma. Assuming it all goes well, he should wake up by the end of the week.”
A few more days seemed like an eternity, but Papa had explained why keeping him so deeply sedated was necessary. Liam was lucky to be alive, and no one wanted to jeopardize that. Besides, if they woke him too soon, he would be in a great deal of pain and that alone could slow his recovery.
“Such a terrible thing to have
happened,” the young mother said. “I just can’t believe someone would hit him like that and leave him like road kill. Who knows how long he would’ve lain there if Luke hadn’t come along.” She shuddered, her belly quivering like Santa’s bowl full of jelly. “I know his parents from church. I can’t imagine how awful that must’ve been for his father … finding him that way...”
And thank God he had, because otherwise Liam would’ve drowned in his own blood.
“Do the police have any leads?”
Shaking her head, Hannah pursed her lips. “No. They haven’t found any witnesses and Mina’s Uncle Jim is convinced whoever did this is long gone—probably disappeared up into Canada, making the vehicle even harder to find. They do know the person must’ve worn pointed toed shoes or boots.”
“I heard the nurses whispering about that. Kicking him, like an animal … probably seeing if he was still alive. Why not call 9 1 1? I suppose given the pointed toes, it could well be a woman.” She sighed. “Hopefully Liam will be able to tell them something,” Lois said, pouring the thick, pink liquid into the glass.
Hannah shrugged. “No one knows how much he’ll remember, and my dad won’t discuss the case. It’s a professional thing, but I know Liam’s parents hope he’ll remember something. I’d better get going. See you.”
Hannah pushed her cart out of the room and continued down the hallway. That Liam was alive was nothing short of a miracle. The truck or SUV—at least that was what Mina’s uncle said, given the height at which it had struck Liam—had caught him in the chest, breaking ribs, puncturing his right lung, and damaging his spleen, requiring a splenectomy. As she’d learned this year, life without a spleen was possible, but he would be more prone to infection for the rest of his days.
Liam had landed on the road, head and face first, fracturing his skull, as well as his sinus and orbital bones, and his jaw. The complex, depressed, three-inch fracture on his forehead had required hours of surgery, and a plastic surgeon had spent even more time rebuilding the rest of his face.
According to her father, given the severity of Liam’s frontal injuries, there was no way he could’ve turned over on his own and sustained the lump he had on the back of his head. Whoever had flipped him over had done it none too gently, which meant they’d stopped, looked him over, and moved on without calling 9 1 1 or getting help. The consensus was that the person had kicked Liam hard enough to flip him onto his back, making the situation worse, since his mouth and airway had filled with blood. There was bruising consistent with two very hard kicks, one of which had broken at least one of the ribs cracked by the vehicle. The police had gone back to the scene of the crime, looking for clues that the vehicle had tried to swerve and avoid him, but they’d found nothing. Everything pointed to someone hitting him on purpose. While the case was still hit and run, it wouldn’t take much to bump that up to attempted murder. What they needed was someone with a motive, and so far, they didn’t have one.
In addition to all the facial and head trauma he’s suffered, the cervical vertebrae in Liam’s neck had been compressed and stressed. It could’ve been worse, but until he awoke, they wouldn’t know the extent of that damage. What she prayed was that he would wake up with both his brain and his body in working order. If he did, he wouldn’t be running any races in the near future, but he would have one, and as far as his face went, it wouldn’t matter to her. He was alive, and that was what really mattered.
As soon as she finished her assignment, Hannah hurried up to the ICU to check on Liam. Hoping to find him alone for a few moments, she stepped into the room, but it was empty, the bed gone, and all the poles and machines turned off, standing abandoned at their posts. Panic flooded her. Had something happened?
“They took him for the MRI,” the voice from the shadows startled her, making her jump.
“You scared me,” she said, trying to get her racing heart under control. “You’re Erik. We met at O’Malley’s last Friday. I didn’t think he was scheduled until later.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Erik apologized quietly, unable to meet her gaze in his shyness.
“Don’t worry about it,” she answered, hoping to make him feel a little more comfortable around her. “Do you know why they took him sooner?”
“Apparently, they had a cancellation. Mrs. Howard left when they took him—she wasn’t allowed to go with him, so she went home to clean up. She’s pretty worn out. I told her she can leave while I’m here, but she’s afraid to leave in case something happens…” His voice trailed off as if he suddenly realized he was speaking to a stranger.
Papa had mentioned that Erik spent almost all his spare time at the hospital, sitting and talking to his friend, sometimes reading to him, at others playing music for him on his IPod.
“My father says he’s holding his own,” she offered, trying to sound friendly, but knew there was little comfort in the words.
Erik shrugged. “I know, and so does Mrs. Howard, but she still worries. After what happened to Mike, I guess it’s expected.”
She’d been eleven when Liam’s brother had drowned, but she remembered the tragedy. No one could understand why he would’ve been so careless, driving too fast in the fog, but bad things, like fatal accidents, happened all the time. The whole town had attended the funeral. Thank God there wasn’t going to be another one.
“He’s been gone almost an hour. You can wait with me if you like,” he offered and closed the book he was holding.
“What were you reading?” she asked, taking the chair next to him.
“Hamlet. We have a midterm test on it next week. I keep hoping he’ll wake up and come back in time to finish the semester. I read some place that people in a coma are often aware of what goes on around them. Thought if he remembered any of this, it would make it easier to catch up.” He shrugged awkwardly, as if embarrassed by what he’d said.
“Yuck.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, reading Shakespeare is enough to make him want to stay in that coma,” she commented and chuckled at his eyes, now the size of quarters. “Just kidding. We studied Julius Caesar last year. It was okay, but…”
Erik chuckled and smiled at her. “We did that one a couple of years ago. Et tu, Brute, and all that jazz. If the accident had happened on the fifteenth of March, we could’ve blamed the fates and the ides … This play’s a bit better, but I’ll take complex math problems over Shakespeare any day.” His face was red again, and he chewed his lip, obviously uncomfortable.
“Me, too,” she answered. “I prefer math and science to any other subject—except physical education, of course.”
“Phys. Ed isn’t my forte, but give me computers, and I’m in heaven. Congratulations on the win last Friday.”
Hannah frowned. “Malcolm only won because Liam wasn’t there. His time was even slower than his previous race. He’s gloating, but the rest of us know the truth. Once Liam’s back, he won’t stand a chance. But the coach was happy for the first time in ages, and that will make for more pleasant practices until the next race. We’ve got two more before winter sets in.”
He hung his head. “I feel responsible for all of this.”
Hannah frowned. “Why should you? How can this be your fault?” she gestured to encompass the room. “I mean, it’s not like you’re the one who hit him, right?”
The flush drained out of Erik’s face startling her. She didn’t believe for a second that he’d caused the accident, but he knew something about it—more than he’d shared.
“You know who did this, or you think you know, don’t you?” she accused, certain she was right.
Erik shrunk into the chair.
“Yes and no,” he answered, fidgeting in his agitation. He stood and walked to the glass door and looked out at the nurses’ desk.
“Which is it?” she asked, standing as well, her hands on her hips, angrier than she’d ever been. If he knew who was involved, why hadn’t he said anything?
“It’s c
omplicated.”
“Difficult or not, you can’t have it both ways.”
“I don’t know who hit him, but I may know why,” he admitted. “Liam does, too.”
“Well, he isn’t exactly giving interviews, is he? Explain yourself,” she said between clenched teeth. Liam meant the world to her, and if Erik knew who’d done this to him…
“Liam’s been getting threatening notes for a while now. It actually started last spring during track…”
Hannah listened, her disbelief growing by the second, as Erik slowly explained everything that had happened.
“So he thought it was all some kind of joke?” she asked, unable to tamp down her sudden fury. How dare he put himself in danger like that? “Someone threatened to kill him, and he just ignored the fact and went running anyway? How could he have been so stupid? You have to tell the police.”
“Tell them what?” Erik asked, frustration giving him a measure of courage and an edge to his voice. “That Liam was a victim of a few pranks? He didn’t confide in anyone except me. I’m the only one he told about the notes, and he didn’t keep any of them. Some of the boys on the track team and the coach know about the missing shoes and the damaged locker and jacket, but as far as anything else goes, until Liam wakes up and can tell the police what happened, anything I know is hearsay and useless. I should’ve tried harder to figure out who was behind it all. At the very least, I should’ve made him take the matter seriously, but he wouldn’t consider it could be someone he knew. And as far as accusing someone from Ivy Hills … Who’s going to believe me, the nerd townie, if I don’t have any proof?”
“Then you’ll have to find evidence, the kind of stuff that will hold up in court,” she said, determination making her bolder. “The police already think the accident was more than that. Whoever’s behind this is dangerous. Liam could’ve been killed. This isn’t some little prank—it’s attempted murder.”
Prove It! Page 4