I hit the nurse-call button on my little remote control. She must have been eavesdropping because she popped into my room before either detective had a chance to answer. She bustled over to my side, elbowing Jeffers out of the way and offering him a brilliant smile. She was Latina or maybe Indian, with dark eyes, thick black hair, and dimples. She stood about five foot nothing and had the kind of curvy body that made men drool. Jeffers was no exception.
“How are you, Miss Wyatt?” she asked me, reaching over to shut off the call button and then check my IV and the machine it hung on. “I’m your nurse, Esme. How can I help you?”
“I’m really tired and hurting a lot.” Both were true, though I could tolerate a lot more pain without more drugs. They’d told me not to let it get bad, though, or it would be harder for them to get it under control.
She grabbed my chart and looked at it, made a notation, and set it aside. “You’re due for your medication. But first, let’s get some readings.”
She then took my blood pressure, temperature, my blood oxygen, and who knows what else.
“Hmm,” she said as she wrote things down. “You’ve got a slight fever, and your blood pressure is low.”
“And I’m hungry,” I said. “I haven’t eaten since—” I had no idea. “What time is it, anyway?”
She smiled. “Nearly eight p.m. I’ll send for something for you. In the meantime, I can bring you some juice and your medication. What would you prefer?”
After hearing my choices, I picked orange juice.
She smiled. “I’ll be right back.” She gave the detectives a stern look. “Please remember that Miss Wyatt has been severely injured. Do not tire her.”
“I’m already tired,” I said, crossing my arms as best I could and giving them a defiant look. “Sick and tired of you. If you’re going to start calling me a liar and a murderer again, then just go away. Or better yet, I’ll get myself a lawyer and you can talk to him.”
“Now, Miss Wyatt,” Jeffers began.
I cut him off. “No. I like Detective Ballard marginally better than you. She can ask questions.”
Jeffers turned a little red, and his jaw clamped. He nodded to Ballard as if she needed his permission, which I doubt she did, but sometimes you played the game to get ahead. Cop work wasn’t really welcoming of women was my bet. That was probably amplified in the elite world of the detectives.
“Miss Wyatt, if I understand correctly, you were not attacked. Was anybody else present at the time of your fall?”
I cocked my head, annoyance starting to peg into the red. “Exactly how would that matter? Why don’t you get to the meat of your questions because I’m a gnat’s ass away from telling you to fuck off again. Let’s start with the fact that my adventure in the river has nothing to do with my mother’s murder, nor was I attacked, so it’s not police business. I’m done talking to you about it.”
Ballard nodded and Jeffers made a noise and folded his arms over his chest. Ballard lowered her notebook and looked me in the eyes. She was probably around thirty with creamy smooth brown skin, straight black hair caught up behind her head in a ponytail, and wearing a blue suit with an ivory blouse. Her gun and badge hung on her hip.
“Frankly, Miss Wyatt, the mayor and governor are chewing our asses to make an arrest in your mother’s case. We’ve got shit for leads. From what we can tell, the murder was carefully planned and carried out. The killer left no prints of any kind, no DNA, nothing at all. It’s like he was a ghost. And yet your mother’s place is practically a fortress. There’s no way someone could sneak in and out without being seen unless they had inside help. We also think, given the circumstances, there might have been two perps, maybe three.”
Her candor surprised me. Pissed off Jeffers, too, who looked ready to throttle his partner.
“What do you want from me?”
“Information. The kind only you can give. We need you to walk us through the crime scene and the grounds, tell us if anything is unusual or out of place. We’d like you to give us anything you can about your mother’s last few weeks, her social and work lives, and anybody who might have had a grudge.”
“When I told you we weren’t close, I wasn’t lying, Detective. I did not know my mother particularly well.”
“All the same, you knew her better than anybody else except maybe some of the servants, and they refuse to say anything to us. They might be more forthcoming if you were present.”
It was true I knew a lot of the staff, though in a distanced way. I had no idea exactly what they knew about my mother and what she did to me, or whether they knew she could work magic or not. I’d never done anything magical on the property, so it was a safe bet that they didn’t know about my ability.
“We have yet to find a will, nor have her attorneys been able to provide any information concerning her heirs. Have you been contacted by the executor?”
I shook my head. “If my mother left me dirty toilet water, I’d faint. She wouldn’t give me the time of day if it would save her life.”
“Can you tell me exactly why your relationship was so poor?”
I shrugged and winced at the pain that ran through my banged-up shoulder. “If you figure it out, I’d like to know. I don’t remember her ever liking me, much less loving me. Maybe I was a shitty baby. Maybe I crapped on her best shoes. Maybe I ruined her figure and made her breasts sag. Whatever crime I committed, I did it before I developed a memory, and she punished me for it my whole life.”
That was met with startled silence. Even Jeffers had lost his just-ate-rotten-eggs look.
Ballard recovered quickly. “And your father?”
“No idea who he was. Never saw a picture or heard a name. If not for the fact that a woman needs sperm to get pregnant, I wouldn’t even know he ever existed.”
“So they weren’t in touch?”
“Not that I know of, but like I said, I didn’t know much about my mother.”
“All right, then,” Esme said as she bustled in with orange juice and a small plastic tray with a tiny plastic cup containing three pills. “Swallow these with water.” She handed me the pills and then a plastic insulated cup with a bendy straw and Doggett’s Memorial Hospital printed on the side.
I did as told and handed the water back. She gave me the juice.
“Your meal will be here shortly.”
She turned a sunny smile on the detectives. “I’m afraid it’s time for you to go now. Miss Wyatt needs rest, and visiting hours are over.”
Nurse Esme didn’t fool me or the cops one bit. She might be small and have a megawatt smile, but she expected to be obeyed or else. I kind of hoped Ballard and Jeffers would refuse so I’d get to watch her mow them down. Sadly, they nodded and started for the door. Ballard turned around and came back, handing me her card. I think it was the third one she’d given me.
“Please call when you are ready to take us through your mother’s home.”
What she didn’t say was, and do it soon, or we’ll be back to get you, but I heard it anyway.
Chapter 15
Dinner proved to be an anemic ham and cheese sandwich with an apple and the ubiquitous hospital off-brand gelatin. Green. Accompanying those culinary nightmares were a small macaroni salad and a carton of milk. I ate the sandwich and the apple. The macaroni was swimming in mayo, and just say no to Jell-O. Always. I was still starving, so I decided to drink the milk. Thanks to the narcotics running through my system, I fell asleep before I could ask for anything more.
Pain woke me up to darkness. Well, as dark as it gets in a hospital, which isn’t very. I knew instantly I wasn’t alone.
“Jen? Is that you?”
Movement from beside me, and a tall figure rose and a warm, masculine hand slid over mine.
“It’s Damon.” His voice was hoarse. Maybe he was catching a cold.
“What are you doing here?” I rolled my eyes at myself. “Never mind. Your employer wants me, and you’re stalking me, blah blah blah. How did you know where I was?” I str
uggled to sit up. “Is Ajax okay?”
He let go of my hand and pushed back on my shoulder. I yelped and fell back. The painkillers must’ve worn off because that little nudge hurt bad enough to make tears well up. I held myself still, panting as I waited for the pain to subside.
The dim evening light behind the bed popped on.
“What the—?” Damon pulled my hospital gown from my shoulder and then started swearing. Abruptly he cut off. “How bad are you hurt?” He reached out to touch my face but stopped before he made contact.
“Cuts and bruises. Lost some blood but they put some back, so I’m probably even. Curse is gone too. They say I’ll be fine. How’s Ajax? Where is he?”
“He’s fine. Climbing walls and snarling. He’s in my truck, actually, and probably chewing holes in my seats.”
Relief made it hard to breathe. I put my palms over my eyes. “Thanks.”
He slid his hands around my wrists and pulled them away from my face. He turned them over and rubbed his thumbs in my palms. “I thought you’d died.”
The words held something I couldn’t read.
“I was going to anyway,” I said. “I had to try to do something to save myself.”
“How?”
His gaze drilled into me and made me want to squirm. It felt like he was accusing me of something. “I wasn’t trying to commit suicide, if that’s what you’re getting at,” I snapped, trying to yank my hands away from him. He didn’t let go, and he didn’t say he hadn’t thought it.
“Go away,” I said. “I don’t want you here.”
“Too bad,” he growled. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I hurt too much to argue. I stopped struggling to get my hands back and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and blowing it out.
“Why do you have to be such an asshole?”
“Why do you have to bother me so much?”
My eyes popped open. “Bother you? Bother you? Are you serious? You’re the one who tried to kidnap me. You’re the one who keeps following me around. I haven’t done anything to you.”
“And that bothers me too.”
I shook my head. A sound escaped me. My whole body throbbed. I didn’t want to admit how bad the pain was in front of Damon.
“You’re hurting.”
“Duh. Prize to the idiot standing over the battered woman in the hospital bed. It’s like you’re a detective or something. What clued you in? The seventy-three stitches? Or all the black and blue?”
He sighed and let go of my hands. I knotted them together on my stomach.
“Call the nurse.”
I had the childish urge to tell him to fuck off and the hell with me suffering. Pain won out. I’m no martyr. I hit the call button. “She’s not going to like finding you here. She already chased off the cops.”
His eyes narrowed when I mentioned the cops. “What did they want?”
“To ask if whoever killed my mother attacked me. When I told them it was an accident, they asked if I’d tried to commit suicide.”
His long moment of silence reinforced that he’d wondered the same thing. I don’t know why that pissed me off so much. I didn’t give a flying fuck what he thought of me. Except that for no good reason I could think of, I didn’t want him to think I’d tried to kill myself. I’d already told him so once, I wasn’t going to say it again. If he didn’t believe me, well, then I’d just have to deal with it, wouldn’t I?
Except my mouth had other ideas. “If I really wanted to die, I could have stayed at the pool with you and Banana Buddha and just gone to sleep forever. Nice and comfortable. Instead, I swam into the frigid river, bashed myself on rocks, climbed up a rock wall, then hiked a few miles to find the road. Does that sound like someone who wanted to commit suicide? No, it doesn’t. So fuck off and go away.”
I was pissed enough to turn onto my side so I didn’t have to look at him and he couldn’t see my tears. Fucking hell. Why was a crying again? Overload, I supposed. And exhaustion. Maybe I was getting my period. That had to be it.
The door opened and Nurse Esme walked in. She turned off the call light. “What can I do for you, Miss Wyatt? Are you in pain?”
As she talked, she started checking all my vitals again. I had to roll on my back. Damon had disappeared. He must’ve slipped out the door when she came in. Well, good riddance. Maybe the bastard would stay the hell away. He’d damned well better take good care of Ajax, or I’d kick him in the nuts.
Chapter 16
I woke a couple more times in the night, always alone. At seven-thirty, my new nurse—Toby—brought me breakfast, and Jen came in hot on his heels. Lorraine and Stacey were right behind.
“What happened?” Jen demanded. “Christ, you look like you’ve been mauled by coyotes.”
“I fell in the river and got banged up on the rocks. Then I had to walk out to the road and anyway, I’m going to be fine, but sore, or so they tell me.”
“How did you fall?” Stacey asked. “And naked?”
Jen must’ve told them I needed clothes.
“It was stupid. I went to lay out and didn’t want tan lines. I must have slipped when I got up and fell into the river.”
I wanted to keep it vague. Details would only raise questions.
“Where’s Ajax?” Lorraine asked. “I went by your place to check on him, and he wasn’t there.”
I hadn’t thought about how to answer that one. They didn’t know about Damon, and I didn’t want them to find out. “I guess someone found him. That’s what the cops said.”
“Tell me where they have him, and I’ll pick him up.”
“I was going to call when I got home,” I said, trying to deflect her. “Which is going to be as soon as I can get the doctor in here. I’m done with the hospital. I want to leave.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Stacey asked.
“I don’t care. I want to go home.” Now I really sounded like a teenager with an attitude problem. Which, to be fair, was true except the part about being a teen.
Right about then, the doctor and Nurse Toby came in and shooed the girls out. The doc rifled through my chart and then checked me over from head to toe.
“You certainly were thorough,” he said. “You hardly left a square inch of yourself undamaged.”
“I did my best. If you tell me where I missed, I’ll try to get it later.”
He chuckled. “It probably wouldn’t hurt you to stay another night here, but it isn’t necessary, as long as you take the antibiotics I’ll prescribe and don’t let the pain overwhelm you. That’s important. Doing that will delay healing. You’ll need to rest and stay off those feet for at least a week. Keep an eye out for inflammation or signs of infection, and take your full antibiotic prescription. Drink plenty of fluids too. You’ll want to make an appointment with your regular doctor next week to get the stitches removed and double-check that you don’t have any infections. You may also want to consult with a plastic surgeon. You’re going to have some scars.”
I nodded and listened, but he’d already answered my only question: When could I get the hell out of here?
“All right. I’ll leave instructions for you and prescriptions. We should be able to get you checked out before noon.”
He left and I immediately started struggling up out of the bed. “Where are my clothes?”
“Noon is still hours away,” Stacey said.
“You should rest until then,” said Jen.
“I should also go pee and get dressed,” I said determinedly. Bullheadedly, some would say. Everybody in the room but me would say it, really.
I won the argument since I wasn’t getting back into bed until I was dressed. Jen had brought me a maxi dress, a bra, and underwear. I opted out of the bra since it would put too much pressure on my wounds. She’d also brought me a brush and comb. My hair was sticky and stiff and raising my arms up hurt like hell. I persevered until I stopped looking like a freaked-out porcupine.
I took my next pain pill under protest. I
was half afraid that I’d end up stuck in the hospital another night if my head wasn’t clear enough to demand release. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to escape until two in the afternoon. They wheeled me out in a wheelchair, and I climbed into the front seat of Jen’s Mini.
Back at home, I desperately wanted to melt into a puddle of goo. I couldn’t until I got Ajax back. The trouble was, I didn’t know how to reach Damon.
“Okay, how do I get in touch with this guy who has Ajax?” Lorraine asked. “You’re not going to relax until you have him here.”
I bit my lips. “I don’t know.”
That confession earned me three stares.
“Excuse me?” Lorraine said. “What do you mean you don’t know how to reach him? You said you were going to call him when you got home.”
“I—” I couldn’t find any words. They kept waiting and I looked like a gaping fish.
“All right,” Stacey said. “I’m done.”
“Stace,” Jen said. “This isn’t the time.”
“The hell it’s not.” She glared at me, her pixie face set and determined. “We’ve held back long enough. Years and years. It’s time you told us what you’re hiding from us.”
“Like who has Ajax. You and I both know that someone doesn’t just find him and take care of him. That dog wouldn’t put up with that kind of crap. And if you’d really fallen in the water, he’d have gone after you,” Lorraine added.
“And you just fell into the river while sunbathing? What kind of stupid shit story is that?” Jen demanded, having clearly decided that now was, in fact, the time. “A five-year-old wouldn’t fall for such a dumb explanation. It’s insulting that you think we would.”
“And we haven’t,” Stacey said. “Never. Not one single time you fed us a fairy story. But because of your mom, we didn’t push. We figured you were dealing with things the way you needed to in order to survive. We always knew you were protecting us as much as you could. Now? It’s time for you to start telling us the truth. We’ve got your back.”
I decided I wasn’t going to argue. It would only piss them off, and I’d end up confessing everything anyway. Well, “everything” covered a lot of ground, and I wasn’t sure how fast they’d get over the whole magic thing.
Putting the Fun in Funeral Page 11