by Susan Stoker
“And what about the field breathalyzer?”
Adam’s baby-fresh face reddened. “Sir. Lloyd told us that his wife had been holding a bottle of bourbon that broke during the impact and that’s why he smelled like booze. Lloyd reminded us that he was the county prosecuting attorney and he would never drive if he’d been drinking. He didn’t seem drunk and he needed to leave to be with his son at the hospital.”
“And did you find a broken bottle at the scene?”
“Yes, sir.”
Kyle leaned back in his chair. “Kid, you’re new here, so let me tell you a little fact. The county DA doesn’t have the authority to do anything to you if you are doing your job. In my opinion, field sobriety tests should have been done but…” he shrugged. “the state’s in charge, and if they didn’t do one, not a lot you can do. What about…” He looked at the report in his hand. “What about Frederick Worthington? Did you do field sobriety tests on him?”
“Yes, sir. No alcohol registered on the breathalyzer, but he was unsteady on his feet. Maybe he’d taken some other type of drug. We don’t know.”
“Tell me about the Lloyd child.”
The deputy’s eyes shifted from side to side as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Well, sir, Mr. Lloyd claims he and his wife had just picked up their son from the babysitter and were on their way home. He says the boy was secured in a child booster seat. However, when the Worthington truck hit the Lloyd’s car, the child was thrown from the car. Mr. Lloyd claims his son was ejected from the booster seat, but we didn’t find the seat. Mr. Lloyd stated he thought the booster seat had floated away in Ten Mile River.” The deputy shrugged. “Could happen, I guess. The accident was right at the river’s edge, and the water was flowing pretty hard and fast that night from all the rain we’ve had.”
“I want to see that booster seat.”
“We looked, sir.”
“I want Ten Mile checked inch by inch. If that booster seat is there, I want it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll contact Sheriff Singer’s office. Ten Mile runs right through Whispering Springs. Maybe he can get his deputies to check the river down there for the missing child seat. Let me know if you have any other information about this.”
“Will do, sir.”
“So, who’s telling the truth here?”
“My money is on Worthington, sir.”
“And you figured this out how?” During their conversation, Kyle had been scanning the report. With the exception of not doing a breathalyzer on Lloyd, the deputy and his partner had done a thorough job with their investigation. But he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to teach his deputy.
“Well, sir, I photographed and diagrammed the scene. I measured sixty feet of skid marks matching the tires of Mr. Worthington’s Ford Bronco in the northbound lane. Based on skid-mark measurement and road conditions, I estimated Mr. Worthington’s speed at thirty-six miles per hour.
“I measured tire marks moving from the northbound lane into the southbound and skid marks of seventy-five feet. These marks appear to be from the Lexus driven by Mr. Lloyd. Based on skid-mark measurements and road conditions, I estimated Mr. Lloyd’s speed at fifty-four miles per hour.”
Kyle nodded. “Good job. Hold on while I read your final paragraph.” He adjusted the lamp on his desk to throw more light on the paper and read…
Based upon the facts that are known to me at this time, I am of the opinion that the evidence does support either criminal charges or traffic infraction violations. In this case, a minor child passenger was ejected as the result of the impact and later died. No booster seat was located at the scene, and none has been located at the time of this report. Neither party admits to excessive speed, or reckless or improper driving. However, I am of the opinion that based on the onsite skid-mark analysis, speed was a factor in this case. Additionally, I am of the opinion that Mr. Lloyd crossed the center lane, precipitating the accident. Skid marks at the scene would appear to support this opinion.
“So you think Lloyd was at fault?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good report. You can go, Adams. We’ll talk later.”
The twenty-something deputy turned to leave, then spun back. “Sir? I want it on the record that I think Lloyd was at fault and that our report will support filing charges.”
“Thank you, Adams.”
Kyle slid the unofficial report into the center drawer of his desk and locked it. He might never need this information, but if he did, he’d have it.
Damned shame for the Lloyds to lose their son. He hoped the state police had a report similar to the one his deputy had prepared. Lloyd might have to deal with a special prosecuting attorney, not to mention a seriously angry and hysterical wife.
He glanced at the clock and arched, stretching his cramped back muscles. It’d been a long day that’d started too early. Six deep gongs rang from the cuckoo clock his receptionist had given him last Christmas. Six p.m.
He’d called Tess a couple of times during the day but she’d been either in surgery or unavailable for his calls. That wasn’t like her, but he wasn’t overly troubled. He knew her day had been as long and demanding as his.
He flipped open his cell and pressed the star key and one, the quick call number he’d assigned to Tess. Her phone rang a couple of times before voice mail picked up. He hung up, not leaving another message.
Not being able to talk to her today meant he’d been unable to assure her that Lloyd’s angry rant had been just that, all rant and hot air. She didn’t know that Preston was more at fault for his son’s death than she’d ever be.
An ache in his gut had eaten at him all day. He should have tried harder this morning to reach her, reassure her, be there for her. Their relationship was new and fragile, easily destroyed by words said, or words not said.
Needing to see her, to hold her, he headed to her house.
He pulled into her drive and parked. A light from her kitchen window drew arcs on the concrete. Good. She was home. He rang the bell and waited. After of a couple of minutes of hearing no movement inside, he rang again.
“She not there,” a tiny voice said.
He wheeled around and dropped his glance. A little blond-headed girl stood there, her thumb plugged snuggly in her mouth. He squatted.
“Hello there, Mattie. Does your mommy know where you are?”
About that time, he heard a frantic voice shouting, “Mattie. Mattie. Where are you?”
“Over here, Connie,” he answered, picking up the little girl and holding her close to his chest.
Connie Blass had moved next door to Tess six months ago. She’d been a single parent with an infant after her husband had been killed in Iraq. He and Tess had babysat Mattie a number of times, both of them taking genuine pleasure in spoiling her rotten. He looked forward to the day he and Tess had their own child to spoil. Boy or girl didn’t matter to him. Tess was wonderful with Mattie. She would make the best mother to as many children as he could talk her into having.
Connie’s round face popped around a bush. “Thank God. I swear, I turn my back for one second…” She hurried across the lawn. “How many times do I have to tell you not to leave our driveway?”
Mattie wrapped her arms around Kyle’s neck. “Mr. Kyle’s here.”
“I can see that,” Connie said. “But that’s no excuse for not minding.”
The little girl squeezed tighter and buried her face into his neck. “I love Mr. Kyle.”
Kyle’s heart swelled inside his chest to the point he could hardly breathe. “I love you too, Mattie, but you have to do what your mother tells you to.” He kissed her cheek and handed her over to Connie. “Here ya go.”
Connie hugged her daughter before lightly patting her behind. “You scared me, pumpkin.”
Kyle glanced toward Tess’s door, which remained closed. “Hey, Connie. You see Tess today?”
Connie nodded. “Yeah. About thirty minutes ago. She flew out of here on that boat
of hers like the devil himself was chasing her.” She grinned. “I swear the woman has lake water in her veins instead of blood.”
Kyle nodded. Of course. He should have thought about that. Connie’s description was spot-on accurate.
“Thanks.” He patted Mattie’s back. “You be a good girl.”
Kyle returned to his car wondering where Tess would be on Happy Jack Lake. He knew most of her favorite coves and hiding spots. Would it be a mistake to follow her? Did she really want to be alone? After all, he had left a number of messages today that she hadn’t returned.
On the other hand, given how her morning had started, she might want a shoulder to lean on but was too stubborn to ask him for it. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a couple of minutes before making up his mind.
Kyle tapped his phone on his thigh. He had to find Tess, to talk to her. He scrolled through his stored directory until he found the listing he needed, pressed Send and waited for someone on the other end to answer.
“Deputy Barr,” a deep voice said.
“Mark? Kyle Monroe here.”
“Yes, Sheriff. What can I do for you?”
“You on lake patrol right now?”
“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”
“I need a lift somewhere. Can you pick me up?”
“Somewhere, like on the lake?”
“Yup.”
“No problem. Where are you now?”
“You know where Dr. Tess Sweeney’s house is located?”
“Sure do.”
“Sounds like you’ve been by there before.”
Deputy Barr laughed. “Once or twice. Asked the lady out once. Got shot down big time.” He sighed loudly. “Anyway, yeah. I know her place. You need me to pick you up there?”
“Yup.”
“Be there in about ten.”
“Works for me. I’ll be on her dock.”
Kyle slipped his phone back into its belt holder. He stepped from his sedan, locked the doors, then headed through Tess’s gate into her yard. He’d first met Tess right here in her backyard, only then, it’d been overgrown with knee-high grass and rose bushes that’d been left to fend for themselves. Tess had reported a break-in and Kyle had responded since he was close.
It’d been hate at first sight. Tonight as he walked along a well-edged flagstone path marked by solar lighting with the scent of blooming roses in the air, he chuckled at the memory.
He’d called her a ball-busting bitch. She’d called him a straw-chewing, red-necked, backwoods Barney Fife. Their paths had continued to cross over the next eighteen months, their public opinions never changing until Kyle had been shot six months ago and Tess had done the surgery that saved his life. When he’d awakened in recovery, Tess had been there. And again when he’d awakened in his room. He’d asked her out repeatedly for months, but she’d refused to see him socially until he was fully cleared as her patient.
They’d only been seeing each other for a couple of months. He hadn’t expected his feelings for Tess to grow so deeply so quickly. It filled him with a mixture of terror and delight.
Kyle walked onto Tess’s dock and sat in the cedar swing to wait. His cell phone’s sharp shrill interrupted his thoughts, the sound echoing across the still water and back as though a multitude of phones had all gone off at one time. He pulled it off the belt holder expecting it to be Tess returning one of his many calls, but the readout said it was Troy Monroe.
“Hey, guy. What’s going on?”
“It’s been a bitch of day,” his brother replied. “How about meeting me at the Water’s Edge for some drinks and bro time?”
The Water’s Edge was the current hot spot to drink and be seen, someplace he and Tess had been avoiding.
“Can’t right now. What happened?”
Troy blew out a long breath. “I’m assuming you’re on top of the Lloyd debacle from this morning?”
“I’m aware of it. The state police is handling the investigation. Why?” Kyle held his breath, hoping that sonofabitch Lloyd hadn’t followed through with his ridiculous accusations against Tess.
“Lloyd was in my office this afternoon, steaming mad. Throwing around words like malpractice and lawsuit. Really went after Dr. Sweeney. You know her, right?”
Kyle forced himself to remain calm. Bastard Lloyd. “You know I know her. She did my surgery six months ago.”
“Right, right. Well, Lloyd claims she was operating under the influence this morning. Said he could smell the alcohol on her breath after the surgery when she came to talk to him and his wife. Said Sweeney holds a personal grudge against him and his wife, and they didn’t think she’d done all she could for his son.”
“Really? Said all that, huh?”
“You know I’ve had my reservations about her as chief of surgery. She’s been a pain in my ass since day one. Always wanting new and better equipment for the operating suites. Wanting more staff. Wanting more money for the staff. Always thinking she knows the best thing to do about everything. I’m thinking my gut was right and the board should have gone with Dr. Cartwright from California. Damn it.”
Kyle could hear his brother taking another drink. Must have started without him.
“Lloyd can really make a shitstorm for the hospital, and frankly, for me too. He’s already pulled Roy McCall in on the situation, and of course McCall is having one of his spastic fits about the hospital’s reputation. McCall wants the situation resolved, like yesterday.”
“Have you talked with Tess—Dr. Sweeney?”
“This afternoon after Lloyd left. She denied everything, of course. Fuck her, Kyle. She’s gone. You know the board hired me to repair the hospital’s reputation. We can’t take any more bad press. Lloyd can make my life a living hell, and I don’t need it, especially over a doctor I didn’t hire and already have reservations about.”
As much as Kyle wanted to defend Tess, especially on the operating-while-under-the-influence-of-alcohol charge, he couldn’t without violating her trust.
“Look, Troy. I think you need to hold off doing anything until the coroner has finished his autopsy and the accident’s final report is done. In my opinion, Lloyd is full of bullshit. He’s covering his own ass. My officers at the scene said he appeared fine but there was an alcohol smell on him and in his car. He claimed the smell was from a bottle of booze his wife was carrying home that broke when the accident occurred. Personally, I think that’s crap.”
“Doesn’t matter. There has to be an informal in-house inquiry about Dr. Sweeney’s performance and conduct. If anything is found, we’ll instigate a formal investigation.”
“Dude. You’ll ruin her career if you start digging around and implying she did something wrong.”
“Can’t be helped. Even if she didn’t intentionally kill Lloyd’s kid on the table, operating while drunk is a major problem.”
“Did you ask her if she had a witness that could verify she hadn’t been drinking?”
“She denies drinking but she didn’t offer up any proof beyond her word.”
Kyle had to bite his tongue from proclaiming her innocence in loud, unequivocal denials. She wasn’t drunk. She doesn’t drink. Lloyd’s actions contributed to his son’s death, not Tess’s surgical techniques. To know all these personal tidbits, he’d have to go public with their relationship, something Tess had asked him not to do.
She did not want their relationship to be fuel for the hospital gossip mill. First, because Kyle had been her patient and she felt she skirted the line dating a former patient, even though their doctor-patient relationship had ended by the first date. And second, she didn’t want the hospital staff or the chief of staff to think she was seeing the chief of staff’s brother as a way to garner favored-nation status when it came to surgery schedules or the department getting its fair share of financial resources.
As she’d told him, her private life was her business. If Kyle wanted to be with her, he had to respect that. He was damned if he said anything and damned
if he didn’t.
However Kyle knew Tess had been dead-cold sober when she’d done the surgery. In the months they’d been together, he’d never seen her take so much as a sip of alcohol. She’d passed it off as not liking the taste. He hadn’t believed her but he hadn’t challenged her on it either. When she was ready, she’d tell him everything.
However, his brother’s in-house inquiry, no matter how limited, might reveal aspects about Tess she wasn’t ready to discuss. He had to warn her.
“Bro? You still there?”
Kyle retuned back into the conversation. “I’m here. Just thinking.”
“Sure you can’t meet me for a drink or two? I’m buying?”
“You should buy. You have more money than sense.” Troy laughed, but Kyle meant what he’d just said. If his brother had any sense about him, he’d realize backing Lloyd would be backing the wrong horse. “But not tonight. I’ve got some business I need to attend to.”
“Okay, your loss. The Water’s Edge is crammed with hot women tonight.”
Troy had never been the same after finding his wife in bed with his best friend. It was as if he’d shut the door to anything that might convey a weakness, and that included any type of relationship. That’d been back when they’d been twenty-four. Kyle had been unattached and loved that his brother was back in the bars with him working the ladies. As identical twins, they got a lot of notice.
But Kyle had outgrown that scene. The only scene he wanted was the one that held only him and Tess Sweeney.
“Listen, Troy. I know you don’t usually take my advice—”
“Damn straight. I’m the oldest, therefore the wisest,” Troy said.
“Fine. I’m younger by two minutes, but listen to what I’m saying. Don’t stake your career and reputation on Lloyd’s word. It won’t be a good move, bro.”