Carlene Thompson

by Black for Remembrance (epub)

  She and the kids went to Pizza Hut for dinner, arguing good-naturedly over what toppings to choose. Caroline was relieved to see that Greg and Melinda had settled down about the projected trip, although they were still miffed that she wouldn't tell them where they were going except to a beach. Thank goodness she hadn't mentioned Miami this morning, she thought; since Tom said it was vital to keep their whereabouts a secret until the killer was found.

  They got home around seven. Caroline sent Greg up to pack while she assembled George's traveling paraphernalia, including vitamins, heartworm pills, and his favorite squeaky toy. Melinda sat at the kitchen counter coloring, and when the phone rang, she picked it up.

  "For you, Mommy," she said. "It's not the ghost—it's a man."

  Caroline took the phone, hoping whoever it was hadn't heard the part about the ghost. In a moment, though, she didn't care. It was the police calling to say David had been shot in the parking lot behind his office.

  Chapter 15

  "MOMMY? WHAT'S WRONG? Mommy? Greg! Come quick! Something's wrong with Mommy!"

  Caroline was aware of the receiver being taken from her hand and Greg's voice seeming to come from a great distance. Then he hung up the phone.

  "What is it?" Melinda wailed.

  "Dad's been shot, squirt, but he's not dead." By this time the room had stopped spinning and Caroline focused on Greg's frightened face. "Mom, we've got to get to the hospital. I'll drive."

  "You don't have a license," Caroline said. "We'll ask the patrolman Tom put outside to guard the house to take us."

  "Looks like he was guarding the wrong people," Greg said dismally. "Lin, put on your coat. You gonna be all right, Mom?"

  "Yes, I'm fine." Caroline tried to smile. "Go get the policeman."

  Melinda sat sniffling in the back seat as the young policeman drove with careless speed. None of them said a word.

  Another officer was waiting outside the emergency room. He was middle-aged and looked like he hadn't smiled for years, but his voice was kind. "Mrs. Webb?" he asked as the three of them trailed up.

  "Yes. What happened to my husband?"

  "Why don't you have a seat first."

  The waiting room was nearly empty, Caroline was glad to see. A television mounted high on the wall played to an audience of one woman. Caroline sat down on a black vinyl chair while Melinda and Greg hovered near her.

  "According to your husband's nurse," the policeman began, "Dr. Webb said he was worried about something at home and asked that she call and cancel his last two appointments. He exited his office building by the back door that opens onto the staff parking lot. About twenty minutes later, after the nurse had made the calls and locked the front door, she went out the same way. That's when she found him about fifty feet from the car."

  Melinda had started to whimper. "Let's go look for a Coke machine," Greg said. "I'll put the money in and you can push the button." He took her hand and Melinda stumbled after him.

  "How seriously is my husband hurt?"

  "It's a thigh injury. He must have fallen and hit his head, because he was unconscious. I'm no doctor, but he didn't look too torn up to me. I'd say he's going to be fine."

  Caroline realized she hadn't taken a deep breath since the phone call telling her David had been shot. So he hadn't been lying out in the parking lot with a hole in his chest like the cemetery guard, which is what she had been picturing.

  "Do you have any idea who shot him?"

  The policeman looked at her gravely. "Whoever did it was long gone by the time we got there."

  "And there were no witnesses?"

  "Only one other office in the building was open—a dentist's office at the front. Since the staff parking lot is at the back and surrounded on three sides by trees, there wasn't much chance of anyone seeing anything."

  "But someone had been waiting for him."

  Just like they waited for Chris, Caroline thought. Someone who knew their habits, someone who had been watching.

  Greg and Melinda returned, cans of Coke in hand. Melinda looked a little better, although she immediately wanted to know how Daddy was.

  "I don't know yet, honey," Caroline said, taking the Coke Greg offered. She didn't want it, but it was sweet of him to think of her.

  "Are they going to do an operation?" Melinda asked.

  "We'll have to wait until the doctor talks to us before we know."

  Melinda climbed up on a chair. "I'm a nervous wreck," she sighed.

  Greg and the policeman laughed, and even Caroline couldn't stifle a smile. "I'm sorry everything is such a mess, honey."

  "It's not your fault." Melinda looked at the policeman. "We have a ghost. She must have shot Daddy."

  The policeman's smile faltered, and Caroline was relieved at that moment to see David's friend, Lew Ramsey, coming from the emergency room. His tired face creased into a smile. "Caroline, it's been so long. I'm just sorry we have to see each other under these circumstances."

  "I know, Lew. How is he?"

  "Lucky. He has a nasty wound in the right thigh, but thank God the bone wasn't shattered. No vascular damage, either. If there had been, he could have bled to death out in that parking lot before someone found him. Most of the damage was to the quadriceps. We'll be keeping him for three or four days, then he'll be on crutches."

  "Is he conscious?" the policeman asked.

  "Yes. I suppose you'd like to question him."

  "If it's all right."

  Lew nodded. "I think he's up to it, although he's got quite a headache from that bump he took on the forehead. Go on in."

  "When can we see him?" Caroline asked.

  "Let's let the police finish with him first before his sedative really takes effect, then we'll get him settled in his room." He glanced at Melinda. "Not such a shock to see him lying in a regular hospital room, you know."

  "Of course. We just want to say goodnight."

  "Should just be a few minutes." Lew put his hand on her shoulder. "Get some color back in your face, girl. He'll be fine. He was shot at close range, but only with a .22."

  "A Beretta, no doubt," Caroline said softly.

  "What makes you think that?"

  "Just a hunch."

  Lew looked at her quizzically. "Well, I'm not that good at identifying bullets. The police will have to decide what kind of gun it was."

  As he disappeared back in the emergency room, Caroline turned to see Lucy standing nearby. "Hello, Caro."

  "How did you know?"

  "Greg called me." Caroline looked at Greg, who was draining his Coke. So he'd known all along there was trouble between her and Lucy. She would have to realize he wasn't a child anymore but an increasingly perceptive adult.

  Melinda rushed to Lucy. "Daddy got shot! His quadruped's hurt."

  "Quadriceps," Caroline said. "It's a muscle in the thigh. But he's going to be all right."

  "Thank God," Lucy breathed, picking up Melinda. Caroline noticed that her jeans were looser, and with only scant makeup, her face was almost homely. "Tom's gone to the parking lot."

  "He probably won't find anything."

  "He might surprise you." She hugged Melinda then set her down. "I want the three of you to come home with me tonight."

  Caroline shook her head, piercingly aware of how strange it felt to be facing Lucy on these terms. Their voices were cautious, their eyes continually straying away uncomfortably.

  "I really think we should be at home," Caroline said. "There's George…"

  "He can come too."

  "I don't think so, Lucy, but thanks anyway."

  "You shouldn't go back there alone."

  Caroline tucked her hair behind her ears. "Lucy, if this person wants us, he'll find us no matter where we are. Besides, Tom assigned someone to watch the house."

  "It won't do any good, though," Melinda intoned. "You can't see a ghost if it doesn't want you to."

  Lucy looked at her cautiously. "And you think a ghost shot your daddy?"

  "O
h, yes. The ghost of Hayley."

  Lucy's mouth opened and shut as she tried to come up with an answer. Greg saved her the trouble. "Come on, Lin, let's check out the gift shop and see if we can get a present for Dad."

  "A stuffed dog that looks just like George! He'd like that."

  When they had gone, Lucy sat down beside Caroline. "I've wanted so much to talk to you these last few days."

  "To say you're sorry? You don't have to. I know you are."

  "It only happened once, Caro. It wasn't planned…"

  Caroline stood up. "I don't want to hear the details."

  The woman watching the television glanced at her briefly, then returned to her situation comedy whose laugh track blared annoyingly around the little room.

  Lucy reached out and touched Caroline's arm. "I wasn't going into any details. I just wanted you to know that it wasn't an affair. It was one stupid night."

  Caroline turned to face her. "When you found out I'd been talking to Chris about all the things happening lately, you acted angry. Were you jealous?"

  Lucy's eyes widened. "Jealous? God, no. I just knew that if you and Chris started saying more than hello and goodbye to each other, there would be trouble. Either he would start trying to insinuate himself back into your life, or he'd tell you about us. I mink he's done both."

  Caroline sat down again. "There is something I've wanted to ask you the past few days. You've remained friends with Chris all these years. How?"

  Lucy played with her dangling gold earring. "The blame lay with both of us, Caro. He didn't rape me, and he didn't force me to have an abortion."

  "But he was in favor of it."

  "Yes, but the final decision was mine."

  "Because of me." She studied Lucy. "How you must have resented me all these years."

  Lucy finally pulled off the earring and sat looking at it in her hand. "I didn't resent you. It wasn't your fault. But let's not talk about that now."

  Caroline popped open the Coke can and took a sip, glancing up at the television. "I'm glad you're here."

  "You are?"

  "Yeah. As Tom reminded me, over twenty years of friendship aren't easily forgotten."

  "Tom talked to you about this?"

  "Yes. He loves you very much, Lucy."

  "I know."

  "Is the reason you never married him—that you're still in love with Chris?"

  Lucy shook her head. "No, I don't still love him. I don't think I ever did. It was more like a delayed schoolgirl crush. I guess I never married Tom because I was afraid of totally committing myself to someone and then losing them, like you did Chris."

  Caroline shrugged. "I can't guarantee that you won't—life is too unpredictable—but Tom isn't Chris. He's much more stable, less self-consumed. I think you should take the chance."

  "I can't believe you're being such a good friend after how I deceived you."

  Caroline sighed. "I admit it threw me, but I overreacted. I've already lost a daughter, and I could have lost a husband tonight. Maybe shocks like that make you realize you should value those close to you and not flagellate them because they're human. When I saw your face here in the waiting room, I felt more joy than anger, and I realized I can't turn against you because of one mistake you made twenty years ago. Besides, you already paid a terrible price." She gazed into Lucy's eyes. "You should have had that baby if you wanted it, Lucy, and let me handle the situation the best way I could."

  "But I always thought of you as so delicate, so sensitive. Chris and I thought you'd fall apart."

  "I did anyway, so it was all for nothing."

  "Yeah," Lucy said softly. "All for nothing."

  Greg and Melinda suddenly reappeared carrying a milk-glass vase full of red roses and baby's breath and a small gold box of Godiva chocolates. "I picked out a pink piggy bank, but Greg said this is what you give sick people," Melinda announced. "Also, he charged it to Daddy's account."

  "I only had a buck fifty with me," Greg bristled.

  "That's all right. I'll take care of the bill later," Caroline said.

  Melinda looked hopeful. "Then maybe you could go back and get that bank. It was so cute. The pig was laughing…"

  A nurse materialized at the door of the waiting room. "Mrs. Webb, you can see your husband now. I'll show you the way."

  Officially children were not allowed to visit patients, but since David was on staff at the hospital, Melinda trooped down the hall with her mother and Greg, proudly carrying the flowers. Once they were in the room, however, she fell silent and shy. Caroline could understand why. David looked awful, deathly pale with forbidding circles around his eyes and a bruise on his forehead. He raised his head weakly when they entered, then let it fall back with a thump. Melinda was clearly alarmed and Greg didn't look too sure of himself either, so Caroline decided to be as lighthearted as possible.

  "David Webb, you'll do anything to get out of leaving town!" He smiled wanly and she went over to kiss him. "Here I did all that packing for nothing."

  "Not for nothing," he said huskily. "I want the three of you to go ahead."

  "Not in the morning as planned. Maybe in a day or two."

  "Stubborn as ever," David muttered, smiling. He peered at the children. "Are those gifts I see?"

  "Candy and flowers," Greg said. "But you don't look much in the mood for candy."

  "I will be tomorrow."

  Caroline took the gifts from the children and placed them on a bedside table. Then Melinda began to cry.

  "What's this all about?" David said, forcing heartiness in his voice.

  "That ghost shot you," Melinda wailed. "You almost got killed."

  David reached out his hand and she took it hesitantly. "Lin, a ghost didn't shoot me. I think it was just someone shooting at a stray cat. They missed and shot me."

  "You're just fooling. People think kids don't know anything."

  David smiled. "You're right. That was a silly answer. But a ghost didn't shoot me, honey. A real live person did, a person Tom's going to catch and put in jail."

  "Did you see anything, Dad?" Greg asked.

  "I heard something. A rustling in the trees. And I could swear I heard someone say, "There he is." Then my leg gave way and I hit the ground. But I can tell you one thing—whoever it was didn't mean to kill me. They could have finished me off easily when I was unconscious, but they didn't."

  The intent was merely to frighten, Caroline thought. Someone wanted to frighten you like they wanted to frighten Chris. Then another thought struck her. It was Chris's left shoulder that had been wounded, not the right that would have interfered with his painting. And David had been shot in the leg. If it had been either shoulder, his ability to perform deliveries, especially Caesareans, might have been impaired.

  The nurse stuck her head in the door. "I'm afraid I'll have to shoo you out until tomorrow. Dr. Webb has had a sedative and he really needs to sleep."

  "Of course," Caroline said. "Kids, say goodbye to Daddy."

  Melinda, her tears dried, gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek. Greg gravely shook hands, then quickly brushed his lips against his father's cheek before heading out the door.

  "He hasn't kissed me since he was seven," David said. Then, "Melinda, would you mind waiting outside with Greg for a minute while I say something to Mommy?"

  "Okay. I love you lots and lots."

  "I love you too, sweetheart."

  When she had gone, David suddenly gripped Caroline's hand and held on with surprising force. "There's something I didn't want to tell you in front of the kids."

  Caroline braced herself, trying not to wince as he squeezed her hand. "What is it, darling?"

  "That voice I heard saying 'There he is'—it seemed to be speaking to itself, and it was a child's voice. A little girl's."

  Chapter 16

  "YOU'RE A HARD lady to find," Tom said as Fidelia Barnabas stood in the open doorway, her rough-woven beige caftan swaying around her slim body in the cold air.

  "I've
been out of town," she said. "Has something happened at de Webb house?"

  "How did you know?"

  "I can't think of anything else dat would bring a police lieutenant here."

  "As a matter of fact, a couple of things have happened in the last two days. May I come in and talk to you about them?"

  Fidelia moved aside. "Please."

  Tom stepped into a small room with hardwood floors dotted with cheerful, patterned rugs. Several primitive paintings hung on the white walls, and the furniture was simple and austere, the kind you buy and refinish yourself. On a round table beneath a window lay ten pink, highly polished cowrie shells.

  "Would you like some herb tea?" Fidelia asked politely. "Or maybe something stronger."

  "Nothing, thanks." Tom sat down on a cane-backed chair while Fidelia sank gracefully to the floor, her shining black hair spreading over her right shoulder and hanging to her waist, her narrow bare feet peeking from beneath the caftan.

  She fixed him with her uncannily light blue eyes. "What's happened?"

  "You cleaned for the Webbs day before yesterday, right?"

  "Yes."

  "About what time did you leave the house?"

  "Two o'clock. I offered to stay later, but Mrs. Webb told me to leave at two. You heard her."

  "Sometime before four-fifteen, Melinda's room was ransacked, her dolls torn up, some furniture broken. Also there was a message left on the mirror. 'Help me Mommy,' it said. It was written in human blood."

  Fidelia looked at him steadily. "Human blood. And you tink I did it?"

  "You were there."

  "I see." Fidelia looked away for a moment, her dangling silver earrings catching light from the small fire burning in her white-stone fireplace. "Does Caroline tink I did it?"

  "No, but you can understand why I have to question you. Where have you been the last two days?"

  "Visiting relatives in Cincinnati. My papa's people." She pronounced papa with the accent on the second syllable.