by Vella Munn
“You’d never get in the dirt anyway, my dear.” Rogan spoke for the first time. “So it’s a moot point, don’t you think?”
Charmaine brushed off her husband’s comment. “You should have seen him when his parents were in an automobile accident. I practically had to carry him into the hospital. I’m surprised he isn’t waiting outside right now.”
Rogan had been holding his pipe since he came in the room. Now he clamped it, cold, between his teeth. He glanced at Mark but didn’t acknowledge the attorney. “I don’t like hospitals, dear. I don’t know why you need to belabor the point.”
“I know you don’t, my dear. It just seems so silly.” Charmaine turned back toward Kim. She waved her hand expansively. “A grown man with a phobia about hospitals.”
Kim didn’t hear another word Charmaine said. The ring on her middle finger first caught her attention and then held her riveted. It looked— Ignoring the complaint from her beaten body, Kim sat up straighter. Charmaine was about to move away. She couldn’t let her do that yet. “Will you be honest with me?” she blurted out. “Do I have a lot of bruises?”
Charmaine came closer, subjecting Kim to even more of her perfume. The older woman touched Kim gently under her right eye. “I’ve seen worse. Not that I’ve done it, of course, but I’ve seen women who’ve had plastic surgery. Now that really is bruising.”
Kim hadn’t imagined it. The black stone perched on Charmaine’s finger—
“I thought they would never leave,” Margaret breathed ten minutes later. “That perfume of Charmaine’s is enough to give anyone a headache.”
Kim wasn’t interested in Charmaine’s perfume. She didn’t know whether to be relieved that Rogan and his wife had decided to leave when Garner did. What she did know was that what she was about to say didn’t make enough sense.
“Mark? Did you see Charmaine’s ring?”
Kim thought she heard her grandmother suck in her breath, but much as she wanted to spare Margaret pain, she couldn’t do that. “I swear, the stone’s the one that was in Grandmother’s pin.”
“You’re sure?”
The sedative was starting to wear off. Either that or the harshness of Mark’s question was enough to cut through anything. “It was jet. I’m sure of it. And—there was that white slash through it. I don’t understand. I’m sure I’m not mistaken.”
Margaret Revis’s face was bloodless. Her eyes flickered to Mark and then back to Kim. She looked trapped and frightened and utterly vulnerable. Kim missed none of it.
“It was your stone, wasn’t it?” Kim asked gently. She was shaking. But it had nothing to do with the accident. “Why does Charmaine have it? Why isn’t it in a pin anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Margaret whispered. “I—”
“Tell her, Margaret.”
“Don’t,” Kim warned Mark, but Margaret brushed her off. Margaret still looked so shaken that Kim was afraid her grandmother was going to faint.
“I don’t understand,” Margaret whispered. “It was, the last time I saw it; it was in the museum.”
“What?”
Margaret opened her mouth but nothing came out. She sagged into a chair, her body seemed to shrink.
Kim tried to reach her, but her body refused to move. She felt sick. Sick and wise.
Margaret had entrusted the pin to the museum. Whatever her reason, the decision had been difficult.
“You don’t have to explain,” Kim told her grandmother gently. “I’m sorry. I asked before I thought. But Charmaine?”
Margaret wasn’t looking at Kim. She’d turned toward Mark, her face half hidden. “I don’t know.”
“Tell her, Margaret. Before it’s too late, tell her.”
“I can’t! Mark, please, I can’t.”
Mark turned and stalked out of the room, and Margaret followed him.
Kim was under orders to rest. The directive came from the nursing staff, her grandmother and Mark. Her aching body wanted nothing more than to obey orders. Unfortunately her brain couldn’t do that.
Even with everyone out of the room, Kim still felt as if she could reach out and draw in the tension.
She wanted to understand her grandmother’s mood. She tried to tell herself that being reminded of what she’d once had was what had prompted Margaret to turn the pin over to the museum. Every time her grandmother looked at what reminded her of her first husband, the memories must have been painful. Finally the pain had become too much.
But Margaret Revis wasn’t a woman who lived in the past. Yes, she’d tragically lost the father of her children. But her life had gone on from there and become full once again.
It didn’t make sense. Margaret could have told her granddaughter that she’d turned the pin over to the museum because she wanted to share its history with others. Kim would have understood. Margaret hadn’t had to lie.
But she had done so. And—and this was the part that hurt—Mark had known.
Chapter Twelve
Kim would have gladly given up a year’s salary to remain where she was, but the need for answers overruled her body. Mark and the police chief were going to the museum. They wouldn’t tell her why.
She was already out of bed when William slipped, silently, into the room. For a moment Kim froze. She might have been strong enough to open a closet door to look for something to wear. She certainly was in no shape to fend off the lean security guard.
“What are you doing here?” Kim asked.
“I heard. You’ve been hurt.”
“An accident,” Kim explained, although accident might not be the operative word. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Yeah, I did.” William closed the door behind him. He took in Kim’s inadequate attire. “Where are you going?”
“I’m—” Kim took a deep breath. She’d had the courage to face her fears in a mine tunnel. Surely she could face this man. “I want to get out of here.”
“I don’t blame you.” William folded his hands across his chest. Now that she was getting used to the reality of him being in her room, she noted the signs of exhaustion in him. He cleared his throat and continued. “A hospital’s no place for anyone.”
“That’s why I’m leaving. I need to call a taxi.”
“Taxis cost money. Are you going home?”
Kim avoided the question. Instead she stared down at the bruises already showing on her bare legs. If her face looked anything like that… “My grandmother said she saw you in the waiting room. Have you been here long?”
“Too long. It isn’t the first time, Ms. Revis. It never ends. That’s the hell of it, it never ends.” William’s voice ground down. He took a step forward.
If she cried out, help would be in the room before he could do her any harm. Forcing a smile, Kim pointed at her gown. “I can’t walk out dressed like this. Could you get a nurse—”
“I’ve got something you can use.”
Kim blinked. “You what?”
“I brought a robe for my brother. For when he wakes up. He hates what they give him. Would you like that?”
Kim nodded. Her throat felt tight, not from the dirt she’d inhaled but from compassion for William. “Your brother. Is he going to be all right?”
“This time he is. I don’t know about next time.” William shifted his weight, bringing him closer to the sunlight coming in the window. Kim saw his pain.
“That’s all we have, isn’t it? Today.” She wasn’t sure she was saying enough.
“Today? Yeah. That’s all we have. I’ll take you. I can’t do nothin’ for my brother now. And I gotta get out of here, too.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” Kim said, although caution and not a concern for inconveniencing the man was what forced the words.
“You’re not putting me out. Look, you don’t trust me. But I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. I mean it, miss. If you want out of this place, I’ll help you.”
“You don’t know where I’m going.”
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“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here.”
There might be a thousand things Kim didn’t understand about William Lynch, but she could sense his exhaustion and his need to get out of the place that claimed his brother and was in danger of claiming him as well. The only question that remained was whether she could trust William enough to let him help her escape. “I didn’t think you liked me.”
“I didn’t. I’m still not sure I do.”
The man was honest. Kim needed to be the same with him. “I’m not sure I can trust you, William.”
“I’ve pretty well figured that out. The way I acted… Miss, have you ever loved someone and had to sit there watching him go through hell? I—” William raked a bony hand through what there was of his hair. “I can’t hate my brother. And it does no good hating what’s happening to him or the doctors or this damn hospital. But I can hate my job. Maybe that’s the only thing I can feel that way about.”
Sympathy welled up in Kim and propelled her away from the bed. She didn’t embrace William. Neither of them was ready for that. But she could take his hand and give him her warmth. “Not me?”
“No, not you. I tried. Does that sound crazy? I tried.” William squeezed back. “But it isn’t your fault.”
“No. It isn’t.” Kim was, once again, close to tears. She didn’t know how much more she could handle. “I don’t blame you for hating your job and the people you associate with it. But, William, it can be better. You and I, together, we can make it into a job you can be proud of.”
Neither of them said anything more until William brought her a threadbare robe to wear, they’d slipped past the nurses’ station and Kim had forced her aching body into William’s ancient pickup. Then she began talking to distract herself from what the old shocks were doing to her bruises. By the time they’d reached Camp Oro, Kim knew that William’s brother had been sick for three years, and, although this latest operation would improve the quality of his life, there wasn’t a long-term solution. William told her that he’d held on to the security job because taking care of his brother hadn’t left him with the energy to think about anything else. He’d never told anyone because no one had ever been interested, but he had figured out a way to remodel the museum so it would have access for the disabled. If it was his to run, he would build an annex and equip it so children could experience firsthand what it was like to be a logger before power tools came on the scene, to bake their own bread, to sit in an old-fashioned classroom with an inkwell at the front of their desks.
“You like that man, don’t you?” William asked “He drives you crazy, but you like him.”
Kim didn’t have to ask who William was talking about. “What makes you think he drives me crazy?”
“That’s the way it is when you’re in love. Hell of a mess, isn’t it?”
Kim could laugh. She squeezed William’s arm in affection and understanding and let him see the tears that went with her laughter. “I want to trust him,” she said softly. “I want that more than anything. But—”
“If it’s meant to be for you two, that’ll come. If it isn’t…you’ll get through it. You don’t have any choice.”
Just like William didn’t have any choice but to stand by his brother, Kim thought as William walked with her to the house so she could change into something presentable. He waited patiently while she dressed and then offered to take her to the museum. “You’re probably going to fall on your face before today’s over,” William observed. “But there’s no way you’re going to be able to just sit quietly at home asking yourself questions.”
Kim and William weren’t the only ones getting out of a vehicle in front of the museum. Two parking spots behind them, the town police car came to a rest. Although Charles got out immediately, Mark didn’t move. He’d left Kim resting in the hospital. She shouldn’t be here.
“Kim?” Her name was like a leaf in the wind. He got out of the car and walked toward her. “What are you doing here?”
Clearly Kim hadn’t been ready to see him again. She turned too quickly, almost losing her balance. But the wary, wounded look in her eyes prevented him from reaching out for her. “I’m looking for answers,” was all she could say.
“You should be in bed.”
“Not now. I was almost killed today. Strange as it may seem, I need to know why.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Mark indicated the sheriff. “Trust us, Kim.”
“Trust you? To do what? Keep things from me?”
They weren’t talking about solving a series of robberies or learning who had ordered that truck to test the cave-in’s strength; Mark knew that. “We’ll talk,” was the best he could give her. “We’ll explain later, Kim. Later.”
“Is that a promise?” She shifted her weight, winced, but didn’t ask for help. “And when we do, are you going to tell me everything?”
“I don’t know. It isn’t up to me.”
“Why? Never mind.” Kim waved an angry hand in his direction. “Maybe I’m not interested after all. Maybe it isn’t worth it.”
“You don’t believe that. Your grandmother—”
“Not just my grandmother,” Kim interrupted. “You, too.”
“I took her home. I’ve never seen her so upset.”
“I’ll call her later.” Kim struggled against an urge to cry. “What am I going to say? I can’t ask her any questions because she won’t give me any answers. Just like you. No one is interested in answers.”
“That’s why we’re here, Kim.”
Kim had forgotten that she and Mark weren’t alone. She took refuge in the distraction the sheriff was providing. “What are you going to do?”
Charles held up a piece of paper. “A search warrant. I figured we’d better have that.”
Kim still didn’t understand, but, if they would let her come along, she could be patient. She allowed Mark to take her elbow for the walk into the museum, but once they were inside, she drew away from him. A family was going into one of the exhibits at the far end of the hall, but the volunteer receptionist wasn’t at her usual station. “No one knows we’re coming,” Mark whispered. “Or maybe I should say they don’t know when we might show up. My guess is, someone will be working overtime, trying to cover his or her tracks.”
“Where are you going first?” Kim asked in a whisper.
“Where do you think?”
Rogan Coffers was on the telephone when the four walked unannounced into his office. The director started but quickly composed himself. He muttered a quick goodbye to the person he was talking to and hung up the phone. “Kim. You shouldn’t be here.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Rogan glanced at the others and then rose to his feet. He indicated that Kim should sit in his comfortable chair. Grateful, she sank into it—and waited.
“What are you doing here?” Rogan asked after perching himself on the edge of his desk. For a man who’d gone pale a moment ago, he now looked more composed than Kim had ever seen him. “William, if you’re here you should be on duty.”
“Later,” the guard said, shortly.
Rogan shrugged. “I was talking to someone from one of the security firms. You were supposed to meet with him, Kim. They waited around here for an hour this morning and then left. I felt it my responsibility to tell them about your accident. You can reschedule whenever you feel up to it.” Rogan glanced at Charles and Mark before turning his attention back to the woman sitting behind his desk. “Kim, I apologize for the display between my wife and me. It doesn’t take much to upset Charmaine. When she gets that way, she tends to take things out on me. I’m afraid I didn’t handle that as well as I usually do. By the way, she considers you incredibly brave for going into that tunnel, although your reason for doing it escapes both of us.”
Kim could have taken the easy way out and not looked at Mark, but she didn’t. “I’m not surprised,” she said, without emotion. “I don’t think anyone understands. Anyone but me, that is.”
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Charles cleared his throat. “Rogan, we’re not here to talk about what happened to Kim.”
Rogan reached for his pipe and clamped it between his teeth. “No? I’m afraid you’re going to have to spell out your reasons.”
Kim divided her attention between Charles and the museum director. If she was the one being confronted by a law enforcement officer, she would have been uneasy, even if she didn’t have anything to hide. Rogan, however, seemed utterly composed. He smiled and nodded at Kim before focusing on the police chief.
“You were at the museum when Mark called to tell everyone about Kim’s ‘accident’. Could you tell me what you were doing?”
Rogan frowned. “Is it important? I’m afraid…wait…Stephan had called. We’d talked about the best way to get an official stand on the cave-in issue from the federal historic preservation agency.” Rogan smiled at Kim. “This is one arm of the bureaucracy that acts quickly. We should have a formal statement shortly.”
Kim started to nod; Mark spoke.
“That’s quite a ring your wife was wearing this morning.”
Rogan blinked. “Her ring?”
Mark spoke. “Kim is convinced that the stone once belonged to her grandmother and that Margaret Revis entrusted the stone, in its original setting, to this museum. And now it’s on your wife’s hand. You might say we’re curious.”
“Oh.” Rogan shifted his weight and looked down at his hands. When he looked up, he was able to meet Kim’s stare. “Oh, Kim, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?”
“I didn’t think. I was so worried about you that it never occurred to me. Charmaine should have removed it before coming to see you today.”
“Then you did want to keep something from Kim,” Mark prompted.
“I’m afraid so.” Rogan reached behind him for the pouch holding his pipe tobacco. “Believe me, I would have done anything to save Margaret from this embarrassment.”
Kim wanted to concentrate fully on what the director was saying, but her aching body made that incredibly difficult. She shifted position and shivered. Why was she so cold? Was she still in shock? “Why would my grandmother be embarrassed?”