The Sound of Secrets

by Irene Brand

  “She’s in stable condition. There are no broken bones, but she does have a bad bruise on her left hip.” Turning his gaze to Rissa, he said, “You’re a very lucky woman.”

  “I know,” she said softly, willing herself not to look at Drew. “But it’s more than luck. I was really afraid when I was thrown over the cliff, but when I landed on the ledge, I remembered a Bible verse reminding me that God was watching over me.”

  Drew felt as if he were in church while he watched the serenity on Rissa’s face as she softly quoted, “‘If you make the Most High your dwelling—even the Lord, who is my refuge—then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’

  “I claimed that promise,” Rissa whispered, “and then Drew came. I didn’t feel alone after that, for God had sent him to help me.”

  Drew felt like kneeling right there, at that moment, to pour out his heart to God. God had answered his prayer to save Rissa, so that meant God had never turned his back on him. God had been there all the time—all he needed to do was acknowledge Him and make Jesus Lord of his life. His wandering days were over, and he purposed in his heart that from this day forward, God would be his guide.

  “The nurses will take you to a room now,” the doctor said.

  “For how long?” Rissa asked.

  “We’ll see,” the doctor said evasively.

  Portia kissed Rissa as they wheeled her out of the room and started to follow until the doctor indicated by a gesture that he wanted to talk to the family. Drew stepped out in the hall, but stayed within hearing distance.

  “I understand from the nurse that none of you were aware that your sister is taking antidepressants.”

  “That’s right,” Ronald said. “And I find it hard to believe.”

  “Believe it,” the doctor said. “The prescription is for a mild antidepressant, and the bottle filled by the local pharmacy contains that. The other bottle, although it resembles the prescribed medication in appearance, is a hallucinogen, which in itself might cause problems. But a mixture of the two can cause either auditory or visual hallucinations. Do any of you know if Miss Blanchard has been hallucinating?”

  “Of course not,” Ronald said. “She’s a Blanchard!”

  “You didn’t know,” Winnie told her brother, “but she has had problems since she’s been home. She’s heard a woman wailing. And she came running to me one day saying that she’d found a threatening note under her pillow. When we went to the room, there was no note, and the bed was made up. She couldn’t have seen a note under the pillow if one had been there.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Ronald said.

  Ignoring him, the doctor said, “Have you noticed any suicidal tendencies?”

  “No,” Aunt Winnie replied, and the sisters shook their heads. Ronald said nothing.

  Drew stepped back into the alcove. “Detective,” the doctor said, “you reported that someone threw Miss Blanchard over the bluffs. Did you see that? Or are you going on her word?”

  “I didn’t see anyone on the bluff when I got there, but I did hear running footsteps through the brush.”

  “Which could have been a deer or another wild animal,” Ronald said.

  “No. I recognize human footsteps when I hear them.”

  The doctor wasn’t convinced. “But it’s possible that she had a mental lapse and jumped off that cliff. For her own protection, I suggest that Miss Blanchard should be admitted into our psychiatric facility for seventy-two hours. If she’s talked to you about her depression more than others, as a police officer, you can make the recommendation.”

  “Absolutely not!” Drew said. “She’s as sane as the rest of us in this room. If Rissa said that someone threw her off the cliff, that’s what happened.” He took a deep breath to steady his rattled emotions. “I don’t how those hallucinogens got in her purse, but she didn’t know what they were when she took them. Somebody has set her up. It would only exacerbate her depression to be locked up for three days.”

  “It’s my opinion,” Ronald said, “that as her father, I should make any decision concerning Rissa. Doctor, if you believe she should be admitted, I’ll order it.”

  The czar of Stoneley has spoken! Drew thought ironically. Who would dare to defy the formidable CEO of Blanchard Fabrics? Drew knew his hands were tied. He didn’t have any authority to prevent Rissa from being confined. But he cringed when he remembered that she panicked at the notion of being locked away the way her mother was. The experience of being locked up for three days could easily cause Rissa to lose her sanity. He had to do something to help her.

  Rissa woke up alone in a small room. She must have gone to sleep on the way from the E.R. to this room. She had an IV in her arm, so she assumed that she was being given a mild sedative to make her sleep. She felt rested, but when she shifted in bed, she was aware of a sore spot on her hip. Considering what might have happened, she wasn’t concerned about a bruise.

  Her life during the past few weeks had been one crisis after the other, and being thrown over the cliff was high on her list of traumatic incidents, but she would always remember the experience because of what had happened between her and Drew on the ledge. He had called her sweetheart, and the kiss they’d shared proved without a doubt that she loved Drew. And although he hadn’t said so, she believed that he loved her, too. Would the dangerous experience they had shared cause Drew to forget his determination not to marry? She didn’t know, but right now she was content to think about what had happened between them. God would take care of their future as He had her near death at the hand of an unknown predator.

  She assumed that the doctor had only admitted her for observation, and she wished he would come in. She felt well enough to go home now, but she guessed she would have to resign herself to an overnight stay.

  Someone fumbled at the door and a lock turned. A nurse eased into the room, closed and locked the door behind her.

  “How are we feeling?” she asked and checked the IV.

  “A little sore but otherwise I’m all right.”

  “Your aunt and sisters want to see you. I’ll send them in one at a time, but for brief visits only.”

  Why would her family be hanging around to visit her when she would soon be home?

  The nurse exited the room, and Rissa heard a lock turn. Why was she locked in? She surveyed the room. The only window was a long, narrow one near the ceiling. Besides the bed, the only furniture was one straight chair. The walls were bare and Rissa felt suffocated. A door to the right led into a bathroom. She couldn’t stay here. She swung her feet over the side of the bed, but was restrained by the IV tube in her arm.

  The door opened and Aunt Winnie walked in. “How are you, dear one?”

  “Aunt Winnie! Why am I locked in this room?”

  Winnie patted her on the shoulder. “Now, don’t get upset. This is just a precautionary measure. Taking two different kinds of medicine may have caused you to hallucinate.”

  “I have not been taking two medications. I didn’t imagine hearing people talking about me. I did not imagine that someone threw me over that cliff.”

  “Yes, dear,” Winnie soothed. “Try to relax. As soon as the doctor gets your medication regulated you can be released. You should have told us that you were having problems.”

  “It wasn’t that important—no need to worry the rest of you.”

  One by one Portia and Juliet came to see her, as well as Peg Henderson. Rissa wanted to scream, for they all obviously thought she had tried to commit suicide. But she suffered in silence, for she didn’t want to give them any other reason to think she was insane.

  “I feel like one of the family,” Peg said, “and I was concerned about you. I must hurry back though.”

  When the housekeeper came in next, Rissa wondered who was looking after Grandfather, but she did appreciat
e their concern. All of the visits were brief, and since she dozed most of the rest of the day, she supposed that they were keeping her medicated.

  She didn’t have on any clothes except the hospital gown and they’d taken away her watch. There wasn’t any clock on the wall, so she had no way of reckoning time. The hours seemed to pass slowly as she drifted in and out of slumber.

  She stirred when someone touched her shoulder and shook her gently.

  “Rissa, wake up.”

  Drew’s voice! Her eyes popped open.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He held his fingers to his lips to silence her. “I’m releasing you from the hospital.” He dropped a plastic bag on the bed and started disconnecting the IV from her arm. “Your clothes are in there. Hurry and change. We don’t have much time.”

  “Are you taking me home?”

  “No, your father would just commit you again. I’ve arranged for you to stay a few days at Hideaway, a safe house.”

  “Should you be doing this?”

  “No, but I’ve already broken in, so what else I do won’t make any difference. Hurry!”

  He turned his back while she slipped out of the nightgown and put on the sweats. She left the robe in the bag. When she sat on the chair to put on her shoes, Drew knelt before her and tied them for her and helped her stand.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Yes. What time is it?”

  “Four o’clock in the morning. I figured this was the best time to get you out. Nobody’s stirring much. Keep right behind me.”

  He opened the door quietly and, holding to his coattail, Rissa followed him down the hall.

  “We’ll take the stairs instead of the elevator,” he said.

  Rissa had been housed on the fifth floor and because Drew was rushing her, she was breathless when they reached ground level. When they came to an outside door, Rissa braced for the fire alarm to go off when Drew pushed on the door, but she heard nothing. He looked from right to left before he took her hand, guided her through the door and gingerly pushed the door shut.

  Rissa breathed in the fresh air as they ran side by side down the alley to Thornwood Lane where Drew’s pickup was parked. He helped her into the cab, slid in beside her, started the motor and eased away from the curb as nonchalantly as if they were going for a joyride.

  “Won’t you get into a lot of trouble doing this?”

  “I’ve been in trouble before, but it doesn’t matter. You’d told me how afraid you are of being locked in and I couldn’t leave you there. I figured by the end of three days you would be out of your mind. I was determined that wasn’t going to happen to you. I made up my mind to get you out if I possibly could.”

  “I can’t imagine how you could get into a locked room and out of that hospital at night without alarms sounding all over the place.”

  “You’re just as well off not to know, but I’ll tell you this much. There’s an employee at the hospital who owes me a big favor. I had fifteen minutes to get you out. Your family won’t be able to take you out of the safe house.”

  “I can’t believe you risked your career for me.”

  “Good cops are always in demand. And I’ve told you—I don’t intend to stay in Stoneley the rest of my life anyway.”

  Daylight had come by the time they pulled into the parking lot behind the safe house. Drew exhaled deeply. A few more steps and he’d have Rissa to safety.

  “They’re expecting us. Bring your things.”

  He opened the door for her, and she stepped out. A man approached from the side of the building. At first Drew thought he was a staff member coming to help them, but instinctively, he had a hunch that something was wrong. Suddenly a gun appeared in the man’s right hand, aimed at Rissa.

  Pushing Rissa behind the truck, Drew threw himself toward the man and tackled him around the legs just as the gun exploded. Drew felt a red-hot streak along his left arm, and he knew the bullet had struck him. The man pulled away from Drew and started to run. Throwing his cell phone toward Rissa, Drew shouted, “Call Mick. Reinforcements.”

  Drew tackled the attacker before he got to the street. The man was strong and as determined to get away as Drew was to restrain him. Rissa’s fingers were trembling so much she wasted precious moments holding the phone steady enough to find Mick’s number on the listing and to push the button. While the phone rang, she kept her eyes on Drew and the hitman.

  God, let him answer. Let him answer.

  “Campbell here.”

  “This is Rissa. Drew and I are in the parking lot of the safe house. Someone tried to shoot us. Drew has him down, but I don’t know how long he can hold him.”

  Mick disconnected, and Rissa laid the phone on the hood of Drew’s truck and ran toward the struggling men. As she passed the bed of the truck, she saw a piece of lumber about two feet long. She snatched it up without an idea of how she could use it.

  The stranger was smaller than Drew, but he was fighting frantically, intent on escaping. Rissa hefted the wood, moved in close to the fighters and whacked the hitman on the head. His struggling ceased immediately and he collapsed under Drew’s body.

  Panting, Drew said, “Get handcuffs out of the truck’s glove compartment.”

  “Did I kill him?” she fretted.

  “Who cares? Hurry.”

  She found the handcuffs and gave them to Drew. Blood oozed from the wound on his arm, and Rissa brought a cloth from the pickup and wiped the blood from the wound. When he had restrained the man, Drew looked at his arm.

  “It’s only a surface wound, so it isn’t serious.”

  “But it should be bandaged.”

  “There’s a first-aid kit in the truck with some gauze in it. Bring it, please.”

  Too worried about Drew to consider that someone had tried to kill them, she brought the kit to him. Following his instructions, she unwound a large piece of the gauze and wrapped it around his arm.

  By the time Mick arrived, the attacker had regained consciousness. As Mick and another cop crowded around them, Drew pulled the stranger to his feet.

  “Why did you start shooting at us?” he demanded.

  “Man, I was just passing through town,” the man protested. “I stopped here expecting to get a handout and you jumped me.”

  “You shot first.”

  “I was just pointing the gun to protect myself—trying to scare you off. The gun went off accidentally.”

  Mick said to the other cop, “Take him into headquarters and lock him up. I don’t want him getting away until we question him further.”

  “Hey,” the man protested. “You’ve got no call to arrest me.”

  “We will have when Miss Blanchard files a complaint that you fired at her,” Drew warned him. “What do you know about the Blanchards?”

  “I told you—I’m just passing through town. I ain’t acquainted with nobody here.”

  After the cruiser pulled away, leaving Rissa and Drew alone with Mick, he turned on Drew. “And just what do you think you’re doing? What’s Rissa doing here with you?”

  “She checked out of the hospital early this morning, and I was bringing her here for safety.”

  “Uh-huh! I suppose she’s been checked out right and proper.”

  Drew snapped his fingers. “We just happened to forget to pass by the front desk.”

  “I’ve got to report this to the hospital before the whole Blanchard family is stirred up again. If someone calls and tells them that Rissa has disappeared, Ronald will demand that they call out the national guard.”

  “She’s still going to stay here until her seventy-two hours are up,” Drew said. “I couldn’t leave her in that psych ward when I knew she was afraid of being locked up. Did you know about that?”

  “Not until last night when Portia was worrying about it. You know what this could mean, don’t you?”

  “Yes, she can be forced back into that ward if they catch her—that’s why I brought her here.”

  “I
wasn’t referring to Rissa. Don’t you know how this will affect your career?”

  “I do. Don’t think I didn’t weigh the consequences before I set out last night. When I had to choose between my job and Rissa’s welfare, she came first. What would you have done if it had been Portia instead of Rissa?”

  Looking from one to the other, Mick said, “So, it’s like that, huh?”

  Drew put his arm around Rissa. “It’s like that.”

  “Then you have my best wishes.” As he turned away, Drew heard him mutter, “You’re going to need them.”

  FOURTEEN

  If her father tried to get her removed from Hideaway, Rissa wasn’t aware of it, for she spent the next three days assessing the changes the accident had made in her life.

  The staff members of the safe house were kind to her, offering any help she needed, but they didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She spent most of the time alone, but she chose to eat her meals with the other residents, which opened up a new world to her.

  Never before had she sat at the table with an abused wife and mother, whose husband had broken her arm during a drunken brawl. He had a history of abuse, but the authorities had done nothing to him until he’d killed one of his two sons and physically injured his wife.

  Nor had Rissa had any contact with a teenage girl who was trying to shake a drug habit and had no other place to live. And she had never talked with a man who had been wrongfully accused of robbing a bank. Although he’d been proven innocent, he had lost his job and was now penniless because all of his savings had been used for legal fees.

  Rissa was convinced that this sojourn at Hideaway had changed her outlook on life forever. When she compared her life to these people, she realized that regardless of her family’s quirky behavior, she hadn’t been mistreated. She’d never gone to bed hungry, she’d never been penniless and she had never been physically abused.

  As she associated with the other residents, her creative juices started flowing, and she suddenly had an idea for her next play. Would the public accept a stage show based around the residents of a safe house? She thought it would, and she was eager to run the idea past her agent. When she’d been agonizing over it for several weeks, who would have thought that the terrible experience she’d had would lead to the subject of her next play? More than ever in her life, Rissa was confident of the truth of the psalmist’s words In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your path.