The Memory of Trees (Kate Gardener mysteries Book 1)

by Gabriella Messina

  Kate held up a hand to stop him. “Yeah, I’m there.” She sighed. “Neville, can I get my cigarettes out of my pocket?”

  Crane looked at Kate, his eyes softening as he smiled. “Only if I can have one.”

  Kate nodded and pulled out the pack. The two busied themselves lighting cigarettes and enjoying the first lengthy puff.

  “How’d you get the drugs?” Kate asked.

  Crane stared at the smoke rising up from his cigarette as he replied. “My… provider —”

  “Of pain killers,” Kate finished.

  “Yes.” Crane smirked. “I asked my provider about medications like pancuronium, and he gave me Henry Bell. He said Bell had a connection at a hospital and could literally get anything.

  “Bell was… very eager to have my business. He boasted about what he could get, what I could do. He told me a lot of people were asking for drugs to use to liven up their sex life.” Crane paused for a moment, tears welling up in his eyes before he continued. “He told me… how careful you had to be with some of these drugs… because people could die.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kate’s eyes drifted down to the full syringe in Crane’s hand. “What are your plans for that?”

  Crane looked down at the syringe for a long moment before answering.

  “It’s not…” Crane’s voice trailed away as he looked at something, or someone, behind Kate.

  “Neville? What’s the matter? What is it?” Kate fought the urge to turn, since turning would put her in a more vulnerable position, her back facing Crane.

  “I was hoping to get this over with before the police arrived.” Crane smirked, and never took his eyes off… whoever it was… as he continued. “I guess my luck has run out, then?”

  “Put your hands in the air, Crane! Back away from her now!” Kate recognized the voice immediately. A wave of relief washed over her; she hadn’t realized just how stressed and anxious she had been until then.

  “Kate? Are you all right?”

  Kate turned her head as far as she could without turning her body away from Crane. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just see Pierce where he stood in the roadway, maybe fifty feet away from her and Crane. His hands were held up and out, trying to project calm and reassurance to Crane, but Kate could see the shape beneath his jacket.

  Pierce had a gun.

  “Kate?”

  “I’m fine, Rick, thank you! Just stay back, okay?”

  Kate turned back to Crane – and found a peculiar smile on his face.

  “Neville?”

  Crane smiled more broadly. “I should have known it would be him. The gallant young sergeant coming to the rescue.” His smile faded slightly, growing wistful. “Well, Katie, at least I know you’ll be looked after here.” Crane tossed away the remains of his cigarette and held the syringe in front of him.

  “Neville. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  “A bit late for that, don’t you think, Katie?” Crane carefully positioned the syringe, the needle poised at his jugular.

  “Neville. Neville, please, I need to know. Did you bring me here for this? To catch you, to watch you die? What kind of bullshit is that?” Kate struggled, trying to muster every bit of anger and disgust and disappointment that she could and pump it into her face, hoping it would be enough of a mask to hide the tears that were threatening to well-up. She could see that it must be working… Crane’s resolve appeared to be weakening, his hands shaking slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly. She was definitely hitting a nerve with him. Now, time for the final nail.

  “You really are a monster, aren’t you?”

  Crane wilted, his hand falling away from his throat and pointing toward her as he spoke.

  “You say that? To me? After what you —”

  There was a flash of movement behind Crane and, before Kate could yell any warning, a gangly youth on a skateboard, his tie-dyed tee shirt whipping in the wind, barreled around the corner and right into Crane, sending Crane stumbling forward into Kate.

  Everything happened in a matter of seconds… milliseconds, more likely. The impact… the echoing CRACK… the sharp pain in her chest… Crane speaking oh-so softly to her…

  “You have… an incredible gift, Katie. It’s not… something you… learn… It’s… something you… are… born with… I’m… sor —”

  Then it was over. Kate lay on the ground, Crane’s body on top of her. She could hear sirens approaching, could hear the sounds of footsteps running toward her.

  “Are you all right?” Pierce crouched down beside her. His handsome face was filled with a concern verging on panic. He thinks he shot ME!

  “I’m fine. At least I think so. Am I bleeding?”

  In answer, Pierce rolled Crane’s body off her and helped her sit up.

  “I don’t think so. Do you have any pain or…,” Pierce trailed off, his gaze fixed on her chest. He swallowed hard, then continued. “What was in the syringe, Kate?”

  “The syringe?” She’d forgotten about it. That’s when she noticed the stinging and pulling feeling on the right side of her chest. Kate knew even before she looked down and saw the syringe hanging from her chest, the contents of the vial nearly gone. She carefully reached up and pulled the needle out of her chest. It hadn’t gone deep, not at all, but it did its job.

  “Kate? What was in the syringe?”

  Kate’s mouth felt like mush, her lips and tongue unable to form coherent words that matched up with what her brain was thinking. And based on the timing of the drug, it hadn’t even begun to take effect yet. She swallowed hard.

  “Pancuronium bromide. And maybe… uh… a painkiller or something.”

  Pierce nodded slowly and smiled. “Okay, just stay calm. Breathe slowly, and try to relax.” He pulled out his mobile and quickly dialed. “Paul?”

  “Yes, Sergeant. Armed Response is moving in. Is Kate all right?”

  Pierce felt a wave of irritation wash over him when he heard the younger man refer to Kate so familiarly. “She’s alive, but she needs medical attention now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Pierce hung up and refocused his attention on Kate. She was still breathing, although it seemed as if the rate of breathing was slower than before. She was looking around, her eyes roaming over the trees and shrubbery around them, looking up at the sky. Finally, her eyes came back to his face, and she smiled weakly, but the smile could not hide what her eyes revealed to him.

  She was panicking.

  “Easy now.” Pierce quickly grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly in his and using his other hand to smooth her hair back of her face.

  Kate tried to relax, tried to stay calm and do what the lovely detective said, but the fact was she could feel it. Feel it creeping through her body, feel it relaxing her muscles, relaxing them, relaxing them… Her limbs felt weak and kind of numb, and she wanted to move, but moving wasn’t the most important thing right now. It was breathing.

  Every breath was difficult. Her lungs felt like a bicycle pump and her muscles were too weak and numb to pump anymore.

  Kate managed a weak, strained, “Rick.” She hoped it was enough for him to hear her.

  Even as the sirens’ wail grew closer and closer, Pierce knew that the ambulance was not going to get there in enough time.

  Kate could feel the edge of unconsciousness creeping in, that black shade starting to descend as she struggled to get her lungs to breathe just… once … more.

  The last thing Kate saw was Pierce taking off his jacket, the gun in its holster under his left arm. He bent over her and touched the side of her face as he positioned her head for rescue breathing.

  The last thing Kate thought was Damn… I shouldn’t have grabbed that onion bagel earlier…

  Then everything was silent and black.

  20

  11 September 2011

  University College Hospital

  Her eyelids felt as if they were weighted down… As if each eyelash was ballast holding her eyes shut. And she didn
’t want them to be shut, because as long as they were shut, she wasn’t entirely sure that she was even alive.

  There was light, though, on the other side of her eyelids… Not bright light, but light. Kate steeled herself for the shock that her retinas were going to experience and ever so slowly opened her eyes.

  The light was coming from the television mounted in the corner of the room. Definitely a hospital room… even if the look of the room hadn’t told her that, the smell of betadine and cleaning solution did. Kate blinked her eyes, slowly at first, then more rapidly as her command over her muscles returned and her vision began to clear.

  Kate focused in on the television screen, trying to decipher what was on. News… Sports… John Dempsey… The volume was down but Kate gathered from the crawl running at the bottom of the screen, and the caption for the segment, that Dempsey was being released from the hospital that day.

  The relief that Kate felt at hearing this was quickly replaced with a giant wave of emotions as the images changed to those of a familiar day in a familiar place. Part of her wished she had simply slept through today. Ten years… Ten years of heroic and devastating anecdotes… Ten years of smoke-filled images and catastrophic videos… Ten years of watching those towers burn and fall… Ten years of anniversaries was enough.

  Kate reached for the side of the bed and the control panel, hoping she had the strength to get her finger up and to push the “off” button. She reached out and hit… the bed controls. Immediately the top of the bed started to lift up, the electronic buzz of the motor shattering the peace of the room.

  “You’re awake.”

  Kate released the button, using all her strength to turn her head toward the source of the voice. She swallowed, trying to clear the thickness she could feel in the back of her throat. Probably from the intubation, she though as she looked at Pierce’s smiling face. He’d saved her. He hadn’t had to breathe for her for very long, but still…

  “What time is it?” Kate was shocked at the sound of her voice, low and strained as if she had gargled with a mouthful of very rough gravel.

  “Six-thirty.” Pierce moved close to the bed, reached for the pitcher of ice water on the nightstand and filled the glass carefully. “Here,” he said, as he brought the glass near, positioning the straw so Kate could reach it easily. “How’s your throat?”

  “Ragged.” Kate took several long sips of the water, enjoying the sharp chill of the icy water as it flowed down her throat. “Um, why are you still here?” She clapped a hand over her mouth, wincing from the sting of her hand hitting her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound – “

  “It’s all right. Procedure. Hagen wanted to stay, and Owens, but I told them to go home.”

  Kate groaned. “So you were up all night? I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Pierce chuckled. “Got the bad guy, saved the girl. Can’t think of a better reason to be up all night.”

  Kate smiled, willing her eyes not to tear at the sentiment. “Thank you, Rick. Thank you.”

  Pierce grinned broadly. “You’re very welcome.” His smile quickly faded, though. “I am sorry. About Crane.”

  Kate pursed her lips, acknowledging his words as best she could with a tiny nod. She hadn’t thought about Neville Crane since waking up… About those last moments… About his last words… About the weight of his dead body on her… Kate shook her head, the tears threatening to spill over. She swallowed hard before speaking.

  “You just never really know people, do you?”

  Pierce shook his head. “No, I suppose not. It’s like that tree thing you were talking about, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Kate shifted uncomfortably in the bed. Now that she was fully aware of nerves and what they were feeling, she could only think of one thing. “Sergeant Pierce. When can I get out of here?”

  Pierce grinned again. “I’ll find out. Wait here.” He hurried toward the door.

  “I’ll try not to wander off, “Kate shouted, her throat scolding her for raising her voice above a loud whisper. She couldn’t wait to get home. A warm bath. A steaming pot of coffee. The luxury of snuggling beneath the blankets in her own comfy bed.

  Chocolate.

  Epilogue

  13 September 2011

  Victoria Embankment

  The buzz of a chainsaw ripped through the crisp morning air, rending the peace as it tore into the flesh of the tree being taken down.

  Kate watched from the railing, her back to the river. The tree seemed fine, full and brightly colored. Blight, is what they had said when she asked the motivation for this butchery. She watched as the chainsaw sliced into the very heart of the tree, huge slabs falling off to the side destined to be firewood or the basis for some ne’er-do-well artist’s next project. She looked at the rings, clear in their light and dark contrast, and had this oddly mournful feeling. This was the life of a living thing, written in those seemingly endless concentric rings.

  The thing about a tree’s memory… You have to kill the tree in order to see its past. In its death, we learn about its life.

  It is the same with people. You can know someone your entire life, and be shocked when they kill themselves, or commit murder. And often times it is after a person is dead that we discover things about them, discover who they really were. We try all of our lives to know other people, and even when we think we do, there is always a post-mortem surprise, good or bad. We cut into people after they die, physically into the body, and mentally and emotionally into their lives, searching for meaning. Perhaps hoping that by finding the meaning in their life, we will find some kind of meaning in ours. We hope to learn, from the pain, from the illness, from the successes and failures. And we look forward to fresh opportunities to live.

  Maybe in the end people really aren’t all that different from trees after all.

  The End.